“Does your grandfather know?”
“He will when you call him,” I said. “I don’t have time for another call, or I’ll be late for class.”
“But . . .”
“Thank you, Myra,” I said, and hung up. I thanked Mrs. Heinz, who just nodded, and then I joined Aaron waiting in the hallway. “All set,” I told him. “Impress me.”
“Will do,” he promised.
The parents of most other students wouldn’t think of it as a big deal, but after all that had happened in my family and what was happening now, my grandfather wasn’t like other parents.
Aaron couldn’t tell as we continued on to class, but I was trembling a bit.
How would my grandfather react?
8
As I left my last class slowly, Lila smiled at me; she knew I was going off to be intimate with Aaron.
“He’s just taking me home, Lila,” I said.
“Watch for detours,” she warned, then laughed and walked off quickly when we saw Aaron waiting for me in the hall. I was hoping he couldn’t tell how nervous I was about his taking me home, something that should have been no major event. It wasn’t for any other girl in my class, even though it was something special. You could only go with a senior who had parental permission in writing that guaranteed their child would not speed or drive recklessly. The dean, Mr. McDermott, was usually out there watching like a traffic cop.
I had done my best to make it seem like nothing, but when the bell had rung to end class, my heart had begun to pound. I was even holding my breath on and off like someone going in and out of deep water as we walked through the hallway to the exit and the school parking lot. I kept my head down and wrapped my arms around my books, which I was sure resembled some sort of shield over my breasts. Aaron was running on about the amount of homework Mr. Fine had assigned in math, “as if we have no other subjects.” My worst fear was that when we walked out that door, my grandfather would be waiting with little streams of smoke pouring out of his ears. I would never be more embarrassed.
I felt my whole body soften with relief when I realized that he wasn’t there. The reason was obvious when we arrived at my grandfather’s estate. A large van delivering physical-therapy equipment was backed up to the front entrance, and two men were wheeling something up the newly constructed ramp. Grandpa was there with Jimmy to supervise, and apparently, he didn’t even realize we had driven up to the house.
Prescott was small enough so that anything as significant as what Grandpa Arnold was doing would ordinarily be at the top of the chatter pile, heating up telephone lines so much that the birds stayed off them; but from the way Aaron reacted and from the fact that no one at school had asked anything about it, I concluded that Grandpa had not told anyone about the boy in Willie’s room and what he was doing for him.
“What’s going on?” Aaron asked. Until now, he had been talking about his new car and fishing for me to give it and him more and more compliments.
“I bet you’ll keep it cleaner and nicer than your room at home,” I had told him after he had described every gauge and every dial and knob as if they were expensive jewelry.
“You bet I will,” he had confessed. “I’ll probably spend more time in it, too. The first night I got it, I seriously considered sleeping in it. I love the scent of a new car.”
Now that we were here, his attention drifted away from his car. His eyes narrowed as he studied the pieces of equipment.
“I know that’s a leg machine. Builds up your thighs. Your grandfather putting in a personal gym or something? My father was considering doing that. When he hears about this, he probably will. He’s always in competition with your grandfather. I don’t know why they play golf together. They’re always accusing each other of cheating. So what is this?”
I just sat there, thinking, watching and wondering if I should just let it go at that, a new personal gym. I decided to tell the truth—first, because it probably would get out soon anyway, and second, because I was interested in how Aaron would react to the story. Was I being unreasonable and cruel? Would my complaints sound petty? I knew I couldn’t get a true reaction from Lila. She would do or say anything to please me. Keeping my friendship was more important to her even than being true to her own feelings. It wasn’t easy to find people who were true to themselves. In fact, it was Grandma Arnold who had told me that one of the things that attracted her to my grandfather was his inability to lie to himself. I did realize that if Aaron heard any unhappiness in my voice, he might be just like Lila and say whatever I wanted him to say. He wanted to go out with me, didn’t he?
“Another boy about my brother’s age was brought to the hospital practically at the same time,” I began, leaning on the facts and reciting it like a history report to subdue my emotions.
“Another car accident? Who was it? I didn’t hear anything about anyone else in Prescott.”
“He wasn’t from Prescott. No one knows where he’s from. It was no one we knew, and it wasn’t a car accident. He had been poisoned.”
“Poisoned? Deliberately?”
“No one knows for sure. Kids can eat the wrong things on their own, I suppose.”
“What kind of poison?”
“Arsenic. Rat poison.”
“How can anyone eat that on his own?” Aaron asked. “Wouldn’t it taste bad?”
“Not necessarily. I looked it up in the medical encyclopedia my grandfather has in his library. He has nearly one thousand books of all kinds.”