by Angela White
In November, I had won a public debate against the school council over holding a Christmas dance that only straight-A students could attend. My English teacher had put me up to it. Verina O’Riley, a popular council skank that I’d heard was infectious, had been harassing me ever since. We had two classes together. In the first, Home-Ec, she had a large support group of other trashy, well-liked girls. In the second, Computers, she was all by herself.
I didn’t have a group of girls in any class and I figured that made us even. I was going to get Verina alone and talk to her, try to apologize if that would get her off my back. I understood that I had embarrassed her by pointing out the flaws in her arguments. I hoped apologizing would be enough.
As I approached the computer class, trying to figure out how to begin such a conversation, I didn’t realize the group of bullies from the Home-Ec class was outside the computer room.
Verina spotted me with glee. “There’s the know-it-all!”
I cringed at the laughter, but inside, I had so much anger! No Marc, no Daniel now that we were forbidden by Georgie to spend any time together. No money to get out, too young, no protection. It was all too much and that anger I was always carrying raised its head and asked to be let out. I didn’t know what that might mean and I held out a little longer, refusing.
I tried to march by the group, but one of the eighth graders grabbed me and shoved me into the circle. The girls pushed me back and forth, pulling my hair, my books, and my school bag until everything was on the ground. They might have ripped my clothes off too if the teacher hadn’t heard people chanting ‘fight!’ fight!’ and come running. I wanted to do more, but with ten of them and one of me, there was no way I could win and I suffered the humiliation in silence.
The computer teacher slung girls aside to get to me, but I’d already been too abused to accept the kindness he wanted to offer as the smirking girls backed away or ran for their rooms. I shrugged off his arm and stomped into the class to take my seat.
The teacher picked up my books and folder as he berated the older girls, but when he and Verina came in, closing the class door, her smirk told me that she had excused herself somehow. Despite being caught, she wasn’t going to get in trouble.
The rage went up another level, and I snapped. But it wasn’t wild frenzy and screaming.
I stood, walked over to the next row of seats.
Verina glanced up and that smirk returned. “What?”
I leaned down as if to whisper something and then slammed her face into the computer as hard as I could.
As her nose shattered and bright red droplets sprayed over the cracked screen each time she screamed, as the other kids shouted and flinched away, I realized I was turning into Georgie.
Marc
It was hard to believe that Angie had been suspended for two weeks for attacking another student and almost cutting her throat on the glass. I happened to know that it was plastic on those computers and hard to break. I had been in that class not too long ago, learning how to manipulate numbers to cause actions, but something must have happened.
The story had come from my mother and the tales were even worse from the family. Angie had grown too wild for school, according to everyone. It was easy for them to overlook the fact that Georgie was beating on her and Frona. I had no doubt that it was connected, but I still couldn’t be around her right now. I suspected my mother had told me what Angie did just to draw a reaction. Mary hadn’t liked how I’d refused to work with Georgie anymore and she hadn’t believed me about it being because the man had shoved me into the mud.
Had she figured out my scheme with Rodney and Scot? Those two were back from the convention where they’d been arrested for drunken behavior in public. My mother was planning to send them to the farm soon and I was glad. I didn’t want Angie to run into them alone again. Even with my threats, she wasn’t safe. Those two had few morals and they’d had time to make some sneaky plans of their own. When January rolled around, I would also be sent back to the farm and the family training with the uncles. I wanted to be with Angie, but she hadn’t come from her trailer since being suspended. I’d run into Daniel recently, riding his bike alone, and he told me Angie hadn’t been out of the trailer or restaurant in weeks. She was being held prisoner.
By Christmas, the stories had faded and I hoped my mother would have the family gathering some place that Angie would be able to attend. To my anger, it was held at the restaurant and Angie was forced to wait on everyone with Georgie’s other hired girls. It must have been humiliating for her and that drove my reaction.
When Georgie finally sent Angie home–on foot, in the snow–I pulled up in a blind curve and popped the passenger door open.
She didn’t hesitate.
Knowing we only had a couple hours, I drove into the woods at the top of the hill and hid us in the snowy trees. We were both minutes from home this way.
When I killed the engine and looked over, Angie’s smile made it worth the risk. We’d been apart for five months this time and it still felt awful.
Angie could have started babbling and I wouldn’t have minded, but she only scooted a little closer and rested against my muscled arm. I was always improving my body when I had free time. I hoped she noticed.
Peace filled the car and we spent half the time that way, just enjoying being together. It had been a long, stressful year for both of us.
Feeling the clock ticking, I shifted to face her, wanting to stare now while I could. As she aged, she got prettier. I started to ask if she and her mom had been okay, but Angie distracted me, not wanting to discuss it.
“Can I kiss you?”
Her soft plea went through me like lightning and I agreed before I could think about it. I always wished it was Angie with me in my car, not Jeanie, and now, it was.
Angie liked the necklace I got her and the watch she gave me was great, but the time together was our real gift. We were about to do another six-month stretch and these moments were all we had to hold on to. I wouldn’t have traded them for anything.
As Angie prepared to get out of the warm car, she asked a question I wasn’t ready to answer.
“Are you still joining the Marines after you graduate in June?”
“…not until next January. They need the help on the farm.”
“Okay.”
Angie leaned over, content that I would be back at least once more before I signed up. “Thank you.”
I melted as she kissed me so softly that I barely felt her lips.
“I love you.”
“Good night, baby,” I crooned, wishing I could hold her while she fell asleep.
“See you in the morning,” she whispered.
Six months of mornings to get through first, I thought, swallowing a lump in my throat. I would miss her.
Angie wiped away her tears and flashed me a sad smile that hurt my heart.
“It still fits. It’s always night for me until you come home. One long night.”
Christmas break was over for me the very next day. My mother shipped me to the farm to resume my old customer route and tours with the uncles. She didn’t act as if she knew I’d been with Angie, but I couldn’t be positive.
Determined not to let things come between us anymore, I called the restaurant the next day, hanging up and calling back a bit later until Angie answered the phone so I could tell her I had to leave again. It was one of the few times I was ever able to do that.
1996
Chapter Seventeen
January to June
Angie
In 1996, the Enquirer broke the story about Fernald.
Hours after the story went live, we became the focus of state and local investigations that caused a horde of reporters and scientific employees to descended on us, knocking on doors at all hours, cornering people in their businesses and as they shopped. For the town, Fernald wasn’t the emergency that the rest of the nation seemed to think it was. When the details began to emerge, however, people wer
e horrified to learn the truth. Fernald, the feed materials processing center that we had lived half a mile from our entire lives, was actually a uranium enrichment-processing site with a gigantic leak that had been poisoning us for more than a decade.
Panic hit our sleepy little town as we were unwillingly put on the map. Illnesses and deaths were viewed with instant suspicion, especially after representatives from Fernald started to make offers and deals that would give them immunity from prosecution. These reps were aggressive, threatening government actions, such as audits, for anyone who might consider a lawsuit. Those who refused to sign up or come in for medical monitoring were labeled as troublemakers and denied access to the public meetings that ran until April, when the money started flowing in. The lawyers and scientists came next, taking statements and tests, grabbing soil and water samples to send off to labs in big cities that we’d barely heard of. People who took the deals were considered sellouts to those who had lost a family member to cancer, or other illnesses that could have been caused from exposure to chemicals. As the meetings dried up, and the private deals peaked, we heard rumors of a second big leak on their property. This one had contaminated the ground wells the entire town used for drinking, cooking, and cleaning. No one was surprised this time.
Mother Brady had her hands full keeping peace between the two factions of our town. We were split down the poverty lines. Those who could afford to, wanted to hold out and be a part of the lawsuit that everyone assumed was coming. Those who were having trouble selling their goods to out-of-towners, thanks to a polluted reputation, wanted to take the cash and tests, and move on with their lives.
There were few facts released to townspeople after the initial hysteria died down. It was as if the world forgot about us when Princess Diana got a divorce and mad cow disease hit Britain. Most of the town was glad. The rest of the world didn’t have to go on living here. The sooner people forgot we had such a damaging skeleton in our closet, the better. We needed our small bit of tourism to survive.
Mother Brady did a great job of bring us back to life when the furor finally faded in May. She organized new town meetings for the Fernald people to discuss offers with the residents, and when fights started, she was right there to threaten the shouters into submission. She also brought in family lawyers that no one cared for. Wearing slick suits and shiny boots, they acted as if laws were just something you got around when you had enough money. I didn’t like the idea of selling out, but when Mary told the family she was considering one massive lawsuit, everyone left the negotiations up to her. In that area, we couldn’t have a better representative.
The first payments came in the middle of May, proving Fernald would keep their word. They were one thousand dollars per person in each house that had signed the forms swearing they wouldn’t sue. The town celebrated with hangovers and a drunken brawl that filled the jail for a week. When the money ran out, those same people then asked why it was only a thousand. They didn’t care if cleanup was happening to remove the poison from the ground or if it was being overseen. They just wanted to be bought off and Fernald was happy to oblige.
By the time school let out for summer break, Mother Brady had quietly converted the holdouts in town and we all learned to avoid the few remaining reporters who were pushing for justice. The payments continued to roll in, though they grew smaller each time, and there was no more talk of a Brady lawsuit. When Mary gave us papers to sign, we took the deal and kept quiet about how much higher the Brady payments were.
During all this chaos, I wasn’t allowed to work in the restaurant and neither were some of the other girls. Georgie didn’t have the proper papers on us and with all the media in town, he wasn’t taking the chance on losing his business license. I loved being freed from that hell, but it still left me without cash coming in and that was something I couldn’t tolerate. When Marc and I ran, we would need money. Georgie didn’t give me much and sweeping Patty’s walks was something I’d been doing free since the tornado. Patty still hadn’t recovered from losing her front window and much of her collection, and even if she could hire me on like she still wanted to do next year, it wouldn’t be much either.
So, I began to job hunt, searching for something that would pay a me a fair wage, but not bore me into old age over the summer. I chose Stricker’s Grove amusement park, mostly because I could walk to it.
Stricker’s Grove was off limits to everyone in the Brady clan and I knew that when I applied there. I got a job as soon as the owner found out who I was related to. He assumed that Mother Brady had sent me. It would mean that she’d forgiven him for whatever he’d done to make her ban everyone from his park.
I didn’t tell him any different, but I also didn’t realize I was encouraging the rest of the family to rebel. When word went around that we finally had someone working at the Grove, I became suddenly popular with distant members of our clan whose names I barely knew. It also made me and my new job a target, but again, I didn’t know what I’d started until it was too late to stop the snowball. It turned out that a lot of our family had been waiting for an excuse to go against Mary on this one–including Georgie. He liked the idea of another paycheck in the house, even if it was a tiny one. My mother was also happy because it would keep me busy until November. I liked it because I’d chosen it.
Stricker’s Grove had ten rides and half as many animal exhibits. There was a slow train that circled the property a few times an hour, and of course, an arcade area next to a food court. Some of the outer fields were also occasionally used for horseshoe or cricket tournaments, and accompanied by a raffle. It was usually the residents of the three surrounding counties that went to Stricker’s Grove every year and the owners were locals. But not from the Brady side of the line. These locals were free to do as they pleased. They ate and sang with the band, danced and gossiped around crappy picnic tables and hordes of honeybees that were drawn to sweet treats. These people drank beer, played cards for money, and enjoyed all the other freedoms of America that we were forbidden. They had my respect before we even met. Somehow, they’d escaped Mary’s traps. I found out later that it was all about their location. Because they lived in the next township–Ross, Ohio–they were free. Mary had no pull there.
My boring position at this forbidden park was to sit at the top of the three-story, metal slide and help kids get settled into the burlap sacks so they didn’t go tumbling down head-first. It was scary how many small children were sent, alone, up three flights of rickety stairs, dragging a long bag. I didn’t yell at anyone over it or even mention it because of my age. I had no power here either.
The job was easy, but it left me too much time think. The slide wasn’t popular and most of the shift, I just tried not to roast in the sun. I was bright red after only a couple of days. Georgie thought it was cute. I thought I was frying alive until Patty gave me a bottle of lotion.
By the second week, I was peeling and tanning. My skin went to beige and then bronze very quickly. I hated the way the glow made people stare, but it did teach me about the power of good looks. The Ross high school boy running the drink stand wouldn’t let me pay. The cotton candy lady gave me the extras. People smiled, said nice things. It was so different from the way I’d been living that I instantly distrusted all of them, certain they were hiding a monster inside.
When I asked Patty about it, she said I had emotional baggage due to being abused, but that I would get over it in time when those people turned out to be just people and not monsters.
The downside to a job at the amusement park was Jeanie Hornsteader.
Jeanie was a regular at Stricker’s Grove. I often wondered if Marc knew that she took guys there from other schools, but I never would have told him to cause trouble. She was careful, going to forbidden places so that she couldn’t be ratted out. It was ammunition that I could have used to hurt her in Marc’s eyes, but I wasn’t that type of person. I also didn’t want him to be upset.
Jeanie was much too old and dignified to be caug
ht going down a large slide in a sack like a toddler, so she didn’t know I was there. It allowed me to follow her around on my breaks, but reading her thoughts about her latest sexual encounter bothered me too much. I switched to just making sure she didn’t know that I was there. I hated the images I got from her mind, but she was Marc’s cover, his relief and release now. It was just the way things were, but my emotions on that subject continued to bubble and boil. By the end of the May, I loathed the sight of her red car pulling into the parking lot. I could feel that old rage building, the one that had gotten me suspended and beaten. I knew I needed a release, but I couldn’t get one that way. They would lock me up this time.
On June 7, 1996, Marc graduated without me there. It hurt to be absent, but we were both afraid Mary had noticed us acting differently. We’d chosen to never be around each other in front of her, but as I listened to the tornado siren give the weekly warning, I wished I could be there to celebrate with him. This was a big moment in his life.
The day after his, I had my own ceremony to attend and the hot chaos of the gym filled with strangers was a distraction as the witch tried to read everyone’s thoughts. By the time it was finished, I was exhausted, but I went to the rear street of the trailer park in search of Daniel, not caring that the sun was close to setting. He was still teaching me to drive his dirt bike and I wanted to practice if he didn’t mind. I was tired, but I wasn’t ready to sit in my room and stare at the walls.
I found Daniel and his sister, Mandy, already at the small riding area they had set up in the field. Daniel waved me over and I ignored the pointing and staring from the other kids who still thought Daniel and I were going out. It was how we had covered my being around Marc to his mother last year, but if Georgie found out, I would be sorry for that lie too. During the last beating, he had told me that I belonged to him and if he ever caught me with a boy, he’d make me suffer. I didn’t doubt that, but I also knew he was going to make me suffer anyway. I had chosen to disobey him again. My few, rare friendships were worth it.
