More Than Allies

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Authors: Sandra Scofield
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there,” she said. Maggie glared at the both of them. What about me? she wanted to say. Gretchen appeared at the end of the hall and asked what the hell was going on, then turned and slammed her door.
    Maggie threw herself on the couch and sobbed.
    The day was beautiful. The sun shone. The temperature was in the mid-seventies. The lightest breeze blew. They couldn’t stay unhappy.
    â€œI have an idea,” Polly said a little before three. “Why don’t you take Jay for an ice cream? Stevie and I will walk down to the park for a bit. How’s that sound?”
    Gretchen, glowering and speechless, had already dressed and made it out of the house. She hosted the members’ lounge before the matinee. Wouldn’t she be the gracious one today?
    Jay seemed to perk up at the suggestion, and Maggie, her eyes stinging, agreed that ice cream sounded good. They headed off for the Dairy Queen.
    â€œTell you what,” she said when they were in the alcove to the store. “You get me a single cone, vanilla. And you can have whatever you want.” She handed him a five dollar bill.
    He looked at it as if he didn’t know what it was.
    â€œI’ll get a seat,” she said. She thought he looked pleased, once he figured out what he was doing. They went inside and he moved into line behind some other kids.
    Only he backed away, one step, then another and another, until he had backed against the counter where the newspapers were spread out. Maggie hurried over to him. He looked ready to cry.
    â€œWhat now!” she said. He pointed, the tiniest gesture.
    She saw then that the boys in front of him were Hilario and Gus. Gus gave him a little wave, then said something in Spanish to Hilario, who snickered. They left.
    â€œWhat?” Maggie asked Jay, exasperated.
    Jay thrust the bill into her hand. “I don’t want any.”
    â€œWhat did they say? What did they do?”
    â€œNothing! They didn’t say nothing to me.”
    She followed him out to the car. She made herself sit in silence. She would outlast him. She would make him say what was wrong. In a moment he said, “I should have gone to school. I missed practice for Spanish night.”
    â€œYou’re not in Spanish night, Jay. Jack said. You know he said. Because of the paint can.” God, she hated Jack!
    He turned his head and hung his chin on the window. “I hate Jack,” he said quietly.
    â€œJay.” She touched his arm lightly, but he yanked it away.
    â€œI talked to your dad this morning. He’s going to come up.”
    He swung around. “He’s coming back?”
    â€œHe’s coming to—to see you.”
    When he didn’t say anything to that, she started the car. She pulled out into the street in the direction away from home. Maybe if they drove around a bit they would both calm down.
    She drove past the high school, a mistake, she soon saw, because buses were loading and students were crossing the street any place they liked. She slowed to a crawl.
    â€œLet’s go to Dad’s place,” Jay said. He’d pulled himself up in the seat.
    â€œWhat, honey?” She didn’t know where he meant.
    He pointed down the street. “You know, down by the freeway.”
    â€œOh, the Gabrelli property. Okay.” She was relieved to get past the high school throng. In a couple more blocks they had crossed the back artery street and hit a poorly kept road that would deadend along the bank of the freeway.
    She parked on the shoulder of the road in front of the Gabrelli place. It didn’t look like anyone was there. The Gabrellis were Californians, and didn’t spend much of the year here. They had bought an old farm house to renovate, and Mo had worked for a month last summer clearing the property of brush and trash, checking and steadying the old shed they wanted to keep for its blue tin roof and look of groovy old times. He had taken Jay out with him most

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