Someday

I was there in the playground the day Debra Mae told Penny Tomleson her mamma was going to die.

"Liar!" Penny screamed, eyes closed and fists balled.

Debra Mae just smiled sadly and shook her head.  "She's gonna fall off a horse and die.  Can't take it back, wish I could."

"Liar!" she screamed again, this time flailing at Debra Mae, who stepped aside calmly at the last minute.  Almost like she could see it coming.  

"My mamma doesn't even like horses!  We don't even have a horse!"

The kids started chanting fight, fight, fight! in the playground, but I didn't join in.  Debra Mae looked me straight in the eye, the very first time she'd ever done that, and smiled her sad little smile again.  My heart went floppity-flop.  I wanted to rush over and wrap my arms around her, defend her, protect her.  But for some reason I didn't.

Penny spun herself around but there was no fight in her.  She just stood there, crying.  And Debra Mae hugged her and whispered something, making Penny jolt and back away, crying even harder.

"Bitch," she said through twisted lips, before running away.

Later I asked Debra Mae what she'd said.  

"Oh, nothing." She whispered to me so the other kids wouldn't hear.  

We sat together under the shade of the old pear tree in one far corner of the playground.  Penny had gone inside but the others had started a game of kick-ball.

"Must've been something," I insisted.  "Tell me!"

She took a deep breath.  "All I said was: it's okay your mamma's gonna die, cus then your daddy leaves, and you'll get to live with your grandma, who's nice.  I was just trying to help."  She looked sideways at me, as if seeking approval.

"You scare people, Debra Mae," I said without thinking.
  
She thought about that for a second before nodding.  

"But it's not your fault," I added after a moment.  It was true enough.

I desperately wanted to hold her hand, but didn't.  Instead we watched the other kids play kick-ball until Miss Harmon clapped her hands, signaling the end of recess.

--

Penny Tomleson's mother died a month later.  

Penny's dad had been repainting their house and asked Penny's mom to come bring him a beer.  She'd climbed atop a saw-horse to reach the beer up to where Mr.Tomleson crouched on some scaffolding, and Mrs.Tomleson slipped and fell into a box of tools.  Something sharp had poked clear through her neck and she bled to death as Mr.Tomelson watched.

The sheriff came to get Penny from school, and when she heard about her mamma Penny just stood there, shivering.

"It just happened, maybe an hour ago," Debra Mae whispered to me.  "She died, just like I said.  And now Penny's going to her grandma's house.  Just like I said."

"Why?  What's wrong with Mr.Tomleson?"

"He's a drunk.  He can't take care of Penny, and he never will.  He'll-- "

But we were interrupted by Miss Harmon rapping a desk with her yardstick, her favorite way to get our attention.  We spent the rest of the day adding and subtracting fractions.

All of us except Penny.

--

It was months later, well into summer before I worked up the nerve to ask.

"Debra Mae, what's going to happen to me?"

I imagined her blinking in surprise next to me in the tall grass, where we lay beneath blue skies and puffy white clouds.  It was late July, hot as Hell, but somehow it was bearable when Debra Mae was near.  It took a long time for her to answer, but I was patient.

"Hush, now," she told me, finally.   "That's not something—"

I sat up beside her in the grass.  "You seen something!  I know you, know how you see things.  It's happened often enough.  Tell me!"

"No, it's nothing like that."

But I was unrelenting.  I had to know.  Eventually she felt my eyes boring into her scalp or something, cus she turned back to me with one of her sad smiles.

"I think you know."

"No, I think I don't."

She took a breath, let it out.  Came to a decision.  

"Look, you're already dead.  You know it, otherwise you wouldn't hang out with the likes of me."

Something dropped away inside my stomach.  

"No," I lied, "I'm right here.  See?"  I reached out to touch her hand, something I'd thought about all summer.  But she pulled away.

"Don't.  We can't.  Not… ever."

Silence built inside me at these words.  I drew back, placed my hands carefully in my lap.  She'd known all along.  But of course she did… how stupid was I for thinking otherwise?  

But within moments my heart beat a little faster at a new thought.

"Not… ever?"

She smiled at this, that gentle sad smile.  "Well, not for a long time.  I'll die too, you know.  Someday."

I looked at her with sly eyes.  "Don't suppose you know when?"

And finally, she laughed.