Home for Erring and Outcast Girls

by Julie Kibler

  Lizzie walked the rows of donated machines and emergency purchases. Heavy breathing came from behind a bulky old wringer in the corner—a reliable workhouse they affectionately called Woodrow after their beloved president. They only used Woodrow when a more modern machine broke down or they had extra work.

  “Ivy?” she called into the dim corner. Sniffling was her only answer.

  She called out again.

  “Go away.”

  “Miss Ruby wants us back soon. You got to come out, even if you won’t listen.”

  Ivy sprang up, eyes swollen and wild. “You told,” she cried. “You said you never would. All this time, I thought you were my friend, and you told behind my back—someone I don’t even know!”

  “I didn’t,” Lizzie said. “Mattie’s letter…she don’t mean it that way.” Her words tangled, but she had to make Ivy understand. “It’s your business to share or not. Mattie’s just jealous I have a friend. She’s lonely.”

  “She’s your girlfriend!” Ivy yelled. “If I had one, it wouldn’t be you. You’re homely and dumber than a stump. I’d pick better.”

  Lizzie gasped. For Ivy to call out her insecurities, even in anger, stung. “I said what I come to say—an apology and an explanation. Mattie’s words meant nothing. And just so you know? She never called anyone stupid or ugly, even in all her teasing.”

  On her way back to the house, her leg thickened up again. She was furious with Mattie—she’d been rude even if she didn’t know the full effect—and she’d cost Lizzie her one good friend at the Home. She kept walking, right past the house. She heard running steps behind her and cursed the leg that slowed her down right when she needed to speed up.

  “Lizzie, wait!”

  She didn’t want to, but Ivy caught up and grabbed her arm. Then she dropped it as if it were hot. Lizzie sighed. She had never shamed Ivy for touching her that day at the rock.

  “I…I need to tell you,” Ivy said. “Everything. I’m sorry I said those things. You’re beautiful and wise and—oh, Lizzie, I can’t lose you.” She clasped her own face, as if to contain her weeping.

  Lizzie knew she’d give her a chance. She led her down the path she and Mattie had walked so often, toward the clearing nobody bothered unless they needed peace and quiet—or unless they were holding a funeral. They stood, heads together under a tree.

  Ivy had always claimed a married man caused her ruin. He was married, indeed—her own father, who found her in an embrace with a neighbor girl. He learned her proper what men and women did in bed—not girls together—then threw her out. In Waco’s scarlet district, she resorted to whoring until she learned of the Home from Brother JT’s sister, Mrs. Annie.

  Ivy had never told anyone else her two darkest shames. Lizzie knew one of those for herself, though hearing that someone’s real father could commit such a deed hurt her even more.

  She swore her confidence again. Then Lizzie wrapped the girl in her arms. It was neither uncomfortable nor unnatural. The girls had no mothers to comfort them here—for their real mothers were dead in life or in spirit.

  In times like these, they had no choice but to mother each other.

  CATE

  Grissom, Texas

  1998

  AP exams came and went, and finishing was a relief. Beyond prom and finals, the year was nearly over. Time dragged—unless I was with River. Then it rushed like a downhill train.

  We didn’t see each other the week of prom except at lunch or when River got a library pass during my assistant period, but we talked late into each night, me frequently rubbing in how soundly I won our second race, but also about things that kept me awake sometimes long after we disconnected.

  Saturday, I struggled to awake, even by eleven, when my mom burst into my room and tickled me. “Morning, sunshine,” she said. “It’s prom day!”

  I groaned and covered my head with a pillow. The phone slammed into my cheek. We’d talked until three a.m., when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

  “Better get your beauty sleep to impress Seth,” River had said, holding back a laugh.

  “Shut up,” I’d said. “You better get sleep, too. So your music doesn’t suck.”

  “Night…”

  “Night…”

  I’d listened to the lullaby of our fused breathing until the phone clicked on the other end, then fell asleep with the receiver pressed to my ear, as if River’s spirit slept inside it.

  “Your appointment’s at two, and you still need to shower!” Mom said now.

  “I knowww. Go away…”

  She was bulletproof today, so excited, nothing I said fazed her.

  I wished I could say the same about my own attitude.

  The idea of going to prom with Jess, Jordan, and Seth should not have bothered me. They were friends I’d known forever—Jess was my best friend!—and it was one of the last times we’d all be together before college. But I could hardly stomach the thought of so many hours of being made up like a doll, wearing an uncomfortable dress, and trying to talk to a guy I was over when I’d rather be with River. I had to force myself out of bed.

  By the time we left the salon, my hair was pulled so tight I cried real tears. My eye makeup ran, and Mom had to redo it after she loosened the pins in my hair. Seth arrived with a tiny box under his arm. The white rose wrist corsage perfectly complemented my aqua dress, which was simple, with double spaghetti straps that crisscrossed in the back, and matching ballet flats. At the store, I’d salivated over strappy silver sandals with three-inch heels. I’d wanted to not care, but I knew I’d feel clumsier than ever in them. My mom thought the flats looked better—and she thought Seth would be more comfortable if I wasn’t six feet tall. He had at least four inches on me. I rolled my eyes, but she was paying.

  My parents followed us to Jess’s house to snap photos of the four of us, then the couples, then Jess and me alone. My face hurt from forced smiles, but Mom looked as if she’d died and gone to prom heaven. Finally, we set off for downtown Austin and the hotel ballroom where prom was being held.

  Jess and I both wore form-fitting dresses, so we picked at our food, which was mediocre anyway. When the DJ started playing dance music, nobody budged. Our unfamiliar attire changed the dynamic. Finally, the drill team girls dragged their dates onto the dance floor, breaking the tension—for everyone but me. I figured Seth would want to dance right away, but even Jordan and Jess were content to sit through a few more songs.

  I told Seth I wasn’t a good dancer but finally followed him to the floor, where a disco ball spun flecks of light on all the sequins and costume jewels. To most of the kids, it probably felt like a fairy tale. I was a little sad it didn’t for me. Once upon a time, it might have.

  Jess rested her head on Jordan’s shoulder, eyes closed, during a slow song. She looked so happy, I was happy for her. But my stomach knotted as the music changed. The crowd went nuts at the first measures of our class song, Creed’s “Higher.” Rumors that Creed was a Christian band had made the song wildly popular even for the youth group kids. But Creed’s music wasn’t for goofing off, like Smash Mouth, or romantic, like Green Day. The song managed to be both too fast and too slow for either.

  The other kids kept moving. I panicked. “What’s wrong?” Seth said, when I froze.

  “I have no idea what to do. I actually hate dancing.”

  He looked amused, and slightly baffled. “Whatever you like!”

  “That’s the problem,” I said, shrugging. “I’m the least spontaneous person on earth.”

  Not quite true, I reminded myself. I had trespassed a century-old dive of a hotel a mere two weeks earlier. And I had grabbed River’s hand first.

  “Here,” Seth said. “Put your arms around my neck and we’ll pretend it’s a slow dance. Nobody will notice.” He put his hands at my waist, and we simply swayed. He was right. No
body paid attention to us except Jess, who threw me a thumbs-up. They weren’t slow dancing. Jordan was, in fact, playing air guitar while she laughed helplessly, dancing all alone. I longed for her freedom.

  Recalling Seth’s pressure on me to quit track had brought up all sorts of anxieties, but so far this evening, it seemed he’d lost some of his old arrogance. Maybe he’d had a few challenges of his own since then.

  He tightened his hands on my waist throughout the song. When the music ended, I dropped mine. Dance over. I could sit. He held on. “This one’s easy too.” I didn’t argue, but I began counting measures in my head. The sad thing was, I actually loved the Aerosmith ballad, but now it felt endless. Seth wiped his palms down the fabric of his trousers, one at a time. I wondered if he was sweating too, or if it was all me. He placed them higher on my rib cage, and his thumbs massaged me where the dress met my skin. I straightened my back. His hand dropped back to the fabric, and he smiled.

  Oops, sorry, he mouthed. Just loud enough, he said, “I wish I’d taken you to my prom.”

  I laughed self-consciously. I would have killed to go with him as a sophomore, but he’d gone with his girlfriend. “What about Miranda?”

  He shrugged. “We were going through the motions. Ending senior year without drama.”

  “Hmm,” I said.

  He twitched his shoulders. “We’re here now. I waited a long time for this.” His thumb slid up again. I wondered if he thought that because he had rewritten history, I’d relax.

  The song ended, and I dragged Jess to the fancy hotel restroom with a private stall big enough for both of us. “Seth is confusing me. I never thought he liked me, but now he’s acting like he has for a long time. And he’s getting a little handsy. It’s messing with my head.”

  Jess seemed surprised. “Really?”

  I wasn’t sure which part she was responding to, but suddenly I felt guilty for bringing her down when she was having so much fun. “It’s okay,” I said. “But I can’t take much more.”

  “Why are you suddenly so flipped out?” Jess said. “You’ve wanted him forever.” Suddenly, though, she leaned close and lowered her voice, as if the solid walls could hear. “Also. I’m not going home tonight.”

  “What?” I said. Seth dropped from my mind faster than I’d have thought possible.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not doing anything. We’re just staying out all night. Here’s the thing—I told my mom I was staying at your house. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She hoped I didn’t mind? I stared. She’d been the goody two-shoes of our class for thirteen years. But then I remembered I’d been lying to her for two months—if only by omission—whereas she was being honest.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. Just around Austin. Jordan has it all planned out.”

  Jordan wouldn’t get them into any trouble, but it still bothered me.

  The dance wound down. People trickled out, and Seth went for his car. We’d agreed to meet him in ten minutes, but intro notes to Savage Garden’s “I Knew I Loved You” came over the sound system and even I shrieked—the most excited I’d been all night. When we heard it, Jess and I always danced like crazy alone in my house or hers. It was sweet, innocent, and didn’t offend anyone. I didn’t even protest when she dragged me back onto the floor, along with nearly everyone else.

  And suddenly, I felt freer than I had in forever—except when I was with River. I let go, swaying and spinning with the rhythm, sometimes with Jess—because for this song, nobody cared who danced with whom. It was a fantastic free-for-all. Gazing up at the spinning ball and falling into the lyrics, I disappeared into my own fantasy of a future that felt like it could work out after all.

  In the past, listening to the song, I’d pictured Seth, or even Jess, caught up in the joy of having a friendship that had lasted our whole lives. But now, it was River I saw—of course it was—and just for that moment, I went with it.

  As the music faded, I opened my eyes to discover I was the only one of our group left on the dance floor. Jess and Jordan waited near the exit with Seth, who gazed at me, his eyes confused. Hurt. I stilled, my body flushing from the ankles up, my face surely deep red, my heart exposed to the world, even if my friends had no clue what—or who—had inspired my abandon.

  Seth walked out ahead of us, his shoulders stiff. I hurried to catch up, even though I wanted to stay inside my euphoria without judgment. I nudged his arm. He glanced back, stone-faced. “Thanks for taking me,” I said. “I had fun when I wasn’t being an idiot.”

  He visibly shook off his gloom and smiled, though uncertainty remained behind. “Sure. It was my pleasure. Just wish it had been our second prom.”

  I swallowed the rest of my pride and said, “Me too!” Back then, I’d wished it.

  I didn’t argue when Jordan invited us to join their all-nighter. I was certain they’d had it planned all along—and I didn’t want to offend Seth again by refusing.

  “I have to call my parents,” I said. Seth pulled a bulky cellular phone from his console. None of the kids I knew had them. They were too expensive. “I can use a pay phone. That’ll cost too much.”

  “I have a budget,” Seth said, and I realized he probably had the phone for emergencies when he was out with the youth group.

  “Not for this.”

  He shrugged. “I get thirty minutes every month. I never use them. Nobody cares.”

  Telling my mom I didn’t want to leave Jess alone swayed her. “I know you’re having a great time, but I won’t sleep until you’re home,” she said. She didn’t name a curfew. My parents trusted me more than Jess’s trusted her.

  The boys had jeans and T-shirts, and Jess had stashed extra clothing in the car—a casual sundress for her, and a jean skirt and top for me. “You left them last time you slept over,” she said, and I realized how long it had been—and that this portion of the evening had definitely been planned by everyone but me. I laughed and shook my head.

  We changed at a gas station, then drove to an all-ages venue that closed at midnight. The doorman marked Xs on the backs of our hands after viewing our IDs. We claimed a table to sip soft drinks and listen to the music. One musician finished his set, and we chatted while the next one set up. Suddenly, Jess exclaimed, “That’s your friend from school. River, right?”

  My head swung. On the low stage, River tapped a foot switch and attached a capo, then leaned toward the mic. “Check-check. Check-one-two.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, my mouth suddenly full of rocks. River hadn’t mentioned the specifics about the gig. There hadn’t been any reason once I said I was going to prom. But lots of local bands and solo musicians played here. It made sense, but I still felt sideswiped.

  When River began to sing, Jess and Jordan were duly impressed. Seth fidgeted. I knew he loved Christian ska bands, and for a time, I’d become a walking encyclopedia of lyrics by the Supertones, dc Talk, and especially Five Iron Frenzy. It was another way I’d been a chameleon for his attention. I admitted it to myself now—I hated ska.

  I couldn’t help gazing at River. By now, it seemed every song was meant for me. Then I looked over and found Seth frowning. It made no sense. Jess had called River my friend. I’d tried to keep my face neutral. I was Seth’s date, after all. Jess and Jordan cuddled in the corner of the booth, oblivious to anyone else. River’s music had that effect.

  After the set, I excused myself to the restroom. Jess didn’t even notice.

  River was in the same hallway, near the green room. “You found me! I didn’t want to bother you, but I at least wanted to thank you for coming.”

  I realized it appeared we were there intentionally. I couldn’t respond. River grabbed my elbow and pulled me into the green room, lips quickly—accidentally?—grazing my cheek. I froze as others looked up from conversations. “Come on, sit with me for a minute. I d
on’t know a single person in here. Oh, but wait—do you need to get back? I’m so happy to see you, I’m, like, throwing up joy.”

  I relaxed and laughed at River’s enthusiasm. “They won’t miss me yet. Jess and Jordan are all over each other.”

  “And Seth?”

  “He’s…he’s fine,” I said. Then I sighed. “This night can’t end soon enough.”

  River squeezed my shoulder and took my hand. The others paid no attention at all, but holding hands in public was brand-new, and awkward—especially with my date in the building.

  “Is this okay?” River leaned close and gazed into my eyes.

  I nodded and shivered, but not like when Seth had stroked my skin earlier. River’s free hand rubbed my arm where it rested against our touching legs, and I tracked the sun tattoo with my gaze. I’d have given anything to ditch everyone else in that moment. I could hardly face going back. I wanted to stay, like this. I knew it now, even within my apprehension.

  I wanted River.

  “Better get back,” River said, though, when I went so quiet, and tugged me up from the sofa. The others smiled, and studied us with interest now, but I no longer felt uncomfortable. We were just another couple they didn’t know from anyone. It felt good.

  As I headed for the hallway, River held on to my hand with a gentle clasp—a braided fingers clasp. A don’t let go clasp.

  So I didn’t. We leaned against a wall, shoulders exactly the same height. I’d always imagined someone tall enough to look up to, but River was just tall enough. Everything fit. Our hands. The curves of our bodies separated by less than a breath. Our thoughts.

  After a moment, I sighed. River smiled, half amused, half regretful, then turned and kissed me, lips barely on mine, just long enough to say every single thing. Our first real kiss—no accident—and despite everything, it was perfect.