BUD, NOT BUDDY

CHRISTOPHER PAUL CURTIS

WINNER OF THE NEWBERY MEDAL

 

CHAPTER 17

I HELD THE MOP SO that it was floating on the top of the water in the
bucket. I was pretending it was that underwater boat in the book Momma read
to me, Twenty Thousand Leaks Under the Sea.

"Captain Nemo” I whispered, pretending I was a sailor.

"Aye, matey?"

"The squabs were only able to plug ten thousand of the leaks we have, that
means we have ten thousand left, and dag-gum-it, I think we're going down
with all hands on board!"

I looked up to make sure no one was watching me too close. The Dusky
Devastators of the Depression were still putting their instruments on the stage,
waiting for Miss Thomas and Mr. Jimmy and Herman E. Calloway.

I whispered, "Heavenly Father, all is lost!" Then I made the mop sink into the
water, drowning Captain Nemo, matey, and all the poor squabs. They went
down with a bunch of bubbles and soap suds and dirt.

I know Herman E. Calloway was trying to work me like a dog, but he was
doing a real bad job at it. I'd already wiped all the tables and chairs down in the
Log Cabin and now I was going back to clear-mop the floor for the second
time. It was a piece of cake! The bucket even had a thing on top of it that you
could use to wring the mop out, and Herman E. Calloway didn't even know
how much fun I was having. Making somebody work hard isn't as easy as it
looks, some folks are good at it and some folks aren't.

Some folks can look at you and tell if you're even talking about slacking off,
they'll add some work to you faster than you can say Jack Robinson. Some
folks will find a excuse to strap you even if you're working as hard as you ever
did in your life.

I stuck the mop head into the wringer. I pretended it was somebody at a
washing machine not paying attention to what he was doing and getting his
whole body pulled through and wrungeded out.

I let the handle up to see what was left of this poor soul but before I could
check, someone yelled out, "One, two, one two three!"

I looked up.

The Thug was brushing his sticks across the round gold metal thing next to his
drums and making it sound like a soft rain was commencing to fall on
someone's tin roof. Only instead of sounding like rain splashing anytime it
wanted to, the Thug had it sounding like it was coming down in a steady,
bouncing way.

Then Dirty Deed started making the piano sound like it was a kind of drum, for
a second it fell right in with the rain pats that the Thug was making, then it took
off and made you think of what Niagara Falls must sound like, it sounded like
big, bright drops of water splashing up and over, over and up. The drops would
fall loud and clear as anything, then before you knew it they were right back
into the Thug's steady, bouncy beat.

Steady Eddie started snapping his fingers real soft, in time with the piano and
the drum, his toothpick jumping right along with his fingers. He put his ax in
his mouth and blew, but instead of the horn making music it seemed like
Steady made it talk. He blew one long, low, rumbly sound and I knew right
then, with that one deep, sad moan, what the most beautiful sound in the world
was. Steady held the note for a long time, then made the sax drift away from
the rest of the storm of music. It swirled and floated back and joined the rain
sound that the Thug and Dirty Deed kept going.

I just stood there. I didn't even hear Miss Thomas and Mr. Jimmy and Herman
E. Calloway come up from behind me.

Miss Thomas rubbed her hand across my head and said, "Bud, you've done a
great job, the place is sparkling."

I was going to say, "Thank you, ma'am" but it seemed like talking was wrong
what with all these wonderful sounds were coming from the people on the
stage.

Mr. Jimmy said, "LaBone, looking good, son."
Herman E. Calloway grunted and the three of them walked up on the stage.

Mr. Jimmy picked up his horn and joined in the storm. Miss Thomas sat on a
stool, closed her eyes and (tucked her head up and down, up and down. Herman
E. Calloway stood next to his giant fiddle and started bobbing his head too. He
put one of his hands near the top of the fiddle and began pulling at the strings
with his other hand.

Every time he patted the strings it seemed like something wide and heavy was
walking by slow and easy. Or it seemed like he was the thunder, soft and far
away but getting closer all the time.

All of the instruments blended up together and, just like that smell in the
library, you couldn't tell which one was your favorite. First you'd say it was Mr.
Jimmy on the trumpet, then Do-Doo Bug's trombone would make you think it
was the best, then Dirty Deed would make the piano sound like water hitting
big rocks and you'd know there wasn't anything that sounded that good until
Steady Eddie would make the saxophone sing and talk and dance around
everyone else and you'd swear that was the only sound you'd ever want to hear
again. All the while Herman E. Calloway and the Thug kept everything moving
by making the drums and the giant fiddle pound out a soft steady beat, like
someone's heart turned way up loud.

You'd have a real hard time trying to figure out which instrument was your
favorite. Until Miss Thomas opened her mouth. While the rest of the band was
being a storm, she was the sun busting through thick, gray clouds. With the first
thing she sang, you had to wonder why this band was called Herman E.
Calloway and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression, or Herman E.
Calloway and the Nubian Knights, it should be called Miss Thomas and the
Dusky Devastators of the Depression and a Mean Old Guy on the Giant Fiddle.

She was so good she didn't even have to sing real words, mostly she was saying
things like "La da de da de da da, ha whee a ho, ha whee a ho, ha whee a day,"
then Steady Eddie would answer on the saxophone and before you knew it, the
two of them were having a regular conversation.

Every once in a while Mr. Jimmy's trumpet would come in and put his two
cents' worth in, then it would fade away. All the other instruments took turns
trying to interrupt the conversation, but in the end it was Miss Thomas's voice
and Steady's saxophone doing the talking that you really wanted to listen to.

Finally Miss Thomas did a bunch more "Doe de doe de doe de bahs" and
Steady answered, then, just when you thought you could understand this
language they were talking, Miss Thomas broke out in American, she sang,
"We haven't met since then, gee, but it's nice to see you again," she said, "nice
to see you, to see you again," and the storm was over. The last thing you could
hear was the rain from the Thug and the thunder from Herman E. Calloway
getting farther and farther away, like the storm had gone and blowed itself over
into the next county.

Then it was dead quiet. I let the mop fall over and clapped as loud as I could
and said, "Wow!"

Miss Thomas stood up and did one of those curtsey bows.

I clapped louder. I could see now why this band got to have six exclamation
points behind their name!

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