Forget Me Not, Books I, II and III

Something New

Calvin pulled himself toward the kitchen after breakfast Saturday morning. He was on dish duty today, which suited him fine. Maybe scraping plates and scouring pots and pans could get his mind off of a certain brunette citizen of free Brookhurst.

"Hey, Calvin, can you tell Nestor I'll see him outside after chores?" Young Tom appeared in the hall holding a stack of envelopes.

"No problem."

"Oh, and here's a letter for you."

"Thanks." Calvin started to open it, when he noticed Tom blinking up at him with his round black eyes. Calvin chuckled. "Can I help you with anything else?"

"Helping me with something else would mean that you actually helped with something just now. And I don't think taking a letter from me was helping me. It was more like me helping you. You wouldn't have even seen the letter until tonight when you went upstairs."

"There is a point to all of this?"

"No, no point."

Calvin started to turn away.

"Just that," continued the rascally ten-year-old as Calvin turned back to face him, "you've been acting weird lately. Normally, I wouldn't care what a guy did, but you're, you know, you're Calvin."

"Look, kid, I don't know what you're getting at but—"

"You haven't played baseball with us for weeks, and what happened to the blackjack king? No poker nights with the guys. No sneaking in girlie magazines. You don't even try to snag fudge from town for us kids."

"I've had a lot on my mind."

"It's not a girl, is it?"

Calvin's eyes widened for a second before returning to normal size to feign nonchalance. "Of course it's not. Now scoot."

Tom wasn't buying it, nor was he budging. "It is a girl! Does she have big knockers like Miss December?"

"You know you're not supposed to be looking at those magazines. You're way too young."

"You're only as young as you think you are," the kid said with an air of mock-wisdom.

Calvin laughed. "I think you've got that a little backwards."

"So, does she?"

Instead of giving him an answer, Calvin turned the boy around by his shoulders and gave him nudge in the direction he'd come from. "Goodbye, Tom. I'll tell Nestor you'll see him outside."

Tom threw his hands up and looked back with an irritated but impish sort of smile. "Sheesh, so touchy! I was only trying to help."

"Go help someone else."

"I'm going. I'm going."

Calvin shook his head as Tom scampered down the hallway to finish his mail deliveries and find mischief, whichever came first. The kid reminded him of himself even more than Nestor did. He was ten and tough and had all the answers, but there was something else there, something sad inside of him, an attribute not uncommon among the boys at Miss Pinchley's. Sighing, Calvin shifted his attention back to the letter and finally ripped it open.

July 2, 1938

Heya Little Brother,

I have good news. I've actually found steady work. I'm working with a rancher in Monterey, California. Yep, way out west. It's a good job actually. It's part manual labor part paperwork, if you can believe that. The guy fashions himself some sort of movie type. I don't know much about what he does yet, but I am making good money.