Cemetery Street

"I was doing most of the talking," I claimed.

"If he didn't hear me, he," Shannie sniffed twice. "Smelled me."

***

"James, phone," my mother called. The smell of barbecued steak wafted through our backyard. It was Labor Day, my mother was in a good mood and my father emerged from his stupor. "Just James," Shannie's voice rang through the receiver. "Tomorrow's the day."

"For?" I asked.

She giggled. "Diane has classes all day and you start school on Wednesday, it's tomorrow or never."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count," Shannie said.

Oh that! I thought. "What time?" I stammered.

"You oughta think with your small head more often. You catch on quicker," Shannie teased.

"Ha ha," I said.

"Eleven. Come around to the back door."

"Eleven it is." I hung up and returned to the picnic table. I studied the steak's rare middle as I chewed. The sight of it lying in a pool of its own juices cost my appetite, at least that was my excuse. I slipped from the table under the cover of my parent's conversation.

The evening drug slower than Christmas Eve for a five year old. In my bedroom, I paced the floor. When I tired of that, I went to Count's. "The boys are running an errand," Flossy said. I made my way to the maple tree. I climbed and watched the holiday traffic. I wanted to talk with Shannie. Instead, I walked to Wally's. With Shannie on my mind, I bought Pixie sticks, I hate Pixie sticks! Go figure. Back in my room, I paced.

Dealing with the opposite sex is nerve wracking, no wonder my parent's are so screwed up, I thought. A light went on in Diane's room. I shut mine off and raced to my perch. Shannie stood in Diane's doorway, arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the door frame, her head tilted backwards. She spoke, I tried reading her lips. Diane appeared from the corner of her room and walked past Shannie into the hallway. Instead of following, Shannie walked towards the window and stared in my direction. After a moment she slipped from Diane's room.

As Evening turned to night, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, my mind awash with images of what tomorrow would bring. When sleep came, it was shallow and filled with dreams. The images were random and disjointed. In one dream, Shannie and I were in her bedroom, but her bedroom was in the maple tree. We were about to kiss when a tornado roared up the hill from the junkyard. Suddenly, we were running hand in hand inside a cave. Water trickled from the cave's wall's. Rats squealed as we ran past. Suddenly, the walls trembled. A rumbling light chased us.