Girl Squad

by Kim Hoover

  I knew everyone said I had done all I could do for Mom, but it still gnawed at me. I should have been able to save her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Homecoming weekend finally arrived. Rachel and Jane helped me shop for a dress since I had no idea how. My mother had always made my clothes. I didn’t even know what size I wore. Jane’s parents were so excited that she was going to Homecoming with the football captain that they invited Rachel and me to get ready at their house. They brought in a couple of women to do our hair and makeup. And they hired a limo driver who would pick up the boys and bring them over to get us.

  We were in Jane’s bedroom waiting for her to come out of the dressing area. When she appeared, fully dressed with her hair and makeup done, I thought I would faint. “Oh my gosh,” I said. “Look at her, Rachel.”

  The dress, satin and scarlet red, fit tightly at the waist and cascaded to the floor in a fountain of fabric. Her hair swept up in the back and fastened into a jeweled clip. Rachel whistled. I walked over and got as close as I dared.

  She smiled at me and I couldn’t see anything but her. She and I stood transfixed until Rachel broke in.

  “Enough already, you two.”

  When Rachel and I were ready, we all went downstairs and Jane’s parents took so many pictures I thought my face would freeze into a permanent smile. The boys arrived with corsages while we had boutonnieres for them. We all fumbled around trying to get the flowers just right. Jane’s mom and the hair and makeup ladies helped us and we took more pictures. Finally, we were off to the high school gym.

  Jane and I could not stop looking at each other the whole ride there. Her sleeveless dress framed her shoulders and cut down her chest in a V that took my eye to the curve of her breasts and the space between them. My gaze lingered there a little too long and Rachel nudged me, giving me a wide-eyed look.

  When the six of us arrived and stepped out of the limo one by one, we set off a little stir. No one else had arrived in a limo. We walked in, arm in arm with our respective boys, and the night began.

  The place was decorated like the bottom of the ocean with shimmering wallpaper, seaweed patches, and floating sharks, dolphins, and other sea creatures. The music pounded and the girls and guys, suddenly shy of each other, separated to opposite sides of the room. There was a rumor that one of the guys had a flask and was handing out shots near the boys’ bathroom.

  “I’m going,” I said. “Are y’all coming?”

  They followed me and we all took one.

  “Gross! What is that?” Rachel said, making a twisted face.

  “Cherry vodka,” someone said.

  I took another one. Jane whispered to me, “You look so hot in that dress. I’m not sure I can stand to watch you with him all night.”

  I smiled and teased her, showing off my body in the silky strappy dress that accentuated my chest and hips and scooped low on my breasts. I danced around her, the shots going to my head.

  “I’m warning you,” she said. “You better stop.”

  “Okay, fine,” I said. “Let’s find the guys. We should go ahead and get our official homecoming photo under that flower arch.”

  As the six of us stood in line, each waiting for the official photo with our date, Jimmy tried to hold Jane’s hand. She pushed him away and he grabbed at her waist, pulling her to him.

  “Stop,” she said. “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not? You’re my girlfriend. Act like it.”

  He slurred his words.

  “You’re going to mess up my dress,” she said. “Just act like a gentleman.”

  “I don’t see why you can’t hold my hand,” he said, trying again.

  She gave in and stood stiffly next to him while he rocked side to side. Watching them, I felt sad and helpless. I wanted to push him out of the way and hold her in my arms. Rachel suddenly popped up between us.

  “Hey, let’s get an official picture of the six of us together. Homecoming 1973!”

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “You two need to cool it,” she whispered back.

  We stood under the elaborate flower arch the Homecoming committee had built, the boys behind us, their hands, arranged by the photographer, lightly resting on our hips. I glanced at Jane, who did her best to produce a believable smile.

  We grazed on the buffet for a while, but the food was terrible. To save money, the Homecoming committee had made it a potluck and by the time we got to it, all the good stuff was gone. I snuck another cherry vodka shot as Rachel, Jane, and I went into the girls’ restroom.

  I was tipsy enough that I forgot myself and reached for Jane, giving her a silly smile and trying to kiss her. She dodged the kiss and then held me straight-jacket style while fending off the stares of the other girls in the room. Even in my haze, I could tell they were looking at me like I was some kind of alien.

  “She’s a little drunk,” Jane said. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel chimed in. “She didn’t have much to eat. I think maybe we should get her home.”

  “No!” I said, breaking loose from Jane and forcing my way out of the restroom and back onto the dance floor.

  Scott and Jimmy were on the other side of the room with their own alcohol stash. They had Jim Beam and they were pouring it into their Cokes. I reached for Scott’s cup, but Jane, suddenly behind me, grabbed my hand.

  “You’re drunk already,” she said.

  “C’mon,” Scott said, handing me the cup. “Go ahead.”

  Looking at his outstretched hand, I had trouble focusing. I started to sweat and I felt a little sick to my stomach.

  “I better not,” I said.

  Jane stared at me through slits, her jaw clenched. I wasn’t sure what was happening. “Here,” she said, handing me a cup of water. “Drink this. You need to slow down.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, but I drank the water.

  She stood by my side, keeping an eye on me, to the point that people started to notice. I could tell some of the couples standing near us were talking about us. I turned to Scott, telling him we should get out on the dance floor. Rachel and her boyfriend came out with us.

  As the DJ cranked it up with one rock ‘n’ roll song after another, the dance floor filled and we were all in a pack, no one really paying too close attention to who they were with. I was into it, feeling good again and loose and vaguely aware that Jane wasn’t dancing or moving much. She was standing there like a statue. Jimmy was so drunk he didn’t notice. He was barely standing at that point. I moved through the crowd to get to her.

  “Dance!” I said, pulling at her hand. “Come on, dance with me!”

  I couldn’t get her to move. She shook her head, her face dark, her expression scornful. I gave up.

  “Suit yourself,” I said.

  The DJ played a slow dance and everyone paired up with their date—except Jane—who stood over at the side. Jimmy was puking into a trash can. I saw Rachel to my right, dancing with her boyfriend, looking into his eyes all goofy. I hadn’t realized she was so into him. They were dancing really tight and he had his hands on her butt. An odd feeling flushed through me, like Rachel had something to herself that I was not a part of. I didn’t like it.

  Scott pressed up against me, squeezing me around the waist. I felt him against my leg and I could tell he was excited. Then he put his lips on my neck and sucked and I thought, oh, dang, he’s going to give me a hickey and what should I do. I tried pulling away, but he held on and got more aggressive. His lips found my mouth and I turned away.

  He tried again, but this time I felt someone pushing him away from me. It was Jane. She had pulled the clip out of her hair and it spilled over her face, licking her shoulders like a torrent of wildfire.

  “Get the hell away from her!”

  She was in his face, shoving him backward across the floor, running into people as she did. I stood there, not moving, watching it happen, not knowing what to do to stop it.

&n
bsp; Rachel ran to me. “What is she doing? Has she gone crazy?”

  The crowd had moved to the sides of the dance floor, watching as Jane pinned Scott against the wall. I was in a fog, still pretty drunk, staring at the fiasco unfolding.

  “We have to get her out of here,” Rachel said.

  By this time, the music had stopped and the room was eerily quiet as Jane’s voice erupted, guttural and animal-like. She still had Scott against the wall as she slapped him on the chest, screaming. “Don’t ever touch her again. Do you understand me? I’ll kill you!”

  Scott stood perfectly still, stunned, saying nothing. I felt like my feet were nailed to the floor. I couldn’t move. Jane turned around to face the crowd.

  “I don’t care what you think! Call me a freak. Call me a homo. Call me queer. I don’t care anymore!”

  Rachel grabbed my hand and pulled me toward Jane. We got on either side of her, took her arms and moved her as fast as we could out of the crowd and into the hallway. She buried her head on my shoulder and cried like I’d never seen her cry. We tried to go to the girls’ restroom, but some of the other girls blocked us. We went outside instead.

  I looked around, trying to find the limo driver, but instead, I saw Jane’s mother’s car speeding into the parking lot and skidding to a stop near the building. Oh crap. Someone called her. She jumped out of the car and ran toward us, attacking Jane, slapping her so hard she fell to the ground.

  “You disgust me!” she screamed, standing over Jane.

  “Please, Mrs. Rawlings,” Rachel said, reaching to help Jane.

  “And you,” she said to me. “You pervert. With your trailer trash mother. I never should have let you near my daughter.”

  “Get away from me,” Jane said, holding the side of her face her mother had bruised. “I don’t care about your threats anymore. I’d rather die than be someone I’m not, just so you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed?” She laughed. “This is not about me being embarrassed. This is about you ruining your life. Throwing away everything we’ve given you. Forfeiting your future. Any hope of a family. God knows what will happen to you. There’s no place in society for girls like you two.”

  We stood there staring back at her, saying nothing.

  “Do you think you’re the first to feel this way?” she went on. “Do you think you’re special? Because you’re not! But you can’t have something just because you want it, just because you feel it. Just because it’s all you can think about. Just because every time you close your eyes you imagine your life that way.”

  Oh my God. Is she talking about herself?

  “That’s not the way it works,” she said. “Not in the real world. Wake up! This is a fantasy.” She pointed at me as she said that, but she wasn’t finished. “Don’t you realize I know what it’s like? How do you think I’ve been so sure about you? But I never thought you would go this far.”

  I watched Jane. She was amazingly beautiful standing there, tall and defiant.

  “I feel sorry for you, Mother. You’ve lived your life according to a script that someone else wrote,” Jane said. “Is that what you want for me? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

  “You will not be happy if you try to live that life. It’s just a phase. Give it some time. You’ll forget it.”

  “You’re wrong. This is who I am. And this,” she pointed to her dress, “is the last time I’m playing this part. I don’t care what you say or do. I will leave home if I have to. But I will be who I am.”

  She reached for me and pulled me next to her and put both arms around me. I put my arms around her and we stood there under the parking lot lights with Rachel standing behind us with her arms around us both. Mrs. Rawlings looked at us, saying nothing, for what felt like forever, then turned away, walked back to her car, got in and drove away.

  “Now what,” Rachel said, looking over her shoulder at the crowd that had gathered to gawk at us.

  “Can you call your dad?” I asked.

  We spent the night at Rachel’s. I woke up hungover with a pounding headache. The three of us lay in bed, not one of us making the effort to get up. It was a train wreck. We were forced to stir when Jane’s father showed up and asked if she would come out and talk to him. Rachel and I listened at the door.

  “Your mother and I talked,” he said. “We can’t condone this…choice you’re making.” He paused but Jane said nothing. “We’re scared for you. We want the best for you. We love you.”

  “Dad, I can’t—”

  “We’re not going to fight you anymore. We want a truce.”

  “You’re sure Mom wants me back?”

  “It won’t be easy. I’m not going to pretend she’s not who she is. But whatever you said to her last night hit home somehow. She wants to make it work.”

  He asked her to come home. She came inside and we hugged her. She kissed me on the lips for a long time.

  “I love you,” I said. “Good luck.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The very next night, Rachel and I were sitting in her living room eating TV dinners and watching television when the telephone rang. Rachel went to the kitchen to answer it.

  “Cal,” she shouted. “Come in here. It’s Jane.”

  “I’ve got news,” Jane said.

  “What’s going on?” I said.

  “Something’s happening in the canyon. I know it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “My dad just got picked up by an entourage of Rangers and cops. The gang must have tried something. I don’t know what happened, but that has to be why they came for my dad. If they broke into the petroleum reserve, it’s his problem.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Rachel said, looking at me.

  “Jane,” I said, “how would you feel about—”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  Rachel and I slipped out of her bedroom window and ran down the block to the corner where Jane waited.

  “Let’s go!” I shouted.

  “Plot out a back way, Rachel,” I said. “The main entrance will be blocked. I don’t know if we can get close, but try to find a remote gate where they might not have guards.”

  “Are we crazy?” Jane asked, gripping the steering wheel.

  “Don’t think about it. This could be the final chapter. I want to see it, if I can,” I said.

  We followed the route Rachel had deciphered, and as we approached the small, dark gate, we noticed a smoldering glow over the horizon. The air had the pungent smell of hot iron and burning embers. Jane took a sledgehammer to the padlock on the gate and opened it so we could drive through.

  We drove in the direction of the glow, rolling very slowly, the headlights dark, the dirt road lit by the moonlight and the fire in the sky. When we got as close as we dared, we took out our binoculars.

  “It looks like a war zone,” Rachel said.

  “Is that your dad?” I said to Jane.

  “I see him.”

  Just then, a loud voice splintered my eardrum. “Put your hands in the air!”

  We turned to find three Texas Rangers with their guns aimed at our heads. We dropped our binoculars and raised our hands.

  “Get moving,” one of the Rangers said, pushing us in the direction of the melee.

  Mr. Rawlings’s eyes were wide with either anger or terror when he saw us being marched into his presence by the Rangers.

  “What the—”

  “Dad, I can explain,” Jane pleaded.

  “Get them into that van over there. I’ll deal with them.”

  “Not exactly how I envisioned this,” Rachel said as we sat in the police van waiting to find out our fate.

  Mr. Rawlings joined us after a while. “Look, girls. I know you think you’re Nancy Drew, but this could not be a more dangerous situation. I can’t have you here. Jane, I’m really disappointed in you. You know better. I should have you all thrown into the clink to teach you a lesson, once and for all.”

/>   “But Dad, what about Cal’s mom?”

  “Your mom survived, Cal.”

  We all exhaled loudly and they held my hands.

  “But twelve people have died, ten of the conspirators and two law enforcement officers. Many more are injured and are being treated at local hospitals. Your mother is in very serious trouble.”

  I felt crushed like the weight of a thousand bricks pressed on my chest, cutting off oxygen. The last thing I remember is trying to stand up. When I regained consciousness, Jane and Rachel were crying and pulling me off the floor.

  “Get these girls back home,” Mr. Rawlings said to the officers.

  I don’t remember anything about that ride, but the next day, my dad called to offer to drive me to Amarillo to see my mother.

  “Can Jane and Rachel come too?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be over soon.”

  We arrived in Amarillo just in time for a Texas Rangers press conference.

  “Look,” Jane said. “There’s Bev!”

  Bev stood in the background behind the podium on the front steps of the Federal Building.

  “Thank goodness she’s okay,” I said.

  A spokesperson for the Texas Rangers took the microphone. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I will make a brief statement and then take questions. Last night at approximately five p.m., members of the Brazos River Gang entered Palo Duro Canyon with the intent to break the security of the Strategic Oil Reserve that, until this attempt, was secretly located there. They met up with members of a syndicate out of Houston to whom they intended to sell access to the Reserve. The Texas Rangers had received a tip that this conspiracy was in motion and had arranged with the FBI to move in on the suspects and subdue them prior to the break-in taking place. When asked to surrender, the suspects opened fire on the Rangers. The FBI moved in with helicopters and counterpunched. At the end of the gun battle, we had lost two of our Rangers. All members of the Brazos River Gang were killed in the encounter. We have in custody a co-conspirator and the surviving members of the Houston syndicate.”