Firecracker

By Judith Briggs Coker

Abbie Thirstein (Firecracker), forced to move from her grandparents' farm to Norman, Oklahoma, because her father is now working for the US Navy, finds her quick temper constantly gets her into trouble. Abbie hates the town and fears 7th grade at a new school. She encounters an unknown enemy and nearly dies in a flood, but learns to survive in spite of the troubles of World War II (1944) society.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JUDITH BRIGGS Coker
• Release date: Jun 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223040507

Book preview

Chapter 1

Leaving Home

Abbie’s father dragged her to the pickup.  No!  Let me stay here!  She twisted out of her father’s grasp and ran back to Grandpa, hugging him with all her might.  Make them let me stay here, she sobbed.

Now, Firecracker, you’ve got to go with your folks! Here, I’ve got a little something for you to take with you.  Grandpa, Abbie’s soul mate, reached in his overall pocket and laid a big worn pocket knife in her hand.

Abbie stared at it through her tears and looked up at his face.  I just can’t leave you and Grandma and all my friends—. 

Honey, we’ll be right here.  You can visit.  Norman’s only a few hours away.  And see, with this knife in your pocket, you’ll always be safe.  Every time you look at it, you’ll remember us.  He turned her away from him. Come on, now.  Don’t keep your mother waiting in this heat. 

She turned to face the darkly handsome face of the father she hardly knew, anger evident in his thin-lipped face.

That’s enough. Get in the truck, now. His voice delivered the message without emotion.

Her mother scooted over, awkward in her last few weeks of pregnancy, hair plastered to her sticky white forehead.  Abbie, head bowed, pulled in her elbows as Grandpa shut the truck door.

Abbie knew it was impossible to stay in Stratford on her grandparents’ farm.  She and her parents had lived there all twelve years of her life, but now her life was now packed in a few boxes in the back of the pickup. Breakfast roiled around in her stomach and acid rose in her throat. The raspy sound of the truck engine drowned out the voices of her grandparents. Abbie turned to see them waving under the old cottonwood that shaded their front lawn.

Yesterday, her father had pulled up under the cottonwood in the late afternoon, after a long absence. True to his promise, he had found a place for them to live in Norman. The Navy had given him a day off to move his wife and daughter closer to the base. Abbie finally had to confront the facts—she was leaving everything she loved. It was going to happen. She had been happy with him gone. She had her mother to herself; she was spoiled and she knew it. She thought with her grandpa’s help, she could force them to let her stay in Stratford.

Anger had simmered in her like a brewing thunderstorm. She had dug her feet in and shouted, begged, pleaded.  Her father had simply stared at her and said with dead quiet contempt. No spoiled child of mine is going to behave like a willful brat. Control yourself, now, or face the consequences.   He had turned on his heel and left the farmhouse kitchen. Her mother had followed. Her grandparents had looked at her and retreated to their bedroom. Abbie had almost choked, gasping for breath, but finally the anger seeped out of her and just an empty bitterness remained.

Her father swung the pickup onto a narrow section line road, and the glimmering white farmhouse disappear behind the cottonwoods, a dreamlike mirage fading away.  The red dirt of the road was powdery, sandy, and the pickup kicked up a trail behind it like a rooster tail.  You could taste the grit.

Lordy, it’s hot, and only eight in the morning.  Nita, Abbie’s mother, fanned herself with a hankie.  August in Oklahoma is another word for hot.  That’s what Grandpa said.

Moving day—August 7, 1944.  If there wasn’t a war, none of this would have happened!  And Billy overseas, in danger. That’s because of the war, too! 

Abbie’s Father had been called to active duty in the Navy as a technical expert.  His work at Norman at the Navy base had started right after his basic training

You look good in your new dress, Abbie, said her father.  Abbie knew he was trying to butter her up.  She turned her head away and resentful, looked out the window.  It’s all his fault, Abbie thought. She scarcely knew him. As a lineman, he’d be gone for weeks at a time. When he was home on the farm, he’d spend the entire day working with her grandpa and the other hands. He was a silent man, open only to her mother.

Her pink checked dress with its band of eyelet embroidery felt like a band-aid tugging on her body, squeezing it.  She hated dresses.  Her black patent leather shoes were stiff.  Her mother had ordered a size too big from the Sears catalogue.  You’re growing fast, insisted her mother.  Abbie’s feet shucked around inside them.  She bounced her heels against the floorboard, watching her shoes pop up and down.  Wearing them at church for three hours was O.K.  Wearing them all day was another matter.  She longed for her old overalls, limp and soft with age.

She’d had left her fishing stuff in the barn.  No fishing in town.  What will I do all day?  Sit on the porch and watch the traffic?  Watch the grass grow? She’d been the gang leader in Stratford—King of the Mountain.  In Norman, I’ll be nobody!

The truck chugged down the narrow highway, passing farmhouses and a little village or two. Sprinkles of rain hit the windshield.  The wind picked up.

Abbie had found out about the move on her birthday, July 4th—one reason for her nickname.  The other reason was her short fuse—she had a quick temper.  At first, she pretended the move wasn’t going to happen—that she’d be able to stay at the farm, do chores, see Jacob and Sally, play at the pond, shoot her B-B gun at stray rabbits, and enjoy life.

She was going to be on the basketball team this year—she spent hours practicing at the school yard.  All of this was now gone.  Abbie felt heavy inside, as if her heart couldn’t quite beat fast enough.

The road widened a little.  Houses huddled close together, sheltered by shade trees.  Abbie rested her arms on the hot dashboard, turning her head left and right. The town was bigger than anything she’d seen. Her throat felt tight as she swallowed hard against a rising knot in her stomach.

Jim, isn’t the address north of Main Street?

"Yes.  I’m going down Main to let Abbie take a look at downtown houses

The street was broad, lined with buildings and busy people.  Cars and trucks parked at the curb yielded to an occasional horse and cart.  The women with store-bought dresses and pretty hats looked like something from the Sears catalogue.  So, this is what a big town of 15,000 people looks like!

There’s a movie theater, Abbie.  You can go there Saturday afternoon after you do your chores.  Her mother’s eyes were sparkling

Abbie read the signs.  Brown’s Cafe, Holster’s Hardware, Talon and Barony Offices, Church’s Drug Store, T. G. & Y.—the stores seemed to go on forever.  Another movie theater! 

Her dad swung north, past the post office, a big park, and into a quiet residential area, little houses all in a row on their own little plot of ground.  Flowers grew by the porch steps.  Pink and purple and white crepe myrtle bushes bloomed by the sidewalks.  Sometimes she could spy a small vegetable garden in a back yard, a dog running, kids swinging.  It looked safe, but tidy, too tidy.

This is it, Nita.  Home for a while.  Her dad pointed to a two-story Victorian house painted yellow.  White lacy trim edged the big wrap-around porch.  Marigolds lined the front walkway.  He pulled the truck into the dirt driveway, stopping before the small garage.  We’ll be in the downstairs section.  Housing’s tight now, with the Navy in town.  We’re lucky to have this much space.

Get out, Abbie.  I need to unwind these legs. Her mother gathered her purse and hankie.  Jim, let me find the bathroom and then I’ll help you unload. This is nice. She waddled up the stairs.

Abbie’s father unlocked the front door and her parents went in.  Abbie lingered on the porch, her eyes sweeping the neighborhood.  All was quiet in the hot afternoon, except for the hum of crickets and the rustling of the leaves brushed by the hot wind.  I’m gonna suffocate in this town.  No wheat fields.  No pond.  No big sky with white clouds scudding across it.

Abbie, come see your bedroom, her mother called. 

Reluctantly Abbie entered the house, the bare wood floors creaking beneath her Sunday shoes. The living room’s long windows, now flung open, brought in a light breeze.  She dragged into the dining room, then into the kitchen at the back. Her mother, off the kitchen hallway, pointed.  This is your bedroom.

There was a small bed with an iron frame, a bureau, and a straight chair—nothing else.  The wallpaper had pink roses on it with sprawling vines.  Ugh!  PINK!  My stuff won’t even fit in here.  Then she remembered she didn’t have her prized possessions anymore.  She clenched her fists.

Come here, Abbie.  See our bedroom and the bathroom.  Her mother and father’s bedroom had a double bed, two bureaus, two straight chairs, and wallpaper with big purple flowers crawling on it.

Her mother seemed pleased.  Don’t you like this, Abbie?  Look at the bathroom.  It even has a shower.

Abbie looked at the white tile.  Looks like a hospital.

"Abbie, you’ve never been in a hospital!  It’s brand new.  Everything’s new. A brand-new tub! Look at that! Right, everything’s new.  Nothing’s the same.  Everything even smells different.

Abbie, get your suitcase, change into your overalls, and help us unload.  As soon as we get settled a bit, we’ll go eat supper in a restaurant.  Come on. . .snap to it!  At least I can dump this dress!  She hustled to the back of the pickup, where her father stood unloading boxes.

Take your suitcase, Abbie. He turned away towards the stack of boxes and she watched him. He seemed like a stranger to her, his strange short haircut making his sunburned ears stick out.   She had heard him talking to her mother before he left for basic training. Nita, I’m praying for a boy. That’s what a man needs, sons. He mother had smiled.

Abbie threw her suitcase on her bed and clicked it open, throwing clothes pell-mell into the drawers.  She grabbed her overalls and a raggedy shirt, topping off her outfit with a red baseball cap that had belonged to her grandpa.  It was big enough to stuff all her hair up into it.  She was cooler with the hair up off her neck.

By six o’clock, boxes stood everywhere in the apartment.  Abbie explored the yard, glimpsing a white-haired lady in the upstairs apartment and a small boy playing next door in a sandbox.  That was it.  The heat was keeping everyone still.  When a car or truck chugged by, dust hung in the air from their passing.  She ached inside and wanted to cry, but she didn’t.  She was too angry. She felt sick.

Her dad headed north on Porter, then swung into a small parking lot. Abbie’s eyes widened. A teepee?  A teepee?

The building was brightly painted to look like canvas with geometric designs. The door opened into a wide circular room bustling with waitresses among the small booths. Towards the back the teepee blended into a rectangle that held the kitchen and the rest rooms.

The restaurant was cool and dark.  Abbie stared at the people laughing and talking with each other.     When her chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes came, she ate it, but it didn’t taste familiar.  The soda was a good with its chips of ice.  Her mother said, Just this once.  Remember, milk is better for you.  As she noisily slurped the last sugary drops with her straw, she heard laughter.

Two girls in the booth across the aisle were eyeing her, smirks on their faces.  Abbie felt her face redden.  They turned their eyes back to each other and snickered again.  She heard one whisper to the other.  That kid acts like he’s never seen a soda before.  Hick!

Her Dad went to the cash register to pay for the meal.  Her mother went to the rest room.  Abbie felt abandoned.  They think I’m a boy!  And a hick!  Righteous anger stirred within her. 

She slid out of the booth and marched over to the girls.  I’m NOT a boy, I’m a girl, and I’m NOT a hick!  Their mouths flew open in amazement.  And YOU are rude and stupid.  I don’t care HOW fancy you dress.  She wheeled around and strode towards her dad who was paying the bill at the cash register, but not before her mother caught her by the overall straps from behind.

What was all that about, Abbie?  What are you doing? she hissed.

Nothing, just nothing.

Don’t tell me nothing!  I’ll have you know, it’s rude to yell at strangers.  She cast an apologetic glance back at the two girls who were watching them, mouths open.  Young lady, you had better get some manners.  Don’t you dare embarrass me like that again!  You may be a firecracker, but I’m putting out that fuse!  It’s time you started acting like a girl should! Abbie clenched her teeth. Don’t talk back. It’ll just get worse.

In her dark bedroom that night, Abbie beat her pillow with her fist.  Everything was wrong.  Her mother didn’t understand.  Her father—all he could think of was his Navy job.  Gramps and Grandma seemed as far away as the moon.  I will never see Missy, Jacob, Sally or any of my friends again.  Bitter thoughts nagged her mind until she fell asleep, exhausted with the day’s confusion.

Chapter 2

City Girls

Abbie peered down the street from her perch on the front porch, checking for the mailman.  She dug at the porch steps with her pocket knife.  At least they’d gotten a note from Grandpa.  Everything is fine and we missed you.  Absentmindedly, she created a little notch in the stair tread.

Young lady, what do you think you’re doing? an angry voice demanded.

Abbie, startled, turned to face the upstairs lady, the lady she had never seen close up.  Abbie spied on her when the lady left Tuesdays in a yellow cab.  She had seen the stiff back, the rigid head with its little gray hat, the cane that tapped ever so lightly on the stairs as she descended to the walkway.

Now she stared into an angry wrinkled face dominated by two snapping black eyes.

Are you in the habit of tearing up other people’s property?  Whatever is a girl doing with a knife like that anyway?  Don’t your parents take care of you?

Abbie blushed, guilty and defensive at the same time.  I’m sorry—I didn’t realize what I was doing.  She looked at the stairs.  It’s a very little notch, she suggested.  Then she stood up and growled, My parents take care of me just fine.

I’m Mrs. Peter Hanley, and I own this house.  I don’t want to see you doing anything like that again.

Yes, ma’am, muttered Abbie to the woman now entering the door to the upstairs apartment.

She sank down again, overcome with guilt and disgust.  Fine way to start the day!

The warm August sun shown on her suntanned arms as she gazed at her grandpa’s knife. She wanted to hack the house to tiny bits.  She’d never understand adults.  Time passed so slowly in Norman with nothing to do.

Her Dad was never