Blackburn

TWO

The south wind sang through the catwalk. Jimmy lay on his belly with his head hanging over the edge, listening. He worked up a gob of spit and let it ooze from his lips like syrup. When it fell, he closed one eye and watched. It curved away from the tower's east leg and stayed airborne almost ten seconds. Then it burst on the Potwin road, just missing a motorcyclist coming into town from the north. Better luck next time, Jimmy thought.

He stood and walked around to the north side of the water tank, sliding his hand along the rail. In the field below, Jasmine sat apart from the others, playing a five-year-old's game in the dirt with her Doll-Baby. She showed no interest in the brown paper kite he had made. It was lying in the weeds beside her, its shop-rag tail coiled. That was fine with him. As long as Jasmine was all right, he could stay up here awhile longer. Mom had told him to watch her, but she hadn't said to stay close.

The other three kids were flying their own kites, or trying to. Chrissie Boyle and Kyle Thornton were struggling with a green batwing, but it never rose higher than eight feet before diving. Jimmy wasn't surprised. Chrissie and Kyle were only seven, and they didn't understand what was necessary for a kite to fly. Kyle kept trying to throw it, and Chrissie kept running with the wind.

Chrissie's brother Todd had his kite soaring high. With nothing to do now but hold the string, he was spending his time laughing at Chrissie and Kyle. Todd was almost twelve. He was more than a year older than Jimmy, and liked to think of himself as Boss Stud of any group. Being Boss Stud meant having the right to ridicule everyone else.

Jimmy didn't mind. Compared to Dad, Todd was an amateur. Besides, Jimmy preferred solitude over groups. It was only when Mom made him look after Jasmine that he had any use for other kids.

He looked up, squinting at the July sun, and watched Todd's kite for a minute. It was a shield-shaped piece of plastic decorated with the face of a roaring tiger. Below it, a knotted black tail lashed. The tail looked as if it were brushing the top of Clay Hill a half mile away.

Jimmy headed west around the tank, reading for new graffiti beneath the letters that spelled WANTODA. Ever since he had realized that there was no useful truth in either religion or textbooks, he had relied on the water tower and other popular media to teach him what people really thought was important. DRINK MORE WHISKEY, the tank said. '68 RULES. WORLD'S BIGGEST SPITTOON. A-BOMB THE GOOKS. CHERYL SUCKS TO THE HILT. FORD = FOUND ON ROADWAYS DEAD. JOEY + HOLLY. SKOOL DONT TEECH DIK. '70 IS BEST YEA! LARRY + JULIE. KING GOT WHAT HE DESERVED. TOMMY + SUSIE OOOH! SALLY WARDERS IS A CARPENTER'S DREAM (FLAT AS A BOARD). EAT SHIT. DAVID P. + SAM O. = QUEER BAIT. DORIS IS A PIRATE TREASURE (SUNKEN CHEST). KILROY WAS HERE amp; CHERYL SUCKED HIM. SO LONG BOBBY K. DOPE IS GOOD. KILL ALL COMMIES NOW! GARY + MELANIE. FUCK NIXON. '69 FOREVER! Last weekend, Jimmy had put a sandwich and some notebook paper into his army surplus backpack, and he had come up here and copied everything down. He was sure that if he took it all to heart, he would know how to live in the world.

But he wouldn't add anything to the jumble. Placing his own words among these would be like placing himself among their authors. He had to live in the world, but he was also separate from it, as if he were a starship crewman beamed down and left behind. Or, as Mom had told Mrs. Boyle last week at Nimper's IGA, as if he were a devil child swapped at the hospital for the real thing. Jimmy guessed that meant there was a kid his age stuck with a bunch of demons in hell. Trade you, he thought.

He had almost decided there was no new graffiti when, on the south side of the tank, he found something written along a seam. This was in magic marker instead of spray paint, and it was too small to be seen from below. It said:

JIMMY BLACKBURN IS A PUSSY.

He rubbed the words with his thumb, and they smeared. A thunderstorm had come through yesterday evening, so the insult had been written since then. He began to have suspicions. Chrissie, Kyle, and Todd had all been goofing around beside the tower fence when he and Jasmine had come to the field. But neither Chrissie nor Kyle had the guts to climb the ladder.

Jasmine's voice rose to Jimmy in a shriek. He returned to the north side of the tank and looked down.

Todd had pulled in his kite, and now he was standing over Jasmine and thrusting the tiger face at her. He roared as the plastic touched her skin, and then he yelled, "I'm gonna eat your baby! I'm gonna eat your baby!" Jasmine held Doll-Baby close to her chest and bawled.

"Hey!" Jimmy yelled. "Big man!" The metal wall behind him rang. His words echoed from Clay Hill, and it was toward Clay Hill that Jasmine looked.

Todd held his kite in one hand and snatched Doll-Baby from Jasmine with the other. He rubbed Doll-Baby's head against the tiger's mouth. "It's eating your baby!" he cried. "It's eating your baaaabeeee!"

Jasmine, screaming, lurched to her feet and reached for Doll-Baby. Todd danced away, mimicking her cries. Chrissie and Kyle continued to try to launch their batwing.

Jimmy walked to the hole in the catwalk over the south leg. He wouldn't hurry. If he hurried, he might make a mistake going down the ladder. Besides, no matter how quickly he got to the field, Todd would be sure to stop torturing Jasmine before he arrived. Then, if Jimmy tried anything, Todd could claim self-defense.

Todd thought he was smart.

But if Todd were smart, he wouldn't be messing with Jimmy Blackburn.

When Jimmy walked into the field, Todd was back to flying his tiger. Jimmy only glanced at him on the way to Jasmine, who was sitting beside the paper kite again. She was kissing Doll-Baby.

"You okay?" Jimmy asked.

Jasmine looked up. Her face was wet. "He tried to eat Doll-Baby."

"No, he tried to bug you. You need to act like you don't care."

Jasmine glared. "He took Doll-Baby."

"You're getting too old for Doll-Baby anyway."

Jasmine stood and kicked Jimmy in the leg.

"Want to go home?" he asked.

"And never come back. I hate Todd Boyle."

"Waste of time." Jimmy looked down at the kite he had made. There was a hole where he had drawn the eagle, and the support sticks were broken.

"Todd Boyle stomped it," Jasmine said. "And he threw the string." She pointed at a white line that zigzagged off among the weeds.

"I can make another kite," Jimmy said. "I can make a hundred." He looked across at Todd, who was ignoring them. "Did he do anything else?"

"He said you wouldn't fight and he called you a pissy."

" 'Pussy.' Say it right or you'll get made fun of."

"Are you?" Jasmine asked.

Jimmy picked up his broken kite. "Am I what?"

"Are you going to fight Todd Boyle!"

"No." He started walking.

Jasmine toddled beside him, dragging Doll-Baby by one arm. "But he was mean to me."

"Lots of people are mean."

As they passed Chrissie and Kyle, Kyle said, "Jimmy, our kite won't go up." He sounded as if he were about to cry.

Jimmy stopped to help. As the batwing ascended, Chrissie said, "We have a new baby at our house." She spoke with defiant pride, as if the baby made up for not being able to fly a kite. "Her name is Tina, and she's only four weeks old."

"So?" Jasmine said.

"Be nice," Jimmy said, helping Kyle pay out the string.

"So my mom says Tina is the prettiest baby in the state," Chrissie said.

"Me and Jimmy saw her at the store," Jasmine said. "She looks like a mashed turtle."

Chrissie shoved Jasmine. "You take that back!"

Jasmine swung Doll-Baby at Chrissie's head.

"Chrissie, look!" Kyle shouted. The batwing was almost as high as Todd's tiger.

Jimmy pulled Jasmine away from Chrissie, and Chrissie begged Kyle to let her hold the string. Things blew over fast when you were little. When you got older, they didn't. Jimmy guessed that someday, they wouldn't blow over at all.

After Jimmy and Jasmine crossed the Potwin road, Chrissie and Kyle cried out behind them. Jimmy looked back and saw that the tail of Todd's kite was smacking the batwing. Kyle was trying to pull the batwing away, but it only bobbled in place. Todd was going "Moo-hoo-HA-HA-HAAAA!" Chrissie and Kyle began yanking on their string together.

Jimmy knew what would happen. The batwing's string snapped, and the kite tumbled backward until it crashed on the road. A farm truck ran over it. Kyle began to cry, and Chrissie screamed at her brother.

"That's what happens," Todd shouted. "That's what happens when you get help from a pussy."

For the first time since Jimmy had come down from the tower, Todd looked at him. And grinned.

Jimmy turned to resume the two-mile walk home. Jasmine went into the ditch, her shoes squishing on the wet ground at the bottom, and ran ahead. She thunked Doll-Baby's head on fence posts as she went.

"Won't that hurt her?" Jimmy asked.

"She likes it," Jasmine said.

As they passed the shattered batwing, Jimmy threw his own kite into the road with it. He kept the tail.

When Dad got home that evening, he came into the kitchen and said "Supper fixed?" to Mom. This was a sign of trouble. Jimmy tried to get out the back door.

"Where you think you're going?"

Too late. "Nowhere."

"Nowhere what?"

"Nowhere, sir."

"You get your chores done? You smash those cans like I told you?"

"Yes, sir. I put them in grocery sacks."

Dad looked as if he were trying to think of something wrong with that.

"He was good today," Mom said. "He took care of Jasmine this afternoon so I could get some things done."

Jasmine popped into the kitchen. "He was too pussy to fight Todd Boyle."

Jimmy heard his heartbeat in his head. He tried to open the door, but Dad gripped his arm before he could turn the knob.

"You say that word to your sister?" Dad shook Jimmy so hard that his shoulder popped.

Jimmy was mad. "I didn't do nothing."

Dad opened the door and dragged Jimmy across the yard into the garage. He propelled Jimmy facefirst against the pickup fender and told him to drop his pants.

Jimmy let his jeans and briefs fall around his ankles. Then he gripped the rim of the wheel well, palms up. He would not cry.

He heard Dad take the piece of fiberglass fishing rod from its nails. It whished through the air twice. Jimmy shut his eyes and clamped his teeth. He would not cry.

The rod hissed a third time and bit into his buttocks. He sucked air through his teeth.

"You gonna teach your sister nasty words?" Dad asked.

"No," Jimmy said. Eat shit.

The rod hit the backs of his thighs. Jimmy yelped before he could stop himself. Dried mud inside the wheel well crumbled between his fingers.

"No what?" Dad asked.

"No sir," Jimmy answered. He heard his saliva drip onto the fender. Queer bait.

The rod hit his thighs again, with an even hotter sting. His nose began to run. Tears squeezed past his eyelids.

"You gonna backtalk me any more?" Dad asked.

"No sir." Fuck Nixon.

"Carl." It was Mom. Jimmy knew better than to look around. "Jasmine says that James didn't say that word to her. She says it was another boy, being mean."

"I ain't whipping him for talking dirty," Dad said. "I'm whipping him for talking back."

Mom's shoes crunched on the concrete as she left.

The rod whished through the air twice.

Jimmy cried.

When Dad was through, he put the rod back on its nails and said, "Turn around."

Jimmy did as he was told. His legs and bottom burned as if matches touched them in a hundred places.

Dad put his thumbs in his pockets. "Was some punk bothering your sister?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you whip his ass?"

"No, sir."

Dad looked at him for a long time. "Guess I raised a sissy," he said then. "Didn't I?"

Jimmy had to answer. "Yes, sir."

Dad went to the door. "Pull up your pants," he said, and went out.

Jimmy lay in bed reading a Green Lantern comic book. He had already read it ten or fifteen times, but he wanted to keep its events sharp. The new issue was on the rack at the IGA, and he would buy it on Saturday after Mom gave him his allowance.

He was sweating in his windowless room, and the sweat made his welts sting. In a few weeks, when it was hot enough. Mom would let him sleep on the couch in the living room.

After he finished the comic, the welts hurt worse. He wondered how Dad would like it if he were the one who was whipped every time he said something wrong. Jimmy looked at his own fishing rod in the corner. Maybe in a few years, he would see if he could give as good as he got.

He sat up and pulled the rod onto the bed. It was a six-foot length of thick black fiberglass. Its Zebco 404 reel was loaded with a hundred yards of twenty-pound test monofilament. At Christmas, Dad had said he'd chosen the sturdy pole and strong line so that Jimmy could catch some really big ones. So far, though, they had only gone fishing once. Dad had gotten disgusted with Jimmy for having trouble threading a worm onto a hook. "If you ain't going to fish right," Dad had said, "you might as well not fish at all." Then he had thrown their stuff into the pickup and driven them home. Several times over the next week, Jimmy had dug up worms near the septic tank and practiced. But it had been for nothing.

The door opened. "That's it, James," Mom said. She pulled the string to turn off the light. "Time to go to sleep."

Jimmy put his fishing rod back in the corner. " 'Night, Mom."

She stood framed in the doorway. "You aren't bleeding, are you, honey?"

"No." The cut on his thigh was small. His jeans had been stuck to it, but it had only bled a little when he'd pulled them down.

"All right," Mom said. "Just be sure to be respectful from now on, and you won't be spanked any more."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's a boy. Good night, dear."

" 'Night."

She closed the door, and Jimmy lay still, listening. As usual, Jasmine threw a fit at having to go to bed. Also as usual, Mom soothed her until she settled down. Then Mom and Dad had a fight. Jimmy scrambled the words in his head.

When the fight was over, Dad watched the end of the Thursday Night Movie and Mom took a bath. Jimmy tried to hear the movie through the noise of running water. There were sirens and gunfire. Usually these sounds put him right to sleep, but tonight his welts kept him awake.

He was still awake after Mom and Dad had gone to bed and Dad was snoring. Jimmy waited until he was sure that Mom must be asleep too, and then he got up. He dressed without turning on the light. When his shoes were tied, he opened his door just enough and slipped into the kitchen. He closed it so that there was no click.

At the back door, he paused. Dad was still snoring, so Jimmy took the key from the nail over Mom's wringer washer. He couldn't unlock the deadbolt without making noise, but he didn't think Mom and Dad would hear. If Jasmine did, she might wake up crying for fear of monsters. But that wasn't unusual. If she kept it up long enough, Mom might come to tell her it was only a bad dream. Jasmine had lots of bad dreams, and Mom no longer looked in on Jimmy just because his sister was bawling.

Jimmy unlocked the bolt, opened the door, and stepped outside. He closed the door and relocked the bolt, then crept around the house into the front yard. When he reached the road, he jumped into the ditch and ran toward town.

He could see the water tower ahead. It was like a silhouette of the Tin Woodman, black against the purple sky.

Dogs in town barked at Jimmy, and a few lights came on. The dogs didn't scare him. He and dogs got along. Some of their owners, though, might call Officer Johnston, the Wantoda cop. Johnston loved grabbing kids out after curfew. But only one car passed Jimmy before he reached the Boyles', and he was able to hide behind a parked van. The car wasn't Johnston.

The Boyles didn't have a dog. A white cat ran from Jimmy as he came up the driveway, but he wasn't startled. The house was dark, as were all the houses on this street. He went to the backyard gate, stopped to listen, and climbed over. The chain-link rattled as if in a breeze.

Jimmy crawled through the grass like a lizard. He kept close to the flower bed that Mrs. Boyle had lined with chunks of granite. He would be chigger-bit, but that was better than being seen. Some of the windows above him were open, so he was careful to be quiet. He slithered behind the house, hoping Todd's window wasn't open too. He wanted to break glass. He had been invited over here once, before Todd had turned into Boss Stud, and he remembered that Todd's room had blue carpeting on the floor and a portable TV on the dresser. If the TV was still there, maybe he could hit it with the granite boulder he would heave inside.

A wail made him freeze. It came from the window directly above. Jimmy remained still until he heard voices from deeper within the house, and then he crawled over the rocks into the flower bed. He pressed against the house's foundation. A yellow rectangle shone onto the grass where he had been.

"Are you dirty, sweetheart?" Mrs. Boyle's groggy voice asked. The wail continued. "No? Hungry?" A moment later the wail stopped.

The foundation was cool and gritty against Jimmy's cheek. Petals tickled his nose.

Mrs. Boyle began singing. "Hush, little baby, don't you cry. Mama's gonna sing you a lullaby…" She was accompanied by creaking wood.

Jimmy got to his knees. Then he stood. He could just see over the windowsill. Flower-print curtains hung on the other side of the screen. There was a gap between the curtains, and he could see Mrs. Boyle in a rocking chair beside a white bassinet. The top of her robe was open and pulled to one side. Baby Tina Boyle was sucking on the exposed breast. When Baby Tina stopped for a second, the nipple stood out bright red.

Jimmy was fascinated. When Jasmine had been a baby, he had never seen Mom feed her with anything but a bottle. And he had never seen a lady's breast, although he had seen pictures. The real thing was more amazing.

The door behind Mrs. Boyle opened. Jimmy almost ducked and ran, but then he saw Mr. Boyle's sleep-puffed face. He hadn't been spotted.

"She okay?" Mr. Boyle asked.

"She's fine," Mrs. Boyle said. "Go back to bed."

"Seems like she wants to eat twice as often as Todd and Chrissie did."

"About the same. You're just waking up more."

Mr. Boyle grunted. "Is she gonna starve while we're at Chrissie's whatchacallit on Saturday?"

"It's a tonette concert. That plastic instrument is a tonette, and don't you let Chrissie hear you refer to it as a whatchacallit. I want to buy her a flute when school starts." Mrs. Boyle shifted Baby Tina in her arms. "I'll get a sitter for Saturday."

"Why? We'll be gone, what, from one to two-thirty? Todd can handle it."

"She's a month old, and he's just a little boy. Besides, he'd rather be out playing with his friends."

"He's gonna be twelve in September. He can watch a baby sleep for an hour and a half, or I'll know the reason why." Mr. Boyle yawned. "Well, have fun." He closed the door.

Baby Tina squeaked, and Mrs. Boyle began singing again.

Jimmy sank to the flower bed. He waited until the singing stopped and the yellow rectangle disappeared, and then he returned to the grass. He crawled back to the gate.

He didn't want to break Todd's window. That would only make Boss Stud mad.

What Jimmy wanted was to make Boss Stud dead.

Before going home, he went to the water tower. He squirmed through the hole in the fence, went to the south leg, and began climbing. He had never done this in the dark. The rungs were wet, and one of his feet slipped when he was halfway up. The sensation of almost falling was wonderful. He tried to re-create it after a few more rungs, but it didn't work. The slip had to be unexpected.

On the catwalk, he leaned against the rail and gazed over the town. He hadn't realized that a tiny burg like Wantoda had so many lights. They were spread out below him like a field of stars. It was as if he were an astronaut a billion miles from home, and the water tank were his spaceship. Down on the Potwin road, Officer Johnston's patrol car cruised past without slowing. It was a sign to Jimmy that he could do anything.

He made it back home and into bed without being caught.

Jimmy left his room as soon as Dad drove away. The garage would be his until six o'clock. He took his fishing rod and pocketknife with him when he left the house. He came back for crayons, Scotch tape, and Mom's stapler.

In the garage, he tore a huge sheet from Dad's four-foot roll of brown paper. He was measuring it on the floor when Mom came looking for him.

"What are you doing, James?"

He looked up. "Making a kite. The other one got busted."

"Don't you want breakfast first? We have Wheaties."

"Could I wait and come in at lunch?" He resumed his measurements.

"I suppose so. Does your father know you're using that paper?"

"Yes, ma'am." Dad had granted permission for him to use it for the first kite, and he had no reason to think he couldn't use it for a second.

"Well, don't use too much. We don't know what he wants it for."

Jimmy doubted that Dad wanted it for anything. He had probably found it at work and taken it for no reason, as he had done with other stuff. But Jimmy knew better than to say so.

"And be sure to put that tape measure back where you found it. You know how your father is about his tools."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mom went away. A while later Jasmine came in carrying Doll-Baby. "Whatcha doing?" she asked.

"What's it look like?"

Jasmine cocked her head. "Why's it so big?"

"To make up for the busted one."

Jasmine lost interest. "I wish I had a bicycle," she said.

"You're too little."

"If I had a bicycle, I could give Doll-Baby a ride."

"If you'll go away," Jimmy said, "I'll give Doll-Baby a ride for you."

"You don't have a bicycle either," Jasmine said, and left. She took Doll-Baby with her.

At lunchtime, Jimmy went into the house and ate macaroni. He watched Jasmine try to feed Doll-Baby, and he helped Mom with the dishes. Then he took one of Dad's saws and set off for Stranger Creek.

After returning to the garage, he measured and whittled two of the willow saplings he had cut. When they were finished, he put the kite together. He attached the tail from the first kite, but added ten more shop rags from Dad's barrel. Then he used a length of monofilament to bend the crosspiece into a bow. Finally he tied the kite to his rod and reel line and took it outside.

It worked. It worked so well that it almost dragged him across the pasture. He let it fly at low altitude for a few minutes to be sure the paper wouldn't tear, and then he reeled it in and took it apart. He had the pieces stashed under his bed, and the garage cleaned up, fifteen minutes before Dad came home.

He made a special effort to be polite that evening. He didn't want to be more sore tomorrow than he already was.

Jimmy didn't care that it was daytime. If he was caught, Dad would whip him. Or maybe he would be sent to reform school. He could live with either one.

He sat on the curb down the block from the Boyles' and read the new Green Lantern. After a while Mr. and Mrs. Boyle and Chrissie came outside and drove away. Some older kids were riding their bikes toward Jimmy, so he stayed put until they were gone. Then, except for a man mowing his lawn two blocks away, the street was quiet. On a nice Saturday, the people of Wantoda liked to get out of town.

Jimmy stood, folded his comic lengthwise, and put it in a back pocket. Then he picked up his backpack and crossed the street. At the Boyles' front door, he reached into the backpack and took out the sack of cow chips he had collected that morning. He placed it on the stoop and lit it with a match. He donned his backpack. When the bag was burning well, he rang the doorbell and sprinted to vault over the gate into the back yard.

He was under Baby Tina's window with a piece of granite in his hands when he heard Todd open the front door. As Todd yelled, Jimmy heaved the rock through the window screen, tearing it partway from its frame. The rock hit the carpeted floor with a thunk, but Todd was still shouting.

Jimmy grabbed the sill and hauled himself inside. The door to the hallway was open, but he wouldn't stay long enough for that to matter. He threw the rock outside and went to the bassinet. Baby Tina's face was squinched up. She was wearing only a diaper, and Jimmy worried that the tough canvas of the backpack might chafe her skin. But speed was essential. He shrugged off the pack, placed its open mouth beside Baby Tina, and rolled her inside. He buckled the flap.

Todd's shouts stopped. Jimmy grabbed the backpack's shoulder straps, went to the window, and leaned out to lower the pack as far as he could. When he let go, Baby Tina only had to fall a few inches. She began to wail anyway. Jimmy heard the front door close.

"If you think I'm gonna come in there and change your pants, you're crazy!" Todd yelled.

Jimmy clambered through the window and dropped to the flower bed. He reached up and pulled the torn screen more or less back into place. Then he picked up the pack and ran to the gate.

Seconds later he was walking down the street, whistling as loud as he could. But that wasn't loud enough to drown out Baby Tina, so he shifted his weight from side to side to make the pack sway on his back. Baby Tina's cries subsided.

No one was on the street, and Jimmy saw no one watching from windows or doorways. Even the lawnmower man had gone inside. Jimmy turned a corner and headed for the kite-flying field.

He found Jasmine where he had left her. She was sitting on a bare patch of ground beside the water-tower fence, spitting into the dirt and using her finger to draw muddy squiggles.

Jimmy glanced at the wrapped bundle beside her. "Did you do a good job guarding my stuff?"

"Uh-huh." She looked up at him. "You help me find Doll-Baby now?"

Jimmy shook his head. "You have to do one more thing first." Baby Tina squirmed and began to cry again.

Jasmine tried to peer around Jimmy at his backpack. "Whatcha got?"

"A bloodhound puppy," Jimmy said. "It's howling because it wants to track Doll-Baby, but I won't let it out until you do what I say."

Jasmine scowled. "No fair."

Jimmy looked at the sky. "I guess you're too little anyway."

"Am not!"

Jimmy shifted his weight to quiet Baby Tina. It didn't work this time. "Okay," he said to Jasmine. "I'll let you try. You know how to get to Chrissie's house?"

"I went there for birthday cake."

"Then you can go there again. But you have to promise to be careful crossing the streets." He paused. "Mom might not want you to go by yourself."

"Would too!"

"All right. Go to Chrissie's house and put this on the doorstep." He took a folded piece of paper from a pocket and handed it to her. He knew its words by heart:

Todd Boyle look in Baby Tina's room and be at field south of Clay Hill by Potwin Road at 1:45 P.M. to take her home or else we will kill her and your dad will kill you. Bring this to prove identity, signed, Some Friends. P.S. We are from Emporia so if you don't show up or if you call fuzz we will take her to beef plant. Wantoda fuzz Johnston is drunk on Saturdays and won't answer anyway and if you call sheriff they will take three hours and she will be hamburger.

Jasmine unfolded the paper and stared at it. Jimmy had written the note in cursive, and Jasmine couldn't read cursive yet.

"After you put it on the step," Jimmy said, "ring the doorbell and run away. This is a secret message, so you have to run before anyone sees you. If anyone does, say that you saw some men drop the paper. Can you do all that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Tell me what you're going to do."

"Go to Chrissie's. Put the paper on the porch and push the doorbell. Then run back here and you help me find Doll-Baby with the puppy."

"Right. Get going, Agent X-9."

Jasmine refolded the paper and left. Jimmy didn't like sending her off alone, but it was the only way.

When Jasmine was out of sight, Jimmy took off his backpack and brought Baby Tina out for some fresh air. She squalled worse than ever. She was moist and red.

"It's okay," Jimmy said, jiggling her. "Hush, little baby, don't you cry. James is gonna sing you a lullaby…"

After a few minutes Baby Tina calmed down. Jimmy replaced her in the pack.

The kite was flying at the full length of its line when Jasmine returned. Kyle Thornton was with her, and he was immediately interested in the rod and reel. Jimmy had stuck the handle into the ground and braced it with clods. The shaft was propped on a forked stick, and it quivered with the wind. The monofilament, barely visible, curved upward in a blue arc. It was as tight as a banjo string.

"Neat!" Kyle exclaimed, reaching for the reel.

Jimmy pushed Kyle away, knocking him down. Kyle blinked, about to cry. Jimmy had never been mean to him before.

"Sorry," Jimmy said. He held out his hand. "You can't touch anything."

"I won't," Kyle said, pouting as Jimmy helped him up.

Jasmine shielded her eyes with her hands and gazed up at the kite. "Hey, what's that?" she asked. Her mouth opened wide.

A hoarse cry came from the road. Jimmy turned and saw Todd Boyle charge into the field. Todd's face was flushed, and his eyes were wild.

"You kids stand back a ways," Jimmy said. Staring at Todd, Jasmine and Kyle did as they were told.

Jimmy stood still until Todd was almost on him. Then he dropped and rolled forward. Todd fell over him, just missing the rod and reel. The rod shimmied, and the kite dipped. Its tail swung heavily.

"I'd be more careful," Jimmy said, standing. "You might make it crash."

Todd leaped up. "What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do nothing."

Todd held out the note. "Then what's this, you fucker?"

Jimmy snatched it away and tore it up. He let the wind take the pieces. "Nothing," he said.

Todd grabbed Jimmy's shirt. "Where's my baby sister?"

Jimmy pointed at the giant kite.

A pink form was suspended from it. The kite was so high, and the day so bright, that no features could be seen. But the drawing on the kite was clear. The baby was in the grip of an eagle.

Todd gaped.

"There were two men," Jimmy said. "I was across the road, and I saw them. I didn't know it was a baby they had until it was in the air, and it wiggled and bawled. When they got it up where it is now, they left. I came over, but I've been scared to do anything."

Todd turned back to Jimmy and let go of his shirt. Then he punched him in the face.

Jimmy didn't flinch. The sudden pain in his nose shot into his eyes, but he forced them not to cry. He was used to sudden pain. He was getting better at not crying.

He pointed again. "Is that your baby sister?"

"I'm not stupid! A kite can't hold a baby!"

Jimmy looked up at the kite. "I dunno. It's awful big." He made his eyes widen. "Jeez, look! She just squirmed!"

Kyle began crying. "She did! I saw her!"

Jasmine stared up with an expression of horror.

Todd looked at Kyle and Jasmine, then at the kite. The change in his face made Jimmy want to yell like Tarzan.

"That ain't my sister!" Todd said. His voice trembled. "She weighs too much! She weighs eight pounds!"

"But, God, it's a big kite," Jimmy said.

Jasmine began to cry with Kyle.

"A baby weighs too much!" Todd said.

The wail of an infant came down from the sky.

Todd bumped against the rod and reel, and the baby flailed in the eagle's claws.

"She's still squirming!" Kyle cried.

The wail came again.

Todd yanked the rod and reel from the ground. As the kite started to pull him forward, he cranked the reel frantically.

Far up, the line snapped and floated toward earth in a squiggle. Kyle and Jasmine screamed. The kite shot northward, and the baby jerked.

Todd made a noise that was part moan, part whimper. He dropped the rod and ran across the field.

The wailing from above continued.

Kyle and Jasmine started to run too, but Jimmy caught them each by an arm. "There's nothing you can do," he said.

Todd reached the Potwin road and ran north down the middle of the pavement. Jimmy watched him shrink.

The wailing became weaker, and weaker, and stopped.

The kite vanished behind Clay Hill.

Jasmine kicked Jimmy in the leg. "I hate you," she said. "You put Doll-Baby on your stupid kite."

"That was a real baby," Kyle said, sobbing.

"Doll-Baby's a real baby," Jasmine said indignantly.

Jimmy released their arms and picked up his fishing rod. He brushed dirt from the reel. "I'll find Doll-Baby for you now," he said.

"Liar."

He began to reel in the line. "I said I'll find her. You don't even have to help." He looked at Kyle. "And you don't have to feel bad. I'm sure that baby wasn't real."

"It was crying."

"It was fake. I saw the men put a tape recorder in its stomach."

"Oh," Kyle said.

The broken end of the line reached the tip of the rod, and Jimmy stopped cranking. "Mom was going to make oatmeal cookies," he said. "I bet if you guys went to our house, you could get some. I'll stay here to look for Doll-Baby."

"I'm not supposed to go home by myself," Jasmine said.

"Kyle'll go too."

Kyle tugged Jasmine's arm. "Come on," he said. "Cookies."

Jasmine allowed herself to be dragged along, but she glared back at Jimmy. "I still hate you."

"Big deal," Jimmy said.

He watched to make sure they crossed the Potwin road safely, and then he looked north. Todd was climbing Clay Hill. As Jimmy watched, Todd fell twice.

Jimmy let the pain of his hurt nose get through and make him cry.

"Serves you right," he said.

The south wind sang through the catwalk. The whole tower was vibrating with an intensity that Jimmy had never felt before. As he cut the fishing line that held the backpack against the boards, he said, "Worth the climb, wasn't it?"

He opened the flap. As the sun lit Baby Tina's face, she opened her toothless mouth wide. Her eyes shone. She liked this vibration, this brilliance. She was smiling, maybe for the first time ever. And because no one was watching, and no one would know, Jimmy lifted her from the pack and hugged her. There was mealy yellow stuff on her legs.

Jimmy looked north and saw that Todd had vanished over the crest of Clay Hill. When Todd found the kite, he would be in a big hurry to get home, so he would probably leave the wreck where it was. Jimmy could retrieve Doll-Baby later.

The kite had crashed well beyond the hill, which meant there was no way that Todd could return home in less than thirty minutes. But Jimmy could be there in ten. If Mr. and Mrs. Boyle were back early, he would say that he'd found the baby in the field. And oh, by the way, he had seen Todd climbing Clay Hill.

If the Boyles were on schedule, all the better. Long before Todd showed up, his parents would have found their soiled infant alone in the house. Todd's troubles were just beginning. Jimmy took Baby Tina to the south side of the tank and showed her the place where the words JIMMY BLACKBURN IS A PUSSY had been written. There wasn't even a smudge now.

Baby Tina gurgled, and he decided to do one more thing.

He put her into the backpack so that her head stuck out. He molded the canvas around her body and snugged it with the piece of monofilament that had held it to the catwalk. Then he took his rod and reel line, looped it through the shoulder straps, and tied it.

He released the brake on the Zebco's reverse. A firm grip on the crank would be important.

He kissed Baby Tina's ear and whispered, "You're an eagle."

Then he stood and swung her into the sky. He braced the rod on the rail and let Baby Tina fly toward earth as fast as he dared. For this one moment of her life, she would know how it felt to be free.