Free An Ocean in Iowa by Peter Hedges Page B

broke.
    “You’ll be all right,” the Judge said to a frustrated Scotty, who now would have to hold the mask in place using one hand.
    Maggie wore torn overalls, covered her cheeks with charcoal, and went as a hobo. They both carried plastic pumpkins for gathering candy.
    ***
    The Keiths gave caramel apples, the Biechlers gave popcorn balls, and Dr. Kovacs, a dentist, gave out toothbrushes. The best house for candy was that of Leann Callahan’s grandparents, who lived on Vine Street. They gave adult-sized candy bars and after Scotty told his joke—“What’s the biggest pen in the world? Pennsylvania”—the grandmother dropped a second candy bar into Scotty’s plastic pumpkin.
    ***
    Scotty had a favorite costume.
    Andrew Crow had taken one of the boxes his family had used during their move. Using a scissors, he poked numerous holes equally spaced throughout the box. He threaded tiny Christmas lights through each hole and using a 9-volt battery, he made a space monster.
    “A monster of the future,” he announced to anyone who would listen.
    Andrew had worked for weeks on his costume. Inside the cardboard were elastic straps that hung over his shoulders—these helped keep the box buoyant. A smaller box, head size, rested on top, and it was secured in such a way that he couldturn his head separately from the body section of his robot. He punched out holes for eyes and put in a cheese grater for the mouth. When he spoke, he tried to speak with an electronic voice.
    It was the best costume on the block.
    Scotty wanted more than anything to get close to Andrew Crow. Every so often he could see, a few houses behind him, the blinking lights of Andrew Crow’s costume approaching. Scotty would slow down as much as possible, but Maggie would invariably call for him to hurry up.
    And if Scotty hesitated, she’d stretch out her hand, grab his, pull him along, and say, “You’re slowing me down.”
    (6)
    One November morning, after the class had recited the Pledge of Allegiance, Mrs. Boyden told her students to sit. Smiling, she said, “Now we’re going to learn something useful.” Then she hoisted a large box up onto her desk.
    Scotty and the others wondered what was inside. Everyone sensed the importance of the day’s teaching because Mrs. Boyden seemed particularly excited. Her voice had an unusual enthusiasm and that enthusiasm was contagious.
    “We’re going to learn something you will use every day.”
    Every day, Scotty thought.
    “We’re going to learn something you can use for the rest of your life.”
    “Oh, boy,” Scotty said. Something had special value if you could use it for the rest of your life.
    Mrs. Boyden held up a large plastic clock—tan with a white face and big black, easy-to-read numbers.
    “You’ll each get your own.”
    “Our own,” whispered Scotty to himself.
    She called the class forward by rows. As she handed each student a clock, she said, “Be careful.”
    Knobs in the back made it possible to turn the hands.
    “These aren’t real,” Dan Burkhett whispered to Scotty. “They don’t have a tick.”
    When Scotty got his, he held it to his ear. “No tick,” he announced, as if he’d discovered it himself.
    ***
    By midweek Mrs. Boyden could announce a time and in less than a minute her students would manipulate the knobs, turning the clock hands to point in the appropriate directions, and hold up their clocks victoriously. To Mrs. Boyden’s pleasure, most of her students would have the big and little hands in the appropriate place.
    “Very good.”
    And then she’d call out another time.
    “Very good.”
    Mrs. Boyden knew how to teach the telling of time. She knew not to overwhelm the child with too much information. The following week she would explain A.M. and P.M. Later still would come time zones and phrases like “a quarter past,” “half past,” “a quarter to”—but for now they had learned enough.
    At the end of class on Friday, Mrs. Boyden told her