by Edith Pattou
Yes. More than me. Which is okay.
Emma saying
it’s okay that
anyone
is more
anything
than her,
well, that was
a moment
to freeze
in time.
Thanks, I said again.
Emma settled
onto her back,
looking up
at the sky.
Oh, and I wouldn’t give up on the whole marriage thing, she said. By the time you’re ready, I’m thinking maybe it won’t matter so much anymore who you marry, long as you love ’em.
And then
she suddenly
jumped up,
off the
hammock,
laughing,
and pulled
me off, too.
C’mon, Miss Bridezilla, let’s go see if we can find some batteries and get that transistor radio to work.
I followed
her in,
smiling at
the crisscross
pattern
of the wet
hammock
on the back
of her
purple gown.
The memory
of that night
makes me
smile.
And
I think
about
how much
I love
my big sister
and her
uncanny
way of
surprising me.
Out-of-the-
blue stuff,
sometimes
bad,
but sometimes
very, very
good.
Sunday, August 29, 12:15 a.m.
MAXIE
We’re driving around aimlessly,
eating fries,
drinking milk shakes.
How about we go to that new 3-D slasher movie, Brendan says. Body parts flying at you and shit.
Cool! says Emma.
Ew, giggles Chloe.
I’m broke, says Felix.
I don’t say anything.
Emma turns around
and stares
at me.
Then leans her head back
and laughs.
Holy crap, Maxie, she says loudly, I just remembered how freaking terrified you were of scary movies. Remember that sleepover in 4th grade when you hid in the closet and wouldn’t come out and your mom had to come pick you up?
Like I could forget.
But, hey, thanks, Emma,
for the reminder.
Yeah, I’ve never been big on blood and guts, I say, trying to sound like I think it’s all one big joke. Rules out med school anyway.
Lame, I know.
But Anil laughs.
Something scary sounds good, says Emma.
Brendan pops open another
MoonBuzz.
Scaring Emma sounds like my kind of challenge, he says.
Great, I think,
remembering with a shudder
what’s sitting in
the glove
compartment.
BRENDAN
What about you, Bren? Emma says. Is there anything you’re scared of?
And guess what’s the first thing
that comes into my head.
My dad. Which is bullshit,
because I’m not. Not really.
He hasn’t hit me since I
started working out.
Though I can’t lie, his words sometimes
do a pretty good job.
But I start talking about a double black diamond
ski run I made once in Colorado.
It was awesome.
Closest I came to dying.
Where was it? asks Emma’s friend Maxie.
Mary Jane Mountain, I start saying, up in Winter—
That’s where I learned to ski, in Winter Park! she interrupts, her face all lit up. I loved it there.
I loved it there, too, I say, remembering. Felt like I was on the top of the fucking world. Never felt so free . . .
And I did, too. Haven’t felt
that way since.
It was the next day, on the
same run, that I broke my leg.
Dad was pissed as hell.
But it was so worth it.
Bren? asks Emma.
Sorry, just remembering that wipeout. Epic. Anyway, it’s you we want to scare, right?
Right. She grins back at me.
What about a little game of chicken on the railroad tracks? I say.
Not funny, she says, losing the grin.
She’s still pissed about what happened
earlier this summer.
I guess I did push it
a little far.
Okay, okay. I’m sure I can come up with something better, I say.
MAXIE
For just a second there,
I found myself actually
liking Brendan.
When he was talking about skiing
Mary Jane.
But now I keep my eyes
straight ahead,
while he jokes about ways to
scare Emma.
Trying not to think about
that gun
and why he would have it in his
glove compartment.
I know. Let’s go ghosting, Chloe suddenly pipes up from the backseat.
There’s a brief silence.
Then Brendan turns around
to look at her.
That’s so hyphy of you, Chloe, he says, with a smirk.
What’s hyphy? asks Anil.
Nothing, says Emma. Just Brendan showing how gangsta he is.
Yeah, let’s go ghostridin’ the whip, Brendan says.
His smirk has turned into a laugh,
but now I can tell
that at least this time
he’s laughing at himself,
a white-bread lacrosse player
pretending to be
California hip-hop.
And what’s that? asks Anil.
Don’t encourage him, says Emma.
Think we need a little demonstration, says Brendan.
Brendan, don’t you dare . . . , says Emma.
Ignoring her,
he slows the car down.
So you put the car in drive, Brendan says, and then you do this . . .
And he opens his door,
and suddenly jumps out of
the moving car,
doing these
herky-jerky dance moves
next to the car as it
rolls forward.
Get the hell back in the car, shouts Emma.
She leans over, grabbing
the steering wheel.
He ignores her
and then
jumps up
on the hood.
Shit, says Emma, moving sideways into the driver’s seat.
She steps on the brake slowly
so Brendan won’t be
thrown off,
but he slides backward anyway,
almost to the end of the hood.
But then he wriggles back up,
smooshing his face up
against the windshield
with a maniacal
grin.
Stop it, Bren, Emma yells, opening the car door wide.
And he slides off the hood
and jumps back
in the car,
shoving Emma into the
passenger seat.
You’re such a dick, she says, pushing back.
Brendan just laughs.
You guys, I meant ghosting, as in looking for ghosts, calls Chloe from the backseat.
So she wasn’t talking about the
ghosting I remember
from when I was a little girl.
the one with
Toots
ie Rolls
and running away,
giggling.
Like in a cemetery or something, Chloe adds, putting on some fresh lip gloss.
Emma twists around
with a big
smile.
Great idea! That’s the kind of scary shit I love.
I know you do, says Chloe.
Emma glances at me
and even though I’m trying
to keep my face
blank,
I’m sure she can read me.
Like everybody
always
can.
Unless it’s too scary for you, Maxie, Emma says.
It’s cool, I say, long as there aren’t any flying body parts.
Anil laughs again.
Either he’s an easy laugh,
or he’s nervous,
like I’m nervous.
Where could we go? Emma says. The cemetery on Elm, maybe.
Has anyone here ever seen a ghost? asks Chloe.
Wait, I know! says Emma. What about that house way up on the north side, near the big cemetery, the one on McKinley Road?
No one says
anything.
Come on, you know, says Emma, impatient. Kids call it the “ghost house” because it’s all run-down and overgrown.
Oh yeah, says Chloe.
Perfect, says Brendan.
And he turns the car around.
ANIL
1. When Chloe said ghosting,
first thing I thought about
was when you get a double image
on a TV screen
because of distortion
or multipath image signal.
That’s how much of a nerd I am.
Not much of a believer in
paranormal stuff.
But I am a believer in karma.
And the moment Brendan
jumped out of the car
and did that crazy dance
I got a bad feeling.
Bad karma.
FAITH
I’m in my
bedroom,
reading.
Polly is
restless.
Wants to
go out.
Wants to
go in.
Mom and
Dad are
in the
kitchen.
I can
hear them.
Fighting.
Voices loud,
then louder.
I creep
out to
the top
of the stairs,
and perch
there,
quiet and
still, listening.
You’re too soft, Mom says.
You’re too rigid, Dad says.
Emma runs this house.
Let her have her fun.
We’re the parents.
They’re only young once.
Suddenly
quiet.
Then,
a sob in
Mom’s voice.
If I have to, I’ll leave. I’ll take the girls and leave.
A door
slams.
ANIL
1. Chloe lays her hand on my belt buckle,
starts fiddling, like she wants to
unbuckle it.
I brush her hand away.
She giggles.
And it’s almost like one of those
enchantment tales.
The fairy dust falls away
from your eyes
and you see the frog as a prince,
or prince as a frog.
In this case, princess.
Chloe Carney,
just as beautiful as she was
three hours ago,
her hair the same gleaming honey color,
her smile sweet,
her blue eyes just as bright.
But something between us
has evaporated.
like that crystal-growing science experiment
I did as a kid.
Except what was
left behind then
was something beautiful—
translucent, multifaceted crystals.
What’s left behind here isn’t
beautiful or ugly.
It’s just gone.
And not because
I’m seeing her drunk,
or because of her giggles.
And it’s not even gone on account of
that smile of Maxie’s.
(At least I don’t think so.)
I just know I don’t belong here,
with Chloe, with her friends.
2. The problem is,
I don’t want to make her sad,
disappoint her.
Still,
we don’t fit anymore,
we probably never did.
And I think she knows it, too.
MAXIE
Brendan takes a turn too fast.
My head jerks
off the headrest.
Jesus, Bren, says Emma.
Felix’s eyes blink open.
Could he actually have been
asleep?
He closes them again.
I wish I were anywhere
but here.
From behind me
I can hear Chloe giggling,
then Anil’s voice,
soft,
like he’s deliberately trying
not to be overheard.
Well, sor-ry, comes Chloe’s voice, loud and annoying.
She leans forward,
tapping my shoulder.
Any more MoonBuzz?
Obedient,
I open
the cooler.
Me, too, says Emma.
I hand them both a colorful can,
looking down at my
ruined shirt.
Why can’t I just say
I want to go home?
Is it because deep down
I actually care
what these girls think of me?
Especially Emma?
Like it would be some kind of
social suicide
to break up the party?
Pathetic.
I wasn’t like that in Colorado.
It’s being back here,
the new/old thing.
