"No other path, no other way."
No Day But Today by the RENT cast
I was startled by the knock at the door, but was pleased for the excuse to leave the room. "I'll get it," I told Cal and left the room and opened the screen door. "Hey Cecil."
"Hi Scout," he said, steeping in, rather awkwardly. "Sorry 'bout today."
"It's nothing," I said quickly, not eager to discuss it. "Do you want to come sit in there? I have some books upstairs." I led him into the living room and hurried upstairs. I grabbed the books out of my room and returned to see Cecil standing in the middle of the room, looking around.
"I got some notes I took earlier," he said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. "I don't know if they're any good." He offered them to me.
I took the paper and read over it quickly. "These are fine," I said, handing it back to him.
"Okay," he said, a grin breaking across his face. I sat down on the couch and he followed me. "I guess we ought to start with the introductory paragraph," he said, sitting down beside me.
"Yeah," I said and pulled a piece of paper out of my folder.
"I got a pencil," Cecil said, handing me a yellow #1 pencil with noticeable teeth marks on it.
"Thanks," I said and placed the pencil to paper. No words came to mind.
"Should we start with a thesis or something?" Cecil asked, watching me intently. When I turned my head to look at him, his gaze was quickly averted.
"Yep," I said, and then, "sorry if I'm scaring you."
"What?" He looked surprised.
"Whenever I look at you, you look away like you've seen a ghost," I said. Maybe they were right. Maybe he does like me, I quickly shook away the thought.
"Like I saw Boo Radley," Cecil said, grinning broadly. He really is a fool, I thought, somewhat disappointed.
"Cecil!" I cried, angry that he would mock my friend. "It's not true. All those things they say."
"How would you know, Miss Scout?" he asked, mockingly.
"Because I…" I trailed off. I couldn't tell him. Let the dead bury the dead.
"You what?" His blue eyes were piercing mine and I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks.
"Nothing. Let's get back to the project," I said, and turned back to the book.
"All right," he said. "So anyways… Russia's fascist, right?" I sighed.
. . . . . . . . . . .
The next few days passed in that fashion; Libby, Mary, and Amelia giggled when I was around and Cecil came by everyday to work on the project, each day watching me a little more intently. The void I felt at Jem's absence did not fill. If anything, it grew. I began to go and see Eleanor when I could. She seemed to be my only connection to Jem, and she must have thought the same about me. It was as if the dreams Jem had whispered to her still lingered in her ear and his arms were still around her. If anyone could have an ounce of Jem in them, it was her.
"Hey, Scout," she said one day, opening the screen door to let me in. "Did you just get out of school?"
"Yeah," I said. "After this I got to go and pick up Cecil Jacobs."
"Oh really?" Eleanor asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Not like that," I muttered. She was teasing me just like Jem did. "For a school project."
"All right. Scout, do you want to go on a picnic by Barker's Eddy this Saturday? I'm leaving for the factories next week," she said.
"Okay," I said, perking up at the idea. When Jem and I were younger, we used to go out there to swim. Jem told me once that, before Mama died, she would pack a picnic lunch and take Jem out there, before I was born.
She led me into the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. "Thanks," I said. She's a lot like a mother, I thought fondly. I don't have any memories of my mother, except the sound of her fingers running over piano keys. We still had that piano. It sat in the corner of the living room, collecting dust. Occasionally Jem would play a quick melody.
"How was school?" she asked, pouring a cup for herself.
"All right," I said.
"Are those girls getting you down?"
"Yeah," I said. "Yeah."
"Don't let them bother you."
"I try not to. But when they aren't bothering me, they're gossiping about someone else. I got to fight 'em," I said, enthusiastically.
"As your brother says," Eleanor began, "hold your head high and be a gentleman."
I smiled at that piece of advice. I looked up, grinning, at Eleanor and saw a deep sadness lurking in her eyes. "You okay?" I asked, and I knew how she would respond.
"I'm fine," she said. "Can you go Scout? I've got some work to do." Her words were shaky and her breath ragged. I nodded weakly, and soon found myself on the sidewalk outside.
Deciding it was best to go pick up Cecil to work on the project, I turned left and continued down the street, passing my own house on the way. Once I reached Cecil's house I jumped onto the porch and knocked on the door. When he opened the door, Cecil looked surprised. "Hi," he said. "Why are you here?"
"The project," I said. "Where is your mother? Where's Virginia?"
"In the city," he said quietly.
"Cecil! You're fourteen! You can't be alone this long!" I cried. "Come on boy," I said and grabbed him by the arm.
"Wait," he said, spinning me around to face him. Our faces were a foot apart and his eyes were blazing. My breath quickened and I could tell his was too. "I got to lock the door," he told me, awkwardly, and ran to the door, turning his house key in the lock. I sighed. Just overreacting, I told myself.
He rejoined me on the sidewalk and we headed back to my house. "Do you want to stay at my house?" I asked.
"Um… I don't know," he said, looking at his feet. He kicked a stone ahead of him.
"It isn't any problem. Honest," I said.
"Okay, if it's okay with your daddy," Cecil told me.
"It will be," I reassured him. "Anyways, Russia's communist. Germany's fascist. England's a monarchy and America's a democracy. Any questions?"
To my surprise, he laughed. Well, the fact that Cecil Jacobs was laughing was not uncommon, just the fact that he was laughing appreciatively at something I had said. Around here, Cecil made the jokes. "None really," he said, in between bouts of uproarious laughter. "Thanks for clarifying."
"No problem," I mumbled. We reached my house and went in. Atticus was sitting in an armchair in the living room, reading the paper. "Hey Atticus," I said.
"Hello Mr. Finch," Cecil said quietly.
Looking up from his paper, my father greeted us. "Hello Scout, hello Cecil. Are you going to work on your project?"
"Well actually Atticus," I started, "can Cecil stay here for awhile? While his mother and sister are in Birmingham?"
"Yes. Of course," Atticus said. "Cecil, you can stay in Jem's room." I felt a sudden pang. How could anyone else stay there? I thought. How could anyone replace Jem?
"Thank you sir," Cecil said. "I'd have to go back to my house to get some clothes and things."
"All right," Atticus said. "Scout, could you go with him? Supper will be ready soon."
"Yessir," I said, and followed Cecil out the door and down the street to his house. He unlocked the door and steeped inside, me right after him.
"Sorry. It's kind of messy," he apologized.
"You've been living here alone for nearly a week," I said.
"It's only Thursday," he replied. "They left Sunday morning."
"Still a pretty long time. I can't keep my room clean for a day." He led the way to his room and pulled out a small backpack. He pulled open his drawers and piled some clothes into the bag, struggling to zip it all the way.
"Let's go," he said, turning to face me, the backpack slung over his shoulder.
"All right," I said, and started walked towards the front door, Cecil on my heels. He locked the door behind him, and I waited on the porch steps until he finished. He ran down to meet me and we continued back home. "I bet dinner's ready," I said, to no one in particular.
"Sorry I took too long," Cecil said guiltily.
"I didn't mean that to make you feel bad," I said quickly. "Just to make conversation."
"Oh. Sorry," Cecil apologized again.
"Why do you keep on saying sorry?"
"I don't know. Just nervous, I guess." He shrugged.
"Nervous 'bout what?"
"Nothing," he replied.
"Really?"
"Nothing that's important," he said. "Nothing you need to know."
His second response bothered me. I was formulating a threat in my mind, but then thought, He'll be staying with us for a while, best not to anger him. Besides, Cecil can pull a good prank. "All right," I said, shrugging. We returned to the house, this time making pleasant conversation.
Cal ushered us to the table, hissing in my ear, "You're late." Aunt Alexandra and Atticus sat at the table, talking, but looked up when we came in.
"Hello," Aunty said, greeting Cecil and I. I settled into my chair and Cecil took a seat beside me, in Jem's old chair.
"Hello ma'am," Cecil said, eagerly starting on the meal Cal had prepared; a meatloaf with mashed potatoes.
I slowly ate my meal, many thoughts running through my head. What will it be like with Cecil living here? Will Jem be okay? What if Libby, Mary, and Amelia are right? I all ready had an answer for the last question. They were: Cecil Jacobs liked me.
"How was school, Scout?" Atticus asked me.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I responded, "Fine."
"Cecil will be staying with us for a while because his mother and sister are in Birmingham," Atticus explained to Aunty.
"Ah…" she said. "How lovely." She was so prim, that to the untrained eye it would appear as if she really cared. I glanced at Cecil, and it was apparent that he believed her façade. I remembered once long ago when Aunty had called his mother a climber…
"How's the project?" Atticus asked.
"It's going good," Cecil said, and I saw Aunty pursing her lips, eager to correct his grammar.
"We're almost finished," I added.
"That's good," Aunty said. "Maybe, once you finish, we could go shopping some time." Cecil started laughing. I shot him a death glare. "I don't see how that's funny," Aunty said.
"Sorry ma'am," Cecil spluttered, now to the giggling stage.
"You sound like a little girl," I muttered, nudging him in the ribs. It's like Jem and I…
Atticus seemed amused by the situation. He leaned back, and watched us all, as if we were under scrutiny in a courtroom. "Scout, don't hurt him. He's a guest."
"Sorry," I said. I wondered what Atticus would've said if he had seen me hit Cecil earlier. I glanced at his eye and could see a large purplish bruise forming over it.
Atticus seemed to realize too. "What happened to your eye?" I knew I was overreacting, but I felt a sudden ripping pain at how my father addressed Cecil. It was as if he were saying, "Where are you pants, son?"
"My eye?" Cecil asked. My mind converted it to, "Pants?" I sighed. "Oh, my eye!" Cecil said. "I got in a fight at school."
I was shocked. Was he covering for me? I wondered. It appeared he was, and when I wondered why, Mary's voice answered me in my head. "Oh," Atticus said, for once not pressing for more information.
After dinner, I finished with my other homework. I also silently prepared myself for the daunting thought of Cecil Jacobs joining this household.
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