Cutler 01 - Dawn

secrets he had.
    Jimmy hadn't been home yet, so Momma didn't know a thing about the troubles at school. Daddy and I looked at each other after looking at her and silently decided to keep it all to ourselves.
    "Where's Jimmy?" she asked.
    "He's with some new friends," Daddy said. Momma took a look at me and saw the lie, but she didn't question it.
    But when Jimmy didn't come home for supper, we had to tell Momma about the fight and his getting into trouble. She nodded as we spoke.
    "I knew it anyway," she said. "Neither of you are worth a pig's knuckle when it comes to telling white lies—or any lies for that matter." She sighed. "That boy's just not happy, might never be," she added with a tone of prophetic doom.
    "Oh, no, Momma. Jimmy's going to be something great yet. I just know it. He's very smart. You'll see," I insisted.
    "Hope so," she said. She started to cough again. Her cough had changed, become deeper, shaking her entire body silently sometimes. Momma claimed that meant she was getting better, driving it down and out, but I didn't feel good about it, and I still longed for her to go to a real doctor or a hospital.
    After I cleaned the dishes and put everything away, I practiced a song. Daddy and Fern were my audience, with Fern very attentive whenever I sang. She clapped her little hands together whenever Daddy clapped his hands. Momma listened from her bedroom, calling out once in a while to tell me how good I sounded.
    It grew dark and the cold rain Daddy had forecast came, the drops splattering our windows. They sounded like thousands of fingers being tapped against the glass. There was thunder and lightning, and the wind whipped around the apartment house, whistling through all the cracks and crannies. I had to put another blanket on Momma when her teeth started chattering. We decided we would let little Fern sleep in her clothes this night. I felt so sorry and worried for Jimmy because he was still out there somewhere, wandering about in the dark, stormy night—I thought my heart might break. I knew he didn't have any money with him, so I was sure he had gone without any supper. I had wrapped him up a plate of food that was ready to be warmed up the moment he returned.
    But the night wore on and he didn't come home. I stayed awake as long as I could, staring at the door and listening for Jimmy's footsteps in the hallway, but whenever I heard footsteps, they were going upstairs or into another apartment. Once in a while I went to a window and gazed out through the cloudy glass and into the rainy darkness.
    I finally went to sleep, too, but sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke to the sound of the front door opening.
    "Where were you?" I whispered. I couldn't see his eyes or much of his face in the darkness.
    "I was going to run away," he said. "I even got as far as fifty miles outside of Richmond."
    "James Gary Longchamp, you didn't?"
    "I did, I hitched a couple of rides, and the second one letting me out at a roadside restaurant. All's I had on me was some change, so I got a cup of coffee. The waitress took pity on me and brought me a roll and butter. Then she started asking me questions. She has a boy about my age, too, and works all the time because her husband was killed in a car accident about five years ago.
    "I was going to go out and keep hitchhiking, but it started to rain so hard, I couldn't get out. The waitress knew this truck driver who, was heading back to Richmond, and she asked him to take me along, so i came back. But I ain't staying, and I ain't going back to that snob school, and you shouldn't either, Dawn," he said with determination.
    "Oh, Jimmy, you've got a right to be upset. Rich kids aren't better than the poor kids we've known, and we've been treated unfairly just because we're not rich like the others, but Daddy didn't mean to harm us by getting us into Emerson Peabody. He was only trying to do something good for us," I said. "You have to admit that the school is beautiful and full of new things, and you told me yourself some of your teachers were very nice and very good. You've already started doing better schoolwork, haven't you, and you like playing on the intramural team, right?"
    "We're still like fish out of water there, and those other kids are never going to accept us or let us live in peace, Dawn. I'd rather be in a regular public school."
    "Now, Jimmy, you can't really mean that," I whispered. I touched his hand, which was still very cold. "You must have