In 1968, Sadie entered junior high at a new school. Kids immediately called her Sad Sadie, the Fat Lady. There was one kid who didn’t make fun of her; Beau Watson. Bo Bo the Weirdo.<\/p>\n
When he turned, his whole body moved in one piece, military style. A cowlick swirled on the back of his head like a whirlpool of confusion. He barked his words in a staccato, clipped fashion, assaulting the air. Kids threw spitballs, laughed and ran away. Some said he was crazy.<\/p>\n
Sadie tried to imitate the tiny, graceful steps of daintier girls. Kids copied her movements and fell over each other, snickering. But Beau never laughed. Standing next to his locker, Sadie practiced \u201cHello Beau\u201d under her breath. She dawdled by his desk, shuffling her homework papers. He looked right past her with laser-sharp focus.<\/p>\n
When he passed out birthday invitations, most of the class giggled. Pretending hers was special, Sadie brushed her fingertips over the glossy card. Tenderly touching Beau’s signature, she couldn\u2019t wait for the party.<\/p>\n
After arriving at the Watson’s house, Sadie approached the front door and knocked. As sweat trickled down her spine, she relaxed her jaw and tried to smile. Mrs. Watson answered the door and, practically squealing with delight, hustled Sadie inside.<\/p>\n
Beau and his father stood ramrod straight in the kitchen, nodding a silent hello. Sadie waved and offered Beau’s present. \u201cWhere could the other children be?\u201d Mrs. Watson stammered. She stroked her neck, as if calming a frightened cat. The kitchen table displayed a cake decorated as an American flag. There were no other presents.<\/p>\n
Sadie felt a knot in her gut. She wiped wet palms on her dress. What if no one else showed up? The room was weighted with a disturbing silence. Sadie stared out the window and twisted her fingers. With a toothy smile that didn’t reach her eyes, Mrs. Watson suggested Beau show Sadie his GI Joe collection.<\/p>\n
Sadie jumped when he saluted her. Beau ordered, “Follow me, soldier.”<\/p>\n
Trying to be polite, she crept forward, following him down the hall.<\/p>\n
“Welcome to headquarters.” His hand sliced through the air to enter.<\/p>\n
Sadie folded her arms across her body and squeezed past Beau as she inched her way in.<\/p>\n
His room looked like an army barracks. Sheets pulled so tight they\u2019d bounce a dime. Shoes shined to a spit polish beside a nearby chair. Not a speck of dust; it was inspection ready.<\/p>\n
Dog tags were hanging from the bedpost. A battered harmonica crowned Beau’s pillow.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan you play Puff the Magic Dragon?\u201d<\/p>\n
Beau\u2019s eyes misted as he shook his head. “That’s my brother\u2019s harmonica.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sadie hesitated, \u201cOh. So, maybe he can play.\u201d She looked around the room. \u201cWhere is your brother, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n
Beau picked up the harmonica and caressed it like an injured animal. He cleared his throat but didn\u2019t speak.<\/p>\n
Sadie bit the inside of her cheek. \u201cI mean, it is your birthday. Isn\u2019t he coming to your party?\u201d<\/p>\n
Beau turned away, \u201cJust go, Sadie. It\u2019s better if you go home.\u201d His voice was hoarse.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2013why?… I only wanted to know if your brother\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cViet Cong,\u201d Beau blurted. \u201cThe officer said\u2026\u201d He softened his voice, \u201c…search and destroy mission, South Vietnamese jungle.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sadie repeatedly counted her fingertips, uncertain what to do with her hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cLand mine.\u201d He released his grip on the harmonica. \u201cClosed casket.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sadie\u2019s mouth opened and shut.<\/p>\n
Swallowing hard, she said, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head, looking at the floor, “This party was a stupid idea.”<\/p>\n
Sadie moved to hug him, then stopped. “I\u2019m not much of a partyer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t tell anybody, okay?\u201d Beau studied her carefully. “They can make fun of me, but not my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m a good secret keeper.\u201d Sadie nodded, \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
His shoulders sagged as he exhaled, “I need a little shut-eye. Keep my bummer party Top Secret.\u201d He managed a slight smile. \u201cRoger that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYep, Roger that.\u201d She sucked in her stomach, straightened her spine and blundered a clumsy salute.<\/p>\n
Beau coughed out a ragged laugh.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe you can teach me that saluting stuff when I see you in school at, oh…hundred, um eight hundred…?\u201d<\/p>\n
“At zero-eight-hundred,” corrected Beau.<\/p>\n
“Yeah that. See you then.” She paused in the doorway. Her gaze lingered on Beau as he cradled his brother\u2019s harmonica. She silently wished it could sing again, then walked away.<\/p>\n
Under an oak tree, Sadie waited for her ride. She cupped her hands to catch falling acorns. The wind tickled her ears, like a new friend whispering secrets. She would be the best secret keeper.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Kids called her, Sad Sadie, the Fat Lady. They called him, Bo Bo the Weirdo.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":22228,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3530],"tags":[4007],"class_list":["post-21605","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-flash-fiction","tag-https-patsypease-wordpress-com","writer-patricia-pease"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21605","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21605"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21605\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22229,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21605\/revisions\/22229"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/22228"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21605"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21605"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21605"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}