Authors: Wendy Dunham
My Name Is River (20 page)
I think about telling Pastor Henry everything, but I pinky swore with Billy that I'd never tell a soul about Robert breaking the window, and I'm not sure if our pinky swear includes what Robert could have done this time.
It's still dark, and Gram's clock strikes three.
The sunlight's trying to creep past my curtains and make me wake up. I tell it to go away. I reach for a bobby pin to clip them together. I won't let it in, so I close my eyes tight. If I keep them shut, I won't have to get up. I won't have to find out how awful it's going to be without Billy.
Gram knocks on my door and pokes her head in. “You gonna sleep all day, Sugar Pie?” She waits for me to answer, but I can't. “The morning's come and gone, so if you wait much more, it'll come and go again.”
My voice is dry and crackly. “That's fine with me.”
Gram waddles over and sits on my bed. “Now, Sugar Pie, if you keep pouting like that, a little bird is gonna come land on your lip.” She puts her hand on my back and rubs in a circle. It feels so good I cry. Gram whispers, “It'll be okay, Sugar Pie. It's just gonna take some time.” Then she rubs my head. “You're one tough cookie, Sugar Pie, and you're gonna be okay.”
I tell myself Gram never lies.
T
wo days pass and I'm still not okay. Gram lets me stay home from school. I miss Billy so much, and our pinky swear won't leave me alone. I worry what will happen if I break it.
Gram and I sit at the kitchen table, finishing off her tin of chocolate-chip cookies, when Pastor Henry walks up our driveway. He's carrying Gram's casserole dish. She made the Whippoorwills her famous goulash and peas concoction. That's what everyone does when someone you love dies. They feed you, hoping it will make you feel better. Gram mixed the goulash and peas all together since that's her way of cooking fancy. But I'll bet the Whippoorwills liked it because they're used to having food all mixed together.
Gram opens the door and invites Pastor Henry in. He looks worn out, like he needs to sleep for a whole week without anyone bothering him. “The casserole was delicious,” he tells Gram. “You make it just like Elizabeth.”
Gram smiles and nods her head. It's kind of awkward when someone dies because you never know what to say. There might be magic punch, but there aren't any magic words that will change the way things are. I can tell Gram's not sure what to say, but Pastor Henry tries making her feel comfortable. “We appreciate your kindness, Mrs. Nuthatch, and wanted to get your dish back right away.”
Then he comes over and pulls me in tight and close, just like
Uncle Jay did. For a little while, it feels like everything's going to be all right. He keeps his arms around me while he talks. “Thank you for being a friend to Billy. He always talked about how much you meant to him.” Then he loosens his hug, reaches in his pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper that looks like it went through the laundry. “This was in Billy's pocket,” he says and places it in my hand. “He meant for you to have it.”
My whole body shakes. I want to read it, but I need to be by myself when I do, so I just keep it folded and hold onto it real tight. I never want to lose it. I look up at Pastor Henry, not one hundred percent sure I want to say anything, but my mouth opens, and the words come out all on their own. “I have something for you too,” I say, and then I run to my room. I open my sock drawer and take out the folded piece of toilet paper. I tuck Billy's letter in my diary, right between my special feathers. I hurry back and hand the toilet paper to Pastor Henry. “I think you should know about this.”
He unfolds the paper and pulls out the broken piece of chain. That's when everything rushes out of me like a raging river, and I feel like I'm barely hanging on to Gram's white inner-tube, spinning far, far away down the Meadowlark River. I shake my head and try to talk. “Billy and I pinky swore, but I think I have to break it so you'll know what the chain means. Robert is the one who threw the rock through the church window, and he killed all those birds, and he kept bothering Billy the day we did our presentation. He was so mad at Billy, and that was the same day Billy fell off the edge of the riverbank, and⦠”
Pastor Henry leads me to the couch and makes me sit down. He tells me to take a deep breath, then makes me start from the beginning. I tell him everythingâevery little detail.
Pastor Henry sits on the couch beside me. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't move. I think he's letting everything sink into his brain, trying to make sense of it. He runs his hands over his
head and looks at me. “You did the right thing, River. You needed to break your pinky swear in a situation like this.” The knot I've felt inside my chest starts to untangle, and I feel like I can breathe again. “River,” he says, “would you go to the sheriff's office with me? The authorities need to know.”
I nod.
Gram puts her arm around me. “You want me to come too, Sugar Pie? I wanna make sure they catch that Killdeer boy.”
“That's okay, Gram. I can do this. I need to be brave for Billy.”
Pastor Henry holds the door as we walk through the main entrance of the police station. It's a small brick building with an American flag flying outside. It's flying at half-mast in honor of Billy. I stay as close to Pastor Henry as I can. I've never been inside Birdsong's sheriff's office before, or any other sheriff 's office for that matter.
Pastor Henry says hello to the secretary and asks if we could speak with Sheriff Peterson.
The secretary, Ms. Pintail, points to the chairs beside her desk. “Please have a seat while I get the sheriff.”
While we wait, Pastor Henry assures me I have nothing to be afraid of. He says all I need to do is tell Sheriff Peterson everything I told him. But then I start to worry. What if Sheriff Peterson brings Robert to his office for questioning, and he ends up being innocent? Robert will know who told on him, and then he'll come after me. Billy's words echo in my head, “⦠but break your word, you'll break our bond. It's pinky swear or death beware.”
Ms. Pintail's voice startles me. “Sheriff Peterson says you can head back to his office.” Pastor Henry nods his head and thanks her.
Sheriff Peterson greets us. “Good morning, Pastor. You've been in my thoughts. What can I do for you?”
Pastor Henry puts his hand on my shoulder. “This is River Starling, Billy's friend. She confided in me this morning and shared information I think you need to be aware of.”
Sheriff Peterson tells us to have a seat as he pulls a small spiral notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. He asks me questions about the broken stained glass window and how Robert behaved during our presentation. He asks if we actually saw Robert shoot the birds and if he ever actually threatened Billy or me. I answer every question as best I can.
Then Sheriff Peterson takes the piece of silver chain from Pastor Henry and inspects it carefully, holding it up to the sunlight coming through his window. He slips it into a plastic bag, rummages through his desk to find a permanent marker, and then writes “Killdeer Case” on it. He closes his notebook and grabs his hat off the hook. “As soon as I have any information, I'll call. But until then, don't say a word about this to anyone. Do you understand, River? Not a soul.” I promise him I won't, and then he rushes out of his office before Pastor Henry and I have a chance to stand up.
As we walk out the back exit, we hear his siren and the sound of tires screeching. The smell of burnt rubber hits us.
P
astor Henry drops me off at the end of my driveway. Gram's standing in the doorway waiting for me. “Come on in, Sugar Pie. Lunch is waiting.” She pulls out my chair and says, “Now, you have a seat and a bite to eat and tell me all about it.” Gram has a vase of wildflowers sitting in the middle of the table. She made a huge stack of peanut butter and fluff sandwiches with banana slices tucked inside, and she mixed two tall glasses of chocolate milk with ice cubes (that's Gram's way of trying to make things better). She sits across the table from me and folds her hands. “Now, you go on ahead and tell me everything about the police station, just like it happened.”
So I do.
“Well,” Gram says, “it sounds like that Sheriff Peterson's got a good head on his shoulders.” Then she guzzles her chocolate milk and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “As I live and breathe, I just want to see justice.” Gram shakes her head. “That Killdeer boy sounds crazier than a run-over dog. I just hope to God that Sheriff Peterson finds enough evidence to prove what that boy did.” Then she shakes her head, yawns, and decides to take an afternoon snooze. I get my diary and walk to the birding place.
As I push the branches away and turn onto the trail, I look across the road at the Whippoorwill's mailbox. I remember Billy standing there the first day we started our project. I picture the
seed packages sticking out of his pockets and remember him holding that huge bag of birdseed. But all I did was complain about how early in the morning it was. It seems so long ago.