Cozy in Cardboard
Inside her first clubhouse, Lacy Dawn glanced over fifth
grade spelling words for tomorrowโs quiz at school. She
already knew all the words in the textbook and most
others in any human language.
Nothingโs more important than an education.
The clubhouse was a cardboard box in the front yard that
her grandmother's new refrigerator had occupied until an
hour before. Her father brought it home for her to play
in.
The nicest thing he's ever done.
Faith lay beside her with a hand over the words and split
fingers to cheat as they were called off. She lived in
the next house up the hollow. Every other Wednesday for
the last two months, the supervised child psychologist
came to their school, pulled her out of class, and
evaluated suspected learning disabilities. Lacy Dawn
underlined a word with a fingernail.
All she needs is a little motivation.
Before they had crawled in, Lacy Dawn tapped the upper
corner of the box with a flashlight and proclaimed, "The
place of all things possible -- especially you passing
the fifth grade so we'll be together in the sixth."
Please concentrate, Faith. Try this one.
"Armadillo."
"A, R, M, โฆ A โฆ D, I, L, D, O," Faith demonstrated her
intellect.
"That's weak. This is a bonus word so youโll get extra
points. Come on."
Lacy Dawn nodded and looked for a new word.
Iโll trick her by going out of order โ a word she can't
turn into another punch line.
โDonโt talk about it and the image will go away. Letโs
get back to studying,โ Lacy Dawn said.
My mommy don't like sex. It's just her job and she told
me so.
Faith turned her open spelling book over, which saved its
page, and rolled onto her side. Lacy Dawn did the same
and snuggled her back against the paper wall. Face to
face -- a foot of smoothness between -- they took a
break. The outside was outside.
At their parentsโ insistence, each wore play clothing --
unisex hand-me-downs that didnโt fit as well as school
clothing. Theyโd been careful not to get muddy before
crawling into the box. Theyโd not played in the creek
and both were cleaner than the usual evening. The
clubhouse floor remained an open invitation to anybody
who had the opportunity to consider relief from daily
stressors.
"How'd you get so smart, Lacy Dawn? Your parents are
dumb asses just like mine."
"You ain't no dumb ass and you're going to pass the fifth
grade."
"Big deal -- I'm still fat and ugly," Faith said.
"I'm doing the best I can. I figure by the time I turn
eleven I can fix that too. For now, just concentrate on
passing and don't become special education. I need you.
You're my best friend."
"Ain't no other girls our age close in the hollow.
That's the only reason you like me. Watch out. There's
a pincher bug crawling in."
Lacy Dawn sat almost upright because there was not quite
enough headroom in the refrigerator box. She scooted the
bug out the opening.
Faith watched the bug attempt re-entry, picked it up, and
threw it a yard away into the grass. It didn't get hurt.
Lacy Dawn smiled her approval. The new clubhouse was a
sacred place where nothing was supposed to hurt.
"Daddy said I can use the tarp whenever he finishes the
overhaul on the car in the driveway. That way, our
clubhouse will last a long time," Lacy Dawn said.
"Chewy, chewy tootsie roll. Everything in this hollow
rots, especially the people. You know that."
"We ain't rotten,โ Lacy Dawn gestured with open palms.
โThere are a lot of good things here -- like all the
beautiful flowers. Just focus on your spelling and I'll
fix everything else. This time I want a 100% and a good
letter to your mommy."
"She won't read it," Faith said.
"Yes she will. She loves you and it'll make her feel
good. Besides, she has to or the teacher will call
Welfare. Your daddy would be investigated -- unless you
do decide to become special education. That's how
parents get out of it. The kid lets them off the hook by
deciding to become a SPED. Then there ain't nothing
Welfare can do about it because the kid is the problem
and not the parents."
"I ain't got no problems," Faith said.
"Then pass this spelling test."
"I thought if I messed up long enough, eventually
somebody would help me out. I just need a place to live
where people don't argue all the time. That ain't much."
"Maybe you are a SPED. There's always an argument in a
family. Pass the test you retard," Lacy Dawn opened her
spelling book.
Faith flipped her book over too, rolled onto her stomach
and looked at the spelling words. Lacy Dawn handed her
the flashlight because it was getting dark and grinned
when Faithโs lips started moving as she memorized. Faith
noticed and clamped her lips shut between thumb and index
finger.
This is boring. I learned all these words last year.
"Don't use up the batteries or Daddy will know I took
it," Lacy Dawn said.
"Alright -- I'll pass the quiz, but just 'cause you told
me to. This is a gamble and you'd better come through if
it backfires. Ain't nothing wrong with being a SPED.
The work is easier and the teacher lets you do puzzles."
"You're my best friend," Lacy Dawn closed the book.
They rolled back on their sides to enjoy the smoothness.
The cricket chorus echoed throughout the hollow and the
frogs peeped. An ant attempted entry but changed its
direction before either rescued it. Unnoticed, Lacy
Dawn's father threw the tarp over the box and slid in the
trouble light. It was still on and hot. The bulb burned
Lacy Dawn's calf.
He didn't mean to hurt me -- the second nicest thing he's
ever done.
"Test?" Lacy Dawn announced with the better light, and
called off, "Poverty."
"I love you," Faith responded.
"Me too, but spell the word."
"P is for poor. O is for oranges from the Salvation Army
Christmas basket. V is for varicose veins that Mommy has
from getting pregnant every year. E is for everybody
messes up sometimes -- sorry. R is for I'm always right
about everything except when you tell me I'm wrong --
like now. T is for itโs too late for me to pass no
matter what we do and Y is for you know it too."
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