Never Sit Down in a Hoopskirt and Other Things I Learned in Southern Belle Hell

by Crickett Rumley

  As soon as the reporters left, Mr. Walter came over and swept both me and Ashley into a giant hug. “Good job, Maids. Couldn’t have asked for more, okay. Keep up the mighty fine work.”

  After he walked away, I turned to Ashley. “Don’t take this wrong, Ashley, but you were great.”

  “Don’t take this wrong, Jane, but so were you.” We grinned at each other for a split second. “But we’re still going to kick your butts.” She ran back to her team and rallied them to get cleaning again.

  I headed back to mine and we pushed through the last hundred yards toward the finish line. Surprisingly, I was starting to feel pretty good about the day, considering.

  Until Teddy Mac hissed at me in the way that only Teddy Mac can. “What is going on here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and Luke Churchville. Have not said word one to each other since he arrived. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “In some alternate universe, maybe. If I recall correctly, you and he were BFFs once upon a time. True dat or true dat?”

  “True dat. But I don’t think he wants to talk to me anymore.”

  “Then you are clearly blind as a bat. If he looks over here one more time, I’m having him arrested for eye-stalking.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “No, you shut up. No, don’t. Go talk to him.”

  “I am fine just where I am.”

  I bent over to pick up a dead inner tube. I could feel Teddy Mac staring at me. “Well, I am bored to tears talking to you,” he finally said. “I feel the need for a little change.” Teddy Mac beelined for the section of beach that Zara and Luke were currently working on. “Zara, baby!”

  “Oh come on, Teddy Mac!” I called after him, desperate.

  He completely ignored me, that jerk, and bounded right up to Zara. “I have not had the opportunity to truly make your acquaintance. Let’s switch partners and dish like schoolgirls, why don’t we? Luke, you’re okay to work with Jane for a while, aren’t you?”

  And before anyone could say no, Teddy Mac had reconfigured the whole scenario so that Luke and I were alone together at Bienville Point, the part of the beach where the shoreline meanders north and turns a corner. Here the gulf turns into the bay, and the terrain changes dramatically. The sandy beach narrows down to a quarter of its size. There are more trees. Beach grasses. Marshy areas. Small inlets with cattails and other water grasses where birds frolic and turtles play. It’s beautiful.

  Luke and I walked along in silence. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. “So what have you been up to?”

  “What have I been up to? Let me see. Interesting question. Since when? Since the last time I saw you five years ago? Or the other day when I saw you at church?”

  Well, that took care of that question. I guess he did see me that day, after all.

  “Let’s try the last five years.”

  “Okay. I ate my Wheaties on a regular basis and grew about fifteen inches, put on the corresponding weight. Still at OMS, going to be a senior this year. My grades are pretty decent. Probably applying to Alabama, Vanderbilt, maybe Tulane. Captain of the soccer team. President of the French club. Started a band with Lancer and a couple of guys. Our influences are the Smiths, the Cure, Dead Can Dance, the Allman Brothers, the Eagles, Jack Johnson, and Metallica. There. Happy?”

  No. Not at all. The résumé listing actually managed to sound pretty ugly. Not so charming. What was I supposed to say to that? Here’s what I did say: “What’s that noise?”

  “Yeah, that’s what people usually say about the band, but we think it works.”

  “That’s not what I meant. There’s a weird sound. Over there.”

  Luke cocked his head to one side and we both listened. There was a thwacking sound, a wet thump, thump, thwack coming from the marshy inlet a few yards ahead of us. “An alligator?” he suggested.

  “Sounds more like fluttering?”

  We made for the inlet, parted the marsh grasses, and found the source of the sound. And I’ll tell you, it took my breath away. Immediately. There before us, perched on—no, in—the water, flapping its wings in a valiant attempt to get airborne, was a bird. An oil-soaked, blackened, incapacitated bird, who could not fly because its wings were covered, DRIPPING with oil.

  “That’s a brown pelican,” said Luke.

  “He must have been diving near the spill,” I replied. “He has so much oil on him!”

  The pelican strained to extend his broad brown wings again and feebly flapped them but to no avail. He was sinking deeper.

  “Oh my God, he’s going to drown,” Luke said.

  “We have to save him!” I cried.

  Without missing a beat, Luke and I launched into emergency mode.

  “I’ll call Officer Meeks!”

  “I’ll try to grab him!”

  I sprinted over to our other teammates and yelled, “Teddy Mac! Run and get Officer Meeks! Tell him to come quick! We found a bird!”

  “A Bird? OMG!” Teddy Mac took off running back toward headquarters, and I careened back to the marsh to find that Luke had waded into the water and was trying to pick up the bird with his hands. It was so not working.

  “Luke, we’re not supposed to touch them!” The pelican lunged at Luke with his long, formidable beak. “And you’re making him more anxious!”

  “But he’s going to drown!” It certainly looked that way. The poor thing could barely keep itself afloat.

  “I know, but there’s got to be a better way.” I scanned the area. “How about that?” I pointed at a plank on the small bluff above the marsh. It was about one foot wide and ten feet long, probably something that had come off somebody’s fishing shack or pier during one of last year’s hurricanes. “Maybe we try to get it underneath him and get him to walk onto it?”

  “Good idea.” Together we dragged the board over and floated it out into the water. That was the easy part. The hard part was trying to maneuver it underwater and under the bird. We had no control from ten feet away and the resistance created by the water made it almost impossible to lever the board with any sort of direction or power.

  “We need more traction,” I said.

  Luke waded slowly back into the water, careful not to upset the bird. He stopped at about the middle of the plank, and from there guided it under the bird’s feet. “Come on, boy, we have a little life raft for you here. Hop on,” he said.

  I held fast to my end of the plank, trying not to let it make any sudden motions or splashes. “Just find your feet, Peli, just put your feet down.”

  “You don’t have to struggle so much.”

  “We’re here. We got you.”

  Luke and I both held our breath and then, miraculously, the pelican felt the board under its feet. Stopped flapping. Took a few heavy steps forward before taking a well-deserved rest. We sighed in relief. Without saying a word, Luke and I worked together to draw the plank onto the sand. When the bird-end of the board made it to land, Luke and I gently laid it to rest and stared at the oil-soaked creature.

  “Ack!” it cried, glaring plaintively at us.

  “Ack is right,” I said back. I had to turn away from the sight. This helpless, unlucky animal. The victim of such unjust circumstances far beyond its control. It killed me.

  Luke shook his head in anger. “This makes me so mad. It’s just not right, Jane. It’s just not right.”

  I was about to reply, but then Teddy Mac showed up with Officer Meeks, who was carrying a cage. Right behind him came everybody else: Team In-Crowd, Team Redheaded Stepchildren, our Facebook and Twitter recruits. We quickly explained what happened, then Luke stalked off, obviously furious.

  I wanted to ask him what exactly wasn’t right: the bird, the oil, or me?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Wait, y’all, there it is!”

  “It’s on, everybody!”

  “Y’all, come watch this!”

  It was a few hours and a fe
w beers later, and the fund-raiser had morphed into a party and relocated to Lancer’s family’s bay house. We all rushed to gather round the TV in the family room to watch CNN and see Luke talk about rescuing the bird.

  “Woo-hoo! Looking good on the TV, Church-Vegas!”

  “Check it out! Reverend Luke on the national news!”

  The rest of the day had turned out to be crazy and not just because Luke totally walked away from me after what I thought was a pretty intense bonding experience. As Mallory repeated every time she opened her mouth, it was a day that would go down in Magnolia Maid history. After Officer Meeks contained the pelican in the cage and took it off to the Bird Sanctuary for cleanup, we all returned to the task at hand, finishing garbage patrol.

  Both teams were pretty much neck and neck, and by the time each group got to their last segment, the situation was hectic. Everybody rushed around and ran into each other trying to get every last piece of trash so that we could race for the finish line. Teddy Mac and I fought to pick up the same Coke can. Zara and Luke and Brandi Lyn and JoeJoe went bonkers on a stack of paper plates someone had just dropped there.

  “Get it! Get it!”

  We thought we were done when someone yelled, “There’s one more plastic bag!”

  “Where?”

  “Over there!”

  Luke grabbed it and we took off for the midpoint where Mr. Walter had set up shop so that he could be the judge. At that same moment, Ashley and her team were running for it. Racing, running, pummeling. It was so, so close….

  “Slide!” cried Luke.

  We dove into the sand, headfirst toward the finish line…

  … and beat Team In-Crowd by an inch!

  The Redheaded Stepchildren went wild.

  So did Mr. Walter. After we counted up all the pre-event donations we got from individuals and corporations, the cash in the beach bucket, and the pledges that came through Twitter and Facebook, the final tally on the donations was well over fifteen thousand dollars. It was more than any Court had ever raised in a single day in the history of the organization! We had made enough to donate a big portion of our funds to the Alabama Bay Watch to assist with further cleanup and pay for travel to the Rose Bowl, to New York, to Disney World for Easter. Plus, we all agreed that it felt good to make a difference. The thing that made Mr. Walter’s lid flip with excitement, though, was that we had made the news. And not just the local with Maven Rice. It turned out that a CNN correspondent had been in the area during the bird rescue, and had interviewed us for the story. Since this was the first oil-soaked bird found in Alabama, it was a big deal.

  Later, I overheard Mr. Walter call the president of the chamber of commerce and brag. “Billy, we got us some good national PR today, we sure did! You should a seen these girls out there. Best belles we’ve ever had!”

  To celebrate our massive accomplishments, Lancer had invited everyone over to his parents’ unchaperoned bay house. Everybody went, even Brandi Lyn, JoeJoe, and their crowd. Apparently, cleaning the beach together had been a great equalizer. There was one exception—Teddy Mac. He excused himself, claiming Lacey Wilkes had called and begged him to swing by the pharmacy on his way home to pick up her anxiety meds because she was getting a case of the melancholies.

  Anyway, we all agreed that instead of making good on the bet with Picklefish Pizza, we would stop at the Piggly Wiggly and stock up on burgers and hot dogs and beer. We had been drinking, eating, and making merry ever since, waiting for the piece to air on CNN.

  Now on the television, Officer Meeks was talking about how the brown pelican must have dived into an oil slick that was now only two miles off the Bienville Beach coastline. “It’s a real shame, too,” he said. “The brown pelican had just gotten off the endangered list when the spill happened. I’m sure he’ll be back on it any day now.”

  Hearing that dark reality brought the mood crashing down. Saddened, I raised my glass. “To Peli,” I said. “To surviving your cleaning and making it back into the wild.”

  Bottles and glasses clinked all around me. “To Peli!” “To survival!” “To the wild!”

  “Oh, here comes Jane!” Mallory yelled.

  I covered my face in mock horror. “Ugh. I hate seeing myself on-screen.” We watched as I muddled through an explanation of what the Magnolia Maids were and what we had been doing down there that day.

  Ashley sighed. “Don’t worry, Jane. You’ll get better at speaking in public. Maybe you should take some classes.” The funny thing is, I think she was actually being sincere for a change.

  As soon as the newscast was over, Mallory leapt to her feet. “Y’all, we haven’t been Maids for a month and we’re already on national TV! Nobody’s ever done that!” Mallory raised her beer bottle. “To the most successful day ever in the history of the Magnolia Maids!”

  “Hear, hear!”

  “To Alabama’s best belles!”

  “Bienville’s finest!”

  Everyone toasted and with that, the party officially kicked into rager gear. Jules whipped out his MacBook and went DJ ninja on the joint, pumping everything from Gnarls Barkley to Franz Ferdinand through the house. Ashley and Mallory organized a beer pong game around the coffee table. Caroline repaired to the loft to read a trashy Danielle Steele novel. Brandi Lyn, jacked up on a billion Diet Cokes, turned out to be quite the dart player and challenged anyone who came within five feet of her to a game. JoeJoe had had himself a couple of beers and joined forces with the Lancer posse to design a MoonPie-eating contest that wasn’t just about how many you could eat, but how many could you eat before you puked. Guys are so creative when they’re drunk.

  Meanwhile, I stuck close to Zara all night and watched the boys flock around her like bees to a flower. They peppered her with a billion questions: Where was she from? How did she like Bienville? Had she ever been to Mardi Gras? She played along, answering their questions between bouts of texting with someone not there.

  Normally, I would have been curious about those texts, and it might have looked like I was listening to Bienville boys ask Zara about her football-playing cousins, but really I was lost in thought.

  Luke and I trying to save that poor pelican, well, it had felt like old times. Like the time we rescued a bag of kittens that had been tossed in a ditch near the park. Or the time we picked Luke’s little sister up off the sidewalk after she took a rough tumble off her bike and landed on some broken glass and needed stitches.

  It kind of felt like a bonding experience, a homecoming of sorts, yet here we were back to avoiding each other. Or at least pretending to. In reality, I was watching his every move. Who he was talking to. What he was doing. How many beers he drank (three). I started wondering why exactly Luke seemed so angry with me. I just couldn’t figure it out. I mean, it had been five years, and the last time we had seen each other wasn’t exactly a good time. So I could understand discomfort, awkwardness. But anger?

  I contemplated this as I sucked down my frozen margarita with a straw, managing not to get freezer head. Then I made my decision. There was only one way to find out. “So help me God.”

  I didn’t realize I had said it out loud until I noticed Zara gave me a strange look.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sure, no. Send in reinforcements if I’m not back in ten.” I set off for the porch, where I knew Luke was currently playing Ping-Pong with his old friend Henry. I could feel Zara’s concerned eyes follow me every inch of the way.

  Out on the porch, the Henry/Luke Ping-Pong match was in full swing. I sidled up to the table and spooked Luke in the middle of a volley.

  “Jesus, Jane! What is up with you?”

  I raced Henry to the ball, grabbing it before he could. “Beat it. Luke and I need to talk.”

  Henry glanced at Luke; Luke nodded. “Catch you later.”

  The second Henry was gone, I whirled on Luke. “So you knew I was in town, but you didn’t think about swinging by the house?”

  “And say wha
t? How come you never returned any of my phone calls?”

  “For starters.”

  “That’s all water under the bridge, Jane. History.”

  “Oh, really? Then what was that stalker drive-by last week?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You, your daddy’s Mercedes, cruising a whopping negative five miles per hour down my street as you stared up at my bedroom?”

  “Must have been somebody else.”

  I jerked my head out toward the yard, where his dad’s Mercedes was parked. “So someone must have stolen your car then, because, swear on a stack of King James Bibles, I saw it coming down my street.”

  He sighed. “Fine, Jane, maybe you’re right. I did drive by, and I probably will again because it’s on the way to places I go.” He thought for a minute. “And, for your information, it just so happens that I dropped something in the floorboard. I had to slow down to pick it up.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “What did you drop?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “My iPod.”

  “Your iPod?”

  “And, anyway, what’s up with coming to my church?”

  “It was a Magnolia Maid thing,” I lied.

  We stood glaring at each other eye to eye, except we weren’t exactly. When last we had stood face-to-face, we were the same height. Now, here he was, towering a foot above me. And flaring his nostrils.

  “I just don’t understand,” I said. “Why are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad about anything.”

  “Yes you are. Why?”

  He looked out to sea. Thought for a second. Finally turned back to me. “Okay. Here goes. After that day, after your father went ballistic, I felt so bad about your getting in trouble. I tried to get in touch with you. Your father, your grandmother, they made it real clear that you didn’t want to see me anymore. You would rather go to boarding school than talk to me, and every holiday you were back in town you were ‘too busy’ to see me. So now you’re back for good and you want to act like everything’s normal and no problemo here? Sorry. No can do.”