“But . . . he can’t come here! He has to go back to his own family someday.”
“I doubt that, Clara Sue. I doubt that very much.” He looked at me and smiled. “I’m confident that he’ll end up here with us.”
“End up? For how long?”
“Forever, I think.”
I felt an electric shock go through my body. I looked into Willie’s room and shook my head. I couldn’t be hearing right. I couldn’t. Give this strange boy Willie’s things? It was as if Grandpa was sweeping away our memories of my brother as easily as erasing a blackboard. No! I screamed inside myself. This room should be locked away, especially from strangers. It should be kept as a shrine. I wanted to come in here often and think about Willie and cry about Willie. I didn’t want to see another boy’s face, see any other boy, especially a stranger, in Willie’s bed. My heart would do flip-flops, and my stomach would shrink into a thimble.
“He’s so tiny, being so undernourished and all,” Grandpa continued, nodding as he spoke. “You saw that, but we’ll get him up to speed. No sense throwing away Willie’s clothes, either. He’ll grow into them. He might even fit into his shoes. Some of the things in his closet are practically brand new.”
“You shouldn’t do that, Grandpa,” I said, the words practically choking off my breathing as my throat tightened.
He looked at me as if he had been talking to himself and just realized I was there beside him. “What else would we do with it all, Clara Sue? We don’t want to throw it out. That would be stupid, a waste. We’d only have to go out and buy lots of new things for him. Not that we won’t, of course, but . . .” He looked back into Willie’s room. “It would be a shame not to use what we have.”
“But they’re Willie’s things,” I whined.
It was just a little while ago, not even a full week ago, that Willie was in that bed having dreams or sitting up and playing with his toy soldiers and little cars. He recuperated from colds and coughs in that bed, had nightmares there that brought Grandma Arnold to him and, later, Myra and even me sometimes. No matter how many times those sheets and pillowcases were washed, they probably still had Willie’s scent, that of his soaps, his shampoos, and all the things he played with, the flowers he touched, and the grass he stained his hands and knees with. Somewhere on the bed, I was sure I could still find a strand of his hair, no matter how the bed had been remade. That bed was a holy place. No!
“No!” I shouted. “You can’t do that. I won’t let you. I’ll hate him, and I’ll hate you.” I raised my arms, my hands clenched into fists. I wanted to pound him.
He looked at me with more disapproval than I could ever remember. It frightened me, and I turned and ran back to my room, slamming the door shut behind me, and then I fell forward on my bed and cried almost as strongly as I had at Willie’s funeral, maybe because this felt like he was being buried again.
I heard my door open and turned.
My grandfather was standing in the doorway. With the light behind him, his face was in a mask of shadows. For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. I sucked back my sniffles and wiped my cheeks, flicking off the tears.
“I’m going to forget what you said,” he began. His voice seemed deeper, making him appear even bigger. “You are not a mean, selfish girl. I know you would never hurt someone who is so helpless and alone. It would especially dishonor your brother’s memory. Life is like a relay race. When good people die, they pass something important of themselves on to those who continue. Think of it that way, and you’ll never stop being a big sister. And I . . . I will never stop being a grandfather,” he concluded, and then he backed up, closing the door softly. It was like someone bringing down a curtain on Act One.
I couldn’t help it.
No matter what he had said.
I was still very much afraid of Act Two.
5
My reasons for dreading my return to school proved true. As I moved through the building from class to class, I kept my gaze down as much as I could, because every time I met someone else’s eyes, I saw the discomfort of having to greet someone dressed in such sorrow. Not that I wore black. I deliberately avoided it and chose a blue blouse and a light blue skirt. I could feel the dark veil over me, however. It was as if shadows born at the foot of Willie’s grave were following me and always would.
The principal, Mrs. Greene, her secretary, and my teachers, especially Mr. Leshner, made it a point to take me aside and express their sympathy. Even the school’s head custodian, Henry Hull, paused in what he was doing and came over to me to express his condolences. I think I said “thank you” more times during my first
day back than I had said my whole life.
Lila was practically glued to my side from the moment I arrived. She was there ahead of me and waited at the front entrance to escort me to homeroom. She started babbling immediately, but I kept my face forward and sank into my seat like someone settling on a life raft. After that, Lila leaped up at the sound of every bell ending a class to walk step by step beside me until I was safely wrapped in another seat and desk. I feared that somehow she saw herself as imperative—my protector, my personal secret service agent, through whom everyone had to go to speak with me. At one point, I looked at her and thought she was wearing my grief like a ribbon of distinction over her breast. I overheard her whispering to Ellie Patterson and Cora Burns, with Aaron Podwell beside her, describing how devastated I had been and how difficult it had been for anyone, including her, to get me to eat a morsel of food. Oh, what a burden she has endured, I thought, and hurried away.
She came looking for me with her favorite question of the day: “Are you all right?”
“Are you?” I asked, spinning around on her. I could feel my eyes blazing. Suddenly, I had found a target at which to aim all my discomfort. The shocked look on her face only encouraged me.
“Me? What do you mean?”
“This is so difficult for you, this burden of having to explain my state of mind,” I said very matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry about that.”
Her eyes blinked, but she had missed my sarcasm entirely. “Oh. No, no. As your closest friend now, I shouldn’t run away from helping you.”
I nodded. “I’ll tell you what. Do me a favor, Lila. Run away,” I said, and hurried ahead to our last class of the day, leaving her stunned behind me.
If there was one good outcome from the pressure I felt the first day back, it was not having much time to think about what Grandpa was planning to do with the poisoned boy. In fact, I didn’t think about it until the car service that Grandpa had hired to take Willie and me to school brought me back to the estate. It was a mostly cloudy day, and the Indian summer we had been experiencing was in fast retreat. Fall was rushing in, angry that it had been held back. Leaves were already beginning to turn golden brown. Winter would be on its heels, equally eager to strip the woods and leave us surrounded by skeletons. Everything about the future looked glum. No holiday, no birthday, and no party loomed with any promise. I feared I would never dream nice dreams again.