Read Online Local Girls by Alice Hoffman - Free Book Online Page B

seemed teary, which she chalked up to allergies, or maybe a cold—her excuses varied each day. But one afternoon, when we were over at her house, the truth was revealed after we’d gone into the kitchen for a snack. It was a perfect kitchen; Jill’s mother was so fanatical about cleaning we could practically eat off the floor. I coveted that kitchen so badly I could feel my skin turning green whenever I walked into the room. The spices were set out in alphabetical order. I could see my own reflection in the sink. I wanted to live there even more than I wanted to look like Jill.
    I couldn’t think of my own kitchen without shivering. All hell had broken loose there, and it showed. After my father left, and my mother was diagnosed with cancer, our cousin Margot had suggested that she and my mother go into business together. They now had a catering company, although neither was much of a cook. They did bar mitzvahs and engagement parties, and there were weekends when hundreds of Swedish meatballs simmered on our stove. Cleaning up after themselves was a low priority for Margot and my mother. They had both recovered from cancer scares, failed marriages, and lost hope; in their opinion, dirt could wait. They took the money they earned from catering and bought high-heeled shoes and went to the Poconos on holiday weekends looking for husbands. They didn’t care how thick the grime was on our stove. You’ll see, they vowed, someday you won’t care either, but that day had not yet arrived.
    Delighted to be in Jill’s perfect kitchen, I went to the snack drawer, where her mom always had brownies and cookies. It was pure chance that I happened to look up to see Jill standing in front of the open refrigerator. They must have had liver the night before at supper, because that was what she was reaching for. I felt a chill on the back of my legs. Jill usually wept to think of lambs and calves led to slaughter. She had to close her eyes whenever I ordered a hamburger, rare.
    â€œYou’re eating that?” I asked.
    â€œThis?” Jill looked at the liver as though she’d been hypnotized and was just now surfacing to consciousness. She’d already taken a bite though, and was forced to chew and then swallow.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    â€œI guess I felt faint,” Jill admitted. “I thought it would help to have some protein.” She sat down at the table and I brought her a knife and fork. She ate the liver and tears rolled down her face. Slaughtered calves no longer mattered to her. That’s when I knew.
    â€œNo,” I said. “Tell me you’re not.”
    â€œI am.” Jill nodded her beautiful head and kept on crying.
    This was bad news indeed. Her boyfriend, Eddie LoPacca, was the boy that everyone wanted, but not for keeps. He Was gorgeous and stupid, and for two years straight I’d written all his term papers, so I certainly knew the state of his mind. Blank as the pages in his notebook. Even my brother, Jason—who was actively screwing up his own life with Eddie’s sister, Terry, as his constant companion—would come home from the LoPaccas’ house shaking his head.
    â€œThat Eddie,” he’d say. “No one’s yet informed him that the earth is round. He thinks Abraham Lincoln is a brand of toothpaste. If you watch him closely you can actually see steam coming out of his ears when he tries to concentrate.”
    We had some good laughs at Eddie’s expense, but when I really thought it over, I always felt sobered by the hand of fate. My brother was the one who was supposed to be such a genius, but he and Eddie were now both employed in the same deli department, so who was the real idiot? Fate could twist you around and around, if you weren’t careful. Just when you thought you knew where you were headed, you’d wind up in the opposite direction or flattened against a wall.
    All the same, Jill was my best friend