Wakulla Springs Read Free Page B

iron staircase with herons and ibis on the balusters. In the gift shop, the counter of the soda fountain was a single piece of marble, seventy feet long, chosen by Mr. Ballhimself for its fine-grained pattern.
    It was the fanciest place Mayola had ever seen.
    She had been turned away at the front door, then at a side door, and though she saw none of the usual WHITES ONLY signs, she had figured it out by the time one of the dishwashers let her into the kitchen. He told her to talk to a Mrs. Yancey, pointed through the grease and smoke and clatter of pots a-stirring,through the god-awful heat, to stairs leading to a lower level, where at least it was cooler.
    Mrs. Yancey looked tired. She said that the hotel was full up with movie people, so she was hiring, and how old are you, child?
    “Sixteen,” Mayola said, and stood up straight to show her tallness. She knew she looked even older, but she kept her hands clasped together serious-like, so they wouldn’t shakewith the lie. Just a bitty lie, ’cause she would be sixteen, after school started up again.
    Mrs. Yancey nodded and had her sign some papers with her true full name, then gave her a fast tour of all the fancy and told her where to come tomorrow to change into her uniform, eight o’clock in the morning, sharp. “Bennie Mae will show you what to do.”
    Vergie was standing in the shade of an oak acrossthe parking lot when Mayola came out the kitchen door. “You get it?”
    “I did. Cleaning and folding laundry, just like home.”
    “’Cept you getting paid?”
    Mayola smiled. “Three dollars a week, like you said.”
    “I told you they was—Shooo-eee!” Vergie stopped talking all of a sudden, her eyes big in her head, and pointed to the front walk. A tall man in creased white pants stood under the awning.“It’s Tarzan!” Vergie said, excited. “The real life Tarzan.”
    “Tarzan ain’t real,” Mayola said. “He’s made-up, from a book.” She bit her lip. “Edgar Rice Burroughs,” she said, and thought in her head that Miz Green would be pleased she remembered that whole name.
    “Ain’t neither. I seen his picture in a movie magazine at my auntie’s house, over to Jacksonville. That’s Tarzan hisself, standingright over there.”
    Mayola watched the man get into a long, shiny car and drive away, fast. Whoever he was, he was about the handsomest white fella she’d ever seen. When the dust had settled back down, she said, “I’m gonna go home. You coming with me?”
    “Maybe. Odell don’t get off work till six, but it must be close that. Let’s go see if he’s done, then he can go a piece of the way with us.”
    Mayola made a face, but since Odell working here was the only reason she had a job, and Vergie had come all this way, it would be rude not to return the favor.
    He was down on the dock, leaning casual against a post, wearing his brown uniform shirt with a wide, short tie. His boat-captain hat sat on top of the post. There was a little breeze coming off the water, and the air smelled green withmoss and reeds and fish.
    “Well, now,” Odell said when he saw Vergie. “Hey there.” He was most twenty, with a slow, soft way of talking and conked hair that had started to kink up again after the heat of the day. A trickle of oil shone on his neck.
    Vergie walked so that her front self stuck out at him, and he was noticing every bit of it. “Hey, O-dell.” She tiptoed over, baby steps like her shoespinched, and he was just about to put his arm around her waist in a way he hadn’t ought to when he saw Mayola and put his hands in his pockets instead.
    “Evenin’, Mayola.”
    “Odell.”
    No one said a word then, until a frog jumped off the weedy bank with a splash and made enough noise to shoo away the silence.
    “You done here?” Vergie asked. “If you is, you can walk me home.”
    “Not tonight, darlin’.”Odell tossed a flat coil of rope into the boat. “I got to take movie folks out for a sunset cruise, every night this