what I mean, being as how good a person she was.
'How would I get to know him?' I asked.
She didn't answer, but she smiled to herself, as if she knew some secret that she was keeping from me. Like I said, I hated it when she did that.
The next night we talked about her Bible.
'Why do you always carry it with you?' I asked.
Now, I assumed she carried the Bible around simply because she was the minister's daughter. It wasn't that big of an assumption, given how Hegbert felt about Scripture and all. But the Bible she carried was old and the cover was kind of ratty looking, and I figured that she'd be the kind of person who would buy a new one every year or so just to help out the Bible publishing industry or to show her renewed dedication to the Lord or something.
She walked a few steps before answering.
'It was my mother's,' she said simply.
'Oh. . . .' I said it like I'd stepped on someone's pet turtle, squashing it under my shoe.
She looked at me. 'It's okay, Landon. How could you have known?'
'I'm sorry I asked. . . .'
'Don't be. You didn't mean anything by it.' She paused. 'My mother and father were given this Bible for their wedding, but my mom was the one who claimed it first. She read it all the time, especially whenever she was going through a hard time in her life.'
I thought about the miscarriages. Jamie went on.
'She loved to read it at night, before she went to sleep, and she had it with her in the hospital when I was born. When my father found out that she had died, he carried the Bible and me out of the hospital at the same time.'
'I'm sorry,' I said again. Whenever someone tells you something sad, it's the only thing you can think to say, even if you've already said it before.
'It just gives me a way to . . . to be a part of her. Can you understand that?' She wasn't saying it sadly, just more to let me know the answer to my question. Somehow that made it worse.
After she told me the story, I thought of her growing up with Hegbert again, and I didn't really know what to say. As I was thinking about my answer, though, I heard a car blare its horn from behind us, and both Jamie and I stopped and turned around at the same time as we heard it pulling over to the side.
Eric and Margaret were in the car, Eric on the driver's side, Margaret on the side closest to us.
'Well, lookee who we have here,' Eric said as he leaned over the steering wheel so that I could see his face. I hadn't told him I'd been walking Jamie home, and in the curious way that teenage minds work, this new development took priority over anything that I was feeling about Jamie's story.
'Hello, Eric. Hello, Margaret,' Jamie said cheerfully.
'Walking her home, Landon?' I could see the little devil behind Eric's smile.
'Hey, Eric,' I said, wishing he'd never seen me.
'It's a beautiful night for strolling, isn't it?' Eric said. I think that because Margaret was between him and Jamie, he felt a little bolder than he usually was in Jamie's presence. And there was no way he could let this opportunity pass without sticking it to me.
Jamie looked around and smiled. 'Yes, it is.'
Eric looked around, too, with this wistful look in his eyes before taking a deep breath. I could tell he was faking it. 'Boy, it really is nice out there.' He sighed and glanced toward us as he shrugged. 'I'd offer you a ride, but it wouldn't be half as nice as actually walking under the stars, and I wouldn't want you two to miss it.' He said this like he was doing us both a favor.
'Oh, we're almost to my house anyway,' Jamie said. 'I was going to offer Landon a cup of cider. Would you like to meet us there? We have plenty.'
A cup of cider? At her house? She hadn't mentioned that. . . .
I put my hands in my pocket, wondering if this could get any worse.
'Oh, no . . . that's all right. We were just heading off to Cecil's Diner.'
'On a school night?' she asked innocently.
'Oh, we won't be out too late,' he promised, 'but we should probably be going. Enjoy your cider, you two.'
'Thanks for stopping to say hello,' Jamie said, waving.
Eric got the car rolling again, but slowly. Jamie probably thought he was a safe driver. He really wasn't, though he was good at getting out of trouble when he'd crashed into something. I remember one time when he'd told his mother that a cow had jumped out in front of the car and that's why the grille and fender were damaged. 'It happened so fast, Mom, the cow came out of nowhere. It just darted out in front of me, and I couldn't stop in time.' Now, everyone knows cows don't exactly dart anywhere, but his mother believed him. She used to be a head cheerleader, too, by the way.
Once they'd pulled out of sight, Jamie turned to me and smiled.
'You have nice friends, Landon.'
'Sure I do.' Notice the careful way I phrased my answer.
After dropping Jamie off—no, I didn't stay for any cider—I started back to my house, grumbling the whole time. By then Jamie's story had left me completely, and I could practically hear my friends laughing about me, all the way from Cecil's Diner.
See what happens when you're a nice guy?
By the next morning everyone at school knew I was walking Jamie home, and this started up a new round of speculation about the two of us. This time it was even worse than before. It was so bad that I had to spend my lunch break in the library just to get away from it all.
That night, the rehearsal was at the Playhouse. It was the last one before the show opened, and we had a lot to do. Right after school, the boys in drama class had to load all the props in the classroom into the rented truck to take them to the Playhouse. The only problem was that Eddie and I were the only two boys, and he's not exactly the most coordinated individual in history. We'd be walking through a doorway, carrying one of the heavier items, and his Hooville body would work against him. At every critical moment when I really needed his help to balance the load, he'd stumble over some dust or an insect on the floor, and the weight of the prop would come crashing down on my fingers, pinching them against the doorjamb in the most painful way possible.
'S-s-sorry,' he'd say. 'D-d-did . . . th-th-that hurt?'
I'd stifle the curses rising in my throat and bite out, 'Just don't do it again.'
But he couldn't stop himself from stumbling around any more than he could stop the rain from falling. By the time we'd finished loading and unloading everything, my fingers looked like Toby's, the roving handyman. And the worst thing was, I didn't even get a chance to eat before rehearsal started. Moving the props had taken three hours, and we didn't finish setting them up until a few minutes before everyone else arrived to begin. With everything else that had happened that day, suffice it to say I was in a pretty bad mood.
I ran through my lines without even thinking about them, and Miss Garber didn't say the word marvelous all night long. She had this concerned look in her eyes afterward, but Jamie simply smiled and told her not to worry, that everything was going to be all right. I knew Jamie was just trying to make things better for me, but when she asked me to walk her home, I told her no. The Playhouse was in the middle of town, and to walk her home, I'd have to walk a good distance out of my way. Besides, I didn't want to be seen again doing it. But Miss Garber had overheard Jamie's request and she said, very firmly, that I'd be glad to do it. 'You two can talk about the play,' she said. 'Maybe you can work out the kinks.' By kinks, of course, she meant me specifically.
So once more I ended up walking Jamie home, but she could tell I wasn't really in the mood to talk because I walked a little bit in front of her, my hands in my pockets, without even really turning back to see whether she was following. It went this way for the first few minutes, and I hadn't said a word to her.
'You're not in a very good mood, are you?' she finally asked. 'You didn't even try tonight.'
'You don't miss a thing, do you?' I said sarcastically without looking at her.
'Maybe I can help,' she offered. She said it kind of happily, which made me even a little angrier.
'I doubt it,' I snapped.
'Maybe if you told me what was wrong—'
