by Marcy McKay
Mai Wong nods and smiles a little, pleased with herself. I watch the veins on my wrist and try to picture the same blood pumping through both me and No-Brains. I don’t want to, but the facts don’t seem to care what I think.
Out of nowhere, her eyes squeeze tight and her back arches in agony. I sit by helpless through each quiver. Her body shakes and trembles like it can’t forget what Eddie Loco did. I’m not going to tell her the worst parts of the past twenty-four hours: finding Mama’s drugs, watching Spook’s murder, Sugar’s slashed neck, or Turdmouth stealing from me. Mai Wong’s had enough bad news today.
Me, too.
In time, she settles down again and her breathing evens out. She taps my fingers for me to talk more. I end with spending the night in the Laundromat and Turdmouth giving me the candy heart. Sadness chokes me over how he used it to scam me.
“What’d the heart say?” she whispers.
“Miss you.”
“What color was it?”
“Pink.”
A small smile eeks over her face. “You like him?”
“No.” I can’t hide the ugliness in my voice. It tastes bitter, too.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I will later. I promise.”
“About who?”
“Turdmouth.”
She taps me again and my brain scrambles for something more to say, but it’s stuck on his betrayal. I still can’t believe I was so wrong about him. He’s not my friend at all. I’m not sure that pain will ever go away.
For some reason, part of last night’s conversation sticks out in my brain. Giant wings flutter through me now … that flash of the gold sword … being blinded by that whiteness. I want to weigh her answer against his and say, “Do you believe in angels?”
“I used to.”
“What do you mean?”
Her body unfolds just a bit. “My NaiNai says after we die, messengers take our spirits to the gods.” She sighs and clutches my hand harder. Another spasm swells through her from head-to-toe. We both wait, then she says, “It’s like a trial to decide our fate. The good have nothing to fear, but the wicked spend eternity paying for their sins.”
I like the idea of Eddie Loco and Diablo rotting in hell forever, but if there really are gods out there, Chinese or Warrior Angels, then why do they let so much bad happen? I know hell is real. I see it every day on these streets, but it hurts worse watching it on Mai Wong now. I’m just not so sure about heaven. Nothing seems clear without Mama, though sometimes she confuses me the most.
A car horn I recognize blasts outside. I bet it’s O’Dell.
“Hang tight. Help is on the way.”
He’s parked right where I told him. His truck idles outside the chain-link fence where Turdmouth escaped earlier. The US flag hangs limp in the cold.
I wave him over and lead O’Dell into the tent. He sees the muddled mess and shoots me a look, but keeps quiet for a change. He stands over my best friend, with his hands on his hips and says in a soft, but strong voice, “Hey, Mai Wong. I’m O’Dell. I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”
She bursts into tears and balls herself up more.
Kneeling beside her, I pet her back. “You’ve heard me talk about O’Dell, so you already know him. He’s a total Butt Munch, but he’s still safe, and his mom packs the best lunches.”
He says, “Yeah, I’ve got turkey-and-Swiss in the truck now.”
Her cries soften. After a bit, she whispers to me, “You swear he’s okay?”
“I swear, and I’ll be with you the whole time.”
She nods him on. I’ll say this for O’Dell. He carries Mai Wong like she belongs in a museum, so special and breakable. That’s just what she is to me. Perfect. As he eases her into his front seat, I think how different that is from how he chucked me in there like a ball yesterday. He’s also thrown away all the trash from his truck and he’s not even dipping tobacco for the first time in maybe, ever.
He might not be such a Butt Munch after all.
Mai Wong lies twisted up across the seat, still babying her arm. I start to climb in beside her, careful not to sit on her head, but she stops me. “You can’t go.”
“Why?”
“You need to find Turdmouth.”
Just his name makes me grind my teeth. “What for?”
“Give him another chance.”
“He doesn’t deserve it. Trust me.”
“Do it anyway.”
“Why?”
“’Cause you owe Corn Dog,” she whispers.
I can’t hardly breathe. “You saw?”
She nods.
Guilt and shame hit me with the biggest one-two punch. This friend saw me stealing from another one. O’Dell’s eyebrows crinkle with endless questions beside me, but he doesn’t ask. I don’t even how to explain myself. “Diablo had just told me I owed him …”
“You’re a good friend. Now go.”
O’Dell whispers, “Where do I take her?”
“Just a sec.” I pat Mai Wong, then close her door extra quiet. I’ve been thinking about this and am still not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but it seems like the best of bad choices.
I give him No-Brains’ business card. “Here’s this cop’s cell phone. He’s a detective. Tell him we’re friends and—”
“I’m your friend?” He beams a tobacco-stained grin at me.
“A butt-munchy friend.” I poke his tight gut. “Call and ask him which hospital to take her. He’ll probably want to question her since it involves the Barrio Brothers. She’s got family, but she doesn’t want to talk to any of ’em now. Let Noblitt decide that one. Tell him Eddie Loco raped her. Stay with her as long as you can.”
“Today is my day off, so we’re cool.”
“Thanks for doing this.”
“No problem. Call when you can. What’s the deal with you and Turdmouth?”
“I’m not sure.”
“She’s right. You should give him another chance.”
“What, ’cause you met him all of once?”
“Yeah, but I could tell he was all right. Besides, he puts up with you, so he can’t be too bad.”
O’Dell ducks before I can punch him. He laughs and heads to the driver’s seat, while I open Mai Wong’s door to say goodbye. It takes two tries to open this crappy thing.
I planned on giving her a quick, side pat to not hurt her, but she pulls me down with her good arm and squashes me. Her bones feel like twigs that might snap any sec, but she’s mashing me to her.
I cup her mangled face in my hands. My tears match hers and I give us both the same pep talk. “You listen to me, Mai Wong. You’re going to get through this. We both are. I’ve got O’Dell’s number and will meet up with you two after I find Turdmouth. Okay?”
She tries to smile, but her mouth stays flat. One tear rolls down and splats my hand.
“Take care.” I slam her door shut before I start bawling. O’Dell nods at me and I nod back.
Watching ’em drive away, that truck takes my last bit of hope with it. I need to go look for Turdmouth again, but I’ve got nothing left. My teeth chatter. I’m standing next to a trashcan and almost dig through it to search for food, but don’t bother.
Who wants to live when there’s nothing left to live for?
CHAPTER 34
Each slushy step deeper into Chinatown feels like a cold slap in the face. I don’t know how Mai Wong stands this side of town. There’s angry letters scrawled across all the buildings and the lostness in her licorice eyes haunt me everywhere I go, since it’s her home.
A mom sits at a bus stop with a baby bundled in her arms, latched to her naked booby eating. As I pass ’em, she holds the baby’s palm out to me. I’ve counted my change from the water fountain. There’s forty-nine cents in my pocket now.
Get in line, lady. You’re a crap-sandwich mama for dragging your kid into this life. These coins are mine, and I walk right on by without a second
look.
I’ve searched for Turdmouth all over and he’s nowhere. I promised Mai Wong to give him another chance, though I’ve got no clue what to say to when I find him. He may be back in Paradise for all I know, but it’s not safe for me there since I’m officially Diablo dead now for standing him up. I don’t like picturing how many Barrio Brothers he took with him to meet me. My stomach growls so loud the ground seems to shake.
I pass the side street where I first saw Mai Wong and where Turdmouth escaped. There’s something tucked behind that empty crate I didn’t notice before. The shininess grabs my attention.
It’s a giant, silver purse with shiny handles, lying wide open. It calls to me. Mai Wong doesn’t understand, sometimes you’ve got to do stuff you’re not proud of to survive, and this looks way more promising than Corn Dog’s crumbly five.
Checking over both shoulders, no one’s looking. My fingers reach into the dark bag, hoping for a jackpot.
“That’s my shit.” A lady jerks me back by the hair so hard it rips a clump from my head.
I scream. My scalp burns like I’m on fire and my neck almost snaps in half. She whirls me around and I see it’s no lady, but a girl about my size and maybe age. Twice as strong, too. She’s wearing tons of makeup, a long, green raincoat, all beneath her straight, brown hair. That’s the shortest dress and the highest-heeled boots ever—both red.
Swinging my fist, I catch her chin, but she moves too fast for me to clock her good. We tumble to the sidewalk together in a hard, wet thud. The air knocks out of me. My insides paralyze and I can’t breathe. Her bulging eyes make me think she’s hurt, too.
I try to scramble away, but she’s quicker and straddles my chest. She pins me down. I try pushing her off, but can’t. I can’t read the tattoo on her right boob.
Her long, red fingernails scratch both my cheeks, tearing off skin. The burning matches my ripped scalp. I holler, trying to scrape her back, but my nails are too stubby. Still, I dig into her flesh. Our scared and mad tangle together in a blur of shrieks, punches and slaps. I slam her hard in the side, but she hammers me back in my left ear. Her sky-blue eyes flash hate as we tussle on the ground. I should’ve known better than to mess with someone else’s corner.
The swirly letters pop into view on her boob, a word Mama taught me years ago: Egypt.
“Egypt?”
“How’d you know me?” She cuffs my ribs. I shout and point at her name, but she boxes me again. “I’ll kill you!”
She’s a machine gun now, pummeling me one fist after the other. Nonstop pain shoots through me. I do my best to block her, but she’s giving me a thrashing. In between blows, I yell, “Egypt, it’s me … Copper … Copper Daniels.”
She stops. Her breath sucks in hard and she sits back, her butt keeps squishing my bladder. We watch each other, then her eyebrows furrow together.
Egypt says extra slow, “Cop-per?”
I nod, so glad she stopped pounding me. I spot traces of the girl I knew when we were little. Freckles across my best friend’s nose beneath that makeup, super long eyelashes around her blue eyes. They spark a tiny bit now, like she’s remembering me, too. Egypt was the first person to ever see my lucky penny from Mama. I’d like to tell her how I kept it all these years…
’Til Turdmouth stole it yesterday, along with my heart.
Egypt shakes her head like I must be a dream. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
She stands super-fast and straightens her dress under that raincoat. After grabbing her purse, she fumbles through it and pulls out a tube of lipstick. “I just got back from LA. I’ve been to Vegas and Reno, too. You ever left Paradise?” I shake my head no, she snorts. “Didn’t think so. Talk about lame.”
Egypt hurries to the slushy corner. I think she’s about to bail on me, but she just stands there, shivering and looking both ways. My gaze follow hers, though I’m sure what she’s expecting. She wipes the red smudge from her chin and puts on a fresh layer of lipstick.
I get up and clean myself off some, wiping away the grime here and there. Her clothes are way nicer than Mama’s. Paradise didn’t swallow her whole after all. She’s totally different, but still sort of the same. The Egypt I knew would never steal cash from me like Turdmouth did.
I say, “Why didn’t you come back to Paradise?”
“’Cause it blows.”
“Mama will be psyched to see you. She thought you died years ago.”
“Your mom’s a skank.”
That snaps my attention to her. She stands grinning at me ready for another fight. My heart yanks. She’s got her meth-mouth, jacked-up teeth, all eaten away. Egypt grew up to be her crack-head mama after all.
In more ways than one. I step closer, but still out of punching range, then lower my voice. “Watch yourself. My mama’s no skank.”
“Skank, skank, skank. Always was.”
“Your mama was a thousand times worse.”
“I slit my mom’s throat years ago.” Egypt’s glare rains hate down on me.
I gasp. “You did not.”
“Did, too. Do you see her anywhere around?”
“No, but I saw that BMW…” I can’t finish.
“Go to hell.” Egypt folds both sides of her raincoat together, but still shivers. She pulls a fake gold lighter and a pack of cigarettes from her purse, then lights one. I don’t smoke, but the old Egypt would’ve at least offered. I see now under all that makeup, her skin’s just bumpy. She turned into her mama.
The hazy smoke floats up into the frosty air, then disappears. I watch her through the cloud as she keeps checking the street, still searching for someone or something. We don’t talk. I want to go, but can’t seem to leave.
Egypt’s high heel nudges a pebble on the sidewalk, the kind we used building our rock forts together. She takes an extra-long drag off her cigarette, then makes smokey Os into the air. “I’m gonna travel the world. I’m headed to Fort Lauderdale next. You still look five. Your gnarly hair. I bet you’ve got no titties under there.” She laughs and grabs at my hand-me-down jacket, but I slap her hand away.
I want to say it’s better than the punch board she turned into, but I don’t need another ass-kicking.
Egypt checks the street once more, then kicks the pebble to the curb. She stubs out her cigarette with her heel, slips her shiny purse over her shoulder and heads down the block.
“Nice seeing you, too,” I holler.
She flips the O’Dell finger and struts away. Even her hips swing like a grown-up’s. Egypt rounds the corner and disappears, without looking back once.
Mama left me, Egypt left me, Turdmouth stole my cash, then left me. My reflection shines from a closed-up store window at an old cleaners. I can’t read Chinese, but see the long, clear bags dangling on the empty hangers inside, like forgotten ghosts.
The window shows what Egypt and everyone else sees: scratched cheeks, bruises from the Street Killer, this red rat-nest hair kinking around my face.
I am a skank.
My mind flashes back to one time when me and Mama watched the news in our motel room at the end of a long day that still wasn’t over. The man reporter said, “Paradise is one of the worst social disasters in America.”
I asked her what that meant.
A knock rapped at our door.
She told me to get under the bed.
CHAPTER 35
Back in Chinatown, I keep wandering around looking for Turdmouth, lost inside of lost in the snow. The food smells different over here, the people sound different, and even the wind doesn’t howl the same. As awful as Paradise is, it’s at least familiar, but Diablo will kill me if I go back there.
At some point, I decide to forget him. My cash is gone for good. I just want out, but can’t find my way back to get me home to the cemetery. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got nowhere else to go and nobody waiting for me.
A tiny Chinese lady in a faded red coat rambles by pushing a shopping c
art down the slushy sidewalk. She’s having a tough time maneuvering that thing ’cause it’s packed higher than her, plus two trash bags tied on either side. I see clothes, blankets, an old radio. Her whole life’s stuffed in there, but it’s still more than me.
Out of habit, my hand reaches into my pocket first.
Nothing. No lucky penny.
Traitor. My heart and my belly both cry out from time to time. Egypt probably has lots of cash for food. I don’t want to think about her or what she does to earn her money, but the more I try not to, the more she fills my brain. I wonder what she was looking for earlier on her corner. I wonder if she’s really been to LA or Reno. I wonder if she still would’ve grown up to be a crack whore if her mama hadn’t sold her to that first man in the beginning.
It’s hard to tell what time it is by the gloomy sky. I should call O’Dell to check on Mai Wong, but don’t want to know it if he somehow screwed me over, too. Besides, I don’t want to draw attention to myself over here, so I keep going. Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into hours.
My head feels wonkier from no food, like a heavy brick on my shoulders and icicles on my feet. The only thing I’ve got for sure is more pain—a banged up body and a broken heart. I’m still stuck in Chinatown. I keep going back to the side street where I swear I followed Turdmouth into, but it just leads to another alley. I may die here.
I’m standing by a snow drift, but don’t have the energy to pull out my street sign to score some food. It’s too exhausting to keep moving since I can’t have what I want most … Mama, warmth, cash. I don’t know where to go or what to do when a white car pulls up beside me, not like Egypt’s BMW, but still fancy.
One of the dark windows rolls down to a round-faced grandpa driving. He’s not Chinese, with seriously stained teeth and a shy smile. “Want a ride?”
“No.” I hurry down the street.
He drives alongside me. “It’s awful cold. I’ll make it worth your while.”
I move even faster.
The car stops. His gravelly voice says, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
He holds out a shiny food wrapper.
