chapter 58

THE BEST BOY

I am up and at the kitchen counter before daylight. I’m awake because of what the lieutenant said. I have the notebook open. Right in front of me. Those couple of Dragon writing pages sticking out of it. I don’t put on the light. No point. It’s not like I can write in it. I keep sticking the point of that orange pencil into the fold. Watch it stand. Then watch it fall.

I think about what the lieutenant said. That I haven’t given him much. Then I try to remember what more I have said into the Dragon. I know some is about Benny. And the tree house. I wonder if something there could be a piece that he needs. A piece to make him believe in me. Trouble is, I have already told all of it to him. Way back.

Grandma comes in. She whispers, “Oh . . . Mason, honey.” She says it because I am here, is all. And it is way early. She puts on the light. Tunes her National Public Radio. Just low. She starts the coffee. Then she leans on the counter.

She says, “You okay, Mason?”

I shake my head no. I say, “I couldn’t sleep. Just can’t believe . . . well . . . about the lieutenant. And all that.”

She says, “I know.” Her voice is soft.

I say, “He really thinks it. Thinks I did something to hurt Benny. And he thinks I lied about it too.”

Grandma sighs. She says, “He seems to have an idea that he can’t let go of.”

I say, “Yes! That’s it! It’s killing me, Grandma. Like a hole gone through. Like losing Benny again. Sort of.”

She says, “We have to try to understand how hard his job is. He has to piece together a story. But he also has to prove it.”

I say, “I want him to have the true story. For everyone. And . . . because, Grandma, I think this is bad. What if . . . well . . . couldn’t I be in a lot of trouble?”

Then I see it. Her eyes fill up. Tears drowning the minnows.

I say, “Grandma, did you ever think it? This whole time? That I did it? Did you think I hurt Benny?”

She flicks the water out of her eyes. She says, “Not for a minute. And neither did your uncle Drum. But what’s even more important is that we know you don’t lie, Mason. That’s why we decided it’d be okay for you to talk to the lieutenant. We could have refused. But we know you are a good boy. The best boy.”

She reaches. Takes my earlobe in her finger and thumb. I forgot she used to do this. When I was small. She rubs it—little squishes, like I am dough. She looks me over and I feel like I am small. So small. Like my own mom—gone so long—will walk into the room behind me. And why that? Why? When I cannot even remember her so well. Why do I feel her now? I don’t ask it out loud. I don’t think anyone could answer.

Grandma gets breakfast started. I lay my head down on my arms. Close down on my eyes. Kind of like I am going to tell something to the Dragon. But I know I’m not at school. I am home. I’m glad for it. The kitchen is warm. Coffee smell in the air. I still feel small and tired. So tired.

I think this: Grandma knows I wouldn’t saw up a rung. She knows I wouldn’t lie. She said I am the best boy . . . best boy . . .

Then there is Shayleen. Standing beside me. She says, “Ew! Your head is touching the counter. Mason. Ew! Sit up!”

I do that. I look around the kitchen. See Grandma at the far end. She is pulling laundry out of the dryer now. National Public Radio is up a little louder. Sun is coming in.

Shayleen says, “Here. I got you something.” She slaps down a package. Bandanas. Folded stack. Must be six. All colors. She says, “These are one hundred percent cotton. I got them during Made in the USA week on the shopping channel. You need to carry one of these all the time. Always, always. Actually, you might need two because you sweat like a . . .”

She thinks that over.

She says, “You sweat excessively. These will help.”

I say, “Thank you?” Comes out of me like a question because I am confused. She is sort of yelling at me. But being nice. Because she did buy me something. But then I wonder who paid for the bandanas anyway?

Shayleen says, “And Mason, I know you are upset. You have good reason. But you need to get a grip. Because that lieutenant is way off when it comes to you. Okay? You hear me?”

I nod. Because I sure hear her. She is right in my ear.

She says, “Now, I’m also going to get permission from Drum and order you some new pants. You’re thinning out and shooting up. And you’re going to need a razor because your chin is fuzzy.”

I gulp. Slap my hand over my chin. I do not want Shayleen talking about chin hairs.

She says, “Now swab that sweat.”

So then I sit here with my new bandanas. I pull on my chin to check for hairs. While I do that I wonder how it was that Shayleen got all flipped around to where she is for me instead of against me.

I take a bandana. The pink one. Open up the wide square. I think this: Pink is the color of good. So maybe the bandana can bring some to me.