Because of Winn-Dixie

Chapter Twenty

When I told Gloria Dump about Otis and how he got arrested, she laughed so hard she had to grab hold of her false teeth so they wouldn’t fall out of her mouth.

“Whoooeeee,” she said when she was finally done laughing. “That sure is some dangerous criminal.”

“He’s a lonely man,” I told her. “He just wants to play his music for somebody.”

Gloria wiped her eyes with the hem of her dress. “I know it, sugar,” she said. “But sometimes things are so sad they get to be funny.”

“You know what else?” I said, still thinking about sad things. “That girl I told you about, the pinch-faced one? Amanda? Well, her brother drowned last year. He was only five years old, the same age as Sweetie Pie Thomas.”

Gloria stopped smiling. She nodded her head. “I remember hearing about that,” she said. “I remember hearing about a little drowned boy.”

“That’s why Amanda is so pinch-faced,” I said. “She misses her brother.”

“Most likely,” Gloria agreed.

“Do you think everybody misses somebody? Like I miss my mama?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” said Gloria. She closed her eyes. “I believe, sometimes, that the whole world has an aching heart.”

I couldn’t stand to think about sad things that couldn’t be helped anymore, so I said, “Do you want to hear some more Gone with the Wind?”

“Yes indeed,” Gloria said. “I been looking forward to it all day. Let’s see what Miss Scarlett is up to now.”

I opened up Gone with the Wind and started to read, but the whole time, I was thinking about Otis, worrying about him not being allowed to play his guitar for people. In the book, Scarlett was looking forward to going to a big barbecue where there was going to be music and food. That’s how I got the idea.

“That’s what we need to do,” I said. I slammed the book shut. Winn-Dixie’s head shot up from underneath Gloria’s chair. He looked around all nervouslike.

“Huh?” said Gloria Dump.

“Have a party,” I told her. “We need to have a party and invite Miss Franny Block and the preacher and Otis, and Otis can play his guitar for everybody. Sweetie Pie can come, too. She listens to his music good.”

“‘We’ who?” Gloria asked.

“‘We’ me and you. We can make some food and have the party right here in your yard.”

“Hmmmm,” said Gloria Dump.

“We could make peanut-butter sandwiches and cut them up in triangles to make them look fancy.”

“Lord,” said Gloria Dump, “I don’t know if the whole world likes peanut butter as much as you and me and this dog.”

“Okay then,” I said, “we could make egg-salad sandwiches. Adults like those.”

“You know how to make egg salad?”

“No ma’am,” I said. “I don’t have a mama around to teach me things like that. But I bet you know. I bet you could teach me. Please.”

“Maybe,” said Gloria Dump. She put her hand on Winn-Dixie’s head. She smiled at me. I knew she was telling me yes.

“Thank you,” I said. I went over and hugged her. I squeezed her hard. Winn-Dixie wagged his tail and tried to get in between the two of us. He couldn’t stand being left out of anything.

“It’s going to be the best party ever,” I told Gloria.

“You got to make me one promise though,” Gloria said.

“All right,” I told her.

“You got to invite them Dewberry boys.”

“Dunlap and Stevie?”

“Hmmmm-mmm, ain’t gonna be no party unless you invite them.”

“I have to?”

“Yes,” said Gloria Dump. “You promise me.”

“I promise,” I said. I didn’t like the idea. But I promised.

I started inviting people right away. I asked the preacher first.

“Daddy,” I said.

“Opal?” the preacher said back.

“Daddy, me and Winn-Dixie and Gloria Dump are having a party.”

“Well,” said the preacher, “that’s nice. You have a good time.”

“Daddy,” I said, “I’m telling you because you’re invited.”

“Oh,” said the preacher. He rubbed his nose. “I see.”

“Can you come?” I asked him.

He sighed. “I don’t see why not,” he said.

Miss Franny Block took to the idea right away. “A party!” she said, and clapped her hands together.

“Yes ma’am,” I told her. “It will be kind of like the barbecue at Twelve Oaks in Gone with the Wind. Only it’s not going to be as many people, and we’re going to serve egg-salad sandwiches instead of barbecue.”

“That sounds lovely,” Miss Franny said. And then she pointed at the back of the library and whispered, “Maybe you should ask Amanda, too.”

“She probably won’t want to come,” I said. “She doesn’t like me very much.”

“Ask her and see what she says,” Miss Franny whispered.

So I walked to the back of the library and I asked Amanda Wilkinson in my best-manners voice to please come to my party. She looked around all nervous and stuff.

“A party?” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “I sure would like it if you could come.”

She stared at me with her mouth open. “Okay,” she said after a minute. “I mean, yes. Thank you. I would love to.”

And just like I promised Gloria, I asked the Dewberry boys.

“I ain’t going to no party at a witch’s house,” Stevie said.

Dunlap knocked Stevie with his elbow. “We’ll come,” he said.

“We will not,” said Stevie. “That witch might cook us up in her big old witch’s pot.”

“I don’t care if you come or not,” I told them. “I’m just asking because I promised I would.”

“We’ll be there,” said Dunlap. And he nodded at me and smiled.

Sweetie Pie was very excited when I invited her.

“What’s the theme?” she asked.

“Well, there isn’t one,” I said.

“You got to think of a theme,” she told me. She stuck her knuckle in her mouth and then pulled it back out. “It ain’t a party without a theme. Is this dog coming?” she asked. She wrapped her arms around Winn-Dixie and squeezed him so hard that his eyes almost popped out of his head.

“Yes,” I told her.

“Good,” she said. “You could make that the theme. It could be a dog party.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told her.

The last person I asked was Otis. I told him all about the party and that he was invited and he said, “No, thank you.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I don’t like parties,” said Otis.

“Please,” I begged. “It won’t be a party unless you come. I’ll give you a whole free week of sweeping and arranging and dusting. If you come to the party, that’s what I’ll do.”

“A whole week for free?” Otis said, looking up at me.

“Yes sir,” I told him.

“But I don’t have to talk to people, right?”

“No sir,” I said. “You don’t. But bring your guitar. Maybe you could play us some music.”

“Maybe,” said Otis. He looked down at his boots again real quick, trying to hide his smile.

“Thank you,” I told him. “Thank you for deciding to come.”