Note from KL:

Here is another scene in which Gabe and Frita talk about Harper McCormack.

Can you imagine how different the book would be if I'd kept Harper as a character?

Sometimes during editing, writers make drastic changes. In this case, I removed an entire character. I was sad to see him go, but the story was really about Gabe and Frita.

I hope you enjoy the scene below.

-KL

Deleted Scene

So, that was the last time we talked about Harper.

July turned into August, the Bicentennial was over, Jimmy Carter was slipping in the polls, and school was in the air - I could practically smell it. Every time I thought about it my stomach churned and I couldn’t think of anything else. I started feeling pressed about vacation and couldn’t let a single day slip by without my trying to make the most of it. I got up early and ate chocolate frosted cereal real quick so I could get outside to play. Then I stayed out as long as I could, even on the days Frita couldn’t come over. Momma got annoyed because she had to call me in a hundred times before I’d come home, and then at bed time I’d keep myself awake so the day wouldn’t end. But still those days kept slipping by. Started to make me mad, and I guess that’s why I got my idea.

It was the last morning before school began and I was sitting at the kitchen table eating toast with cinnamon sugar on it, watching Momma iron. I’d brought Jimmy’s tank out to the kitchen and I was watching him crawl up the stalks of grass. Momma was half watching him, too, and every now and then she’d laugh when he fell off, or sprung himself a bit of web out of nowhere. Momma always listened to music when she ironed and this morning she was listening to Daydream Believer. Momma and I both knew all the words and we started singing as soon as it came on the record. We’d sing real loud when it came to the chorus.

“Cheer up sleepy Jean! Oh what can it mean, to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?”

I didn’t know what those words meant, but I knew Momma had been a Homecoming Queen once, and I liked to sing along even if boys weren’t supposed to want to do that.

It was right when we started in on the chorus that the idea sunk in. I took a deep breath to sing, “Oh what does it mean” and I knew right that second that I didn’t ever want to grow up. I’d suspected it all summer, but now I just knew it was true. Growing up meant no more singing with Momma and no more running through the woods with Frita. It meant dealing with spiders and scary people who didn’t behave like they ought. Growing up meant puberty and after that things weren’t ever the same. And they might change for good this very year.

That’s when I thought about Harper and how he’d never have to grow up. If he was in that trailer, he’d get to live there as long as he wanted and summer vacation might as well never end. Maybe he wouldn’t have a class picture, or vote for Jimmy Carter, but he wouldn’t have to count down his last hours of freedom, either. He wouldn’t have to figure out who looked mean, but was really nice, and who looked nice, but was really mean. He wouldn’t have to think about girls who didn’t want you to see them without their shirts on even though once they hadn’t cared.

That’s when I decided for certain. I wasn’t going to liberate Harper McCormack, I was going to join him.