Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [65]
And there it goes, soaring through the sky beyond the outfield, disappearing somewhere in the far reaches of the stadium. And it’s a home run, folks, a home run! Will you look at that! The organist up in the stands starts pounding the keys – da da da dat da da! – and the crowd goes wild.
But wait a minute, she’s up at bat again. She’s got her hawklike eyes on the pitcher, her primary opponent up there on the mound. He slaps the ball against his glove, draws back, leg up, releasing his ammunition at such a fierce rate it’s almost too much for the human eye to see. But she sees it. Oh yes, she sees the face of Tom Barrows hurling toward her like a great crashing meteor until . . . Pow! And it’s out of the ball park, folks! This is amazing, unbelievable! Tom Barrows is out of the ball park, out of the picture. He’ll never be seen again!
“What on earth are you doing, Roz?”
Tillie stood in the doorway, hands on hips.
I sheepishly lowered the bat and bit my lower lip. “Nothing.”
The look on her face told me she didn’t believe me, as though she herself had seen Tom Barrows cannonballing through the air and out of our lives.
“Well, it’s getting late,” she said. “Why don’t you go on to bed.”
I returned the bat to its place and slunk across the room. “All right, Tillie. Good night.”
“Good night, Roz. Sleep tight.”
I kept my head down so I wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. She stepped aside to let me out the door.
“Oh, and Roz?”
I turned around, slowly lifted my gaze. “Yeah?”
“Nice fly ball.”
I looked at her for a long while, trying unsuccessfully to read her expression. Finally I simply muttered, “Thanks,” and let it go at that.
chapter
26
The Russians were at it again. When the air raid siren went off right in the middle of her lecture on the Louisiana Purchase, Miss Fremont looked annoyed. Most of us pressed our hands over our ears. I could see Miss Fremont’s lips move, but I couldn’t hear a word she said. But that was all right; we all knew the drill by now: single file out to the hall, kneel down side by side, crown of head against the wall, hands locked securely over neck. What a way to die – all rolled up in a neat little package like a baby in the womb.
Once we were in position, the siren was cut and an eerie silence descended over the school, broken only by an occasional cough, stifled giggles, and the sporadic tapping of the teachers’ heels against the floor. And Mara’s whispered word in my ear, “Roz!”
I jumped and rolled my eyes toward her voice. “Mara! How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“How do you find me? You’re supposed to be with your own class.”
“But I have to tell you something. It’s important.”
“What?”
“I talked to Celia – ”
“Your sister?”
“Yeah. I mean no. My mama. Last night I called her and told her I wanted to meet my daddy, and you’ll never guess what she said.”
“What?”
“She said she’d try to arrange it.” She wiggled in excitement beside me.
“She did?”
“Yeah. She said maybe I could go up there for a day over Christmas vacation.”
“Up to Chicago?”
“Uh-huh. She said I could take the train, and maybe Daddy could meet me at the station.”
“Do you think he’ll do it?”
“I don’t know.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m really scared. I hope he says yes.”
“Well, he did say he wanted all your dreams to come true, right?”
“Yes. That’s – ”
“Shh! No talking.” Miss Fremont’s voice reached us from somewhere down the hall. Mara and I exchanged a glance. The person on the other side of me, Jackson Riley, nudged me with the full side of his body and whispered, “Shut up!”
He pushed me into Mara, who pushed me back his way. I slammed up against him, and he poked me in the ribs with an elbow.
“You shut up,” I said.
“You’re the one talking with that nigger girl.”
Now I was angry, and I started to say something I’d never said to anyone. “Jackson Riley, you can just go to – ”
“I said quiet!” Miss Fremont’s voice came crashing down from right above us. “Jackson Riley, Roz Anthony, do