Page 104 of The Reformatory

“That’s the Bad Place,” Gloria whispered in code, pointing carefully at the map. “But they named it for a good place. You know what I mean? A place that’s supposed to be fun, but it’s not? I think you’ve seen it, Robbie.” What kind of monstrous place would call a whipping shed the Funhouse? But that was what June had told her.

Miz Lottie sang louder. The guard was in the doorway with the departing mother, but Gloria and Miz Lottie might both go to jail if he heard a word of what she said. And who knew what might happen to Robbie?

Robbie nodded. “I been there.”

“Uncle June said to tell you hi,” Gloria said casually. “He said he knows the grass grows high against that fence. That fence by the bad place. Real high.”

“Yeah,” Robert said. He looked so excited that Gloria was afraid the guard would notice.

“Sometimes it gets broken,” Gloria said. “Over by the chairs on the colored side.” He nodded. He knew the chairs!

Robert’s eyes tracked her finger as she moved it to the corncob. “There’s a big corn patch out there, huh?”

“Yeah,” Robert said. “I been there too.”

This was the hard part. She had to be specific without getting caught, and she could not leave him with paper that anyone might see. Uncle June had said that boys sometimes tried to escape through holes in the fence, but when they got to the cornfield, they made the mistake of heading toward the road and the farms scattered at the edge of Gracetown, trying to reach the famed peanut mill to hide. Too many neighboring motorists and eager farmers were ready to collect the fifty-dollar reward if they caught a runaway, and sometimes drivers patrolled the road. Uncle June said Robert should go the opposite way, toward the woods. Toward the creek, which he could follow to Miz Lottie’s waiting truck.

“You think you might have to pull some more weeds?” Gloria asked, tapping the corn.

“Yeah,” Robbie said, but she could tell he was only playing along.

“You could get lost out there,” she said. “If you go the wrong way.” She dragged her fingertip from the cob of corn to a tree at the top of her map.

Robbie’s brow knit with confusion. She’d been afraid to draw a forest, which would look more obviously like a map, but the tree wasn’t a good enough symbol. She would just have to say it. One last glance for the guard, who wasn’t visible in the doorway, and she whispered it all to Robbie in a single breath while she hugged him close: “Uncle June’s gonna cut the fence by the Funhouse. Follow the cornfield fence. But out of sight. Don’t follow the fence to the road: Go the other way, toward the woods. The water’s only waist-high in that part of the creek. Walk up the creek. Upriver, not downriver. To the railroad trestle. The creek passes under it.”

“Waaaaade in the waaaater…,” Miz Lottie sang.

Oh! Gloria had almost forgotten. She leaned close again. “Rub that Vaseline over yourself before you go. All over, even your hair. Don’t forget.” Uncle June said it was a myth that dogs couldn’t track through water, but Vaseline might help, especially if he got a head start.

“But… when?” Robbie whispered.

“Next Sunday. Instead of going to supper. While it’s still daylight, but almost dark.” Uncle June said most of the boys were so hungry that no one ran at suppertime. If he timed it right, Robbie might have an hour or ninety-minute head start, long enough to get to the truck before anyone realized he was late for dorm check-in. Before Haddock would go for the dogs.

Robbie’s heartbeat was shaking his tiny body. Or was it hers? Gloria quickly pulled away, breathless, expecting Sheriff Posey and his deputies to storm into the room.

Robert’s face, so excited before, looked crestfallen.

“You can do it,” Gloria said, meaning the long wait, not the escape itself. “It sounds hard but just look at the Bible.” She tapped the drawing with her fingernail—from the Funhouse to the cornfield to the woods to the creek to the train car. “Just walk two miles… in Jesus’s shoes.”

“Why so long?” Robert whined.

Gloria had expected arguments, but the new Robbie had outgrown fear. Or his only fear now was the Reformatory, making an uncertain escape through the cornfield and a creek a happier thought. “We need time.” She coughed the words and turned her head away from the doorway, mouthing their destination: CHI-CA-GO. Robert’s eyes widened. “We all need to be ready, Robbie, for the day you can come home.”

“Tomorrow,” Robbie whispered.

“Too soon.” Waymon and June were waiting for their wages, and Miz Lottie needed to settle her house to leave without arousing attention. They knew Gloria’s two hundred and fifty dollars from Miss Anne wouldn’t get them far, but it would buy them all train tickets to Chicago and lodging for at least a couple of nights. It would buy food. Then they could find Papa.

“Wednesday,” Robbie bargained.

“Five minutes!” the guard called, back in place in his chair in the doorway. He was no longer reading. His arms were folded across his chest as he stared at them. Had half of her time vanished so soon, or was the guard suspicious? Dammit. The guard had given them his full attention just when Gloria wanted to warn Robbie about the danger of the dogs. Uncle June had said to be sure he understood he had to stay in the creek or else he would be caught. Even with the Vaseline, the dogs were likely to catch his scent as soon as he set foot back on land. He said he’d learned in the war that dogs could track better with a water trail.

“I know it’s hard, Robbie,” Gloria said. “But you’ll be home soon. Be patient.”

“There’s haints here,” Robbie whispered.

Miz Lottie stopped singing but caught herself and hummed while she tried to listen. “Ghosts aren’t real,” Gloria said, repeating the tired story adults told children in Gracetown to help them sleep at night. But why were adults so eager to make children forget the lessons they themselves had learned when they were young?

“That’s not true,” Robbie said. “You know it’s not.” His belief vibrated from him. “Mama’s here sometimes.”