Mick left at a trot, and Antonia continued to the door leading upstairs after glancing in the store window. Mr. Donato was there, talking with Mr. Welles, who was frowning. He was one sourpuss, that Mr. Welles. But when she’d said that to Mrs. S, Mrs. S had just said he was a family man with a lot of responsibilities, which he took very seriously. “Unlike some men I’ve known,” Mrs. S had muttered under her breath, and Antonia had wondered if maybe she was thinking about Mr. Stannert back in Leadville.
Just then, John Hee came out from the repair room. It looked like he was showing Mr. Donato a strange, almost-a-violin-but-not-quite sort of instrument. Not wanting to be caught staring through the window, Antonia scooted off to the living quarters.
She was a little disappointed that Mrs. S wasn’t there, as she wanted to blather out her story, her ruse, while it was all still fresh in her mind. What would she do if Mrs. S didn’t come back in time to meet Copper Mick? She’d have to write a note, leave, and hope for the best, hope that Mrs. S wouldn’t be mad that she, Antonia, had gone off without checking with her first.
At least she had some time to prepare.
Antonia pulled the worn and tattered men’s clothes out from under her bed. Off came her school clothes and petticoats, and on went the trousers and shirt. She struggled back into her dress, rolled up the pant cuffs so they didn’t show, and stuffed the cuffs of the too-big shirt up into the dress sleeves. The old waistcoat wouldn’t fit underneath, and there was also the ratty jacket and the faded red cap, as well as the too-large shoes with a dime-size hole in the left sole. She bundled up everything in the jacket, hurried down the hall, through the storage room, out the door, and down the rickety steps, keeping an eye out and an ear cocked in case someone stepped out the back of the music store.
Luckily, no one did, which allowed her to sidle past the back entrance to the old outhouse in the alley leaning hard against the rear wall. Antonia silently thanked her lucky stars they had a water closet and she didn’t have to use the musty little wooden shack. Someone had put a lock on it, but not a very good one, because Antonia was able to remove it in a jiffy. She’d explored the outhouse before. It wasn’t too bad. And it had a high shelf off to the side, perfect for stuffing her rolled-up jacket and its contents. Once that was done, she rehung the lock, but didn’t close it, and hurried up the rickety stairs to the storage room.
It was almost sunset when Mrs. S came home. She looked tired, distracted, but the first question out of her mouth was, “How was school?”
Antonia was happy she actually had some good news to report. “Great! Miss Pierce complimented me on my times tables memorization. And I solved all the problems she put up on the blackboard, faster than anyone else in class. And I got all the oral problems right, too!”
Mrs. S nodded. “See what happens when you apply yourself?”
Antonia wasn’t sure if it was because she had “applied” anything. The answers just seemed to “be there,” without her hardly thinking. Even the new multiplication problems today had not been hard. Although her classmates seemed to think they were.
“Oh! And I was asked over to dinner tonight by one of the girls in my class, Katie Lynch.”
Mrs. S raised her eyebrows in that way that told Antonia she’d better sound convincing when she told her story. So, she did. And it sure helped that the downstairs bell rang before Mrs. S could start asking a bunch of questions.
“That must be Katie’s older brother, Michael,” said Antonia brightly. “Katie said he’d walk me to their house on Third and walk me home after. He’s in seventh grade. He wants to be a policeman, like his father. That’s what Katie told me.”
Mrs. Stannert’s eyebrows rose higher at that. But once she answered the door, and Copper Mick whipped off his cap and started with his “Good evening, ma’am,” and “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” and “Sure glad my little sister’s finally found a friend at school,” and other such blarney-blather, Mrs. S seemed to warm up. After Mick gave Mrs. S his address, she sent Antonia and him off, with the stern warning that Antonia should be home no later than nine o’clock.
“I may not be here,” she said, “but I expect you to act responsibly and get yourself to bed at a reasonable hour.”
“Yes’m, I will.”
They hurried down the block until Antonia nudged Mick into a narrow slot between two buildings. “Turn here!”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. Hurry! We don’t have much time!”
When she finally showed him the old outhouse, he balked. “I’m not going in there. I’d rather change right here in the alley.”
“Suit yourself,” said Antonia. “I’ll use it then. I’m gonna be quick, and you’d better be quicker, that’s all I’ve got to say.”
She went in, closed the door, and shucked off her dress. After pulling on the rest of her disguise, she turned the dress inside out and rolled it up, so it wouldn’t gather any dust, and stuffed her dress, coat, bonnet, and shoes up on the shelf. Then she put her spectacles up there too. The last thing she wanted to do was lose those and somehow have to explain to Mrs. S. She clutched at the locket with her maman’s photograph, hanging under the men’s shirt and her camisole. She’d forgotten to take it off inside her room. I’m not leaving it in this shithouse. The locket on the braided hair chain would stay where it was, hidden and safe.
Cap
