But as she got older, she noticed that other kids lost their imaginary friends and their dolls. They stopped talking to them. Stopped referring to them. Played only with other friends. Real, physical friends. Justine watched all of the imaginary friends disappear. But Monica had never left her. Justine didn’t talk to anyone about her. Especially not Em or Dr. Morton. But Monica stayed with her, and when she was alone, Justine could talk to her.
Monica was smaller than Justine. Frail. Always a little hungry and cold. Justine was happy that she had a fire there to help to keep Monica warm. She didn’t have any food; but she never did. How many times had Christian gotten after her for not having anything to eat?
“You have to take care of yourself, Justine,” he upbraided. “You can’t trust anyone else to do it.”
“I know that. But I didn’t bring anything … I just thought I’d be home for supper.”
“How come you can set up camp in an abandoned house,” Christian questioned, “but you never bring anything along to make it more comfortable? If you’re going to stay overnight somewhere else, wouldn’t it make sense to bring blankets or extra clothes? Something to eat? Even if it is just beef jerky, wouldn’t you at least have something?” He shook his head. “Bring a bottle of water, and some trail mix, and one of those foil emergency blankets? If you’re going to camp out, do it right!”
Justine shook her head.
“He didn’t understand,” she told Monica with a bit of a laugh. “He didn’t understand that it’s against the rules. It isn’t a camp-out … It’s … I don’t know …” she searched for the right word, the right concept. “It isn’t camping, or moving in, or even squatting. It’s … like a vigil.”
Monica understood. Monica had been to many vigils with Justine. Monica was the only one who could understand Justine’s need to be there.
There was a loud crack from a knot of wood popping in the fire. It made Justine jump and look around wildly. She came back to herself, back to reality. The fire was getting lower, and the sky darker. She couldn’t stay there any longer, or she was going to end up being caught again. And Justine had a pretty good idea that the police wouldn’t be too happy about picking her up there a second time.
Justine poked at the fire for a moment, moving everything in to the center of the fire pit, so that a spark wouldn’t escape and light the yard or house on fire. She got up slowly, looking at Monica’s stump and smiling an invitation.
“Are you coming?” she questioned softly.
Monica liked this house. Justine thought that she would probably stay there until Justine came back again, or until she found another house.
Em had decided on some weekend shopping. Justine folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes at Em. She hated shopping. She hated the frenetic crowds at the mall. She hated new clothes.
“Why do I have to get more clothes?” she demanded.
“Because the ones you’ve got are getting ratty. You need something newer and more stylish.”
“I don’t do stylish,” Justine said pointedly.
Em flashed her a look that said ‘obviously not,’ but didn’t put it into words. Justine refused to look through the clothes in the rack in front of her.
“I don’t like these.”
They looked plastic, fake. They didn’t look comfortable. They wouldn’t feel good. They wouldn’t look right.
“Then find another rack, and show me what you like. Come on. It’s not torture. Most girls like to go shopping.”
“I’m not most girls,” Justine said bullishly, not moving to look at another rack. “I don’t like the clothes here.”
“Then where do you want to go?” Em demanded, frustrated. “Where do you want us to go to find clothes that you actually like?”
“Thrift store,” Justine said immediately.
“The thrift store,” Em repeated. “You want clothes that someone else has already worn? You can find nice stuff here. Come on, look around.”
“I like the thrift store,” Justine said. “This stuff is all the same. And it’s all the same as everybody else is wearing. I’m not one of those stupid style clones. I like to find things that are different. Not the kind of stuff that you like.”
Em felt the slight and her cheeks flushed pink.
“What’s wrong with what I like?”
“I don’t like it,” Justine said flatly.
“Because you don’t like the way that it looks, or just because you refuse to like anything that I do?”
Justine smirked and didn’t answer. Em had a point. Em indicated another rack of clothes.
“Go look at those skirts,” she ordered.
Justine opened her mouth to object, but a loud, fat, brightly dressed woman suddenly descended upon them.
“Em! Oh, Emily dear, it has been too long! How are you doing?”
Em looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Justine laughed at her clear discomfort. But the loud woman was oblivious to Em’s reaction. She prattled on, talking like they were best friends catching up at the end of a long summer vacation.
“I’m so sorry,” Em was saying, “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. I must have written your number down wrong when we talked last time, because I haven’t been able to reach you.”
The fat woman took this all in stride, writing her number and her e-mail address and various instant messaging names for Em and pressing them into her hand. Her look when Em tried weakly to introduce Justine to her was predatory, and Justine moved quickly away to look at another rack of clothing before she could get caught up in those grasping arms. She didn’t want or need a hug. Especially not from this atrocious person. Just being in close quarters with her was too much. Justine pretended to be interested in other racks of clothing that led her further and further from the hubbub of Em’s and the woman’s delighted reunion, staying well back to avoid being drawn into the conversation. She had no interest at all in the clothing on the racks, but was determined to use any ruse necessary to stay away from the conversation. She even gathered several pieces of clothing and took them to the changing rooms, so that she would have somewhere to hide out. She was let into a changing room, and sat down on the bench inside the cubicle, examining herself in the mirror, and then leaning back and closing her eyes for a little nap. No way she was going back out there any time soon.
Justine had actually drifted off to sleep sitting there, waiting. She was awakened by a banging on the change room door.
“Miss? Are you all right in there? Do you need anything?”
Justine swooped to pick up the clothes that she had dumped on the floor.
“I’m fine. Just be another minute,” she offered.
The saleswoman walked away, grumbling to herself. Justine opened the door and when the woman turned to face her, pushed all of the clothing into her hands.
“These didn’t work out,” she explained. “They’ll need to be re-racked.”
Justine walked quickly away before the salesperson could complain about it. She looked around for Em. She appeared to just be trying to say good-bye to the old friend.
“It’s been so nice to talk to you,” she said. “I’ll be sure to keep in touch. It looks like my daughter is ready to go. She has a game she has to get to, so we’ll have to be on our way,” Em said, patting her on the arm and heading toward Justine. She raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes at Justine as they cleared out of the department store, leaving the enthusiastic woman behind. Em laughed, blowing out a long sigh and shaking her head.
“Oh my goodness! What a nightmare. Do you know how long I have been avoiding that woman?” she chuckled, wiping at her eyes.
Justine pursed her lips.
“So you lied to her.”
“Yes,” Em agreed, “I did. And I’d do it again. Some people just can’t take a hint!”
“How is she supposed to get the hint when you lie to her?” Justine questioned. “Shouldn’t you tell her the truth, if you
want her to understand you don’t want to see her?”
It didn’t make any sense.
“Sometimes we shade the truth to spare others’ feelings,” Em said, reaching out to touch Justine soothingly on the arm. “I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her that I don’t want anything to do with her. That would be cruel.”
“So it’s okay to lie.”
“Sometimes you need to … shade the truth,” Em said, with a smile.
“So lie. It’s okay to lie, if you don’t want to tell someone the truth.”
“Well, no, Justine. It’s not okay to lie, but sometimes you need to be careful what you say. You need to not say something, or to … shade the truth a little bit in one direction.”
Justine looked at her steadily. Em shrugged, smiling weakly.
“You understand,” she coaxed.
Justine shook her head.
“And you can lie to me?” she questioned.
“I don’t lie to you. I’d never lie to you,” Em said earnestly, shaking her head.
“You do,” Justine accused her, her face getting hot and flushed. “You tell me not to lie, and then you lie to me.”
“No, I don’t lie to you. That’s not the same. Telling someone you’ll call them when you aren’t really planning to, that’s not the same as …”
“As saying I’m your daughter when I’m not?” Justine demanded, her voice rising. “Telling everybody that I’m crazy and I’m a liar, when you’re the one lying to everyone?”
“Shh,” Em made a quieting motion with her hands. “You’re making a scene, Justine. I don’t know what you’re getting so upset about all of the sudden. I love you and you are my daughter.” She tried to make a joke of it. “Do you think I would have put up with all of this crap if you weren’t my daughter? If you weren’t my daughter, I’d just give you back.”
Justine didn’t think it was funny. She shook her head in disgust.
“I’m glad I’m not really your daughter,” she snapped.
Em tried to take her arm, to reassure her. Justine pushed her away.
“I’m out of here,” she said, her throat choked with rage.
“Don’t—”
“Leave me alone,” Justine shouted. “Just leave me alone. Stay away from me.”
She stormed off, letting the anger consume her.
Justine fled the department store and marched out into the mall. She felt like her face was burning up, and knew it must be flaming red. If she’d been allowed to bring her board with her, she would have immediately left and gone for a long, fast skate. But Em had refused to allow her to bring it to the mall, saying that it would be in the way while they were shopping. Now Justine had nowhere to go. Walking home to get her board would take a good hour, even at a brisk pace. There was nowhere else to go nearby. Some places that she might go if she had her board, but if she couldn’t skate … there was nothing else interesting to do.
Justine walked around for a while, until the rage finally started to dissipate. Her thoughts started to slow down, her body started to relax. She started to get distracted by the things that were going on around her, instead of being locked into the confrontation with Em. Justine wasn’t sure why it had come to a head today. She’d seen Em lie before. She knew Em was a liar. But seeing her lying so boldly, without any conscience or regret, had triggered something inside of Justine. She felt the betrayal keenly. All of the years that Em had spent lying to her, about big things and small. Trying to control her, to keep her acquiescent, by lying to her.
Justine watched the water fountains outside of the food court. The water danced to the music and the lights beneath them changed color with the beat or mood of the music. She’d seen them a hundred times before and still felt captivated by them. She sat on the edge of one of the pools and trailed her fingers in the cool water. She gathered up a handful of coins from the water, and went into the food court to buy a coffee. She put the coins in her pocket to dry them and make it less obvious that she had swiped them from the fountain. While she waited for her coffee, she looked around the food fair casually.
There were a couple of security guards eating cinnamon buns and drinking coffee at the long counter that ran the length of the food court with stools in front of it, and she walked over to them, picking the empty stool next to them.
“Mind if I join you?” she questioned with a big smile.
They looked at her, and both smiled back and nodded.
“Have a seat,” the older one invited.
Justine sat up on the stool and took a sip of her coffee.
“Taking a coffee break?” she questioned flirtatiously, batting her eyes at them.
“Yes,” the younger one answered with a laugh. “How about you? Where are you taking a coffee break from?”
Justine shrugged.
“From the parental unit,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And if you had something a little bit stronger than coffee, I wouldn’t turn that down!”
The young officer pushed his cinnamon bun toward her.
“Have you tried these?” he questioned. “They should be a controlled substance!”
Justine used her fingers to tear a piece of the confection off and ate it delicately.
“Mmm,” she approved. “Just what I need. You sure you’re authorized to distribute it?”
He smiled.
“Just don’t tell anybody,” he said in a low voice.
Justine laughed. She helped herself to another bite.
“So what’s your name?” he questioned. “I’m Manning, and this is Philpot.”
“Justine. Don’t you guys have first names?”
They exchanged glances. Manning looked back at Justine.
“Danny,” he said, “and this is Terry.”
“Hey,” Justine greeted. She put her hand warmly over his, and he didn’t pull away. “So … you been working here long?”
“A few months,” Danny said. “I’m hoping to get a job as a real cop, and I thought this would be a good starting point. Something for the resume, you know.”
Justine nodded.
“Sure,” she agreed, “that’s sounds like a good idea.”
“I’ve been here for a couple of years,” Terry Philpot offered. “It’s an okay job. You don’t actually see a lot of security guards becoming cops, though,” he said, aiming the comment at Danny. “Generally the guys who work here aren’t that stable. Come and go in a few months, can’t actually make the grade as real cops.”
Danny brushed the comment away with a wave of his hand. He took a sip of his coffee.
“How about you,” he questioned Justine. “You work in the mall?”
“I don’t have a job,” Justine said. “I’m just a bum.”
They both laughed. Danny moved his hand to curl around Justine’s, rubbing the fingers gently.
“You’re the prettiest bum I’ve ever seen,” he observed.
Justine batted her eyes at him, her face getting warm.
“Justine!”
Justine startled at Em’s abrasive voice. They looked around, and Danny withdrew his hand, busying himself with the cinnamon bun.
“Your parental unit?” he suggested out the corner of his mouth.
Justine nodded, pressing her lips together grimly as she watched Em’s approach.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Em snapped. “I don’t appreciate you taking off like that.”
Justine shrugged.
“I needed to take a break,” she said. “Catch my breath. Control my temper. You know, like you tell me to do.”
“I don’t tell you to take off like that. It’s irresponsible. What am I supposed to do, leave without you? Have you paged? Report you as a runaway? You’re a bit old for a missing child page, don’t you think?”
Justine felt her face redden further. She tilted her head forward, letting her hair shade her face from view.
“I didn’t run away. And you found me. So wh
at’s the problem?”
“I’ve been looking for you for nearly an hour! Do you know how frustrating that is? Come on. Time to go home!”
Justine didn’t move.
“Move, Justine. Thank you officers for looking after her,” Em said sweetly to the two security guards. “I’m glad to know that she was safe with you.”
Justine gave Em a horrified look.
“Em,” she growled in embarrassment.
Em raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Well, we’ll see you around,” Danny said lightly. “Nice talking to you.”
Justine slid off of the stool, shaking her head. She walked through the mall and out to the parking lot with Em, her insides writhing with fury. That was the last time she was going anywhere with Em without her board. The last time that she got trapped somewhere she couldn’t ride out of, and treated like a child. She wasn’t going to let it happen again.
CHAPTER 6
UNABLE TO SLEEP, JUSTINE lay in bed, giving in to memories of that last day with Christian. It had been a beautiful day, sun shining, mild weather, two kids out to have a good time on a lazy summer day. Christian was in a high mood, hamming it up in an effort to cheer up Justine, who was definitely not in a good mood.
“Come on, Just! How can you not be having a good day today?” he demanded.
Justine shrugged.
“It’s just … Em. I can’t stand how … how phony she is. She’s always pretending, acting nice and sweet and being the perfect June Cleaver mom, when inside, she’s …”
Justine sputtered, unable to find the words. She tried grinding the bench that they had waxed, and hit it at the wrong angle. She recovered and made a big loop back to watch Christian try it.
“She’s what?” Christian prompted.
Stand Alone Page 9
