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Authors: Kristin Walker
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totally messed with my head. And the idea of Gabe sneaking off with some girl just wrung me out like a dirty dishrag. “You know what, Mar? Whaddya say we blow out of here?”
Marcie’s satin forehead creased. “Already?”
66 Kristin Walker
“Yeah, I just—I dunno. I don’t really have any desire to stay. We did what we came to do, you know? I’m just done.”
Marcie gave me the head-wag-with-one-hand-on-the-hip routine. “Well, I’m your ride, and I don’t want to leave.”
“ Mar -cie,” I said. As in, Uh are you my best friend or what?
But Marcie either didn’t get it or didn’t care. “Fiona. I helped you. Why can’t you stay for me?”
“Come on, please? I just need to curl up and veg,” I said.
“I—I could take you,” Johnny said, and then to Mar: “I could take her and come back.”
I didn’t speak a word to Mar, but my eyes said, You are not seriously going to make me go home with Johnny Mercer, are you?
Mar didn’t blink.
“Thanks anyway, Johnny, but you know what?” I waved my hand in front of him and Mar. “Forget it. I can walk.” I turned and strode toward the door. I got five steps before Mar said, “All right, wait up, Fee. I’ll take you.” She caught up with me and we headed out together. I glanced over my shoulder, gave Johnny a wave of thanks, and we left. ThAT NIGhT, I CouLdN’T SLEEp. My ANTIquE BRASS
bed creaked as I flopped around, trying to get comfortable. I kept playing the prank scene over and over in my head, trying to figure out why it hadn’t been as satisfying as I’d imagined. I didn’t get it. Sometime around two-thirty, I grabbed my iPod, pulled up White Blood Cells , and listened to music until I finally fell asleep.
I woke up Saturday morning feeling like I’d been dragged behind a bus driving through a minefield. I hoped I hadn’t caught something like typhoid or Ebola under those bleachers. Besides not wanting to have a deadly contagious disease, I also didn’t want to cancel babysitting for Sam that night. I had to ask her parents about Todd coming along, too. Marvelous. Couldn’t wait for that.
I rolled over to face the window beside my bed. Outside, the sun had the translucent, washed-out look that was the sign of a humid day. I closed my eyes and tried to fall back asleep. When that didn’t work, I decided I needed caffeine, stat. I threw off my covers and trudged down the narrow back stairs to the kitchen.
My mother and several other women sat huddled around 68 Kristin Walker
the kitchen table, conspiring over their coffee mugs. One of the women was Marcie’s mom. As she caught sight of my torn nightshirt and moose-covered pj pants, a flicker of horror lit across her face. I said, “Hi Mrs. Beaufort. Uh, Mom?”
Mom startled. “Oh, Fiona, we were just talking about you. Your marriage course, that is. This is the executive committee of the PTA. Ladies, this is my daughter, Fiona.”
They nodded to me, and I waved without making direct eye contact with anyone. They looked like a bunch of mobsters planning a hit. I inched over to the coffeemaker, which was empty, of course, so I started making a new pot. Normally, I would’ve just grabbed a Coke, but one, I needed megadoses of caffeine, and two, I wanted to eavesdrop.
“Vivian, did Principal Miller say exactly when she got school board approval?” asked a woman who had a curly mass of jet-black hair with a two-inch band of gray roots at her part. It looked like an electrocuted skunk had died on her head.
“All she said,” my mother answered, “was that she appealed to them over the summer, and they called an emergency vote just prior to school starting.”
“And we all know how conservative that school board is,” Electrocuted Skunk said. “But there’s conservative, and then there’s crazy. No offense, Michelle.”
Mrs. Beaufort composed a smile and raised a hand to mean, None taken .
“Appealed to them?” said a woman with gold earrings way too big and
Marcie’s satin forehead creased. “Already?”
66 Kristin Walker
“Yeah, I just—I dunno. I don’t really have any desire to stay. We did what we came to do, you know? I’m just done.”
Marcie gave me the head-wag-with-one-hand-on-the-hip routine. “Well, I’m your ride, and I don’t want to leave.”
“ Mar -cie,” I said. As in, Uh are you my best friend or what?
But Marcie either didn’t get it or didn’t care. “Fiona. I helped you. Why can’t you stay for me?”
“Come on, please? I just need to curl up and veg,” I said.
“I—I could take you,” Johnny said, and then to Mar: “I could take her and come back.”
I didn’t speak a word to Mar, but my eyes said, You are not seriously going to make me go home with Johnny Mercer, are you?
Mar didn’t blink.
“Thanks anyway, Johnny, but you know what?” I waved my hand in front of him and Mar. “Forget it. I can walk.” I turned and strode toward the door. I got five steps before Mar said, “All right, wait up, Fee. I’ll take you.” She caught up with me and we headed out together. I glanced over my shoulder, gave Johnny a wave of thanks, and we left. ThAT NIGhT, I CouLdN’T SLEEp. My ANTIquE BRASS
bed creaked as I flopped around, trying to get comfortable. I kept playing the prank scene over and over in my head, trying to figure out why it hadn’t been as satisfying as I’d imagined. I didn’t get it. Sometime around two-thirty, I grabbed my iPod, pulled up White Blood Cells , and listened to music until I finally fell asleep.
I woke up Saturday morning feeling like I’d been dragged behind a bus driving through a minefield. I hoped I hadn’t caught something like typhoid or Ebola under those bleachers. Besides not wanting to have a deadly contagious disease, I also didn’t want to cancel babysitting for Sam that night. I had to ask her parents about Todd coming along, too. Marvelous. Couldn’t wait for that.
I rolled over to face the window beside my bed. Outside, the sun had the translucent, washed-out look that was the sign of a humid day. I closed my eyes and tried to fall back asleep. When that didn’t work, I decided I needed caffeine, stat. I threw off my covers and trudged down the narrow back stairs to the kitchen.
My mother and several other women sat huddled around 68 Kristin Walker
the kitchen table, conspiring over their coffee mugs. One of the women was Marcie’s mom. As she caught sight of my torn nightshirt and moose-covered pj pants, a flicker of horror lit across her face. I said, “Hi Mrs. Beaufort. Uh, Mom?”
Mom startled. “Oh, Fiona, we were just talking about you. Your marriage course, that is. This is the executive committee of the PTA. Ladies, this is my daughter, Fiona.”
They nodded to me, and I waved without making direct eye contact with anyone. They looked like a bunch of mobsters planning a hit. I inched over to the coffeemaker, which was empty, of course, so I started making a new pot. Normally, I would’ve just grabbed a Coke, but one, I needed megadoses of caffeine, and two, I wanted to eavesdrop.
“Vivian, did Principal Miller say exactly when she got school board approval?” asked a woman who had a curly mass of jet-black hair with a two-inch band of gray roots at her part. It looked like an electrocuted skunk had died on her head.
“All she said,” my mother answered, “was that she appealed to them over the summer, and they called an emergency vote just prior to school starting.”
“And we all know how conservative that school board is,” Electrocuted Skunk said. “But there’s conservative, and then there’s crazy. No offense, Michelle.”
Mrs. Beaufort composed a smile and raised a hand to mean, None taken .
“Appealed to them?” said a woman with gold earrings way too big and
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