Alligator Bayou - Donna Jo Napoli [57]
“Patricia, is that you?” A woman stands under the front awning of the shack. It’s hard to describe her. The best word might be uneven. One shoulder is lower than the other. One arm hangs lower. Even one eye is lower. She looks like she’s melting, the right side sliding away faster than the left. She holds her floury hands away from her dress. And her hair is reddish and so wispy, it looks like someone’s half erased it.
“Miss Clarrie, I brought a friend to meet you. Calogero.”
“Hello, Mr. Calogero.”
I come up and take my cap off. “Good day, Miss Clarrie.”
She tilts her head, and now she’s so off balance, I feel like she’s going to fall. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” she says, the very same way Patricia said it out on the road this morning.
I don’t know what to say.
“She asking why you here,” Patricia whispers in my ear.
“I’m coming to your school in September,” I blurt.
“You are?” says Miss Clarrie.
“You are?” says Patricia.
“That is, if you’ll let me, Miss Clarrie.”
“Oh, I will definitely let you, Mister…what was your name?”
“Scalise. Scalise, Calogero.”
“Scalise is your first name?”
“Is it?” asks Patricia. Her fists are on her hips and one eyebrow is raised.
I realize my mistake. “I’m sorry. I said it like in Italy. My family name is Scalise. My given name is Calogero.”
“Is it all right if I call you Calogero?”
“Yes, please.”
“Were you born in Italy?”
“Sicily. I came to America last October, ma’am.”
“His ship landed in New Orleans,” says Patricia. “He came by hisself. To live with his uncles. He snuck on a freight train. All by hisself.”
“Thank you for that information, Patricia.” Miss Clarrie looks at me thoughtfully. “That must have been difficult. Terrifying, in fact.” My cheeks burn in embarrassment. “You must be resourceful, Calogero. I will be happy to have you in my classroom.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“It’s for me to thank you. With you I will now have twenty-one students, even if Patricia here makes the regrettable decision not to return. With that number I am guaranteed a salary of fifty dollars a month, instead of forty. So thank you, Calogero.”
“You’re sincerely welcome, ma’am.”
“And so polite.” She laughs. “I believe it will be a delight to have you regardless of the money. Have you had your vaccination?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s an injection that protects you from smallpox. You’ll have to go to a doctor and get that before you come to school.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you have to use your right hand in school for all your letters and numbers. That’s the law.”
“I’m right-handed, ma’am.”
“Good. In school you must behave properly.”
“No spitballs,” says Patricia. “No bending back other people’s hands or fighting or banging them on the head.”
“Thank you for explaining that, Patricia,” says Miss Clarrie.
“I’ll behave properly.”
“Good. Do you know any letters?”
“I can read.”
“That’s even better. Oh my, I wish I had had you with me last summer.” She taps a finger delicately on her cheek. “I’m trying to get to know this state, you see. So I’m visiting two new parishes every summer. And last summer I visited Tangipahoa Parish. Have you ever heard of it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sicilians grow strawberries there. The best kind.”
“That’s right. There’s a whole town of Sicilians there. All the signs are in Sicilian—even the street signs. I certainly could have used someone who reads Italian there.”
“I read English, too. I’ve had a tutor all year.”
“Would you mind reading for me?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Follow me.” She walks inside to a table where a thick book lies. “My hands are too floury. Just pick it up, would you, please?”
“Cheapest Supply House on Earth. Our trade reaches around the world.” I read about watches, jewelry, sewing machines, saddles.
“That’s enough, Calogero. You’re quite proficient.”
“You planning on buying any of them things?” asks Patricia.
“This is from 1894, when catalogues were free. Now they charge. So I don’t have a new one. I don’t even know if Sears, Roebuck carries these things. That’s the name