Stepping on the Cracks Page 4

  When we reached Garfield Road, we left the tracks and turned toward home. "Remember when Barbara and Butch got married?" Elizabeth asked me. "We sat on the curb and watched them come out of Saint Andrew's, and everybody threw rice. Barbara was the most beautiful bride I ever saw."

  "And Butch was so handsome."

  I walked along silently, thinking about the wedding, feeling sad about Butch, wishing he hadn't died.

  "Gordy sure didn't say much about Stuart," Elizabeth said after a while.

  "Maybe he hasn't had a chance to shoot down any Nazis yet."

  "Maybe not."

  We were standing in front of Elizabeth's house, a mirror image of mine. Identical blue stars hung in our living room windows. With all my heart, I hoped neither Elizabeth nor I would ever have gold stars.

  "Step on a crack," Elizabeth shouted as she ran up her sidewalk.

  "Break Hitler's back!" I yelled, jumping hard on the cement. Then, taking the steps two at a time, I dashed inside just in time to help Mother set the table.

  6

  On the first day of school, Elizabeth raced up my back steps and pressed her face against the screen door. "Haven't you finished breakfast yet?" she asked me.

  I slurped the sugary milk left in my cereal bowl and ran into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Because it was a special occasion, Mother had insisted on rolling my hair up on rags to make it curl, but the humid September weather was already straightening it and it hung way down my back, hot and heavy. Mother should have listened to me and let me wear braids, I thought glumly.

  "You look nice," Elizabeth told me as we left the house. "I like your dress."

  "Thanks," I said, glad I'd worn my new one. It was dark gray plaid, and it had a round white collar. "I like yours, too."

  Elizabeth smiled and smoothed her skirt. Her dress was as blue as her eyes, smocked across the bodice and tied at the back with a sash. Its white collar and cuffs were trimmed with dainty lace. On her feet were brand-new saddle oxfords, spotlessly white and shiny brown, and her socks stood straight up, hugging her legs. Unlike mine, they never slid down.

  "How about my shoes?" I scowled at my feet. I'd wanted saddles like Elizabeth's, but all the store had in my size were plain brown oxfords. They looked like army shoes, and, after a summer of going barefoot, they felt stiff and tight.

  Elizabeth glanced down and shrugged. "They're not so bad," she said. "Lots of other kids will be wearing them, and they'll hate them just as much as you do."

  We walked up Garfield Road and met Polly Anderson on the corner. "Sixth grade at last!" she said. "Now we're number one! Bosses of the whole school!"

  "Hooray for us!" Elizabeth shouted.

  Judy Katz and Linda Becker yelled when they saw us, and we waited for them at the trolley tracks. Linking arms, we walked up the street together. I was glad to see Polly and Judy were wearing oxfords like mine. Linda had saddles, but hers were black and white, not as pretty as Elizabeth's.

  "Are you ready for Mrs. Wagner?" Linda asked me.

  "Nobody's ready for her," Elizabeth answered for me. "She's so mean. She yells and makes you stay after school, and if she catches you talking, she sends you out in the hall, just like that!" Elizabeth snapped her fingers.

  "And she loads you down with homework," Judy said. "My big sister had her, and she told me I'd better watch out."

  "My brother Paul was in her class last year," Polly said. "He got hit lots of times with the ruler. Mrs. Wagner hated him."

  "That's nothing new," Elizabeth said. "Everybody hates Paul."

  I glanced at Polly, but she didn't look the least bit offended by Elizabeth's opinion of her brother. In fact, she nodded her head in agreement.

  "There's somebody I hate even worse than Paul." Elizabeth nudged me and pointed across the playground at Gordy slouching along with Doug and Toad.

  "The Three Musketeers," Judy said scornfully. "What dopes."

  "Come on," Polly said. "The bell's about to ring. I don't want to be late on the first day of school."

  As we hurried up the front steps, Gordy ran past me. "The crazy man's coming," he hissed in my ear. "He's going to cut your heart out and eat it for dinner, Magpie."

  Startled, I stopped and stared at him, too scared to move. Gordy made a hideous face and leapt at me, waving his arms and gibbering like a monkey.

  "Get away from her, you dumbo!" Elizabeth shoved Gordy, but he grabbed her hands.

  "Help, help," Gordy yelled, pretending he couldn't escape. "Lizard's throwing herself at me again."

  As Elizabeth broke free, Gordy dashed into school and ran to the boys' room. "You can't get me now, Lizard," he said before the door swung shut.

  "I despise Gordy Smith," Elizabeth told me. Her face was red and she was breathing hard. "I loathe, abhor, detest, and utterly hate him."

  ***

  It didn't take us long to know why everybody had warned us about Mrs. Wagner. Short and plump, she strode grimly into the classroom and opened her roll book. "Say 'Present' when your name is called," she said. She didn't smile like Miss Carter or speak softly like Mrs. Harper. In fact, when she reached Polly's name, she frowned.

  "I hope you're not like your brother," she said.

  Passing over me with nothing more than a comment about Jimmy's artistic skills, Mrs. Wagner paused at Elizabeth's name and said, "You'd better be prepared to work hard this year." From the sharp-eyed look she gave her, you could tell she wasn't about to be taken in by big blue eyes and a pretty smile. She must have heard something about Elizabeth and obviously planned to keep an eye on her.

  After singling out Gordy, Doug, and Toad for some warnings, she told us to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance and the Lord's Prayer.

  When we'd finished, we sat down and folded our hands on our desks while Mrs. Wagner told us her rules.

  "There will be no talking unless you are called on," she said. "There will be no note passing. Neatness will count. So will spelling, grammar, and punctuation. Homework will be done on time, and there will be a great deal of it. There will be no tale-telling. I will see everything that goes on in this room, and I will not need the misguided assistance of any child."

  As Mrs. Wagner paused to take a breath, I glanced at Gordy. He made a hideous crazy-man face and drew a finger like a knife across his throat. Nervously, I looked at Mrs. Wagner. Had she seen Gordy and me?

  "I keep those who misbehave after school," she said. Her eyes lingered on Gordy, before moving on to the rest of the class. "It is not a pleasant experience."

  Then, clearing her throat loudly, Mrs. Wagner plunged her hand into the pillowy bosom of her dress, rummaged around, and pulled forth a frilly handkerchief. She then blew her nose so loudly I expected an elephant to stampede through the classroom. No one giggled. Not even Elizabeth.

  "I am scrupulously fair," Mrs. Wagner continued. "I have no favorites." Here her eyes lingered on Bonnie Graham, Julie Ryan, and Phyllis Fields, the most stuck-up girls in school and teachers' pets, all three. Only Phyllis blushed. Bonnie and Julie sat and stared at Mrs. Wagner, their faces as hard as stone.

  In the silence following her words, Mrs. Wagner handed out our books, and lessons began. Math, spelling, geography, social studies, reading. Mrs. Wagner drilled us as I'd never been drilled before. It was going to be a long, hard year.

  ***

  At three-thirty, we raced across the playground, glad to be free. As soon as we were out of sight of the school, Elizabeth pretended to pull a handkerchief out of her dress. After groping around in an exaggerated imitation of Mrs. Wagner, she made a loud trumpeting sound.

  "I have no favorites," she proclaimed. "I hate all of you exactly the same, and I will be scrupulously unfair to each and every one of you. I keep those who misbehave in a special dungeon under the school. You will be chained to the wall and fed bread and water. Some of you will be shot at dawn. It will not be a pleasant experience, but I hope to give it to all of you, especially Elizabeth, Polly, Gordy, Doug, and Toad."


  We all laughed, but I swore to myself I would do my homework, even math, and be very careful with my commas and periods, as well as my spelling. This year I would not read library books in my lap when I was supposed to be doing geography, I would pay attention instead of daydreaming, I would draw only when we were having art, I would talk only when I was called on, and I would never tell tales on anyone. No matter what I saw, I would keep my mouth shut and stay in Mrs. Wagner's good graces.

  7

  One October morning Elizabeth and I were walking to school. While she kicked her way through neatly raked heaps of fallen leaves, scattering them in all directions, I plodded along behind her, trying to read my arithmetic book and walk at the same time without tripping over something. Mrs. Wagner had just begun a unit on decimals, and I still hadn't figured out our homework assignment.

  It didn't help that Elizabeth was singing, "from the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli" at the top of her lungs as she torpedoed leaf pile after leaf pile. How could I concentrate on decimals with all the noise she was making?

  Suddenly she stopped singing and grabbed my arm. "Oh, no," she said. "Not him. My day is ruined."

  I raised my eyes from my arithmetic book. Two blocks ahead, Bruce Benson, our patrol boy, was herding a bunch of little kids across the street, but between him and us was Gordy. Slumped against a telephone pole, his hands jammed in the pockets of his old knickers, he was kicking at the ground and scowling. Even from this distance, he looked meaner, madder, and uglier than usual.

  "Come on," I said, grabbing Elizabeth's hand, "we can go to school another way." I tugged at her, anxious to escape before Gordy spotted us.

  Refusing to budge, Elizabeth pulled her hand away. "Don't be such a scaredy-cat, Margaret."

  "Quick," I said, trying to drag her up the trolley tracks. "He's going to notice us any minute."

  "So what?" Elizabeth tossed her head. "There's two of us, and only one of him. What can he do?"

  Plenty, I thought, but Elizabeth was walking straight toward Gordy, swinging her bookbag, her nose wrinkled as if she smelled a disgusting odor.

  Trotting along behind Elizabeth, I tried to ignore Gordy, but it wasn't easy when he yelled, "Hey, Lizard and Baby Magpie, you better watch out."

  Stepping in front of us, Gordy blocked the sidewalk, daring us to walk around him.

  "The crazy man's looking for you," he said.

  "Get out of the way," Elizabeth said. "I'm not scared of you or your dumb old crazy man."

  "He's got his knife all sharpened up, so he can cut your hearts out. He likes to eat them raw, dripping with blood." Gordy made a hideous slurping sound.

  Scared as I was, I sneaked a quick glance at him. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and the skin was purple and red and blue around it. It made my face hurt to look at it, and I turned my head away.

  "Who gave you that shiner?" Elizabeth asked. "Your little sister?"

  "Shut up, Lizard." Gordy shoved Elizabeth so hard she staggered backward and fell.

  When she got to her feet, her knee was bleeding. I watched the blood trickle down her shin and stain her white sock.

  Furious, Elizabeth slung her book bag at Gordy, but he grabbed it and yanked it away from her. Before she could stop him, he pulled her notebook out. While she struggled to get it back, he tore her homework to bits. Little fragments of Elizabeth's neat handwriting fell on the sidewalk. Then he opened her brand-new box of Crayolas, the big one she'd just bought, and tossed the crayons everywhere.

  "Stop it! Stop!" she cried as Gordy scattered the rest of her things. Pencils, a ruler, an unused art gum eraser, her fountain pen, her bottle of blue ink—all flew into the air and rolled into the grass, into the gutter, out into the street.

  Screaming for Bruce, I tried to rescue Elizabeth's things without losing mine. Finally Bruce and Frankie, the patrol from Beech Drive, came running toward us.

  "Quit it, Gordy," Bruce yelled. "Leave her alone!"

  Gordy tossed Elizabeth's empty book bag at her. Deliberately stepping on as many crayons as he could, he sauntered toward school. "Report me to Wagner, Benson," he called back, "and see what happens to you."

  Silently, the four of us gathered Elizabeth's school supplies. Her crayons were ruined, but we poked them back into the box anyway. Her pen and ink were all right, and, except for their broken points, so were her pencils. Gordy had torn most of her notebook paper, and the homework was beyond hope.

  Her face flushed, her hair hiding her eyes, Elizabeth dumped everything into her bookbag. Slinging its strap over her shoulder, she started walking toward school. One tear trembled on the rim of her eye. When she blinked, it slid slowly down her cheek. Quickly, she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Elizabeth Crawford did not cry.

  "Well," she said, "are you going to tell Mrs. Wagner what he did?"

  Bruce's face turned red, and Frankie kicked a stone.

  "He'll just deny it," Bruce said. His curly blonde hair fluffed up in the humid air, and he wiped some perspiration from his forehead with his shirtsleeve.

  "But four people saw him," Elizabeth said.

  "I know, but..." Bruce toyed with the little silver badge on his patrol belt.

  "You don't deserve to wear that!" Elizabeth said. "You sissy baby, you're scared of Gordy."

  "Mrs. Wagner said we shouldn't tell on each other," Frankie said. "Didn't she say that?" he asked Bruce when Elizabeth glared at him.

  Bruce nodded. We were at the bottom of the steps now, and Gordy was standing at the top, grinning down at us. Doug and Toad had appeared from somewhere, and they flanked Gordy like a pair of bodyguards.

  "We'll get you if you tell," Gordy said to Bruce. "Wherever you hide, we'll find you."

  Elizabeth clenched her fists and glared at Gordy. Then she turned to Bruce. "So that's it?" she said. "He ruins my school supplies and tears up my homework, and you don't do anything?"

  A group of kids ran past us. "Hurry up, the bell's about to ring," one shouted.

  Her back rigid with anger, Elizabeth climbed the steps. Gordy lounged in the doorway, waiting for her, and she had to squeeze past him to go inside.

  "Hey, Lizard," he whispered. "If you tell, I'll give your address to the crazy man. Me and him are buddies now."

  "You just wait, Gordy Smith," Elizabeth said. "Bruce and Frankie might be scared of you, but I'm not. I'll get you for this, I swear I will."

  I was so close to Elizabeth I was practically stepping on her heels, but Gordy grabbed one of my braids and stared right into my eyes. "The crazy man told me he's going to kill you first, Magpie."

  Too frightened to speak, I pulled away from him and followed Elizabeth into our classroom. The whole time Mrs. Wagner called roll, I felt Gordy's eyes boring into me, daring me to tell. He had nothing to worry about. I wasn't about to tattle.

  ***

  By the time school was out, Elizabeth was so mad she was sizzling. Not only had Bruce refused to report Gordy, but Mrs. Wagner had made Elizabeth stay in at recess and do her homework over again.

  As we walked home, Elizabeth stamped the sidewalk. "Step on a crack, break Gordy's back!" she yelled each time she put her foot down.

  Polly and I joined in. Instead of Hitler's face, I pictured Gordy's face under my big, shiny army shoes—his pale skin, his freckles, the scar over his eyebrow, his black eye. As I stamped harder and harder on his image, my heart filled with rage. I hated him almost as much as I hated Hitler.

  We waved good-bye to Polly at the corner and walked on down Garfield. Elizabeth was calmer now and very quiet. Too quiet, I thought.

  In front of her house, Elizabeth stopped and stared at me. "We're going to make Gordy sorry for all the things he's done to us," she said.

  My mouth went dry as she told me what she planned to do. "Every Saturday morning, Gordy, Toad, and Doug play football," she said. "While they're doing that, we'll wreck their hut. It'll be our D day."

  "What about the crazy man?" I asked. I was getting weak in th
e knees just thinking about going down in the woods again.

  Elizabeth frowned. "How often do I have to tell you? Gordy made him up to scare us. There isn't a crazy man!"

  "I'm not going there." My voice was rising into a whine, but I didn't care.

  Elizabeth tossed her curls. "Well, I guess I'll have to go by myself, Baby Magpie," she said. "You aren't my friend after all, are you? I can't count on you for anything."

  Tilting her chin up, she turned and walked away. When she reached her top step, she paused and looked back at me. "You yellow coward sissy baby," she said and went inside, slamming the door behind her.

  For a moment, her words hung in the silent air. I was sure everyone in the neighborhood must have heard them.

  Ashamed of my cowardice, I ran up Elizabeth's sidewalk. "Okay, okay," I yelled at her house. "I'll go!"

  Opening the door, Elizabeth grinned at me. "That's more like it," she said. "We'll fix Gordy good, we really will, Margaret. And if we see the crazy man, I'll protect you."

  8

  On Saturday morning, I was lying on my bed listening to "Let's Pretend," my favorite show. Uncle Bill had just whisked the children away on their flying carpet when Elizabeth arrived. Without a word, she turned off the radio.

  "Let's pretend you're as brave as I am," she said.

  Reluctantly, I followed her downstairs. Mother was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and listening to the radio.

  "Elizabeth and I are going outside to play for a while," I told her. As much as I hated chores, I lingered by the door for a moment, praying Mother would tell me I couldn't go anywhere till I vacuumed the living room. But she just smiled.

  "Have a nice time," she said, "but be back in time for lunch."

  I felt like telling her she might never see me again, at least not in one piece, but Elizabeth grabbed my hand and yanked me through the door as if she could see into the depths of my cowardly heart. Nothing was going to stop her from getting her revenge on Gordy. Not Gordy himself, not me or Mother, not even the crazy man roaming the woods with his big, sharp knife.