Sneak Thief Page 6

  “And have you maybe been chosen to be one of those horse soothers, Desiree?” I ventured.

  “I have! I have!”

  “Congratulations!” Never say I don’t follow a current when the river demands it.

  “Thank you!” Then she hugged me and jumped up and down like mad.

  And, do you know, I found myself hugging her back and even jumping up and down a little, too.

  “So, what’s going on with you?” she asked, once her giddiness spun down some. “Are you thirsty? Do you want a drink? Are you hungry? We have food!” She backed into the kitchen, hand still ahold of my sleeve. “Come look in the fridge!”

  “All right!” I laughed. “But calm down some! You’re making me goosey!”

  “Am I being too much?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head, evidently at her own too-muchness. “My ma says I can be. Please”—she petted my arm in long, silly strokes—“relax, have a seat, be my guest.”

  “Now you’re just devilin’ me,” I observed with a smile.

  “Maybe a little. But I will calm down.” She took a deep breath for show. “See? Calm. Now, you want a drink?” She opened the fridge and peered in.

  “Yes, please.”

  While she searched, I got my first gander at the Orrs’ kitchen. There were cow potholders and a cow clock. Bovine spoon rests and a bovine cookie jar. The curtains even featured romping cows. I confess, that tickled me almost beyond good sense. And nicer still was how quiet my loco was in the face of all those doodads.

  “Oh! Hold up.” Looking off toward another part of the house, Desiree shouted, “Ma? Can me and Hush open the punch?”

  “Only if you keep it down!” Becky called back.

  “She’s got a headache,” Desiree told me, grabbing a bottle. “This stuff is so good. Now, really, tell me all your news. You left so fast the other night, I wondered if you might have got in trouble for being late.”

  “Oh, that. No. No trouble,” I told her. “But…truth to tell, I would like to run something by you.”

  She poured us each a glass of punch and set it on the table. Then she turned a chair backward, straddled it, and said, “Shoot.”

  I paused to drink in Desiree’s fine companionship. Maybe it was silly, considering how we’d only just met, but I was starting to like her so very much.

  I must have gazed too long, though, because she cocked her head and said, “Go ahead. Run something by me.”

  There was nothing to do but to do it. I took out the jar and showed it to her.

  “Desiree, what do you think this is?” I asked.

  She studied on it for a second. “A mayonnaise jar?”

  That surprised me some. “I mean inside it.”

  “Oh….” She took the jar from me and gave it a shake. The whatsit shook right along with it. “Is this a puzzle?”

  “No. Look.” I took the container back and pointed straight at the pale red rippler.

  “I don’t…um…Do you mean that speck there, on the glass?”

  “No! I mean the wriggly red thing!”

  “Did you catch a bug? Maybe it escaped!” She reached out to check the lid for tightness.

  “Desiree!” I cried. “Don’t tell me you don’t see a weird red thing in there!”

  Eyes wide, she shook her head.

  “Well, dangit! Now I’m crazy, too!” I grabbed me a chair and flumped down.

  Desiree turned her seat to face mine. “Maybe not. Before my granny died, she saw my dead grampa, and nobody else could see him.”

  “You’re just being charitable,” I complained.

  “I’m not! I really do believe there’s things that are real, but we can’t see them. Like gravity.”

  “Yeah, but we can feel gravity!” I stamped my foot on the ground. “We can at least agree it’s there!”

  “Okay, what about”—she tapped her upper lip—“my feelings? If I’m happy, you can’t see my happiness. You can’t feel my happiness in your own heart. But it’s real.”

  “I can see your glad expression, though,” I retorted.

  “Sure, but anyone who has a ma knows a person can sometimes smile when they’re angry.”

  It took some cogitating, but I finally came around. “So, you do believe me, there’s something in this here jar?”

  Those sincere eyebulbs of hers! When she dipped her chin yes, I knew she meant it.

  “But I can’t see it,” she said. “So you’ll have to tell me. What is it? How’d you get it?”

  I told her about seeing the whatsit on Mabel’s twinging back, and how I’d plucked it off. I told her what it looked like, the faint ache when I held it in my hand, and how it had no openings or closings to speak of.

  “Can I hold it?” Desiree asked. “Can you put it in my hand?”

  We gave it a try.

  “Hush! I think— It’s there, isn’t it? I think I can feel something!” She closed her eyes. “Like a…toothache sort of pain.”

  “Yeah! Yeah!” I agreed. “Now, wait a minute.”

  I made like I was taking the whatsit off, but in truth I left it on her palm.

  “It’s still there,” Desiree said. “You didn’t take it.”

  Boy howdy, did I whoop! “It’s real! You can feel it and it’s real!”

  Just then, Becky came into the room, her hand pressed to her temple.

  “Hello, Hush,” she greeted me with a tight grin. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re always welcome. But will you please, please keep it down?”

  “I—I—” I stammered. “Yes. Sorry.” I very nearly didn’t get the words out, for I had seen something terrible.

  “Thank you kindly.” Becky opened the freezer, took out an ice bag, and departed again.

  “Hush! What’s wrong?” Desiree grabbed my shirtsleeve. “You’re as pale as moonbeams!”

  “Your—your ma gots ’em!”

  “Gots what?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Whatsits! Three of them! Poking out of her head!”

  “Are you sure?” Desiree demanded to know.

  “I could see them clear as day!”

  “You have to get them off, Hush! You’ve got to!” She grabbed the front of my shirt and shook me.

  I gripped her hands. “You’ll have to stop rattling me first!”

  She let me go. “Sorry! But you’ve got to—”

  “I know. I will. Where is she?” I went into the hallway and looked around for Becky.

  “She’s in bed. Come on!” Desiree ran off.

  I found her down a hallway I hadn’t yet seen. That Orr place sure was big.

  “You know…,” I said, “I still don’t know for sure if the whatsits are bad.”

  “You don’t know they’re good, either!” She threw open the door. “Ma, Hush needs to look at you!”

  “Look at me, why?” Becky groaned.

  The curtains were shut tight, so not a peep of light could get in. Poor Becky was nothing but a shadowy lump under the covers.

  “I—I thought I saw something on you.” There. By the letter of the law, that was true.

  “Like what?” Desiree’s ma pulled down the covers a little. The whatsit tails were deep red, rippling away on her forehead. “Like a bug?”

  “Yeah, like that.” I got up close to the bed. “Here.”

  She held out her face as much as the pain would allow. I reached out and, with one sweep, plucked off all three thingies.

  “Got it,” I told her, stuffing them into my pocket.

  “What was it?” Becky asked. But before I could reply, she pushed herself bolt upright. “Hey. My headache’s gone.”

  Desiree gasped.

  “Like, gone, gone?” I asked.

  Becky nodded. “Gone, gone. That’s the strangest thing. Usually they han
g on until the small hours of the morning.”

  “I wonder, Becky,” I said. “Do your headaches come and go, or is it one long pain?” I couldn’t help thinking of how Becky’s whatsits were deep red all the time, but Mabel’s only flashed dark when she twinged.

  “It’s one long pain,” she replied. “Twelve or so hours of unrelenting pain. Except this time.” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to question it. I’m just grateful. And to celebrate, I think I’m gonna hop in the shower, throw on some fresh clothes, and put on some sweet tea.”

  “That’s, uh— I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I told Becky. “I reckon we’ll go back to, uh, what we were doing. Sorry to bother you.”

  “No trouble.” Becky stuck her legs out from under the covers and wiggled her toes. “Mm-mm! I do feel good!”

  * * *

  —

  I snatched the mayonnaise jar from the kitchen and raced into Desiree’s room. The three whatsits were wriggling like mad in my pocket, and I didn’t want them to get loose.

  “Did you see that?” Desiree rushed in after me.

  “It took away her pain!” I answered, nodding hard and fast.

  Once the new whatsits were sealed up, I set the jar on Desiree’s dresser and considered it. “What are these things?”

  Desiree threw herself down in front of her bookcase and started plucking out books, as if the answer might be written in something called Observing and Recording Weather Patterns.

  I studied the four thingies, all of them now a soft red color. “It’s peculiar, how they seem to go deep red when the pain is very bad, but they’re sort of pale-ish otherwise.”

  Desiree snapped shut the volume in her hands, blew out a noisy breath, and said, “I think they’re pain imps.”

  Excited that she might have figured it, I spun around. “What’s pain imps?”

  “I don’t know. I just made it up,” she replied. “But don’t you think that’s what they are?”

  I was a mite disappointed, but I pressed on. “Well, what’s an imp? It’s like a ghost, ain’t it?”

  She bobbed her head from one side to the other. “More like a sprite. They have mischief.”

  “Yeah, but don’t they also have faces?”

  She quirked her lip. “I don’t think they have to.”

  It didn’t tell us anything, really, but it was a better name than whatsit. “All right, then. They’re pain imps,” I agreed, reaching for the jar again. “Now what?”

  * * *

  —

  Twenty minutes later, we were still puzzling over that question when Becky called from the kitchen, “I’m outta teabags, y’all! Wanna take a drive? I’ll buy you both an ice cream at Ham’s.”

  “To town? Uh…” I dithered, recalling my talk with Mabel that morning.

  “We should go!” Desiree whispered. “You can see if other people have them!” She hitched a thumb at the pain imps.

  That was an idea. “But you’d stay right with me?”

  She gave me a funny look. “It’s okay, Hush! I know they’re weird, but”—she picked up the jar and gave it a shake—“if they are imps, I don’t think they’re dangerous. Just a little rascally.”

  When I kept on looking worried, she promised, “I’ll stay right with you.”

  “All right, then,” I said.

  But what I was thinking was, Please, oh, please, let my loco stay down.

  * * *

  —

  It turned out to be no trouble at all. I didn’t even have to go into any stores. Becky dropped us off at Ham’s Restaurant with a ten-dollar bill, told us to order what we liked, and promised she’d be back in two shakes.

  A string of chimes jangled overhead as we stepped inside.

  I’d only ever been inside Ham’s once, back when my cousin Harlan was going with a waitress there. This was before Harlan got sent to juvie, of course. The girl had given us some free onion rings, but I only got a couple before Harlan polished them off.

  The place was much livelier now, with two waitresses and nearly all the booths full. A lady with a name tag saying SUE walked up to greet us. A pain imp stuck out of her left ear.

  “Hey, sugar!” Sue greeted Desiree. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Hush,” Desiree told her.

  “Well, hey, Hush!” Sue beamed brightly.

  “Hey, ma’am.”

  “Table for two?”

  “Yes, please,” said Desiree.

  Soon as Sue turned her back, I pointed at my ear, then at Sue. Pain imp, I mouthed at Desiree.

  While Sue was setting down our silverware, Desiree ventured, “Is your ear hurting you, Sue?”

  Sue put her hand to her left ear. “Was I fiddling with it again? I didn’t even know. Yeah. It’s swimmer’s ear. Seems I get it at least once every summer. Ain’t nothin’ but a thang. What can I get y’all?”

  “Hot fudge sundae, mint ice cream,” Desiree said.

  I glanced down at a menu on the table. My head fairly swam with all the choices. “Same,” I surrendered.

  “You got it.” Sue gave us another grin and whisked off.

  “Dog my cats, Hush! You can’t tell me you’re crazy now!” Desiree grabbed my hand and squeezed tight. “Does anyone else have them?”

  I took a gander.

  Oh, Lordy.

  Everyone else had them. A pain imp on the crook of the jaw. Another on a knee. A man with so many springing from the back of his head, he almost looked afire. One old lady stirring her coffee had an imp at every joint in both of her hands.

  Finally, after lots of careful looking, I did see one person who didn’t have an imp. It was a baby, asleep in her mama’s arms, the next booth over. Her ma had one, though, fluttering on her big toe. Must have stubbed it, I reasoned.

  Turning back to Desiree, I whisper-shouted, “There’s so many! It’s awful!”

  “Awful? No, no! It’s the best thing ever, Hush! Don’t you see?” She gave my hand another tight squeeze. “You can fix it! You have a superpower to take away pain!”

  I gave a wild, crazy sort of laugh. “Desiree, I can’t just walk up to people and say, ‘Hey, I see you’ve got a pain imp. Let me get it off you!’ They’d think I was touched!”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she said. “But you could be sneaky.” She gave a pointed, sideways look just as Sue reappeared and set our ice cream in front of us.

  “Sue, you’ve got something in your hair.” Desiree stretched out a hand, then pulled it back. “I don’t think I can reach. Hush, can you get it?”

  Sue stayed bent over. “Get it, would you, sugar? I’ve got syrup all over my fingers.”

  “Uh, yeah.” I reached up, grabbed the pain imp, and quick hid my closed hand under the table. “It wasn’t much. Just a piece of fluff.”

  “Thanks anyway. Last thing I’d want is for folks to be calling me Ham’s old fluffhead.” Sue winked.

  “Welcome.” I smiled.

  As she walked away, Sue stuck her finger in her ear and wiggled it around. “Huh!” she said, sounding pleased.

  Desiree’s eyes flew wide. “See! That wasn’t hard at all!”

  “No,” I had to agree. “It surely wasn’t.”

  * * *

  —

  Let me tell you, my first-ever hot fudge sundae with mint ice cream was a mighty right thing. But eating it across the table from the nicest girl I ever met, and her gushing all the while about how important and superpowered I was—that amounted to one of the finest days in all my twelve years. I hardly knew what to do with myself.

  * * *

  —

  Becky and Desiree drove me back to Mabel’s in time to get my four hours of work done before dark.

  “You live with Travis Tromp?” Desiree asked as we pulled into Mabel’s driveway.<
br />
  “Uh, no, I, uh…” What could I say? The whole story would take an hour or two plus a scorecard for keeping track.

  Becky piped up, “Travis is away with his stepdaddy, so Hush is giving Mabel a hand. Meanwhile, she’s learning, like a gardening internship.”

  I reckoned from that, that Becky knew about the Hush Cantrell rehabilitation plan.

  “I didn’t know you liked plants!” Desiree said.

  “I’m learning to like them,” I told her.

  “Horses are very dependent on plants,” she pointed out. “It really is good that we met!”

  I muttered that I thought so, too. But something was bothering me. Desiree seemed to be thinking of me as a real friend. It felt unfair to leave her with such a slim sliver of the truth.

  Could she still like me if she knew who I really was?

  “Um. Me staying with Mabel—” I began. “You’re right, Becky. But it’s not just a gardening internship. There’s some…things happening at my house. Some troubles. So the sheriff thought I should leave for a while.” I wasn’t bold enough to admit my thieving.

  Desiree frowned, and I thought I was done for.

  But what she finally said was, “That’s sad. It’s so hard to be a person sometimes, isn’t it?”

  I blew out a big breath. I hadn’t scared her off. And, somehow, she’d known just the right words to say.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Real hard.”

  For a few seconds, the only sound between us was the car’s engine.

  “Hush, do you have everything?” Ma Orr asked me, though the only thing I’d brought with me was Mabel’s jar.

  “Got my pants on. Got my shoes,” I joked as I opened the door.

  “Try to come over again soon.” Desiree handed me the imps as I climbed from the car. “We have important stuff to talk about.” Not so sneakily, she pointed at the jar.

  Becky chuckled. “You’re a peculiar little thing, Miss Desiree Orr.” Then she reached over and gave her daughter a hug and a kiss. “But—ooh!—I love ya.”