Even while I slept I knew rain drummed on the house like fingers waiting for something to happen. And the day loomed like me—steely gray and cloudy. Like I was stuck in a tangle of blackberry canes, every way I turned thorny thoughts dug deeper … Boys and daddies talkin’ stupid or not talkin’ at all. I knew for one thing certain I did not want to face Daddy … I had already decided to skip breakfast, but I didn’t have to worry because as I woke he was leaving to help fill sandbags in case the river rose more. Four years ago, Miss Eulah’s porch ended up in a field near six miles from town.

I knew for a second thing certain that I didn’t want to run into any people whose initials were T. S. or M. G. N. (meaning Tully Spencer or Mary Grace Newcomb), so I lit out like home from church—fast and light—more to keep from thinking than to beat the rain. When I got to the main road, I took one of my secret paths, planning to scoot over Hefty Rock and shimmy down into the yard behind the schoolhouse.

I had to drop the last four feet, but I knew the ground would be soft from all the rain. Sure as shooting, halfway to school the rain began again, bringing up a smell of earth to fool you into thinking it was a thawing spring day—only this rain was made of drops little and sharp, not the fat, lazy ones of spring. I moved into a trot.

At the rock, I bent my knees and dropped, rolling when I hit with a squelch. My flip flew out of the bib of my coveralls.

When I looked up, wasn’t I looking—again—into the face of Jump Justice?

Jump grinned at me; upside down it looked like a sad-clown mouth. “You flat on your back in mud again, Possum Porter?” he asked. Then he disappeared from my line of sight. This was getting to be a habit. And a bad one at that.

As I got my wind, I felt the seat of my pants soak through and sat up. My head felt light and my heart thumpy.

That’s when I saw Jump waving my flip above his head. I held out my hand for it, but he flaunted it like a trophy, so I could not reach it for leaping. Jump grinned while he played keep-away.

“Come on ’n’ get your old flip,” he drawled at me.

Before I knew it, Jump had led me to the side of the schoolhouse, where we startled ourselves by startling two other people.

My brain barely had space to register them. Mary Grace Newcomb and June May Justice? What could Mary Grace be doing to get her rooster spurs into June May? I gave her an evil-eye curse that GrandNam learned once from a real Gypsy.

At the same time, Jump yelled to June May, “Git along now afore I git you along.”

Why, they hadn’t even done anything wrong, at least, not yet, far as I could see.

Still, both girls skedaddled.

I was tempted to follow, but I needed my flip before I could take care of Mary Grace or see to June May.

And at that moment, Jump was leaning against the schoolhouse, grinning and waving my flip around above his cowlick.

Next off, everything happened so I wasn’t sure of it, even later.

Time slowed as Jump leaned down toward me. He smelled sweet, like fresh hay and sunshine, in spite of the sputtering rain.

And then, well, he kissed me on the cheek. Toad’s truth!

His lips were soft and warm like rising dough, and it didn’t feel wet like a dog kiss or anything like I thought it might.

I was thinking all these thoughts at once, so that it took me a minute to realize I should be piqued as cream. I held stock-still. A storm roared in my head, so I barely heard Miss Arthington ring the bell.

Jump gave me a crooked smile and a wink and put my flip into the bib of his coveralls. Then he slipped past me, and I got another whiff of that sweet hay smell that made me think of warm summer days, far away from this cool, gray one. He strolled into the schoolhouse whistling “Dixie.”

Finally, I snapped out of myself and drifted around the schoolhouse. The door was closed. I was glad no one could see me till I’d cooled my griddle.

When I walked in, Miss Arthington’s speech revealed she was angry about something. “I’ve told you all time and again that I will not tolerate dangerous weapons in my classroom. I don’t care if it’s a twelve-guage shotgun or a pea shooter or anything in between. They do not belong in a house of learning.”

Everyone else was silent and staring at the floor. I thought I might slip in without Miss Arthington noticing me, as her attention seemed focused on the biggest kids in the back corner, farthest from the door.

“I’m putting this in my desk, Jump Justice, until the end of the school year. And maybe without this kind of distraction we’ll see more of you in school.”

And what slid into that no-man’s-land of her desk was—my flip!

Being flustered as flounder, I did not speak but tried willing Jump to look my way. Instead, he looked every way but mine, as a result of which I could see the back of his neck was red as rover.

As I had come in after the bell, when I tried to speak, Miss Arthington simply shushed me, which made Mary Grace giggle. It took all my willpower not to punch her. When I looked at Tully, he too-quick looked away.

“Where’s June May?” Miss Arthington asked. She was looking at Jump. “I was certain I saw her before the bell.”

June May’s desk sure enough was empty.

“I honest don’t know, Miss Teacher,” Jump said. He seemed just as surprised to note she was not in her seat.

I was surprised at the quiet, inside voice Jump was using. He looked three sizes too big for the desk he was hunkered at.

“Honestly,” Miss Arthington said.

I felt a flash of anger in defense of Jump. What’d he done wrong? Here he was being respectful and …

“You ‘honestly don’t know,’ ” Miss Arthington said, correcting Jump. “The adverb is ‘honestly,’ with an ‘ly’ on the end. It describes how. You honestly don’t know.”

When I realized Teacher was not picking on Jump, I switched my anger back to him.

“No, ma’am, I honestly don’t.”

I heard a titter and thought it might be Mary Grace, surprise, but she sat still as stone for a change, staring at her folded pink-piggy hands.

I shot her an especially extra-dirty look. She’d probably tried some dark sorcery to steal my other best friend from me, but she wasn’t going to get away with it. If only I could get my flip back!

I already had lost one best friend, and, to make matters worse, Tully hadn’t just deserted me; he seemed to have left the Confederacy and joined the enemy. June May was missing and who knew where or when that will-o’-the-wisp might turn up. Anyhoo, I couldn’t very well tell her what Jump had done. Nor was I for certain turning to Daddy. Least not until I had won the essay contest and he’d figured out I was too smart to be a party to this gaggle of goose-brained idiots.

When I saw my flip disappear into the drawer of Miss Arthington’s desk, church-truth, I had not felt so alone since Momma and Baby died.