Marianne

by Elizabeth Hammer

  Marianne grabbed her purse and climbed out through the open door. She couldn’t decide if she was irritated or thankful for the interruption. Patrick had seemed very close to kissing her. She wasn’t sure if he was, though, because no boy had ever kissed her before. Then she remembered that she probably had puke-mouth and became extremely thankful.

  Danielle shut the door behind Marianne and bit her knuckle. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you guys were getting it on in there.”

  Marianne hit her hard in the ribs. “We were not,” she whispered. She heard Patrick’s door close. “Does my mom still have Monkey?” she said louder.

  “Yeah.” Danielle looked at Patrick in abject fear as he walked over. “I was going to see if you guys could get him for me. I didn’t want to get James and Sophie sick or anything...” She trailed off into silence.

  “Of course,” said Patrick. “Do you need the crib, too?”

  Danielle shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Okay,” he said. He winked at his sister and she relaxed immediately. “Need me to go to the store, or anything? I think we’re out of milk.”

  Danielle nodded. “That’d be great.”

  Patrick slid his hand down Marianne’s arm and took her hand. “Ready?”

  Marianne nodded, but still couldn’t look at his face. They trudged across the lawn to her house. Marianne had to walk on her toes so that her heels wouldn’t sink into the freshly watered grass.

  “Patrick,” whined Danielle from her driveway. “Will you pick up a pizza, too? I’m starving!”

  He laughed quietly and shouted, “No problem!”

  “No olives,” she yelled back, as Marianne opened the front door.

  Dad was sitting on the couch watching a game show, and Mom was on the floor with the baby. They had out all the pots and pans and were busy banging on them with spoons and whisks. Marianne stopped just inside the living room. “We’re back.”

  “Hi, honey,” said Mom. “Did you have fun?”

  She nodded. Patrick stayed behind Marianne, which was just fine with her. He wouldn’t be able to read the nervousness on her face that way.

  “Just in time,” said Dad, not looking away from the TV. “Pop quiz, Mary.” Dad loved to quiz people when he was watching game shows.

  “No thanks,” she said.

  “Shakespeare.” He didn’t care whether she wanted to play or not. “Which character utters these famous last words, ‘Thus with a kiss I die?’”

  A kissing question? Really? Marianne scowled at Dad. “As if I...”

  “Romeo,” Patrick whispered in her ear.

  Marianne jumped at the nearness of his voice. “Hamlet,” she blurted out.

  Dad still didn’t look at her. “Nope. You lose. Again.”

  Patrick pinched her arm, and she turned around. “I gave you the answer,” he whispered.

  “I know. But if I start winning, he’ll make me play all the time.”

  “I heard that,” said Dad.

  Patrick smiled at Dad and then turned to Mom. “Danielle wants me to bring Monkey home now.”

  Monkey must have been desperate to get home because he let Patrick pick him up. Marianne walked them to the door. Patrick carried the baby down the steps, but she stayed on the porch.

  Marianne waved at him and said, “Good night,” just as he turned around to face her. Gah. Just half a second earlier, and Good night wouldn’t have sounded so much like Get out. Patrick had looked like he wanted to chat more, but her bad timing had shut him down. Marianne scratched her eyebrow in frustration. She wanted to reassure him, but she was too flustered to think how to do it.

  He laughed quietly and touched her on the nose. “You are so cute.” He turned and started walking home. “See you later, Marianne.”

  She was such an idiot.

  13

  Slime-Hearted

  Marianne didn’t get out of bed until ten-thirty the next morning. She didn’t have school, and Patrick was at work, so why bother?

  After doing absolutely nothing for most of the morning, Marianne was lying on the floor of the living room watching Project Runway reruns when she heard the rumble of the trash truck. Crap. She jumped up and ran outside in her pajamas. Crap. Dad was going to beat her for forgetting to put the trash cans out again.

  She ran flat out down the driveway and flagged down the driver as he passed her house. The driver stopped the truck with an almighty screech and leaned out the window. “Forgot again?”

  “Sorry,” yelled Marianne. Her not-so-clean jammies were quite humiliating, especially at this time of day, but at least she’d thought to put on a bra this morning. “Can you wait?”

  “Just put it across the street. I’ll get it on my way back.”

  The giant truck hissed and took off again. Marianne booked it up the lawn toward the side of the house and screamed when she crunched a snail under her bare foot. “Fricker!” She spun around wildly, wiping the bottom of her foot on the grass. “Get off!” The wet, crunchy mess was clinging to her insole, and she had to scrape it off on a brick.

  She barely made it across the street with the trash barrel in time for the truck. She waited, panting, for the giant robot arm to empty it, and then wheeled it back home. She was so not meant for hard labor.

  She grabbed the handle of the recycle barrel and was about to move it to the curb for the next truck when she spotted an envelope wedged in the frame of her bedroom window. She yanked it out and opened it.

  Marianne ran next door, clutching the letter, and busted in without knocking. “Danielle!”

  “I’m in my room!”

  Marianne ran through the house, dodged a baby in the hallway, and collapsed on Danielle’s bed, laughing hysterically. She held the note out to her.

  Danielle shoved the laundry she was folding out of the way and knelt up on her bed. “What is it?” She grabbed the note from Marianne and read. “‘I just wanted to thank you for kicking me out of your life yesterday...’ Who’s this from?”

  “The Dark Lord.”

  Danielle nodded and continued reading. “Blah, blah, blah... ‘best thing that’s ever happened to me. If I had known what a lying harlot you were—’ Whoa, girl. What did you do to him?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Keep reading, though. You didn’t get to the best part.”

  Danielle scanned the letter and inhaled sharply. She looked up at Marianne with huge eyes. “No way.”

  “Of course not.” That last part was absolutely, unequivocally untrue.

  Danielle’s eyes got all unfocused, and she made an O with her mouth. “It all makes sense, now.”

  “What makes sense?”

  The bathroom door down the hall banged open. Danielle yelled, “Hey, Patrick! Get in here.”

  “He’s here?” whispered Marianne. “No. No, don’t show him.” Marianne grabbed a pillow and put it over her lap, as if that could hide her nasty, wrinkly pajamas, smeary makeup, and slept on hair-do.

  Patrick came to the door of the bedroom. “Yeah?” He had obviously just gotten out of the shower. He was only wearing jeans—no shoes, no shirt, his hair all wet. Marianne grabbed another pillow to cover her snaily feet.

  Patrick smiled at Marianne. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Me neither,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  He smiled wider. “You didn’t know you were here?”

  Danielle reached over and snatched the pillow off Marianne’s lap. “Why are you covering up? I thought your new slut boyfriend had already seen everything.”

  Marianne glared at her and tried to take the note away, but Danielle put it behind her back. Marianne turned back to Patrick. “I meant, I didn’t know that you were here. I didn’t see your truck.”

  “I left it at the carwash to have the rugs cleaned.” He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed in front of her. “Now you won’t have to ride around in all the grease.”

  “Oh.” Marianne stared openly at the Virgin Mary tattoo cove
ring his abs. It wasn’t something a girl could look away from easily. Images of the two of them in the truck last night flashed through her brain. She’d been coming up with scenarios all day about what would have happened if Danielle hadn’t been there. She looked up from his stomach and said, “She’s pretty,” at the same time as he looked up from her pajamas and asked, “Are you playing hooky, today?”

  “Jinx,” said Patrick.

  Marianne smiled at him and bit her lip.

  Danielle coughed.

  Patrick turned to her and frowned. “Did you call me a slut, before?”

  “Nuh-uh.” Danielle held up the folded letter between two fingers. “Goth boy did.”

  Patrick held out his hand, and she gave him the paper. Some friend she was. He glanced up at Marianne as he unfolded it. “Marianne.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  He read the note out loud. “‘I just wanted to thank you for kicking me out of your life yesterday. It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If I had known what a lying harlot you were—’” He clenched his jaw and looked up at Marianne. “Did he come over again today?”

  She shook her head. “Sometime in the middle of the night, I think. He left it outside my bedroom window.”

  “Your what?” he said. It sounded more like a curse word than a question, though, so Marianne didn’t reply.

  Patrick kept reading. “‘If I had known... I never would have put so much effort into our relationship. Don’t bother calling me. I don’t want to hear your explanations. And I hope, for your sake, that your dad doesn’t catch your new slut boyfriend when he stumbles out of your room this morning.’” Patrick looked confused by the last part.

  Marianne pointed to the last sentence. “He thought you stayed the night at my house because your truck was parked outside. He doesn’t know that you live next door.”

  “Oh.” He read the note again silently. “Oh.” He snapped his head up to look at Danielle.

  “What?” Marianne asked Danielle.

  “Patrick’s truck got egged last night,” she snickered.

  “What!” Marianne jumped up off the bed. A spiteful note was one thing, but ruining a paint job was another. Patrick grabbed the back of Marianne’s pajama shirt to keep her from charging out of the room.

  “It’s okay,” said Danielle. “The dweeb doesn’t even know how to egg properly. He only hit the windows.”

  “At least he tried,” said Patrick, still seated on the bed, restraining Marianne. “That shows spirit.”

  Monkey baby started wailing from somewhere across the house. “Darn it,” Danielle growled. She got up and left the room, muttering curses.

  “Come here,” said Patrick. He pulled Marianne toward him by her pajamas until she was leaning back against the mattress just to the right of him. “Don’t be mad. In the end, it was pretty lame revenge. I needed to wash my truck, anyway.”

  Marianne was placed more forward than him, but she could still feel his nearness. “You’re not at work today,” she said.

  “It’s a slow week for jobs,” he said. “Why aren’t you in class?”

  “No school on Mondays.” Marianne picked at her fingernail polish. She was irritated that she hadn’t gotten dressed yet and worried that last night’s bobby pins were poking out of her head at odd angles.

  He was quiet. Too quiet. “What?” she asked.

  “Just thinking.”

  She turned partially toward him. “About?”

  He focused on her face and took a deep breath. “About how cute you are in pajamas.”

  Liar. Marianne gave him a half-smile. “You’re not going to maim Alvin, are you?”

  He closed his pretty brown eyes. “Thinking about it.”

  Marianne turned away again. “Nice.”

  He laughed quietly and she could feel his breath blow across her dirty hair. He let go of the back of her shirt and leaned back a little. “Marianne...”

  She turned around to face him. “Yes?”

  Patrick put his hands on his knees. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night.”

  She swallowed and played dumb. “When?”

  “In the truck,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  She shuffled back half a step. “No, you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” She absently started picking at her nail polish again. “It was fine... great...” She wasn’t going to tell him how she’d been blushing for the last eighteen hours.

  “I don’t want to move too fast for you, Marianne.” He said it clearly. Plainly.

  “Right,” she nodded. Stupid Marianne. He was putting it all out there, and she couldn’t even come up with a coherent lie. She just kept nodding.

  He looked worried. “Am I making you uncomfortable right now?”

  Marianne snorted. “No.”

  Danielle passed by the door and scowled at Patrick. “Dumbass.”

  He looked at the empty hallway. “Were you talking to me?”

  Danielle stuck her head back in. “She’s not uncomfortable doing it, stupid. Only talking about it.”

  Marianne gasped and glared at her.

  “Danielle!” growled Patrick. He stared at her, horrified. “That was so out of line.”

  “It’s true,” she shrugged.

  “Who cares!” he shot back at her.

  Marianne was frozen in place.

  Danielle laughed. “Geez, calm down.”

  “No,” he said. “That was super rude of you.”

  Danielle stood up straight in the doorway, shocked. “What was?”

  “What was?” Patrick repeated. He was fully pissed. “You should not have been listening to us like that.”

  Yikes. Marianne hadn’t ever seen him angry before, and it didn’t look how she’d thought it would. More attractive, way more scary.

  Danielle gaped at him innocently. “I just happened to overhear.”

  He stood up, all six-foot-four-inches of him, and spoke in a hard voice. “Then you shouldn’t have commented. You know better.”

  Danielle blinked at him a few times. “Are you mad at me?”

  Patrick stared at her dismayed face for a second and then hung his head down. He massaged the back of his neck with his hand and exhaled once. Then he looked up at his sister. “You should apologize to her,” he said quietly.

  “Sure,” said Danielle immediately.

  Patrick and Danielle both turned to look at her. Marianne released the death grip she had on the front of her pajama shirt and smoothed down the fabric to cover her stomach again.

  Danielle gave her a sheepish look and shrugged with one shoulder.

  Marianne cut her off before she could speak. “Danielle....” She didn’t know what else to say, so she just shook her head.

  Danielle was quiet for a second, and then she motioned backward with her thumb. “Okay, well... I gotta go get the brats from school. We have karate and stuff, so we won’t be back till, like, six.” She turned quickly and walked away.

  Patrick looked at Marianne’s feet for a minute but didn’t face her. “I should apologize, too. For this, and also for last night with your parents and me. Nobody should be teasing you like that.”

  Marianne wasn’t pissed at any of them anymore, only embarrassed. Not worth talking about. “It didn’t bother me,” she whispered.

  Patrick exhaled and frowned at the hallway. “I think it did.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. Marianne stepped toward him. “I forgive her. It’s over.”

  Patrick flexed his jaw, looking confused about exactly what he wanted to say. “You don’t have to give the nice answer, Marianne. I want you to tell me how you feel.”

  “I did.”

  Patrick stared at her for a moment, then looked away again. He seemed upset.

  Marianne took another step forward, but he wouldn’t look at her. Did he want her to be angry, or something?

  Patrick waited a moment longer. “I’m gonna go get dressed.” His voice was so low that M
arianne could hardly hear him. And then he just walked out. Walked right out the door.

  What the hell? Now she was mad.

  She sat on the bed and studied the grain of the shiny hardwood floor, listening to Danielle yell at the kids to go find their shoes. This whole situation was seriously unfair. He wasn’t allowed to control her feelings. Talk about out of line. Whatever. Let him be mad. She wasn’t going to get all bitter at Danielle just because he said she should. This was stunningly stupid. When she heard Danielle close the front door, she stood up straight and marched herself right down the hall. No way was she going to stand for this.

  She chickened out by the time she made it down the hall, however. Marianne knocked softly on the open door of Patrick’s bedroom. There were boxes everywhere and piles of random stuff on the bed and floor. He was standing at the side of his bed, a grey t-shirt hanging from his hands, staring out the window. “Hey,” he said. “Come in.”

  Marianne took a step forward and stopped. She tried to hide her hands in her pockets, but she didn’t have any pockets. Deep breath. She smoothed down her ugly pajamas and shuffled forward again. The wood was hot under her bare feet where the sun was shining in through the window. Where were all those excellent lines she had for him a moment ago? She tried to think up something new but got distracted staring at the tattoos across his back. There was a giant circle with the letters P and X crossing each other in the middle; it looked almost like a wheel. Underneath that, the words, ‘In hoc signo vinces.’

  “I’m sorry for walking out on you,” said Patrick, pulling on his shirt and turning around.

  “That’s okay,” she said.

  He bit his lip for a moment. “In what universe is that okay?”

  Marianne shrugged and smiled. “Whichever one I decide we’re living in today. I don’t know if you know this or not, but I make the rules.”

  Patrick laughed but stopped abruptly. Well, in a normal situation it wouldn’t have seemed abrupt, but this was the tail end of a fight, not a normal situation. Marianne’s senses were heightened. “I was even more out of line than Danielle,” he said. “We’ve only been dating for about twelve hours; you don’t owe me any explanations.”