Good Graces - Lesley Kagen [62]
“On Mimi’s birthday. We had beans and wienies for supper and . . . and my brothers kicked me outta our room because . . . ya know.”
I do. Beans are the musical fruit. The more you eat, the more you toot. Our cabin at camp smelled worse than the outhouse.
“Didn’t you hear me scratchin’ on your screen?” Artie asks.
It takes me a second to put together what he’s telling me, but then that night comes whipping back. “That was you?!” I give him a two-handed shove. “Ya scared the bejesus outta me!” The clawing on the screen. And that awful smell floating into our bedroom window. It wasn’t pepperoni-reeking Greasy Al coming after Troo the way I thought it was. It was Fartie Latour leaving his calling card! “What’s wrong with talkin’ to me durin’ the day like normal?”
“I . . . I needed to talk to you in private,” he says. “I thought that’d be a good time to tell you what I gotta tell you without Troo hearin’. I know ya don’t sleep so good.”
Everybody around here knows that about me. After one of Troo and my overnights at the Fazios’, Fast Susie spread around that I scream in my sleep.
I peek around Artie at Wendy. Nothing we’re saying seems to be bothering her in the least. She’s squatting next to her brother, happily sucking on a cherry Life Saver and waiting for the skeeter she swatted to fly away again. I don’t think she really gets death. Sometimes I think being a Mongoloid is not such a bad deal.
“Why can’t you tell me whatever it is in front of my sister?” I ask, less mad and more curious.
Troo and Artie were an item once, but that ended when she wrestled the coonskin cap away from him last Fourth of July. Maybe he’s decided to forgive her and wants my opinion on how to get her to like him again in the same lovey-dovey way.
Artie says, “Because Troo likes Father Mickey so much and . . . I know she’s been goin’ up to church a lot to see him and . . .”
Just like I thought. He wants to be Troo’s boyfriend again and he’s jealous of all the time she’s been spending with Father Mickey. Artie’s in the clutches of the green-eyed monster.
“You got it all wrong,” I say. “Troo only likes Father because he’s givin’ her extra religious instruction. The nuns won’t let her back in school if she doesn’t.” But then I remember how she has that little crush on him. I don’t mention that. Artie’s having a hard enough time as it is. “We can talk about this some more later, okay?” More squealing comes from up the block. “We gotta go now. They can’t start another game without us.”
Artie sets his sweaty hand on my arm, gently this time. “Father Mickey . . . he’s the reason Charlie ran away.”
“I already know that,” I say. “Fast Susie told us that Father caught Charlie stealin’ from the poor box. Now let’s get outta here before Mr. Kenfield comes out again.”
“It’s not what it sounds like! Charlie . . . he had to take that money . . . Father Mickey is up to no good and . . .” Artie’s Adam’s apple takes the long trip down his throat and shoots back up again. “And it wasn’t only Charlie. . . . the other altar boys are bein’ forced to . . . Father is making them do something bad.”
What a load of malarkey. I may not like Father Mickey much, but everybody knows how he is especially kind to his altar boys. He took them all to Wisconsin Dells to feed the deer and ride the Ducks and they stayed overnight at a motel and went to breakfast at Paul Bunyan’s restaurant. He does other extra good things for those boys, too. Has them over to the rectory for special sleepovers and he coaches the boys’ basketball team after school.
“You gotta believe me,” Artie says, almost in tears. “Father’s committin’ some bad sins and he’s gonna commit more unless we do something to—”
“Cut it out!” I say, pressing my hands against my ears. Artie needs to keep his opinions about Father Mickey to himself the same way I have, except for accidentally telling Ethel how I feel. What he just told me is much more serious