Free John Fitzgerald by Me, My Little Brain Page A

consequences of what I had
done. If Frankie told Papa and Mamma they would take away my allowance for
months.
        "I won't let the ghost get you if you
promise me something," I said.
        "I promise," he said eagerly.
        "The ghost can't get you unless you
are sleeping alone," I said. "If you promise not to tell Papa and
Mamma about the ghost, I'll let you sleep with me every time there is a full
moon."
    He hugged me
tight. "I promise," he said.
        Frankie went right to sleep but I didn't.
My conscience was bothering me more than it had during my entire life. What I
had done out of sheer spite was ten times worse than anything Frankie had ever
done to me. Scaring a little kid was just about as low-down a trick as a fellow
could pull. I asked God to please not let my little brain get any more crazy
ideas like that.
        The next day was Sunday and Mamma always
let everybody sleep a little later. I didn't wake up until she came into the
bedroom. She had an old suit of mine and some other clothing she had washed and
pressed for Frankie.
        "I see you changed your mind about
sleeping alone," she said to Frankie as he sat up in bed.
        He started to open his mouth and then
looked at me. My future allowance for an entire year was in his hands. And the
strange part about it was that I knew I deserved to lose it for telling him the
ghost story.
        "John and I will sleep in our bed from
now on," he said to my great relief.
        Mamma smiled. "That is good," she
said. "It means less washing and ironing of sheets and pillowcases. Do you
want me to help you wash and get dressed?"
        "Frankie is big enough to wash and
dress himself," I said. "Aren't you, Frankie?"
        He looked as pleased as if I'd just given
him a new rocking horse. "You bet, John," he said proudly.
         It was raining when we got up and still
raining when we all returned from the Community Church that morning. I knew it
was raining too hard to go outside to play. I took Frankie up to my room. I
thought I could keep him amused by showing him my box of treasures. What a big
mistake that was. He watched me pull the box from under the bed and open it. I
showed him my slingshot first. He took it in his hands and carefully examined
it. Then he put it on the floor by his side.
    "My
slingshot," he said.
        I picked up the slingshot. "I didn't
give it to you," I said. "I'm just showing it to you."
        He grabbed it out of my hands. "My
slingshot," he said stubbornly.
        I knew he couldn't use the slingshot
because the rubber bands on it were too strong for a kid his age to pull back.
    "I'll make a
little slingshot for you," I said.
    "I want this
one," he said. "My slingshot or I'll tell."
        I wasn't about to give up my slingshot,
which was made from a perfect Y branch of a cherry tree, even though Papa had
told me to humor Frankie and give in to him.
    "You'll tell
what?" I asked.
    "About the
ghost," he said.
    "But you
promised not to tell," I protested.
        "I didn't promise not to tell Aunt
Bertha," he said smugly.
        Boy, oh, boy, this kid was really
something. I knew if he told Aunt Bertha that she would tell Papa and Mamma.
    "Your
slingshot," I said. What else could I do?
        He laid it to one side. Then he reached
into my box and took out my cap pistol. "My cap pistol," he said,
putting it by the slingshot.
        "Your cap pistol," I said. Boy,
oh, boy, this little conniver made my brother Tom look like The Good Samaritan.
        Frankie kept helping himself to my
treasures until there was nothing left in the box but my bank.
    "My
bank," he said as he picked it up.
        "Oh, no you don't," I said as I
took it away from him. "You can tell Aunt Bertha. You can tell Mamma. You
can tell Papa. You can tell the whole world but I'm not going to let you
blackmail me out of my life savings. And after you tell them, I'm going to take
back all those things."
        He thought for a moment. "All