Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [66]
Jackson spoke first, responding in a muffled but distinctly fawning voice, “No, Miss Fremont.”
From my own windpipe came a squeaky, “No, Miss Fremont.”
“Then settle down and not another peep out of either of you.”
My cheeks burned, and I clenched my jaw in frustration and embarrassment. I wasn’t used to being reprimanded in front of the entire sixth-grade class. In fact, I wasn’t used to being reprimanded at all. My first time to get in trouble at Mills River Elementary and my name had to be called out in tandem with that bully Jackson Riley. I felt as though I’d just been handcuffed to a common criminal.
If the Russians were going to drop the bomb, let it be now.
“Sorry, Roz,” Mara whispered.
I looked at her and gave one small nod, but I didn’t say anything.
The all clear came and the hall erupted into chatter as everyone unfolded themselves and stood. I glared at Jackson, then turned to Mara and said, “I’m sorry he called you a . . . you know.”
Mara shrugged. “It’s all right. I’m used to it.”
“It’s not all right – ”
“I’ve got to go.” She walked away beaming, the happy prospect of seeing her daddy greater than the pain of prejudice.
I watched her until she’d disappeared into the crowd. Then, eyes downcast, I fell into line with my own class as we snaked our way through the hall and back to our room.
It had been another practice drill; that was all. The Russians hadn’t yet decided to drop the big one on us. For now we were safe, and I realized that in spite of Miss Fremont’s reprimand and my brief humiliation, I was grateful to be alive. I wasn’t ready to die. Not only because I was just eleven years old, but more importantly, I didn’t know for sure where I would end up.
“Tillie, how do you know you’re going to heaven?”
“Well now, that all depends on who your father is.”
Tillie’s statement still sent shivers down my spine. I sure hoped Daddy would change like he said he would, because if Alan Anthony was my ticket to the afterlife, my prospects for reaching paradise looked pretty grim.
chapter
27
On the second Saturday in November, we celebrated Wally’s eighteenth birthday with a small family dinner at home. Mom told him he could throw a party and invite some friends from school, but he didn’t want to. He said parties were for kids and he wasn’t a kid anymore.
He would, though, he said, like to go to the roller rink with some of his friends after supper, if that was all right with Mom. I looked at him funny when he asked, but he didn’t flinch. Mom believed his story about roller skating and said of course he could go, so long as he was home by midnight.
Tillie cooked up a big pot of chili, Mom made a double chocolate cake, and Grandpa and Marie came over and joined us.
“So my grandson’s a man now,” said Gramps, slapping Wally on the back.
“Yup,” Wally said. “Looks that way.” He accepted Grandpa’s and Marie’s coats and hung them up in the hall closet.
“Have you put any thought into colleges, Wally?” Grandpa asked.
“Nope.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Now’s the time to be thinking about it. Education is the doorway to success, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We have a number of fine schools right here in Illinois, my own alma mater, the University of Illinois, among them.”
Wally shrugged.
“And listen, son” – Grandpa lowered his voice a notch – “if it’s the price of tuition you’re worried about, I’m prepared to help.”
Marie looked stricken, as though she had just heard the clanging of a huge chunk of change falling out of their bank account. “And of course,” she added with a tremulous smile, “there are always scholarships.”
“Well, yes,” Gramps said, rocking up on his toes, “but we may not have to resort to that kind of thing. There’s so much paperwork involved – ”
“You’re just in time. Dinner’s ready,” Mom sang out, greeting Grandpa with a kiss on his cheek. She untied her apron and smoothed her skirt. “Everyone please be seated at the dining room table. Dad, we’ll talk about colleges later, all right? Tonight’s a night to celebrate.”
It wasn