My eyes were slow to adjust, but it still seemed unusually dark. Why weren’t the streetlights on? Usually their light streamed into my room so that I had to sleep with the covers over my head. An odd sensation of vertigo took hold. The dizziness in my head teased the queasiness in my gut. I stumbled from my room and into the restroom. I flicked on the light and lifted the toilet lid just in time. Heaving and heaving, I emptied the contents of my stomach. My throat and nose burned from all the soda I’d consumed before.
The tiny bathroom left little space to sit on the floor, much less stretch out my legs. I stood and rinsed my face with cold water. When the vertigo passed, I leaned over the sink, cupping my hands beneath the water. I swished the sour taste from my mouth. Frank was right. Not something I wanted to taste or smell again.
I turned off the light before making my way to the living room. Those windows had mini blinds that could be closed tight.
Frank would have a field day with my paranoia. I smiled to think of how he’d tease me when he got home and found me in the dark. From the sound of it, he was already in the front yard, chaining up his bicycle.
I pulled the blinds back to peer outside. The police car was gone.
Something clanged against the metal side of the trailer. I lost my balance and knocked over a pile of Frank’s books, landing on the sofa.
Another clang and then a heavy thud sent me scuttling back to the bedroom to get the gun. The trailer had only one entrance, both a good and a bad thing. No one could sneak in a back way, but I couldn’t escape either. If I exited through the front door, I’d be on full display and less safe than if I just stayed inside.
Before I could formulate my next move, a huge thud rocked the trailer.
“You’re going to pay, you son of a bitch.” Frank’s booming voice overshadowed another male voice, a weaker one that kept shouting, “Stop! Stop!”
I ran through the dark trailer, not caring as I bumped into the kitchen counters. I fumbled with the lock on the front door with one hand. The other gripped Frank’s gun.
Once outside, I aimed at the two men rolling on the ground. “I swear to God I’ll shoot!”
I recognized the broad-shouldered man on top as Frank. He rolled away from the scuffle at the sound of my voice. The man who had been on the bottom curled into a ball.
“Put down the gun, Arlie! Put it down. Now!” Frank approached the figure on the ground but with outstretched arms.
“Aw, man, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t recognize you.” He put his arm around the other man and lifted him to his feet. Even in the darkness, I could make out that the man was considerably smaller than Frank.
“What’s going on?” I cried out.
“It’s your friend from choir.”
Frank helped Cody to the sofa in the trailer’s living room, then went into the kitchen to fill a plastic freezer bag with ice.
“Where are you hurt?” I helped Cody pull off his hooded sweatshirt. He winced as the shirt came over his head.
“I’m okay, really.”
I held his chin tentatively, moving his face from side to side. No bruises there. I flashed back to the times when Mom came back to the motel room after a long night, her face or arms darkened by someone obviously stronger than her.
“You don’t seem okay,” I said, shaking off the memory. “What hurts?”
“Frank got in a few good punches to my rib cage and shoulder, but I covered my head. I’m a born fighter.” Cody’s lightheartedness did nothing to assuage Frank, who grimaced with remorse.
“I thought you were Arlie’s stepfather.” Frank rubbed his forehead. “It was so dark, and you were creeping along the side of the trailer.”
“My brother was running a quick errand on this side of town so I asked him to drop me off. I’m sorry. I tried texting Arlie, but she didn’t answer.”
Cody took my hand. The move wasn’t lost on Frank. His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head to one side.
I shook my head and mouthed, “Not now.”
“I used the side of the trailer to guide me to the front door,” Cody continued. “I remembered Arlie saying the ground near the construction site was uneven. I didn’t want to fall and hurt myself.”
I chuckled at the irony.
“We should take you to the ER,” Frank said.
“I’ll be fine, Mr. Betts. Really.”
“It’s Frank. Just Frank. We should be on a first-name basis considering I just tried to break all your ribs.”
My uncle allowed himself a small smile before becoming serious again. “I’m putting up motion-detecting lights tomorrow morning first thing. And I’m going to give the city hell about the streetlights being out.”
I nodded my head toward the door, hoping Frank would leave us alone for a bit.
He narrowed his eyes once again, but complied with my pantomimed request. “I dropped a bag of tacos outside when I lunged for Cody. I’m going to go find my supper before the raccoons do.”
As soon as the door closed, I hugged Cody.
“Hey, watch the shoulder,” he said. “Your uncle should’ve been a MMA fighter. I think he kicked me a few times.”
“Yeah, that stumpy physique was made for mixed martial arts.”
I scanned Cody’s body again. He was gritting his teeth. “You’re not fine. I can tell.”
“I will be … in a few days.” He extended his left arm and moved it in a large circle. His shoulder popped and he winced through his smile.
“It’s not funny.” I placed the bag of ice on his shoulder.
“You can’t blame Frank. It was an honest mistake, considering how worried you are about your stepfather being in town.”
“Worried is an understatement.” We both sank into the back of the sofa. I ran my hand through his hair and then let it rest on his uninjured shoulder. “Now he’ll never leave my side. I’m going to be a prisoner in this place.”
“Did you really have a gun?”
“Yes. And I could’ve killed you.” My body shook, trying to release the earlier adrenaline overload.
Cody leaned toward me so that I met his lips. I shuddered when he brushed them against my chin and nose. He pressed his forehead against mine and cupped my face in his hands.
“I don’t like that you have a gun,” he said. “There are other ways for you to be safe.”
“I feel safe with you.”
“A blind guy doesn’t offer much protection.”
I pulled away, taking his hands in mine.
“My heart feels safe with you,” I said.
A loud rap on the door interrupted our next kiss. Frank walked inside, the crumpled taco bag in one hand. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Your brother’s waiting outside. I told him what happened. He was good enough not to kick my ass for hurting his little brother.”
“I’ll walk him to the car,” I said.
“Sit tight. I got this.” Frank helped Cody from the sofa.
“I’ll see you in school tomorrow?” he asked, looking back in my direction.
“Yes. See you then.”
As instructed, I sat still, waiting for Frank. If I played the events of the day over in my mind one more time, I’d go certifiably crazy. I longed for a bathtub filled to the rim with scalding hot water. When I lived with Mom in the motel, I’d often submerge myself so my ears would be underwater, canceling out any noise from the TV or the neighboring rooms. The trailer didn’t have a tub—just a dark, cramped shower that Frank could barely turn around in. Maybe I could stay over at Mo’s soon and use her parents’ huge sunken tub. I missed those times we’d play in the tub until the bathwater went cold or ended up all over the floor.
“Wake up, Arlie.”
Frank walked in to find me with my eyes closed, daydreaming of an escape from our inevitable talk.
“I’m resting my eyes. Everything okay?”
He sloughed off his plaid shirt and handed it to me. “Here, put this on. You’re half naked.”
<
br /> “My sports bra has more fabric than a bikini top.”
“It’s not appropriate attire for when that kid is here.”
Frank sat down next to me. His T-shirt rode up his belly so that he had to keep pulling it down.
“Cody’s blind. And I wasn’t exactly expecting company,” I said.
“He can still use his hands.”
“Jesus, Frank. Why are you so down on Cody?” I pulled his shirt tighter and crossed my arms. “What has he done to upset you?”
“Nothing. I’m just … Tonight could have ended badly. I wanted to keep punching and punching until there was nothing left of him. Lloyd, I mean.”
“But you did stop. And Cody will be fine.”
“The police have to find your stepfather. I can’t bear the thought of you in danger.”
“Speaking of police, why weren’t they here earlier?” I asked.
“They’re back now. The squad car pulled up when I was talking to Cody’s brother. They said it was a shift change, but they’d been delayed by a bad traffic accident. Great timing, huh?”
I walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. I twisted off the top and handed it to Frank.
“Here, you need this.”
He motioned for me to sit down next to him. He took a long draw and then set the beer on the floor.
“So, you and Cody. Are you together or something?” Frank picked up the beer again and nearly downed the rest of it.
“Yeah,” I said. “We’re together … or something.”
“It’s the ‘something’ part that has me worried,” he said.
“It’s not like that. We only kissed for the first time today.” Where was my filter?
“Kissed, huh? Was that before or after you got your taste back?”
I turned purple and didn’t offer any details.
“Well, he seems to have fallen pretty hard for you,” Frank said.
“Why do you say that?”
“His brother, James, told me. Said you’re all Cody has talked about since you started school.”
My stomach somersaulted again. Thank goodness it was empty so there wouldn’t be a repeat of my earlier retching.
“You have a goofy grin on your face,” Frank said.
“Do not.”
“Do so.”
I pinched my lips together with my thumb and forefinger, but burst out laughing.
“I like him, Frank.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
I punched my uncle in the gut that still peeked from beneath his tee.
“I need another beer and we both could use some sleep. How about we talk more tomorrow?”
I nodded and made my way to the bedroom, then turned and faced Frank again. “He’s a good guy, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He dismissed me with a wave.
CHAPTER 25
Even though Cody could navigate from class to class on his own, he often allowed friends to help him. It was faster because they could blast through the throng of students. Claire was today’s guide. She now sported a purple stripe in her hair in place of the pink one. I wondered how often she changed the color.
“Hey, Arlie. This guy wouldn’t stop bugging me until we found you. He’s all yours now.” She winked. I hoped it meant she approved of me.
“Claire knows about us?” I asked.
Cody looped his hand in my elbow and I led him down the hall toward English.
“She knew about us before I even knew about us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Claire guessed right away that I was interested in you. She wouldn’t let up until I promised I’d let you know my feelings. She was at Magpie’s when I was buying our smoothies. You know, the day I met you at the bus stop.”
“Do you think I could forget that day?”
We walked a short distance before Cody asked me to stop. “About last night …”
“Frank still feels terrible,” I said. “How do you feel?”
“Scared. For you.” He moved so close that I felt his breath.
“Peppermint again? Isn’t that a bit obvious?”
Cody pressed me against the locker closest to us. His aim was off and he connected with my chin first. Then, his lips opened slightly and our tongues met. I could’ve stayed lost in that moment except for the crowd of students that hooted and whistled its approval.
“No public displays of affection in the hallways,” I reminded him.
“You going to turn me in to the principal’s office?”
“Not a chance,” I said and kissed him again.
Mo caught up with me at lunch. It’d been less than twenty-four hours since we last spoke, but it felt like a week. I gave her all the details about Frank’s boxing round with Cody.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text last night. After Cody left, I fell into a dead sleep. Frank had to shake me awake this morning.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. I lost my damn phone,” she said. “Mom is so pissed. She spent the better part of the evening harping about how I should be more responsible at my age. That she expected more of me. Whatever.”
The metal picnic table soaked up the midday sun. Lying against the warmth of the bench, I fought to stay awake. Mo lay on the other bench. She reached across to hold my hand beneath the table.
“Sorry about your mom,” I said.
“I’m okay. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Everyone is worried about me these days,” I said. “It’s both heartwarming and annoying as hell.”
I let her hand drop and placed my arm over my eyes and scar to shield them from the sun.
“I agree with Cody that you shouldn’t have the gun. It could do more harm than good. What do you think your stepdad wants?”
I couldn’t answer her question. He’d said very little to Frank before that sledgehammer persuaded him to leave.
“I almost want to get it over with … just hear what he’s come to say,” I said.
“Oh, hell no.” Mo swung her legs around and sat up. “We’ve already been over this. The best thing is for the police to pick him up. They can ask him what he wants.”
“He’s made a career of avoiding the police. I have a feeling he won’t trip up.”
“Well, it’s still not a good idea for you to offer yourself as bait. Let the police protect you.”
If Mom were still alive and suspected Lloyd was in town, we’d have packed our bags and gotten the hell out of Dodge. We had an unspoken agreement that running meant safety. But I didn’t want to run. Safety meant something completely different to me now. I wanted to stay in Durango. With Mo and Frank. With Cody.
Why wasn’t I more afraid? Maybe my brain had somehow reshaped the fear into something manageable—something existing only in the shadows, a boogeyman who hadn’t yet stepped into the light.
When I arrived home from school, Frank was in the front yard lounging in a camp chair, sunglasses shading his eyes. He wore shorts and sandals even though the high was only sixty degrees.
“Hey, not working on the house?” I asked.
“Everyone deserves a day off now and then.”
The curtness of his answer made the hairs on my neck stand.
“I agree. You’ve been working too hard. Maybe tomorrow I’ll play hooky with you.” The smile I hoped for never came.
I sat on the ground next to Frank’s chair so I wouldn’t block the sun.
“They found the Mustang,” he said. “It’d been parked in the Hermosa Creek campground and set on fire.”
“So Lloyd gave up his sweet ride. He doesn’t strike me as the type to take public transportation,” I said.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Am I smiling? Tell me why you’re in such a funky mood.”
Frank motioned for me to follow him into the trailer. Once inside, he pointed to the table in the kitchenette. On it sat Mom’s suitcase and the green plastic tackle box she kept her cosmetics in. The small red suitcase, faded and scuffed, was
missing its handle and one wheel. It was always light enough to carry tucked under one arm though.
“The police brought this stuff by today. They said they should’ve returned her personal effects sooner. Especially since your mom’s death was ruled accidental.”
Personal effects? Evidence, more like it. They never even considered another theory. Meth addict commits suicide or overdoses accidentally. Either way, who cares? Case closed.
“Did you look inside?” I asked.
“Nah. Not my place.”
I retrieved a pencil from the kitchen drawer and used it fasten my hair into a bun. Then I sat down at the table and opened the suitcase.
“You want me to leave?” Frank asked.
I touched his hand. “Stay. I’d like you to.”
Mom’s clothes looked both familiar and foreign. Small, almost child-sized shirts and tees. Faded jeans. Bras and panties in bright colors and animal prints.
Frank’s cheeks colored when I pulled a leopard-print bra from the suitcase’s zippered, mesh compartment. I tucked it under the clothes. No brother wants to see his own sister’s underwear.
“She shoplifted clothes from Walmart mostly,” I admitted. “She liked pretty underthings. Said they made her happy.”
Happy wasn’t something I associated with Mom. I’d never seen anyone exude sadness like she could. The weight of her own life seemed to crush her—and me by proxy. That’s why I could never judge her for stealing. Any relief from sadness was welcome, even with the threat of jail time if she got caught.
Frank shifted in his chair. He looked like he wanted to ask me something.
“The thrift stores have voucher programs for women and children staying at the shelter. I got my clothes for free,” I said.
“I didn’t think you’d shoplifted. I was thinking that I wished it’d been different for you growing up.”
My uncle stated that wish over and over. He wanted so badly to rewrite history. What he saw as horrific was just my idea of normal. It had to be, but then again, he had to deal with the misplaced guilt that he hadn’t helped his sister, that he hadn’t known about me.
“Things are different now, Frank. The past is the past.”
“I know, I know. I just …”
Burn Girl Page 16
