Boo The Claw

taken from the Book on Uglies
by my Guest Author, Sage Brush

This is mostly a true story, or I wouldn’t tell it.

Most of the girls I know are called names like Missie, or Sissie, or Princess, which is a name that fools people. There are lots of girls with those names. If someone says, “Here comes Missy”, you don’t know who is coming.  But if they say, “Here comes The Claw,” you know that Boo is coming.  

That is sad. 

Mama says we should call her Mary, or even Missie. But Boo is called “Boo the Claw”.  

That is a very bad name. But sometimes children do bad things. Someday, I’ll call her another name. If you know why, don’t tell anyone or I’ll say:

• 

“Tattle tale, tattle tale.
You won’t never get no mail.”

And you won’t.

Did you know why children call her “Boo the Claw?” It’s because she got caught in a fire. One side of her face was left red. There are scars on her arm. Her right hand got burned.  She has three fingers left.  They are bent like a hawk’s claw when he’s trying to catch a mouse. They are ugly.

Ugh!  It made me feel funny the first time I saw it. 

Last year there was picnic across the creek from where Uncle Ed lived before he became sheriff and moved to town to put horse thieves in jail. 

The girl named Boo came with some of the neighbors. When it got dark, we sat around a bon fire to roast wieners on a stick. 

Wieners are really “Hot Dogs”. They get black and crack open. They are very good that way, and you get dirty hands when you eat them.

 Some children were sitting on a log.  I could hardly see it in the dark, but I found a place to sit. There was a girl that sat beside me. I felt all right because it was dark, and Sister Ellen couldn’t see me.

The girl beside me started talking. “My mama doesn’t want me to put mustard on hot dogs,” she said. “It drops on my dress.”

“My mama don’t care,” I told her. “Mustard don’t count when it’s dark”

“You’re funny,” she said.

• 

We sat in the dark while Red Mac sang a song. He liked to yodel.  Cousin Virginia looked at him with mushy eyes.

Then someone threw a chunk on the fire and sparks flew up in the air. “Look.” The girl beside me pointed to the sparks. “Those are baby stars.”

“Now you’re being funny” I said.

 If you’ve been to a wiener roast at night you know that a cool wind makes people sit closer to each other.

“I like to look at the real stars. My sister thinks they have people on them.”

“I have two sisters,” I said. “I think you’d like them.”

“Maybe I’d like you, just a little. You talk to me.”

“You’re easy to talk to,” I said.

“I think you are nice.”

Wow!

I never had a live girl tell me that.  Have you?  

I reached over and took her hand. 

Ugh.

She only had three fingers.  But I squeezed them anyway, and she squeezed me back. 

It felt good.

For a while we didn’t say anything. She just leaned against my shoulder.  She shook a little bit like she was crying.

If I told that I loved her, do you think she would cry more?

But don’t you tell anybody I said this. Remember, tattle tales don’t get mail. And you won’t.