Page 105 of The Reformatory

Gloria had envied Robbie’s stories about Mama’s gentle ghost coming to visit him while he slept, since Gloria had never once sensed her. Was she too old to see haints? At least she didn’t have to worry that somehow Mama’s spirit was tangled in their cabin’s ashes. Gloria grinned, trying to cheer Robbie, squeezing his hand. “Well, see? She’s guarding over you.”

“I’m not scared of Mama,” he said. “It’s the other ones.”

“But haints can’t hurt us, Robbie.”

“They can too,” Robbie said, certain. “They can lock you in the freezer. They can get you whipped. They can make you do things you don’t want to do.”

“Like… what?” Flashes of Robbie’s terror undulated between them in mute waves.

Robbie shook his head, unwilling to go on. Back to the silence where he had started.

She would get him out today if she could! “Okay, Robbie…,” she sighed in his ear. “Friday.” At least Waymon and Uncle June would have their pay by then. Waymon wanted to wait until Saturday to cut the fence, when there would be less traffic on the road, but he would have to take a chance and cut it sooner.

Robbie still looked disappointed. When they were silent for a long time, Miz Lottie stopped singing and took Robbie’s hand and held it to her cheek, and Gloria held his other one. They sat in stoniness like Gloria had sat at Mama’s bedside during the wake, her mind tossed, wrestling to remember who she was in this vengeful new world.

She’d expected to feel good after this visit with Robbie, or at least better. Instead, Robbie’s scarred back and unspoken horrors were proof that the baby brother she had come to visit was gone. At any instant, the guard would bellow that their time was finished, and Robbie might say a stoic goodbye or he might wail and scream, or she might, or they both might. And Miz Lottie’s tired heart might falter from the strain of being chased since the time she could walk. And Papa might hang from the courthouse tree.

Each one of Gloria’s terrors felt as real as the ticking of the clock on the wall.

29

After Gloria’s visit, Robert was so excited, he could hardly get to sleep Sunday night.

When the heat finally drove him to doze off, he had nightmares, dreaming he was running alongside the tall grass of the fence by the Funhouse, tugging the wires and searching for the hole, but he never found it—not even when his hands bled. In his dream, he was trying to catch a train on the other side of the fence, as if there were no woods or creek to cross. He woke with a gasp. Being awake in the dark was worse, searching for signs of Blue, expecting to see sharp teeth or too-big glowing eyes.

Then daylight came. A few boys in the row closest to the church altar had seen the swirling dust just like Warden Haddock had, so Robert caused a commotion wherever he went on Monday, his best day at the Reformatory so far: everyone smiling and patting him on the shoulder, more dessert than he could eat at supper (since five boys offered him their butterscotch pudding in exchange for a story), and, best of all, permission to roam the campus with Redbone in search of haints as their only job. Once they were free to talk, Robert and Redbone mostly made up Flash Gordon adventures so they didn’t have to think about the dead boys.

Robert didn’t mind that he had to ignore every haint who surprised him around a corner, or in a reflection shimmering in murky sink water, or barely visible in the dark spaces in room corners and cubbyholes where haints apparently liked to hide. Never mind that the scars on his back still ached when he bent down or flexed his muscles. Never mind that Boone and Warden Haddock would expect another offering soon.

Monday, nothing bothered Robert—not the cold water in the shower, or the rain-slick grass and cloudy skies, or the horrible taste of the morning oatmeal. Everything was different. Because, for the first time, Robert knew he would not have to stay at the Reformatory for six months. Even better, he would not have to sneak into Warden Haddock’s drawer like Blue wanted him to; he only had to put off Blue for a few days and then he would run away.

He was going home. Better than home: he was going somewhere new. Chicago!

Robert had never heard of a haint being able to follow anyone out of the state. No matter what frightful images Blue tried to make him see in the cornfield or the woods, he would not turn back. He would run every step until he saw Miz Lottie’s waiting truck by the railroad trestle. When Robert closed his eyes, he could see Gloria’s drawings on the map.

Robert dreamed about his escape most of the day Monday while he and Redbone played hooky from the world. Being paired with Redbone to walk the campus with no one else within earshot seemed almost like being free.

But Tuesday was different.

Tuesday arrived with sad, gray light and thunder rumbling the sky, and Robert felt certain that Blue had been staring at him all night from the shadows. He couldn’t see Blue, but he felt his stare. He called for Blue, a whisper, just in case he might offer him another haint to catch.

Robert’s stomach locked up as he realized how far off Friday was, somehow farther than yesterday, more dream than real. If Blue didn’t sacrifice another haint, Warden Haddock might take him to the Funhouse again. And Blue could appear at any moment making demands and threats against Mama without another offering. Anything could happen in the next three days.

And Robert felt like a kind of liar, or at least a bad friend, because he hadn’t told Redbone he would be running away—or offered him a chance to come. Robert’s stomach twisted when Redbone cheerfully joined him after breakfast with the pen and notepad he’d begun carrying so he would look busy while he roamed the campus with him. Robert wanted to pretend to look for haints near the Funhouse so he could check the fence to see if a hole was there. If he dared.

But Boone met them outside of the cafeteria with an assignment: he said some white boys had complained about haints on the other side of the campus, so he and Redbone should go check out the baseball bleachers. He handed Robert a written pass. “Be back by lunch,” he said. “Nobody better catch y’all goofing off.”

And so they were off, just like that, wandering at their own pace toward the church and the dormitories beyond it on the white side of the campus. The other boys were headed to the cornfield or the kitchen, or to the butcher’s block or the henhouse, or to lay bricks, or tend mules, or one of the other endless chores they were assigned that gave them blisters, calluses, and sore muscles. But he and Redbone were lucky for another day.

And no sign of Blue yet: still more luck.

Robert almost held his breath until they were past the church and the sharp memory of the giant tumbling haint. Miniature train tracks ran between the pines, too compact for a real train. Nearby, linked mini train cars were large enough for little kids to ride in, tied to an engine car painted bright red. If the cars had been running, bells ringing, this would look like it belonged in the Main Street Christmas parade. And here it was, sitting quiet in the warm drizzle while the tracks wound in a large circle among the pine trees.

On the white side, the Reformatory felt more like a place for play than for work. The grass beyond the train tracks was clipped short just like in downtown Gracetown. Above the ridge, a fenced enclosure looked like a large dog kennel, but it was actually penning in a swimming pool larger than Robert had ever seen, equipped with a diving board. The water rippled in a kind of blue that belonged in a painting, a color of water he had never seen.

“Look at this!” Redbone said. “They’re livin’ like kings over here. A damn pool like they’re training for the Olympics.”

“They go to the Funhouse same as us,” Robert said. “Die like us too, sometimes.” Most of the haints Robert saw were Negro, but not all of them. White boys died here as well, even if they were allowed to go swimming or ride the miniature train first.