It took about three weeks for my cuts and bruises to heal.  One of my broken teeth had been pulled and the others covered with temporary crowns.  My jaw, still very sore, gave me a little bit of a speech problem.  Principle Pittman didn’t press charges because I had been injured and the fact that Daddy and Uncle Lonnie had agreed to fix all the damage to his truck.  They had also assured him that Woody and I would be beaten on a regular basis.  We had talked to an attorney about suing Deputy Hannon and the Sheriff’s department.  It looked like we had a good case for brutality, but Woody pitched a conniption fit because the attorney said he couldn’t charge Hannon with attempted murder since he was trying to stop a fleeing felon.  Nevertheless, Woody declared he was not a “fleeing fellow” and vowed that he would get even.
    Woody and I had gained quite a bit of notoriety at school. Wanda Jo Suggs actually spoke to me once in the hall.  Generally she only spoke to jocks and rich guys. She was tall, had big brown eyes, long dark hair and wore mini skirts nearly everyday.  She was, by anyone’s definition, “fine”.  Woody said we were rebels and girls liked rebels.
    I was afraid our newfound popularity would be short lived unless we came up with a way to maintain it.  I sure hoped that we wouldn’t have to steal trucks, get shot at or beat up just to get girls to like us, but Wanda Jo, well she might be worth it.  I think what we had actually gained was a little confidence.  When we talked about the shooting, which the attorney told us not to do, everybody listened.
    One day after school, Ilene Crabtree walked right up to me and asked me to go to an end of school dance. This was completely out of the blue.  I never had any idea that Ilene Crabtree was in the least bit interested in me.  Actually, I was never the least bit interested in Ilene Crabtree, but maybe I just hadn’t thought about it before.  I mean, I guess she was cute and didn’t hang out with the snobs.  But there was something about her that you just couldn’t put your finger on.  I didn’t know what it was, but aside from the fact that when I said her name I always said her full name, Ilene Crabtree, I didn’t think of her as being an object of desire.  Maybe it was time to start.
    I agreed to meet her at the gym at six o’clock the night of the dance, which was a couple of weeks away.  I started toward home and I guess I must have had a little pep in my step because within minutes, Woody had come up behind me and asked me what I was so hopped up on.
    “Oh, nuthin’ much.  Just glad school’s over with today.”
    “Yeah, right.” Woody remarked, “Boy, you are lying through yore teeth.”
    “No I’m not.  I’m just in a good mood.  Can’t a fellow be in a good mood anymore?” At this point I knew my behavior was getting suspicious.  So, I told Woody about the date.  I should have known better.
    “Ahhhh wooooo! Little Miss Crabtree!” Woody was steady winking at me as he walked along beside me.
    “Woody, I’m just going to the dance with her, that’s all.  We’re not getting married or nuthin’, understand?”  This thing was going to go downhill faster than a fully loaded pulpwood truck with no brakes.
    “Yep, you and Miss Crabtree dancing cheek to cheek…I can see it now, smoochin’ in the corner, holdin’ hands…”
    “Lay off, Woody.  I knew I shouldn’t have told you.  If you don’t leave me alone, I’m gonna pop you in the head again.”
    "Hey!  Coy, Jr.  You and me are tight.  I’m just pickin’ on you.  It’s awright.  She’s good lookin’.  She’s in library with me and sits across the table from me.  I shot her a squirrel a bunch of times.”  Coming from Woody, that was a compliment.  He was an expert marksman when it came to shootin’ squirrels.  He always had this amazing ability to know when the opportunity presented itself, so to speak.  Most of the teachers thought he was just clumsy, constantly dropping his pencil, his book, his jacket, his cap, his money…and he never got caught.  He even did it to senior girls, and that would get you in serious trouble.  They were usually more knowledgeable and picked up on those kinds of maneuvers.
     “That does it!  Woody, drop it.  And don’t be shootin’ her squirrel.”  Wow!  I was sounding like I was going steady or something.  One minute I didn’t even know she was alive, the next I’m defending her honor.
    “Okay, okay…Does she have a sister you can fix me up with?”
    “Woody, you know good and well she has a sister, but you also know she’s in the eleventh grade and you’re in the eighth.  Do you really think she would be interested in going out with a kid?”
    Her sister’s name was Rhonda and she, like Ilene Crabtree, was not the pick of the litter.  She wasn’t ugly or mean or nothing, but she just didn’t stand out, you know.
    “Oh, I see.  You don’t think I’m good enough, do you?  Well I got news for you, loverboy, there’s a bunch of older women that would go out with me.  And consider themselves lucky.”
    “I didn’t say you weren’t good enough.  I said she probably wasn’t interested in going out with someone as young as you are.”  This was a waste of time.  There was absolutely nothing I could say when he got like this, so I just decided to let it go.
    “Woody, I’m gonna go home and watch TV.  I’m not going to worry about Ilene Crabtree or her sister.”
    “Okay…I’ll go with you.”  So with that, we changed the subject and walked to my house.

    About 5 o’clock Woody and I were sitting in the floor in the living room eating mayonnaise sandwiches and drinking water.  The TV was on the clearest of the three channels we could pick up and the news was coming on.  Woody was about to leave when the man on the news mentioned the name of our town.
    “In Rainer, Mississippi a Fullerton County Sheriff’s department spokesman said that a county wide man-hunt for escaped prisoner, Billy Ray Fiveacre is underway.  Fiveacre was being held in the county jail awaiting his trial that should have begun next week.  He faces 20 counts of distributing untaxed liquor.”
    “What’s ‘untaxed liquor’?” Woody asked.
    “Hush up for a minute.”
    “If you see or know the whereabouts of Fiveacre contact the Fullerton County Sheriff or your local law enforcement authority.  And on tonight’s edition of ‘I’ll Take Mine Fried’, award winning local chef Stefan Gibson shares his recipe for Star-Spangled Chittlins, a 4^th of July favorite...”
    “What’s ‘untaxed liquor’?”
    “Moonshine I reckon.”
     “That’d be about right.  Them ol’ Fiveacres is a bad bunch,” Woody said with a mouthful of sandwich.  “Remember when Ira Fiveacre brought that snake to school in the sixth grade?”
    “We don’t say ‘Fiveacre’ in this house.  Mama will slap your jaws if she hears you.”
    “Uh-oh, I forgot.  Sorry.”
    We finished our sandwiches and I told Woody I needed to study for final exams.  It was a fact that Woody Povine wasn’t going to stick around if there was going to be a book open. He excused himself and headed on home.  I went to my room and started reviewing my science notes.  “Man I’ll be glad when next week is over!” I said to myself.  “Then it’ll be su-mmer tiiiime and the livin’ is eeeeasy!”

Chapter 2. The Family Reunion and Its Aftermath