Old Faithful

There’s some things a boy can only tell to his dog.

Like when he’s sweet on a girl. Or how he can’t wait to grow up so his daddy can’t whup him no more.

Or how he wishes Jimmy Dan Gaston would just up and disappear.

That’s the last thing I ‘member talkin’ to ol’ Ralph about when we was walkin’ down by the crick last night after supper.

Jimmy Dan had been at me again after school yesterday. Knocked my books out of my hand. Pushed me down in the dirt. Stood over me. Spit in my face.

Why, all I could see was Jimmy Dan’s hair glowin’ there against the blue sky like a halo, so blond it was white. He ain’t no angel, though.

I told Ralph all about it, alright. Gave him an earful. And he just trotted along beside me, nuzzlin’ my hand ever now and then to let me know he was still listenin’.

“I just wish Jimmy Dan would go away and never come back!” I had yelled into the gloamin’ as I skipped a rock across the water right at sunset.

And today…well…Jimmy Dan didn’t come to school. Mizz Lutz asked if anybody knew where he was, but nobody did. Least not that they’d own up to.

So now, here I am headin’ home again. Jimmy Dan ain’t in sight, but I can see ol’ Ralph waitin’ for me up there at the bend in the road. He’s got somethin’ in his mouth, shinin’ in the sun.

Looks yella. Maybe even white.

It’s glowin’ like a halo. But Ralph ain’t no angel, neither.