Easy Peasy

I want to talk about it. No one knows but me. I’d be better off if I just kept my mouth shut, but I want to tell someone. I suppose I could tell Jimmy. He’d wet his pants! But I’d better not. He can’t keep a secret.

My sister, Deanie. She wasn’t a baby anymore, but my parents always referred to her as the baby of the family. She actually turned seven last month. I’m five years older, almost twelve. Mom was constantly nagging me to look after her, and I tried to, but sometimes Deanie still got hurt like two years ago when she fell down the front steps and broke her wrist. It was no one’s fault. She just tripped on her loose shoelaces. The doctor put Deanie’s arm in a cast up to her elbow, and everyone wrote their name or made a funny comment on it. She was such a brave girl, Dad had said. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

As usual, Mom and Dad went all out for Deanie’s seventh birthday. All the kids from two blocks around were invited to our house along with their parents. We played games, and Dad grilled burgers and hot dogs. When he wasn’t flipping burgers, he diddled the base on the Boombox or changed the CD. The music was upbeat and filled the neighorhood with the sound of fun. Mom put out chips and dips and little cubes of fruit that no one ate. She'd also put red plaid plastic tablecloths on all the picnic tables and placed big bouquets of garden flowers on top to keep them from blowing off. There was lemonade and lots of beer in coolers for the neighbors. Everything looked real nice.

Me and Jimmy won the three-legged race, but we didn’t get a prize or anything. Right afterward, Mom called everyone over to the patio to watch Deanie open her presents. Lanie and Linda gave her some nail polish and lipstick, but Mom quickly snatched them away before she could put any on. Mrs. Antle from next door kept saying how pretty Deanie was and that she could be a model when she grew up.   

Right after dinner, we had cake and ice cream, and the whole neighborhood sang “Happy Birthday” to Deanie. When she dribbled some ice cream on the front of her dress and looked like she was going to bawl, Mom just hugged her and said the stains would wash out. Typical.

I told Jimmy’s parents, the Englers, about the big play I was in at school. Mr. Engler didn’t seem interested and opened another beer, but Mrs. Engler smiled and asked if it was a musical. Before I could give them any details, Mom came over and butted in. “Wipe your face, young man! You’ve got chocolate frosting on your chin. Honestly, Richie!” Mrs. Engler laughed and Mr. Engler grinned and walked away. He didn’t hear how I have more lines than anyone else and Miss Anderson says I have talent. Soon after, I left the stupid party and went up to my room, but it went on and on. I could hear everyone hooting, laughing and telling stories.

Last Saturday morning, I woke up with a stinker of a headache. I’ve been having a lot of them lately. Tylenol doesn’t seem to help. I had nothing to do because Jimmy and his brother were away visiting their grandmother. The little league game didn’t start for a few hours so I needed to kill some time. Dad was running errands and Mom was in the kitchen cleaning the refrigerator. There wasn’t anything good on TV so I went upstairs to see what Deanie was up to. She was in her room playing with the dumb cat who quickly left when I showed up. I tried to grab his tail when he scooted by me, but I missed.  

The window facing the back patio was wide open so I leaned against the sill and watched Deanie as she picked up the cat toys. I swear I barely touched it, but the window screen started to slip out of the frame. I tried to get it back into place, but it came all the way out and fell to the ground below. I just shrugged. Now, I could pull my legs up and sit sideways in the window frame.  

Deanie’s had girlie little curtains- pink and ruffled, matching her bedspread. They floated into my face with the breeze, and I wanted to yank them right off the rod. It was so boring and the pain in my head was worse, pounding right behind my eyes. Deanie was humming to herself and ignoring me.

“I bet you can’t sit up here like this,” I said. “You’re just a weakling, a useless girl.” 

“Oh, I could too,” answered Deanie. “I’m going to tell Mom you pushed out the screen.”

“It came out by itself, you tattletale.”  

Then, dropping back into the room, I jeered at her. “You’re scared to sit in the window, aren’t you? Little Deanie’s scared. Deanie’s scared.”

She glared at me, hopped up into the window frame, and stuck out her tongue. I glared back and gave her a little shove.  

The look on her face when she fell backward was really funny, just like when she fell down the front steps. I heard a thud and leaned out of the window to see. She had landed on her back on the paving stones and wasn’t moving. Her eyes were slightly open, and she had a strange look on her face. For a few seconds, I just stared at the pool of blood slowly growing under her head. Then I yelled, “Mom!” as loud as I could and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. “Deanie fell out of the window!” I shouted.

That was four days ago. Everything is weird and peaceful now. People talk in low voices. Mom just sits at the kitchen table with a blank look on her face, and my dad keeps fawning over her and holding her hand. No one is paying any attention to me. 

Deanie’s gone though. It’s sort of hard to believe. It was so easy. Easy peasy.