Mischief and Malice
Copyright © 2015 by Berthe Amoss
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher.
Please direct inquiries to:
Lizzie Skurnick Books
an imprint of Ig Publishing
392 Clinton Avenue #1S
Brooklyn, NY 11238
ISBN: 978-1-939601-46-9 (ebook)
Mischief
and
Malice
Contents
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
The thing you have to understand is that besides memorizing your catechism it really works if you believe it. Like the Communion of Saints part. “I believe in the Communion of Saints,” the Catechism says, and we’re all suppose to be saints, not just those they’ve got statues of in the Church, but you, me, and all the dead people who have gone before, excluding, of course, those who’ve descended into hell.
The communion part means communication—so you’ve got this kind of giant telephone system where you can call up from New Orleans all the way to one of the saints in heaven and say, “Please, Aunt Eveline, you remember how I prayed for the repose of your soul at mass on Sunday? Well, now I need some help from you. There’s this boy, called Leonard McCloskey, who is captain of the Jesuit football team and a very good Catholic, Aunt Eveline! He kneels and crosses himself before every game and his team almost always wins unless it’s playing another Catholic team who’ve also knelt and crossed themselves, which I’m sure presents God with a problem. But the point is it’s perfectly all right for me to like Leonard McCloskey. The only thing is I don’t know if he likes me. In fact, I’m not sure he knows who I am, Aunt Eveline, so if you could just ask God to let Leonard notice me, I’ll take care of the rest.”
I said this prayer on Monday last week just before Saturday’s Jesuit game and the answer came back with telegraphic speed. First, Tom, who was away at school, wrote in his letter, “I sure hope Jesuit wins. Tell Leonard good luck for me.” Now that might not seem on the surface to be the answer to a prayer but since Tom usually doesn’t write about anything except his dog and how he wishes the United States would declare war on Hitler, I could tell it was divine intervention. So just before the game, I stood at the entrance to the locker room in the stadium, and when the team came out, I pushed forward as Leonard passed by and called, “Tom says ‘good luck!’” and Leonard looked me and said, “Thanks, Addie!”
Addie! He called me by my name! I love the way he says my name, with a sort of lilt: ‘Ad-dee,’ and a very small smile playing at the edge of his mouth. I can’t wait for him to say ‘Ad-dee’ again, and I take this to be a direct, affirmative response and encouragement from God and you, Aunt Eveline, that you both approve of Leonard. Thanks, Aunt Eveline! Keep up the good work; I’m counting on you!
I miss Aunt Eveline because she raised me and I am pleased to have this direct means of communication of saints so that we can stay in touch. I am very sorry not to still be living at Three Twenty Audubon Street with her, especially since now I have to live next door at my Aunt Toosie and Uncle Henry’s house with my hateful cousin, Sandra Lee. I can’t wait to go away to college and become a famous artist. Aunt Toosie said, “Addie, dear, Eveline wanted you to go to the very best art school. How do you feel about going to Newcomb with Sandra Lee?”
“I’m not sure about Newcomb, Aunt Toosie,” I answered. I’ve got to make sure wherever I go is a million miles from wherever Sandra Lee goes. Actually, I’ve been considering Smith, which I think, is near West Point with good-looking cadets, but I don’t know if Smith has an art school and I’m not sure we have the money for me to go that far away. Thank goodness I don’t have to solve the college problem this year. The Leonard problem needs all of my attention before I can concentrate on art.
Maybe I should make up something else Tom said to tell him like “Tom said for me to tell you ‘Congratulations!’” if the team wins, of course, or if they lose, “Tom said for me to tell you ‘Tough Luck!’” Then Leonard would have to say “Thanks, Ad-dee!”
No, he wouldn’t. He could say, “Tom didn’t say that; you just made it up because you’re boy crazy. I wish your pretty cousin, Sandra Lee, would talk to me instead of you.” He could say that to me and not even say my name once and I’d deserve it for lying, so I’ll just turn the whole thing back to you, Aunt Eveline. I need a little more help and I’ll be praying for the repose of your soul again on Sunday, so do you think you could arrange a situation where Leonard would have to speak to me first? Thanks in advance, Aunt Eveline!
I had just made that fervent prayer, and I happened to be standing in the pantry next to the kitchen with my hand on an unopened jar of blackberry jam, when I heard the screen door slam, and then sobs.
“Mabel! What’s wrong?” Aunt Toosie cried as Tom’s mother sobbed louder. “What’s the matter, dear?!” I froze and listened.
“Louis is the matter!” cried Aunt Mabel. “Toosie, Louis is coming home! He’ll be here any minute! He phoned from Mobile!”
“My God, Mabel! I can’t believe it!” Aunt Toosie yelled. “How does he have the nerve?!”
It was too late to make my presence known. It was also too interesting. Louis is Tom’s father who left when Tom was an infant, and no one had seen or heard from him since then.
“Disappeared into the blue,” Tom’s Uncle Malvern said, and moved in with Tom and Aunt Mabel to take care of them. But Uncle Malvern has turned out to be more like another child than the man of the house. It is Aunt Mabel and Tom who take care of Uncle Malvern while he works on his invention, the Perpetual Motion Machine.
In between sobs Aunt Mabel was saying, “What shall I do? What does he expect of me? Where has he been? I’ve wired Tom. I don’t want to see that man again! Oh, Toosie, yes, I do! In all these years, I’ve never really stopped loving Louis!”
“Now, now, then, Mabel darling, of course, you still love him. You are such a loving person and, of course, you want to see him, but Mabel, listen to me, don’t give an inch! No matter what he says! You know he has a silver tongue and only cares for himself and money. Don’t give him an inch, Mabel!”
Aunt Toosie went on and on with useless advice about inches. I thought how much better it would be for Aunt Mabel to read that book that Sandra Lee has, Dearest,