Promise Not to Tell: A Novel by Jennifer McMahon Read Free Book Online Page A

to smoke it like a cigarette. Artie, the big Special Ed kid, approached her with two of his fifth grade friends.
    “What ya got there, Del?” asked Artie. “Wacky tobbaccy?”
    Del just kept smoking, pretending not to hear. She tilted her head back and stared up into the branches with their freshly unfurled leaves. I climbed to the top of the monkey bars to get a better view. Two other girls played below me—Samantha Lancaster and Ellie Bushey. They whispered and giggled to each other when I smiled down at them. They were best friends who wore their hair in identical braids, and each had a matching pink windbreaker. They were popular girls, surrounded by a glow of normalcy and self-confidence, the first two to be picked for teams, shoe boxes overflowing with cards on Valentine’s Day. I went back to watching Del, doing my best to ignore Ellie and Samantha.
    Over by the trees, Artie was still talking to Del, swaying a little as he spoke, as if he needed extra momentum to get the words out.
    “Cat got your tongue, girl? You a mute like Mike now? Mute Mike and the Potato Girl. What a couple. I seen him passin’ you notes in the classroom. Little love notes prob’ly. Maybe you two should get married. Have little dirty mute babies. Raise ’em on raw potatoes. Ain’t that what you cut your teeth on, Del?”
    Del said nothing, just sucked hard on her stick and blew invisible smoke rings, still staring up at the highest branches. When she leaned back like that, her sheriff ’s badge caught the sun and gleamed like a real star might. I remembered what Lazy Elk had told me about talismans and thought that maybe that silver star was Del’s.
    “Where is that Mute Mike, anyway?” Artie wondered out loud. He made a visor out of his hand and scanned the playground like a general surveying the battlefield. He spotted Mike.
    “Get him over here, Tommy,” Artie ordered, and off lumbered Tommy Ducette, the fattest kid in fifth grade, to drag poor Mike over. By the time Tommy forced Mike back to the maple tree, a circle of curious kids had formed, including the two girls who’d been under the monkey bars. I climbed down and walked over to get a closer look. Samantha whispered something to Ellie, who then turned to look at me and blushed a little.
    “There’s that mute!” Artie grinned. “There’s your sweetheart now, Del.” And there stood Mike Shane, toothpick thin but taller than the other boys by a head. His wrists and ankles stuck out beyond his cuffs. The spiral pad hung around his neck on red yarn. Mike kept his head down, studying the worn rubber toes of his Keds.
    I had watched Mike Shane before. He was, like Del, like myself, a kid who stuck to himself for the most part. I’d seen him playing checkers at recess with Tony LaPearl, the boy with Down syndrome, and from what I saw, Mike let Tony win each time. I had also noticed, as Artie had, that he passed notes to Del from time to time and, occasionally, she would lean close and whisper something in his ear that made him smile and look away, embarrassed.
    “Now you two are gonna be married,” Artie announced. “Stand together now.” Tommy gave Mike a shove so that the quivering string bean of a boy stood nearly touching Del, who continued to play-smoke like some glamour girl movie star.
    “Do you, Del the Potato Girl, take Mute Mike to be your husband, for better or worse, in sickness and health, till death do you part?”
    Del blew smoke in his face.
    “That was a yes. Sure, sure you do. Now do you, Mute Mike, take this here smokin’ Potato Girl to be your smelly old wife? A nod will do, Shane. You don’t need to write it in your freakin’ book.”
    Mike Shane nodded, still staring at the ground, jittery as a cornered hare.
    “I hereby pronounce you man and wife. Now kiss your bride,” Artie ordered.
    Mike looked up at this, his brown eyes wide and truly terrified. Del just smiled. Mike tried to bolt, but Artie and Tommy stopped him and pulled him over