“Did Mama say right or left?” Angel asked, anxious. She felt as though she and Bernie had too many wrong things going against them already. She needed to get something right.
“I’m not going to tell you.”
Peering into the darkness, she poked her head first into one room and then the other. In the room on the right, she thought she could make out two small beds. “I think this one’s ours, Bernie.” She turned just in time to see Bernie starting back down the stairs. She grabbed him by the arm. “No, you don’t!”
“I’m hungry,” he said, trying to yank away.
“So am I, but there’s nothing I can do about it, is there, until Mama says so, so just come on in here and sit down and behave yourself for once in your life.” She dragged him into the room on the right side of the hall.
“You hurt my arm.”
“Well, I can’t trust you one minute, Bernie. The second I let go you’re—Okay, okay.” His face was screwed up ready to yell. “Okay, don’t cry. I’ll let go if you promise not to run back downstairs until Mama says so. Okay?”
He nodded.
She plopped him down on the nearest bed and shoved Grizzle at him. Automatically, he clutched the bear in his left arm and stuck his right thumb in his mouth. He’d probably be sucking his thumb after he could shave.
“Now, you sit right there, and I’ll find a light switch so we won’t have to sit up here in the dark, okay?” There was no switch evident in the dim light of the room, but there was a bare bulb hanging down from the ceiling, so there had to be some way to turn it on. She felt all around the wall. Behind her back a light went on.
Bernie was standing on the bed under the bulb, grinning.
“Where was the switch?”
“I yanked the string and it came on,” he said, as proud as if he’d just invented electricity.
“Okay, but you shouldn’t fool with it.”
“I just pulled the string. I didn’t fool with it. See?” He pulled the string off and on to show her.
“Don’t!”
“Why not?” He pulled it again. “I was just showing you.”
“Okay, you showed me. Now, sit down and behave yourself.”
“Why don’t you sit down yourself, Miss Boss?”
She sat down beside him. Grizzle lay on the floor between the two beds where Bernie had dropped him in the excitement over the stupid lightbulb. She reached for the bear and dusted him off. For a few seconds she held him, rubbing her cheek against his ear.
Bernie was staring at her. “What’s the matter, Angel?”
“Nothing.” She gave the bear a pat and put it down beside her on the bed, which was covered with a worn quilt, torn along most of its patches. Pulling off her sweaty jacket, she laid it on the bed beyond Grizzle. She’d have to find out where to put their stuff, but that would have to wait. Now she sat as still as she could, trying in vain to make the murmur of voices from the kitchen below into words. Bernie was quiet, too. Too quiet. She turned to see him neatly picking at a loose patch on the quilt. He had it free on three sides before she caught him.
“Don’t!” she cried. “You’ll tear it up!”
“It’s already tore up.”
“Not so bad as it will be if you keep monkeying with it.” She patted at his hand to make him stop.
“Quit it! You’re always hitting me. Always. Always. Always.”
“I never hit you, Bernie, you know that. Here.” She handed him Grizzle. “Want a story?”
“What kind of story?” He stuck his thumb in his mouth and began picking at the blue plush on the bear.
She wanted to tell him not to, that Grizzle was her bear, not his to pick bald, but she controlled herself. A story. The only story she could think of at the moment was
Hansel and Grizzle; no, Gretel. Hansel and Gretel.