Journal #2- Chapters 4-7 (Jem)

Journal #2- Chapters 4-7 (Jem)

Every time I think I have made myself perfectly clear about the deadly consequences of eating anything near the Radley house, today I found Scout chewing a piece of Wrigley’s Double-Mint gum that she found in a tree. Any ordinary tree would be inexcusable, but this one was found in one of the Radley trees. “Spit it out right now!” I screamed at her. She spat it out and said, “I’ve been chewin’ it all afternoon and I ain’t dead yet, not even sick.”

I stomped my foot. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to even touch the trees over there? You’ll get killed if you do! You go gargle- right now, you hear me?” When she didn’t obey me, I threatened to tell Calpurnia on her and after I did, she didn’t question me again on the subject. Summer was coming quickly and was waiting apprehensively with Scout as the days slowly passed by. All I could think about was about how much fun we were gonna have once Dill came to visit. At last, the last day of school arrived and Scout and I were released early from the school grounds where we walked home together. As we walked by to the live oaks at the Radley Place, Scout pointed out to a knot-hole where she must’ve found her gum. Both Scout and I noticed another piece of tinfoil.

“I see it, Scout! I see it.” I looked around and reached up to grab it. I gingerly pocketed the tiny shiny package and we ran home as fast as we could. On the front porch, Scout and I examined the small box that had patchwork and bits of tinfoil collected from chewing gum wrappers. I flicked open the tiny catch and saw two scrubbed and polished pennies, one on top of the other.

“Indian heads,” I said. “Nineteen-six and Scout, one of ‘em’s nineteen-hundred. These are real old.” Scout and I debated whether or not this knot-hole could be someone’s hiding place. We came to the conclusion that the finders keepers title was in play and that we were going to keep any items we found in that knot-hole from now on. I told Scout that the Indian-heads were of value to someone and that we were to ask around once school started again.

“How’s that Jem?” she asked. “Well, Indian-heads- well, they come from the Indians. They’re real strong magic, they make you have good luck. Not like fried chicken when you’re not lookin’ for it, but things like long life ‘n’ good health, ‘n’ passin’ six-weeks tests… these are real valuable to somebody. I’m gonna put ‘em in my truck.” Before going to my room, I took a long time staring back at the Radley house and just thinking about how this summer was going to be once Dill arrived. Two days later, Dill arrived in a train of glory. He had ridden the train all by himself from Meridian to Maycomb Juction and was somewhat heavier. “What’ll we play today?” I asked Dill once he was done telling us about his black bearded father and helping engineer for a while.

“Tom and Sam and Dick,” said Dill. He wanted to use the Rover Boys because there were three respectable parts. He was clearly tired of being out character man. “I’m tired of those,” complained Scout. “Make us up one Jem,” she said. “I’m tired of makin’ ‘em up,” I said.

After our first days of freedom, we were tired. We had strolled the front yard, where Dill stood looking down the street at the dreary face of the Radley Place. “I-small-death,” he said. “I do, I meant it,” Dill said when Scout told him to shut up. “you mean when somebody’s dyin’ you can smell it?” Scout asked. “No, I mean I can smell somebody an’ tell if they’re gonna die.” Dill leaned over Scout and sniffed her. “Jean Louise Finch, you are going to die in three days.”

“Dill if you hush I’ll knock you bowlegged. I mean it, now—“
“Yawl hush,” I growled, “you act like you believe in Hot Steams.”
“What’s a Hot Steam?” asked Dill.
I asked him if he had ever walked along a lonesome road at night and passed by a hot place and told him that a Hot Steam was somebody who couldn’t get to heaven. Somebody who just wallows around on lonesome roads an’ that if you walked through them, when you die you’ll become one too, an’ you’ll go around at night suckin’ people’s breath.

“How can you keep from passing through one?” he asked. I told him you couldn’t. Scout told Dill that he shouldn’t believe a word I said and wouldn’t shut it so I finally spoke up and said, “Well, are we gonna play anything or not?” Scout suggested that we roll in the tire and sighed because I knew I was too big. Scout told me that I could push her. She ran to the backyard and pulled on old car tire from under the house. She slapped it up to the front yard. “I’m first,” she announced. When she folded herself inside, I decided to push her down the sidewalk with all the strength that I had in my body that would later then compensate for what she said. I chased her down the sidewalk and shouting as loud as I possible could until I saw whose lawn she had landed into. “Scout, get away from there, come on!” She raised her head and stared at the Radley Place steps in front of her. I began to shout at her. “Come on, Scout, don’t just lie there! Get up, can’tcha? Get the tire! Bring it with you! Ain’t you got any sense at all?” Scout ran back to us as fast as her shaky legs would allow her to. “Why didn’t you bring it?” I yelled.

“Why don’t you get it?” she screamed. I looked at her furiously and then ran down the side walk, treaded water at the gate, then dashed in and retrieved the tire. I looked at her triumphantly, “See there? Nothin’ to it. I swear Scout, sometimes you act so much like a girl it’s mortifyin’.” I knew there was more to why she was all scared but threw that in just for my benefit. Calpurnia appeared in the front door and yelled, “Lemonade time! You all get in outa that hot sun ‘fore you fry alive!” I gulped down my second glassful and slapped my chest. “I know what were going to play,” I announced. “Something new, something different”

“What is it Jem?” asked Dill.
“Boo Radley.” Dill asked how it went and I started giving out roles. “Scout, you can be Mrs. Radley”
Scout began to declare if she was or not. “ ‘Smatter?,” said Dill. “Still scared?”
“He can get out at night when we’re all asleep…” she said. “Oh Scout. How’s he gonna know what we’re doin’? Besides, I don’t think he’s still there. He dies years ago and they stuffed him up the chimney.”
“Jem, you and me can play and Scout can watch if she’s scared,” said Dill. Scout decided to toughen up and play and so I parceled the roles. Scout was going to be Mrs. Radley, and all she had to do in the game was come out and sweep the porch. Dill was Mr. Radley, all he had to do was walk up and down the sidewalk and cough when I spoke to him. I, naturally, was Boo. I went under the front steps and shrieked and howled from time to time. As the summer progressed, so did our game. We added dialogue and even a plot until we had manufactured a small play upon which we rang changes to everyday.

The three of us were the boys who got in trouble; Scout was the probate judge and Dill led me away and crammed me beneath the steps, poking me with a brush broom. I would reappear when needed in the shapes of the sheriff, assorted townsfolk, and Miss Stephanie Crawford, who had more to say about the Radleys than anybody in Maycomb. When it was time to play Boo’s big scene, I would sneak into the house and steal scissors from the sewing machine drawer then sit in the swing and cut up newspapers. Dill would walk by me, cough, and I would fake a plunge into Dill’s thigh. Our activities would be put on a halt when any of our neighbors appeared. One day we were so busily playing Chapter XXV, Book II of One Man’s Family, that we did not see Atticus standing on the sidewalk looking at us and slapping a rolled magazine against his knee.

“What are you all playing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. I hadn’t exactly told Dill or Scout to keep our game a secret but I hoped that they would get the idea from my intervention.
“What are you doing with those scissors then? Why are you tearing up that newspaper? If it’s today’s I’ll tan you.” Atticus’ tone was firm and demanding.
“Nothing,” I repeated.
“Nothing what?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Give me those scissors,” said Atticus. “They’re no things to play with. Does this by any chance hace anything to do with the Radleys?” He asked.
“No sir,” I said, probably reddening.
“I hope it doesn’t,” he said shortly. He went inside the house but when Dill or Scout began to say anything, I told them to shut up and that he could hear every word we said.

Girls always imagined things, that’s why other people hate them so, and if Scout started behaving like one, she could just go off and find some to play with.

TO BE CONTINUED….