New Girl

by Joan B. Flood

  Chapter Twenty

  Mom and Dad left for Maryville about three in the afternoon on Saturday. Ryan and I waved them off from the edge of the lawn and watched the car round the bend at the end of our street. We stood together a few moments after it was gone. We whooped and high-fived, then looked down the road again to make sure they hadn’t come back and caught us. All we had to do now was find some booze to take with us. I hoped Ryan would already have a fake ID, but of course, he didn’t. He was dead set against taking a few beers from the downstairs fridge. “We can’t steal from our own parents,” he said. I tried the food argument with him but it didn’t wash.

  “They have to feed us, but booze is a whole other thing. Let me make some calls.” Before I knew it, he had organized beer and a ride for us.

  We had another argument before our drive out to the Acres. I raided Mom’s make-up stash and copied as best as I could remember what Jane had done that day she did my makeover. The lipstick was a lot redder and my mouth looked huge, but otherwise I did a pretty good job. Ryan wasn’t impressed.

  “Jeez, Carly, you can’t go out like that.”

  “Why not? Everyone else does.”

  “You don’t even look like yourself. And put on a shirt or something.”

  I was wearing a light silk camisole over jeans. It wasn’t like I had much in the way of boobs to show or anything. Just then the car pulled up, and I walked out past Ryan. One of the guys whistled, and another got out of the car and opened a door for me. Brilliant.

  The music boomed and bounced so loud as we drove I didn’t catch the names of the three guys and one girl, so I just sat squished next to Ryan and looked out the window. By the time we reached the turn off, we caught up with a whole line of cars, all blaring music and stuffed with kids. The dust the wheels kicked up must have been visible miles away. We parked in a small waste lot by the tracks and walked the last half-mile or so.

  There were more people already gathered than I’d ever seen in one place except at a big meet. On the west side a truck with a deejay and two huge speakers on the flatbed rocked out music. Girls and guys flooded into the field, most hauling coolers. Girls’ squeals rose and fell as they joined up with friends.

  The guys were more restrained as they clumped together with their buddies on the sidelines. Up by the truck people danced, and all across the field little groups formed and broke up like an old fashioned square dance. Out on the edges some had chairs or cushions, and the remains of picnics scattered across blankets laid on the grass. Every group had coolers, and a few entrepreneurs were selling beer.

  “I’m going to look for my friends,” I told Ryan.

  “Hell, Carly, be careful. Don’t get lost. Check in with me every once in a while, okay?”

  I agreed, thinking to myself, not likely. Truth was, I was scared because I couldn’t imagine how I would find anyone in this crowd. I clutched the six-pack Ryan had given me in one hand and hauled out my cell with the other. Corinne didn’t pick up, so I left a message.

  The sun was just going down, and the sky was streaked with red tinged clouds stretched across it like shallow waves, edged with indigo in the east. For one moment the music stopped, everything was quiet, and even the voices softened. I saw a hawk, wings stretched straight out, glide overhead. The music pulsed out again, louder, faster, and everything seemed to jump into fast forward. My phone rang. It was Corinne.

  We met up on the south edge near the entrance. Corinne was wearing jeans and a low cut bustier in red and purple. I guess I was staring because as she gave me a hug she laughed into my ear and said, “You’re such a baby sometimes.” She dragged me over to a blanket, and I sat down with her, Jack, and a bunch of other people. Some of them I knew from track and some I’d never met before. I drank the first beer way too fast, partly because I still didn’t like the taste too much, and partly because I was nervous. By the end of the second bottle, my nerves were gone.

  Jane came out of nowhere. She was barefoot, wearing her skinny jeans and a loose flowing shirt, her hair down around her shoulders.

  “Good make-up job,” she said.

  “Had a good teacher.”

  Jane smiled and flicked my cheek. For a moment I was angry. She had ignored me for so long, and now it was like that never happened. From behind her shoulder Corinne winked at me and gave me thumbs up.

  I offered Jane a beer, which she took. She folded her long legs under her and sat beside me.

  “Okay, everybody on your feet,” a girl yelled before we had a chance to say a word to each other. “You two as well.”

  She grabbed a hand of each of us and dragged us upright. The whole group formed a snake. We wound around the field, weaving between dancers and groups on the grass. The snake grew longer and longer as other people joined in. Behind the music truck I spied Ryan, his arms wrapped around a girl that must have been Claudia. I barely had time to see her wind her leg around his before the snake pulled me forward. The bushes rustled with couples making out in the shadows. The music quickened and pulsed. Jane’s fingers around mine were electric, and I tried to snatch my hand away, but she held on.

  Then as suddenly as it formed, the snake broke up. Jane danced in front of me, her body like liquid pouring back and forth in a long jar. I danced at one with the whole world until I was out of breath and my clothes were soaked with sweat.

  “Let’s sit a bit.” Jane grabbed my arm and made a path through the dancers to the edge of the field. She yelled at someone to get us both a beer. A girl came up, shoved a beer into my hand, and gave one to Jane.

  “Haven’t seen you around lately. Missed you,” she said to Jane, butting shoulders with her. The newcomer was stocky with short, wild copper hair and a nose ring. She wore a loud gauzy shirt with no bra, and I tried not to stare at her nipples. Then a small group pushed between us, and by the time they’d made their way through, Jane and Miss Copperhead were nowhere to be seen.

  The music stopped again for a moment, and I shivered in the quiet as the breeze cooled my wet shirt. Stirred up by the dancing feet, dry dust hung around knee level of the dancers, and the stars above just about touched the treetops. Then the music poured out again, a swirling trance beat, and dancers twirled and jigged with it, arms raised as if to catch the stars. Dizzy with beer and music, I walked the edge of Carter’s Acres looking for Ryan. I found Bart. And Tommy Mack.

  Bart sat on a folding chair to the right of the music truck with a knapsack on his lap and a line of people in front of him. A short guy with blond highlights stepped up. I couldn’t make out what they said, but then Bart rummaged in his bag and gave whatever he found there to the boy, who paid him. Maybe I made some sound, because Bart turned and saw me.

  “Hi, Carly, want a little something to make you happy?” He waved me toward him. It was the first time he spoke to me since I’d met him at Jane’s, even though he hung around the school gate chatting to kids at least once a week.

  I shook my head and backed off, and then turned and walked the other way, and ran into Tommy Mack.

  “Whoa there.” Tommy caught me by the shoulders to steady me. “Where you rushing off to?”

  Right then I was glad to run into Tommy’s solid bulk.

  “Just walking.”

  “Been to see him?” he asked me, nodding in Bart’s direction.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m just walking. Actually, I’m looking for my brother Ryan.”

  At that moment nothing would have pleased me more than to actually find Ryan.

  “He’s over at the gate.”

  I set off again. The night was cold now and the music too loud. I wove through the crowd, stumbled into dancers and changed direction several times, and almost forgot where I was going. Someone grabbed me and twirled me into a looping, staggering waltz until the two of us crashed into a couple of dancers and tumbled onto the grass. I thought about lying there forever.

  “Hey, Carly, having a nice rest?”

  Jane leaned over me, han
ds on her thighs, her face hidden in the half-dark.

  “I’m looking for Ryan. At the gate.”

  My tongue twisted on the words, so I tried them again.

  “Right. The gate. I’ll get you there.”

  She hauled me up, hooked her arm in mine, and pulled me close to her. My legs were not working so well now either, so she caught me by the waist and tucked me tight to her body.

  “Take it easy, there, no rush.” Heat from her body warmed me, and the music was upbeat again. I hung onto her waist, the light silk of her shirt soft against my cheek as I leaned into her. I forgot where we were going.

  “Here we are. The gate and Ryan.”

  We stopped to let a little group of people go by, and I snuggled in closer.

  “You’re so hot,” I said.

  Jane laughed and stood me up on my own. Her hands pressed my shoulders as if she were shoving me into the earth like a seedling. I leaned forward and kissed her. Right on the mouth.

  A slow heat spread from her lips to mine. She caught my bottom lip between her teeth. The gentle nip sent sparks through me.

  “Carly, come on. Time to go.” Ryan’s voice reached me from a distant planet. Jane pushed me gently away from her.

  “Time to go home, hon.” She handed me off to Ryan, who snorted. He picked me up, and carried me like I was a little kid. The rest of the night was pretty vague.

  Next morning I sat up, sort of surprised to be in my own room and even more surprised when it did a dizzy spin. I lay down again. My head pounded like there wasn’t enough room in there for my brain. I remembered being in the car, stuffed between Ryan and Claw—dee—ah. I had a vague memory of them dumping me on my bed, and later hearing Ryan puke in the downstairs toilet. Or I thought it was Ryan.

  Mom and Dad would be back. It was ten thirty a.m. I sat up again and bashed my head on the slope of the ceiling. The room lurched when I stood. I had a hard time connecting the free, hot dancing I’d done the night before with this fuzzy mouth and pounding head.

  Then I remembered Bart dealing drugs out of his bag. I knew all about drugs, who doesn’t? But nobody had offered me some before, and I didn’t even actually know anyone who admitted to taking them, never mind sold them. Did Jane know? Did she do drugs? Did she deal too? Did Ryan? I couldn’t imagine that he did, but then I couldn’t imagine anyone I knew who did. Or who admitted it. Maybe Corinne was right; I was a baby.

  Then I remembered the kiss. I kissed Jane. Did Jane really kiss me back?

  I staggered into the shower. How was I going to face her tomorrow?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Were it not for the prospect of seeing Jane, I would have been happy as a lark as I set out for school on Monday. The day had started out with a good run, as usual; a misty morning turned the grass and trees vivid green and had the birds chirping and robins pulling worms from the ground. My headache was gone, finally, and my energy was back. By the time I got off the bus near school I felt pretty good.

  “Hey, Carly.”

  I was trying to figure out what to say to Jane, and then there she was, trotting to catch up to me. My heart did a scary loop, and I blushed but gave her a big smile that hurt my cheeks.

  “All recovered?” She eyed me up and down.

  “Yeah, more or less. You?”

  “Sure. I didn’t stay long after you guys left. Good party.”

  She seemed normal. Maybe a bit friendlier than usual? I decided to just go with it and take her as she was now. All the things I had been thinking to say about the kiss faded away, and by the time we got to class, my heart had stopped banging about in my chest. Still, I couldn’t concentrate on much.

  At recess I grabbed Corinne outside my locker and hauled her off to a quiet spot in the washroom. After checking nobody was around, I asked her if she knew Bart was dealing drugs.

  “Yeah. I knew,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you say?”

  “Why would I say? Lots of people here deal drugs. Besides, I didn’t think you were interested in buying any. Are you?”

  “God, no. Drugs and running don’t mix. I hear some of the football guys do steroids, but I wouldn’t want to do any.”

  “Good. They’re scary shit.”

  “Do you do drugs?”

  She looked at me for long minute, and gave a small shrug.

  “I have. Not too much. A bit of ecstasy that made me love the world. Smoked a bit of weed but nothing heavy, and I don’t make a habit of it.”

  I walked home through pleasant downtown Astoria and past the blocks of houses with colored doors lined up behind groomed lawns. Maybe Corinne was right; I was a baby. I’d only been drunk once, and that was on Saturday. I had never smoked cigarettes, never taken drugs, and apart from practicing kissing with Judy when I was ten, only truly kissed two people: the guy from my last school and Jane. And if I hadn’t been drunk, I’d never have had the nerve to kiss her, or even known I wanted to. And I got it that kissing Jane was a big deal for me, but for Jane it was just another party thing, a nothing to be brushed off and forgotten.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The hallway was emptying out as everyone streamed out into the sunshine. My locker was halfway along the far wall, and I wanted to dump my books and get outside, too. From halfway down the corridor, an envelope stuck on my locker door with green tape caught my eye. My heart did a little dance because I thought, hoped, it was from Jane. I snatched it and tore it open. It was a short, put-together thing with cut out letters. I looked around, looked for anyone watching, but the hallway was almost empty. No one paid any attention to me at all. I re-read the note. The first part of it was a piece cut out of a newsletter of some kind. It had a photo of my dad, so tiny it was hardly recognizable, and a paragraph saying that management had asked him to help them with an organizational overhaul. The union was trying to get assurances that mass layoffs were not in the offing. The crazy cut out letters underneath it read:

  My mouth went dry. Nobody was in the hallway, but I looked around anyway. My hand shook as I read the note again.

  “Hey, Caro,” Corinne called from the end of the corridor.

  I crumpled the note and stuffed it in my pocket. I shoved my books into the locker.

  “Coming, coming,” I yelled back and fumbled with the lock, my fingers giddy with shock.

  Out in the yard the sun was blinding, and the yells from the hacky-sack players pierced through the racket of a couple of hundred kids’ gossip and laughter. Girls were sitting around, pant legs rolled up, and T-shirts pulled off their shoulders to catch the rays. The guys mostly had their shirts open and were either huddled in groups or playing hacky-sack. A co-ed basketball session was in progress at the south end, conducted with the maximum amount of squealing. No one looked at me, and nobody seemed to whisper when I walked through the crowd. No one paid any attention to me at all. I found a spot with my back to the fence and sat between Corinne and Jane, their chatter not quite making it to my brain.

  I’d never got a note before. Kids taunted me, sure. Said horrible things and threatened me, but at least I could see who they were. Never a note.

  “Hey, you okay?” Jane gave me a little shake.

  “Yeah, just tired. Sorry.”

  All afternoon my fingers crept in and out of my pocket worrying the paper.

  After school I got away as fast as I could. The long walk home alone was just what I needed. A couple of blocks past the school, Bart caught up with me.

  “Hi,” he said, as if he were in the habit of walking with me. “All recovered?”

  For a second I wondered how he knew about the note, and then I realized he was talking about Saturday night. He fell into step with me, chatting about the dance. He wasn’t much taller than I. His moustache was still scraggly, but he had a nice smile and warm eyes; blue-gray like the spring sky before rain. He made me laugh the way he described some of the people from the Acres. It wasn’t until five blocks later, when he left, that I remembered he dealt drugs.
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  I put the note way at the back of my drawer under my sweaters. I knew I should just toss it. I’d never had a note about my dad before. I was afraid if I didn’t have it, didn’t know I could look at it again, that I would think I imagined it. It was that kind of thing, something I was afraid I could persuade myself never happened at all, the way I used to when kids taunted me about Dad in other schools.

  But I couldn’t. School was hard every day. By the end of the week I worried that everyone knew about the note, and my dad’s work. Anytime someone smiled at me, I wasn’t certain whether it was a good smile or one of pure evil. Some guy stared at me in the cafeteria all through lunch one day, and it made me jittery, afraid that kids would target me for jeering and taunting as they’d done in the past. Jane said his name was Mick, and to take no notice of him because he was just a bit weird.

  The one good thing that happened was that at the end of the week Jane asked me to go for a bike ride.

  We rode west after supper. It wasn’t too warm, which was great for biking, and we decided to race at that flat straight stretch just after the suburbs ended. I thought I’d win easily, but Jane was surprisingly fit, and we were neck and neck at the end. We agreed to a tie.

  “When did you get so fit?” I asked her.

  She laughed and said she was Superwoman in disguise. We left our bikes by the side of the road and lay in the long grass and watched the clouds float by.

  “You’ve been kind of weird all week, you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Sure. Just, you know, things to think about.”