Girls of July

by Alex Flinn

  “Okay,” he said. And then once more, “Omnia vincit amor.”

  And suddenly, she knew she had to talk to Lizzie.

  60

  Spider

  INT. SPIDER’S BEDROOM — MORNING

  Spider blinks. There is thunder, or maybe an earthquake, or someone trying to break into the bedroom. She glances around, disoriented.

  “STOP BANGING ON the door!”

  Britta took this as an invitation to enter. It wasn’t. “I’m barely tapping. Tapping!”

  “Are you injured? Is Patty Jenkins here to offer me an internship? Is the house on fire?”

  “Who’s Patty Jenkins?”

  “Oh, God!” People were so ignorant. “Patty Jenkins? The greatest female director of our time, Monster, Wonder Woman.”

  Britta sighed. “No, I don’t see her down there. Just me. I have to talk to you.”

  “You think you’re funny.” Spider cracked open her eyes. Britta stood there holding the stupid chipmunk pillow she’d bought the day of her humiliation. Spider closed her eyes again.

  “Look!” Britta pushed the pillow into Spider’s line of vision.

  “It’s a pillow.” She actually felt pretty good today, for her. Other than the smoke inhalation and being rousted awake. “With a chipmunk. Very cute.” She pushed it away.

  “Not the chipmunk. Look at the embroidery on the side.” Britta stuck her finger out at it.

  Spider tried to focus her eyes on the tiny embroidery in a blue that almost blended with the green. When she did, she said, “Oh, God.”

  61

  Kate

  THERE WERE FEW cars in the parking lot. Kate didn’t even know why she was there. What would she do, walk up to the cash register and browbeat Lizzie into talking?

  She strolled past the neat tables of strawberries and cookies. Lizzie was at a register. Kate glanced at her, but Lizzie looked down at her phone, then up again.

  Kate walked over to a table covered with boxes of giant green pistachio muffins. “These look good,” she said aloud, though they looked like toxic waste. Kate tossed them into the basket, glancing at Lizzie before she went to look at hairspray.

  Lizzie was scanning items. Kate didn’t know why she cared so much. Maybe it was her father’s instinct to want to help people, an instinct that had caused him to get into politics in the first place. Maybe she’d inherited it. Or learned it. She headed to the personal care aisle to look at hair products.

  Once there, Kate examined the bottles of Suave and Final Net. Not that any supermarket hairspray had ever touched her hair, but if they were going to lose everything, maybe it would come to that soon. Kate selected the purple bottle of the Aussie stuff Britta liked. Lizzie was on her phone—again—when Kate reached the register. Kate just waited for her to finish.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when she finally got off. “There’s been an emergency at home.”

  Emergency. What kind of emergency? “Is Ray-Ray okay?”

  Lizzie scanned Kate’s items. Her hands were shaking so she missed a few times.

  “Lizzie, is Ray-Ray okay?” Kate wanted to reach out and grab the items out of Lizzie’s hands to keep her from acting like everything was normal. “What’s wrong?”

  Lizzie shoved the items down to the bagging area. “Seven dollars and thirty-one cents. Do you have your loyalty card?”

  “What happened to Ray-Ray?”

  “He’s disappeared!” Lizzie burst out. “He’s run away! Daddy was thinking you kidnapped him, but I told him that was impossible because you’re here. Maybe he went to look for you.”

  62

  Meredith

  Essay topic: Using a favorite quotation from an essay or book you have read in the last three years as a starting point, tell us about an event or experience that helped you define one of your values or changed how you approach the world.

  AFTER HER THIRD read-through of Harmon’s essay, Meredith decided that it was pretty humiliating to hand someone something like that and have her ignore it. She headed up the road to his house.

  When she got there, he opened the door quickly, like he’d been waiting. “What’d you think?” She got the feeling he wasn’t looking for a frank assessment of his writing ability.

  But that was what she gave him. She sat right down next to him on the front porch bench, held out the essay, like the nerd she was. “It was great. It really showed your personality. I mean, I marked some misspellings and maybe don’t begin sentences with conjunctions.” He looked confused, so she said, “Like when you start with ‘So,’ or ‘But,’ or—”

  “I know what a conjunction is.” He sucked his lip. “I poured my heart out, and you’re correcting my grammar. Really? Are you that angry about what I said?”

  “I’m not mad about that,” she admitted. “I was never mad about that. I’m not mad.”

  “You’re sure doing a good imitation of it.”

  She sucked in her breath through her teeth. “I freaked because you said you loved me.”

  “Because you don’t love me?” His eyes had flecks of green and orange in them, and he looked so sad, and in that moment, Meredith knew she did love him. Of course she did. But she also knew she couldn’t tell him that.

  She sighed. “I don’t know if I love you. But at the end of this month, I’m getting on a plane and leaving, and I’m probably never coming back. I’ve worked my whole life to have all these opportunities. I’m not going to follow a guy to college. Everyone who does that ends up breaking up with the guy the second he meets some cheerleader, and then they’re stuck at their fallback school.” She felt her heart beating through his hoodie.

  “I wasn’t asking you to follow me. I’m not some Neanderthal who’d expect that.”

  No, but she’d been thinking about it. She’d been thinking she could go to Albany or Skidmore to be closer to him, to be closer to this place. She’d thought that his brother got to be a doctor, even though he went to a normal state school. Maybe that would be sensible. Maybe she could save money. Maybe she’d be less stressed. Or maybe she was following a guy.

  “I know you aren’t,” she said.

  “Maybe I could follow you,” he said. “There’s a million schools in Boston. Maybe I could just apply there. Maybe one of them has a scholarship for photography.”

  “It wouldn’t work,” she said. “You can’t apply to every school near where I’m applying. We’d break up. So might as well just rip off the Band-Aid now. I’m taking the SAT again.”

  “For the tenth time?”

  “Sixth.” The wooden bench felt cold and hard under her. “And I’ve barely started on my college essays, and I need to get decent grades in my classes, and—”

  “This is your mother talking. She’s got you so programmed that you feel guilty if you have an independent thought.”

  “I have independent thoughts.” Though even as she said it, she wondered if she did.

  “Look, if you want to go to some fancy school, I support that. I’ll even photograph it. But she’s the one making you feel like you’re some kind of failure if you don’t.”

  “I have to leave.” She stood and started down the steps. Then she remembered and handed him the paper. “I marked a few commas and places I thought you could tweak.”

  He took the paper and ripped it in half. He dropped it on the ground, and one part fluttered away.

  “So you were never serious,” she said, turning back to leave. “And you’re littering.”

  “I was serious. I stayed up all night, writing an essay. But I was serious about us too.”

  She walked down the steps then.

  “Meredith!”

  She stopped. “What?”

  “I’m leaving too. I’m going to go hiking in the high peaks, Whiteface Mountain. I’m camping, cooking outdoors, doing guy things. I figure I can get some good pictures.”

  “That’s great,” she said. She wished she could go with him.

  He stared at her, his lips a thin line bef
ore saying, “Guess I won’t see you again, then.”

  She shrugged, trying to pretend she didn’t care. Then she nodded. “Goodbye then.” She was down the driveway when she realized she still had on his hoodie. She didn’t want it. It just made it too hard. She didn’t want his dumb photos or anything to remember him by. She was making the right decision. He was a distraction, an unnecessary one, and now she’d have to work twice as hard to make up for the lost time this summer. Maybe she could go back to the cabin and start working on the essays right now. She knew them by heart. Think, Meredith, think. Why was it not easy being green?

  That was easy. She looked around her at the blurred green trees, all green everywhere, and it was NOT EASY.

  She stripped off his hoodie, balled it up, and stuffed it in the mailbox that said Dickinson.

  Then she ran back to the house as fast as she could through the green blur from her tears.

  63

  Kate

  “OH NO!” KATE heard Lizzie’s words and remembered her panic the day she hadn’t been able to find Ray-Ray. The house was right next to the highway. “Did you check the neighbors?”

  “I told my dad to, but—”

  “I’ll help look for him!” Kate handed Lizzie twenty dollars and stuffed her items into a bag. If anything happened to Ray-Ray, she’d feel totally responsible. “Please let me!”

  Lizzie took the twenty. “Yes, go! I’ll tell my dad you’re coming.”

  Kate ran toward the parking lot, then roared onto Route 9, her thoughts faster than the wheels of the Subaru. When she reached their street, she was almost certain she knew where Ray-Ray was. Don waved in the road. “Slow down! We got a lost kid here!”

  Kate waved back as she ran toward the house.

  “You’re here!” It was Tracy, in the yard, going through the hedges. Robert was out in his yard, searching the shrubs. A few others were with Ray-Ray’s dad, including Mrs. Steele.

  Kate ran over to them. “Have you looked all over the house?” As she said it, she felt a raindrop on her arm.

  Ray-Ray’s dad looked annoyed. “Of course I have. Of course—”

  “Do you mind if I look too? He’s a really good hider. I’ve played hide-and-seek with him.” If she was right, Ray-Ray was safe. If she was wrong, he might be one of those missing kids you hear about on the news.

  Ray-Ray’s dad made a gesture that Kate interpreted to mean “Do whatever you want.” She ran to the open door, past the piles of junk and laundry. She dashed to the garage. “Ray-Ray! Ray-Ray!”

  Nothing. She stood silent a moment. Then, she heard something moving on the roof. She opened the back door and saw the ladder. “Ray-Ray!”

  It was raining now, and the ladder was slippery. Still, Kate grabbed it and started climbing. “Ray-Ray!”

  He was there, wet and shivering. Kate climbed up.

  “You have to come down, sweetie.”

  Ray-Ray looked around. “I don’t want to!”

  “My God, Ray-Ray, do you know how much you scared everyone! The whole neighborhood’s out there.”

  “No! I’m a rocket. This is my launchpad.”

  “I have to tell your dad you’re up here. Everyone is so worried about you, Daddy and Mrs. Steele and Robert and everyone.”

  “They’re mad,” he said.

  “I bet they’re not.” She hoped they wouldn’t be. It was raining harder, and she was worried he’d slip off the roof. She grabbed his arm just to hold him. “Come on, sweetie.”

  “I don’t want to. They won’t let me see Mrs. Steele or play in the treehouse.”

  Okay, the kid had a point. His family was mad. “Is that why you hid here?” She held on to Ray-Ray with one hand, the roof with the other. He was sort of red and juicy with tears. “It’s okay. It will be okay. I bet they let you now.” She thought of all the people looking for him. Surely Ray-Ray’s dad had to realize these people were only trying to help.

  Just then, Ray-Ray’s dad and Mrs. Steele showed up. “He’s up here! He’s a very good hider,” Kate said, praying Ray-Ray’s dad wouldn’t get mad at him.

  He didn’t. He rushed toward them. “Aw, God, Racecar, I was so scared! I can’t lose you too. Why’d you leave?”

  He was practically crying, and it made Kate think of her own father, how protective he’d always been of her, whether it was when she was little and her kitty had died or, more recently, when he’d sent her away so she wouldn’t have to deal with this mess. Daddy!

  Ray-Ray’s dad ran to the ladder and climbed up. “You gotta stay with me, buddy.”

  Kate tried to move over, not wanting to interfere. “I should go.”

  “I want Kate to stay!” Ray-Ray said.

  “I can’t stay, baby,” Kate said, though it tugged at her. She climbed down the ladder. A moment later, Ray-Ray’s dad climbed down too, with Ray-Ray in his arms. Around them, the neighbors were cheering.

  When they reached the ground, Kate gestured to all of them. “Look at them! You really need someone to watch him regularly, and there are so many people who care about him, not just me, but Mrs. Steele, and Robert, all these people who are helping you now.”

  He sighed, holding Ray-Ray tight. “I know you’re right. It’s just so hard. When Angie OD’d, people were talking, and—”

  “I know what it’s like to worry about people talking about you, but you can’t let that stop you from accepting help. Now, I can come help you the next week. And I can help you make a schedule for the rest of the time, when Lizzie’s back in school.”

  “We can work it out,” Mrs. Steele said.

  Within a few minutes, they had a schedule for the rest of the summer. They didn’t even need her anymore, but Kate knew she’d be back. She also knew she couldn’t wait to see her own friends back home, Colin and other people who wanted to reach out to her.

  In her purse, her phone was buzzing. She picked it up.

  It was Britta. “Kate, are you coming home soon? We need the car. It’s important.” Her voice sounded as if she’d been running, but you never knew with Britta. She could just have seen a cute chipmunk or something.

  Kate looked around. It seemed to be in hand. “Yeah, I’ll be back soon.”

  She’d call Lizzie from the car, to let her know it was okay. Her phone buzzed. Probably just Britta nagging her again. She ignored it.

  64

  Spider

  MONTAGE

  - Britta and Spider search Spider’s room for Randall the tow truck driver’s grubby business card.

  - They take every object out of Spider’s backpack and put it back in.

  - They try to search the car, but Kate has driven off with it.

  - They give up and make a list of pros and cons of telling Ruthie about Janet.

  “WE SHOULD BE honest,” Britta said. “Shouldn’t we?”

  “But what if she doesn’t want to see her?” Spider said.

  “True. We definitely learned from our mistakes. We’ll tell her where we’re going.”

  “And what if it’s not her? Or what if she’s married or something? We have to ask them both.” Though it would be really cool to surprise her with a reunion, like something in a movie (the first Men in Black movie, where Tommy Lee Jones’s character comes out of a thirty-five-year coma), but probably not the best or most sensitive idea. “Also, what if she has a heart attack?”

  “What if both of them do?”

  In the end, they told Ruthie where they were going and why. Once Kate brought back the car, Spider and Britta drove to try to find the house. Spider checked the map she’d used that day.

  “Just don’t go into a ditch a second time.”

  Spider gave her the finger.

  “Nice,” Britta said.

  “Thank you.”

  But finally, they saw it. First it was the sign for quilts, then the hybrid wolf-dog at the window, barking at the car.

  “Pull over! Pull over!” Britta shouted. “But carefully.”

  Spider slowed, then stopped
a little down the road from the house. Britta was out the door before she’d even put the car in park. She ran toward the little house, the same one from that day. “Come on! Hurry!”

  Spider hurried. She wanted to film the encounter. Michael Moore would have. But she wasn’t sure she should. Probably Michael Moore pissed a lot of people off.

  Britta reached the blue front door and waited. When Spider got there, she knocked.

  Inside, another dog barked. Both girls held their breath. What if they were wrong? What if it had all been for nothing? What if some husband answered the door?

  There was movement at the window curtain, someone looking out. Then, the door flew open, the dog flying out, the woman, Jacey—Janet—behind it.

  “It’s you! Oh my God, it’s you girls!” She held her hands to her face.

  65

  Britta

  “YOU KNOW WHO we are?” Britta asked.

  The woman breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. She was tall with long, gray hair, and as Britta stared at her, the years seemed to fall off, and Britta recognized her from the photo on Ruthie’s wall. Janet. Ruthie’s Janet.

  After a long moment, she said, “You’re not here to buy quilts?”

  Britta shook her head. Spider stood transfixed, like she was imagining how the movie version of this story would play out. Janet breathed another rattly breath, and Britta wondered if she was trying not to cry, like Britta was.

  Finally, Janet said, “You were here a few weeks ago. You’re . . .” She reached out and touched Spider’s arm. “Ruthie—Ruth Green is your grandmother?”

  Spider stared at her, stunned. “Yeah. But how did you . . . ?”

  “Randall told me. Stupid old coot. He said, ‘You wouldn’t believe who that was.’ He was right. I didn’t believe he didn’t think to get a phone number, didn’t remember your last name.”

  “It’s Webster.” The woman really looked about to collapse with happiness and tears. It was probably better they hadn’t brought Ruthie yet. Someone would definitely stroke out.