Hannah pulled a little round lavender tin from beneath her pillow. She unscrewed the lid and revealed purple tissue paper. “Do you party?” she asked, pulling the paper to the side and revealing a variety of pills of all shapes and sizes.
Allie’s stomach clenched at the memory of overdosing in the motel room. “I don’t do pills.”
“No? Okay, well, that’s cool.” Hannah picked out two pills, tossed them in her mouth, then grabbed a can of Sprite from her nightstand and washed them down. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be a country girl.”
Country girl? “Why?”
Hannah’s eyes widened with excitement. “The music videos look cool. Wearing Daisy Dukes, riding on tractors, drinking cheap beer, making out with hot boys with big trucks. Looks like a blast.”
Allie had done none of those things, so she wasn’t sure how to reply. Hearing the wall clock above her ticking, she tried to figure out what Bitty would say in the same situation. Apparently Hannah hadn’t yet noticed she was a social misfit, and Allie didn’t want her to.
Why did I think I could possibly be friends with this girl? she asked herself, wringing her hands together.
Every once in a while a MacBook on the side of Hannah’s bed would make a ringing sound and Hannah would lean over and check something on the screen. “Hey, what’s your Facebook?” Hannah asked, typing something on the keyboard.
Allie had heard of Facebook but wasn’t sure what it was. “Facebook?”
“Yeah, Facebook.” Hannah looked up. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re not on Facebook?”
“No.”
“I mean, who doesn’t have a Facebook?” Hannah said, flopping on her stomach. “We’ve got to get you an account. You can find anyone on Facebook.”
Hannah’s words were slurred and practically spilling out of her mouth. Apparently whatever the pills were that she had taken were kicking in.
“So, you ever go alligator wrestling?”
The girl was definitely odd. Allie just stared at her.
Hannah knitted her beautiful brows together. “What?”
Allie shrugged. “Never heard of it.”
“Wha-at? I read that it was, like, a favorite pastime of yours down here in the bayou. There are a ton of videos on YouTube.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door. Then a woman’s voice. She was talking to someone and sounded angry.
A few seconds later, there were three sharp knocks at the door.
“Dinner, Hannah!”
Hannah bristled and finally stopped talking. She wiped her nose with her forearm. “God, I hate her.”
A pause. Then, “Did you hear me?” the woman called through the door.
“Yes, I heard you!” Hannah yelled.
“Well, come on then.”
“She so gets on my nerves,” Hannah muttered. “She probably doesn’t even know you’re here. That’s how well she pays attention to my life.” She reached for the tin again, drew out two more pills, and chased them with her Sprite. “I could be blowing an entire hockey team in here and she wouldn’t know.”
Allie stood. “Well, I should probably go.”
Hannah squinted at her. “So is Miss Bitty your mother?”
“No. She’s my, uh, foster mother,” Allie said, the words feeling weird coming out of her mouth.
“Get out! You’re an orphan?”
The word took Allie by surprise. But she was, wasn’t she? It was the first time she had heard the word associated with her. It sounded weird. Her . . . Allie . . . an orphan. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Hannah gazed at her with those big, beautiful brown eyes.
“What?” Allie demanded.
“I know it’s probably rude to ask, but what happened to your parents?”
“My father left when I was a baby, and my mother’s dead. When she died, my older brother took care of me, but he ended up killing himself last year,” Allie said, surprised to hear the words leave her mouth. But once they did, she instantly felt a little better. As if talking about it, just that little bit, had maybe helped.
Hannah’s eyes widened. Then her mouth spread into a skeptical smile. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“Holy shit,” Hannah said, apparently still processing everything. “Your brother killed himself?”
Allie nodded.
“Seriously. All of this is the truth?”
“Yeah.”
Three more sharp knocks on the door. “Hannah, baby, are you coming?”
Hannah rolled her eyes, then looked at Allie. “Hey, want to stay for dinner?”
Allie shrugged, squirming a little on the inside. Spending time with Hannah was one thing. But she wasn’t so sure it would be a good idea to meet Hannah’s parents.
“Please? Pretty please?”
The girl looked so beautiful, so hopeful, and before she knew it, Allie heard herself say, “Okay.”
“Oh good!” Hannah squealed. She scrambled off her bed; then she pulled at the short, uneven inseam of her shorts and grinned at Allie.
“Uh, where’s your bathroom?” Allie asked.
“First door on your left. I’m going to go ahead to the table just so her head doesn’t explode. Just meet me in the dining room when you get out. It’s by the front door. You can’t miss it.”
“Okay.” Allie opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
“Oh, and Allie?”
Allie turned to see a mischievous smile on Hannah’s face. “Get ready for a circus.”
Allie stared at choice parts of her face in Hannah’s bathroom mirror. If she looked at certain features and not her face as a whole, maybe she looked okay. Pretty, even. Well, sorta. That is, if you didn’t see her from any of her bad angles and didn’t look too carefully, and if the lighting was decent.
She took several long, deep breaths and tried to get it together. She had just begun having a decent time with Hannah, but now the thought of meeting the girl’s parents made her stomach hurt.
They wouldn’t approve of her.
No one ever did.
Maybe the new clothes would help. Maybe, too, the fact that she lived with the ever-so-popular Miss Bitty would win her some points. She wanted a chance at a friend. Wanted it badly. More than she would’ve thought mere minutes ago. Just the little bit of acceptance she’d already gotten from Hannah had been addictive and she craved more.
She had just gotten a small taste of what Miss Bitty must feel with having so many friends . . . and so many admirers. Miss Bitty had it good. Really good.
Even more reason to be like her.
Be good, she coached herself in the mirror. Don’t say anything stupid and maybe, just maybe, they’ll let you be her friend.
With that, she pushed the door open and forced herself to walk to the dining room.
CHAPTER 24
ALLIE STEPPED INTO the family’s dining room to find Hannah and her parents already sitting down. She stood in the doorway, her heart beating miles a minute.
“Ted, Claire, this is Allie,” Hannah announced from her seat.
Ted stood and extended his hand. “I’m Ted, Hannah’s stepfather. It’s very nice of you to join us.”
“Hi,” Allie said, taking the man’s hand, self-conscious that her palm was clammy. He was the man she’d seen working in the yard at Miss Bitty’s. He was a decent-looking older man, except for the outdated feathered hair and a couple of twisted front teeth.
She noticed the handshake seemed to be lasting too long.
He quickly released his grip. “I’ve seen you a few times at Miss Bitty’s. I help out with projects over there from time to time. Miss Bitty,” he said, smiling, “she’s a remarkable woman.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“And as Hannah so politely announced, my name is Claire,” the woman said primly, her hazel eyes icy. “Now, come sit down so we can get started.” She pointed to the empty space across from her.
Allie walked around the tab
le and sat, careful to keep her spine straight and her chin high. High enough to appear confident, but not so high as to appear arrogant or anything.
She stole a quick look at Claire. She was thin. Borderline too thin, actually. So why was she seeing Miss Bitty to lose weight?
That’s odd.
Her eyes flitted from Claire to Ted to Hannah. Everyone was looking at her. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
“Do you like Hamburger Helper, dear?” Claire asked, picking up a big yellow bowl.
Allie brought her hand to the side of her face. “Uh, sure, thanks.”
The woman handed her the bowl and Allie started spooning the food onto her plate.
“Imitation mashed potatoes?” Hannah asked, her words slurring, as she held out another big bowl. “Claire uses the fake flakes. It’s really tasty.”
Claire shot Hannah a look. Then her cool hazel eyes returned to Allie. They probed, scrutinizing her. Surely Claire was skeptical of her being worthy enough to be friends with her daughter. To be eating Hamburger Helper at her nice dinner table.
Willing her hands not to shake, Allie took the bowl and spooned the mashed potatoes next to the pasta and meat. A panicky sensation brewed in her stomach, making it go sour.
It was past six o’clock and the light in the room was just starting to slant. It was the time of day when Allie’s mood naturally darkened. The time of day she used to go searching for her brother when she was a kid. Again, she wished she hadn’t come. That she was back at Miss Bitty’s, where she was finally becoming comfortable.
Hannah continued. “Hamburger Helper, powdered mashed potatoes, corn from a can. Hormones, pesticides, GMOs, deadly hydrogenated oils with a side of BPA . . . all of which will probably lead to a cancer or two,” Hannah said with a smirk. Her eyes flicked to Allie’s. “You might want to puke after eating this.”
“That’s enough, Hannah,” Claire snapped. She turned her attention to Allie. “Hannah’s become quite the expert on nutrition lately. So much so it’s very difficult to please her with normal food.”
Allie nodded silently.
The woman picked up a wineglass and took a sip. “So. What do your parents do, Allie?”
Hannah dropped her fork on her plate. “Mom, I just told you not five minutes ago she doesn’t have parents! Miss Bitty’s her foster mother.”
Claire shot her daughter another nasty look. “I was just making polite conversation, Hannah!”
“But that’s dumb. If you already know something—”
Ted cleared his throat but said nothing.
Claire sighed. She picked up a bowl of corn and thrust it toward Allie. “Corn, dear?”
Allie shook her head.
The bowl landed back on the table with a thud.
Allie slanted a look at Ted. The man was staring at her, chewing his food. She looked away and rearranged some of the food on her plate.
Hannah’s tone softened. “Am I right, Ted? Especially something like that. I mean, why bring up something so sensitive when you already know—”
Claire’s eyes darted to her husband.
Ted cleared his throat again. “Hannah, sweetheart, why don’t we just change the subject.”
“Well, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Claire said. “About you being an orphan. I really am.”
Allie shifted in her seat and bit down on her bottom lip so hard she immediately tasted blood.
The room became quiet.
Sighing, Hannah pulled a couple of pills out of her pocket, stuck them in her mouth, and chased them with her glass of water.
“What did you just put in your mouth?” Claire demanded.
“They’re aspirins. I have a headache. Can you blame me?”
“Since when does aspirin slur your speech?”
“I’m not slurring!” Hannah slurred.
Claire sighed but said nothing.
“So, Ted. Allie said she’s never gone alligator wrestling. Guess it’s not as popular as we thought,” Hannah said.
“No? Never been?” Ted asked, wiping his mouth, his eyes on Allie again. “I’ll find a place where we can watch people do it, honey. I know how much it means to you.”
“I still don’t understand the fascination,” Claire said. “Sounds really silly if you ask me.”
“No one did,” Hannah retorted.
Claire’s face twitched and she stood up. “Okay, I’ve had about as much as I can take. I’m sorry you had to see this . . . this . . .”—she motioned toward Hannah—“circus.” She threw her napkin on her plate. “Nice meeting you, Allie.”
The woman was right. It was a circus. Allie never would’ve guessed Hannah’s family was so dysfunctional just by looking at them. Somehow Hannah and her parents made Allie’s little family at Miss Bitty’s look more normal. It made her appreciate her situation even more.
The woman went to the doorway, then turned, her eyes blazing. “Oh, and Allie? One word of advice. I wouldn’t trust my daughter if I were you. I just wouldn’t.”
Allie stepped into the cool night. Dinner had just ended and Miss Bitty was on the way to pick her up. Hannah and her mother were in the living room arguing again, so Allie had been able to slip out unnoticed.
All she wanted to do was go home and crawl under her soft, clean sheets. She felt drained.
She had cigarettes, compliments of Big Joe, whose tidy little guesthouse bedroom she’d raided earlier in the day. She reached into her pocket for a cigarette and lit it. Taking a long drag, she stared up at the pale moon, waiting for the knot in her stomach to unfurl.
As she took her second drag, she saw something move in the darkness a few yards away.
Her body grew rigid. Coughing on the acrid smoke, she took a few steps backward and prepared to run back into the house.
“Hello?” she called. “Who’s there?”
Nothing at first. Then, after a long moment, a person stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, but he was backlit by the naked lightbulb hanging above the garage and she couldn’t make out his features very well.
“It’s just me,” the person said, his voice deep but gentle. “Don’t be scared.”
Allie sucked in her breath as the man stepped out of the shadows. But then she realized it was just Ted, Hannah’s stepfather.
“Shit! You scared the—” She stopped, gathered her breath. “You . . . scared . . . me,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I certainly didn’t mean to,” he said, reaching out as if to steady her.
She pulled away from him.
He bent to pick up the cigarette she had dropped. He handed it to her. “Are you okay?”
Allie nodded. Glancing down at her cigarette, she realized it had stopped burning.
As if reading her thoughts, Ted stepped toward her with his lighter. He flicked the tab. A flame shot out of the lighter and, reluctantly, she bent toward it and lit her cigarette.
Quickly straightening again, she created as much distance between them as she could without it being too obvious. He pulled a cigarette from a pack in his shirt pocket and lit it. Then, the two smoked their cigarettes in the darkness for a couple of minutes, neither saying a word.
After a while, Ted spoke up. “Sorry for the scene at dinner tonight. That happens a lot these days between Hannah and her mother. I’m not even sure why she invited you, knowing that something like that would probably happen.”
Allie remained silent. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced at him, her expression steely. He grinned, his crooked teeth gleaming in the darkness.
Allie didn’t trust his smile. But then again, she wasn’t very trusting of any man these days.
The ember from Ted’s cigarette glowed in the darkness as he dragged long and hard. Several seconds later, he spoke, his voice gruff. “You know, if I were only ten years younger, I—”
Her mind flashed to the way he stared at her during dinner . . . and the memory of the truck driver who had tried to rape her . . . and of all the older men over the years who ha
d mistreated her and asked her to do dirty things to them. Just the thought of a man, especially an older one, touching her again turned her stomach. She felt an unexpected burst of anger. “Yeah? Well, you’d still be freakin’ ancient.”
Ted looked confused for a moment, then he grinned. “Darling, I was just going to say that if I were ten years younger, I’d wrestle an alligator for Hannah. She’s been talking about it nonstop. I think it’s a strange fascination, but I’d like to see her happy again. She’s been through a lot lately with the move. It’s really taken its toll on her.”
“Oh. Sorry. I thought—”
His face stretched into a smile. “No, I’m happily married.”
Really? He calls that happy?
“And besides, you’re just a kid.”
Humiliated, Allie said nothing. Headlights appeared from around the corner. It was Miss Bitty.
Thank God.
“Okay, I’m going to go now,” she mumbled, tossing her cigarette to the cement and grinding it out with her shoe.
“Nice to meet you, Allie,” Ted said, turning to watch Bitty pull up the drive.
In the darkness Allie thought she saw him grin again. It was probably his way of laughing at her.
So much for making a good impression.
She rushed to Miss Bitty’s car.
CHAPTER 25
BACK AT HOME, Allie washed up, then eagerly slipped into her nice, clean bed.
A heavy rain drummed against her window, almost immediately lulling her into a deep sleep—and a nightmare of an especially frightening summer afternoon when she had been seven years old. It was the day her mother had killed a woman Allie had really liked: Norah Duvall, a young, aspiring writer.
Norah, in the middle of writing a mystery about a small-town prostitute, had taken an interest in Allie’s mother and interviewed her several times that summer for research to see how a real prostitute lived. The woman would visit the house with food (and also a little cash) and talk with her mother, sometimes recording their interviews with a cassette player.
Allie often hovered in a dark corner of the living room to study the woman while she was there, wanting to be as close as possible to her. Sometimes Norah would catch her watching and Allie would frown and look away. She was afraid that if she were nice to the writer, her mother would get angry and send one—or both of them—away. Her mother didn’t approve of her being nice to people. She wanted her to be cynical and mean-spirited, just like she was.
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