by J. M. Kelly
I shrug.
“A college that teaches exactly what you want to know.”
I’m not following her.
“Automotive restoration!” she says. “You learn everything about restoring vintage cars.”
“Really?” This is surprising. I’m still not going to college, but it’s kind of cool to know a degree like that exists.
“It’s in McPherson, Kansas.”
Kansas? I can’t even place the state on a map. Somewhere in the middle, maybe?
Ms. Spellerman holds out a whole pile of papers toward me. When she does, I see her left hand is bare. The engagement ring is missing. Could that be why she looks so bad? I don’t really want the papers, but the idea that she and her fiancé broke up and she still took the time to do this . . . well, I’d feel a little bad not taking the stuff, so I let her give the stack to me.
“Now,” she says, “there’s information there on the program—how to apply, and deadlines and all that. I’ve made a list of the dates for the SATs and how to sign up for them, too. And that green sheet?”
I fumble around and pull it out.
“That’s a step-by-step timeline for you. I know you said you don’t want to go to college, but I thought maybe that’s because the process is so overwhelming. This is designed to make it as easy as possible.” She gives me a watery smile. “This way you don’t have any excuses.”
“Umm . . . thanks.”
Her phone rings and she tells me she has to take it but I should come back next month to let her know how it’s going. Also, she offers to write me a letter of recommendation even though we only met last week.
As soon as I’m back in the hallway and her door is shut, I drop the pile of papers into the nearest recycling can. I’m halfway to English when I turn around and go back. The bin’s right outside Ms. Spellerman’s door. What if she sees the papers in there? What if that was her fiancé on the phone, saying it was definitely over, and she comes out and discovers I’ve dumped all her hard work without even looking at it? What if she totally loses it because of me? I fish out the packet and stuff it in my backpack. It’s not like I’m interested or anything—I just can’t be responsible for the new guidance counselor jumping out of a third-story window.
Chapter 8
Two weeks later I’m falling asleep in algebra when I swallow a bug. That’s what it feels like anyway, and I’m hacking for a full minute before Mr. Cartwright suggests I go get a drink of water. In the hallway, I run into Ms. Spellerman. Literally.
“Oh, sorry,” I say.
“No, excuse me. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Which is true. She is typing on an iPhone and has barely looked up. Must be nice to have a phone. Not that I’d have anyone to call anyway. Han swears he’ll kill himself before carrying around something that will let his parents track him down whenever they want, and none of my other friends can afford one.
I slip away before she recognizes me—one of the advantages of going to a school with four thousand kids—and I get my drink of water. Back in the classroom, Cartwright drones on and on, and I fumble through my ratty backpack for a stick of gum. Instead, I find the papers Ms. Spellerman gave me, which I haven’t looked at, at all.
I spend the rest of the period reading them over, and when I’m done, I know five things.
McPherson College is in McPherson, Kansas, which looks like one of those small towns from the 1950s, where the girls wear poodle skirts, the guys grease their hair, and everyone goes to the prom sober.
Taking the SATs costs a small fortune.
They take only fifty people into the restoration program at any one time, but you can enroll in the college, take all your other classes, and apply again if you don’t get in on the first try.
That comedian who used to be on TV and loves cars gives away a full-ride scholarship every year.
Last year, the students restored a 1949 Hudson Hornet, and it looks amazing.
For about half a second I get butterflies of excitement in my stomach. I could do that program. I could have helped with that Hornet. But then reality sinks in. There’s no way I could ever talk Amber into moving to Kansas. She’s too locked into being around our family. She needs everyone a lot more than I do. When we all get together, our aunts and uncles, cousins, and all the kids, I’m overwhelmed, but Amber’s in her element. She won’t leave that. Plus there’s the whole thing with Aunt Ruby and the Glass Slipper. None of Ruby’s kids are interested in the tavern, and she’s basically promised to leave it to Amber if my sister keeps working there. That’s Amber’s dream and part of the plan I’ve agreed to. I shove the papers in my backpack and try to forget about them.
That night, I’m sitting at the kitchen table with Mom. We’re both eating coffee cake and doing crossword puzzles. I try not to eat the crap she brings home from the bakery. No offense, but I don’t want to balloon out like her and be a whale. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything else to eat in the house. Hopefully Amber will bring me a veggie burger from work.
About once a week, one of the cooks, Brad, sends Amber home with some free food because I give him rides sometimes. If I don’t end up with something tonight, I’ll get a box of mac and cheese at the corner store.
Normally I’d be at work right now, but most of my shifts this week have gone to David again, and I’m trying not to think about it. “Five letters, starts with e,” Mom says, holding out her crossword to me. “It’s an automotive misfortune.”
“Edsel.”
“That’s my girl.”
The phone rings. Neither of us moves. Gil is closer. A minute later, he yells, “Crystal! It’s for you.”
I go into the living room, where the phone is plugged into the wall. We had a cordless one for a while, but the battery wore out. Amber found this one in the basement of the Glass Slipper, and Aunt Ruby said we could have it.
“Hello?”
“It’s Rosa. Can you come in?”
“Now?”
“Raul’s got the flu or something.”
“What about David?”
“He’s got some school thing. I really need you, Crystal.”
“Yeah, okay. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Make it fifteen. Raul is barfing between customers.”
It’s not until I hang up that I remember I’ve got Natalie. Normally she goes to the Glass Slipper with Amber, but there was no point tonight, since I was home. But it sounds like Raul’s in a bad way, and Rosa can’t pump gas, so I don’t really have time to drop off the baby at the tavern, either.
“Can you watch Nat?” I ask Mom.
“No can do, sweetie-pie. I’m on my way out.”
She’s still sitting at the table like she’s never going to move, but I saw her counting her change earlier, so Aunt Pearl’s probably coming to get her to go to bingo before their shift. In the living room, I take one look at Gil, who is prostrate on the couch, and decide Natalie will have to come with me. As long as Jimmy doesn’t find out, it shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, I’m doing him a favor.
“You brought the baby?” Rosa says when I come through the door, the bell jingling behind me.
“No choice. I’ll stick her in Jimmy’s office. Yell if she starts crying.”
It’s a slow night, so I’m inside with Rosa more than I’m outside pumping gas, which is fine with me because it’s pretty damn cold, even for the first week in November. And the stinging rain is coming down slantwise, making it hard to stay dry.
At midnight, I lock the door from the inside and turn out all the lights except the ones over the register. Rosa counts out her till, and I get Nat from the back and set her on the floor behind the counter. I’ve already swept and cleaned the glass doors, and I start restocking the cigarettes at lightning speed so we can blow the second Rosa’s done.
We’re talking about nothing important when we both hear the bathroom door at the back of the store open. Me and Rosa give each other frightened looks as a man with greasy hair and wearing a
n overcoat comes out and staggers his way toward us.
I look at Rosa again, and her eyes go wide. In an instant, my heart’s beating so fast, it’s like there isn’t even any space between the beats. This is it. Mom always told me I shouldn’t work here because it’s too dangerous, and now she’s gonna be right.
Behind the counter is a hole in the floor where Rosa drops the money into the safe all night long so there’s nothing much in the register. There’re signs posted all over saying we never have more than thirty-five bucks in cash and we don’t have the combination to the safe, but druggies aren’t usually big readers.
The guy stops on the other side of the counter facing us. His eyes are bloodshot, and he has to hold on to the edge to keep from falling. Maybe we could take him? We keep a bat behind the counter . . . Slowly I move my hand toward it, but then I remember Natalie’s here.
Oh, God. Please don’t cry, Nat. Please, please, please.
“What d’you want?” Rosa says in a tough voice, and then her eyes roll back in her head and she passes out at my feet. It’s the fake faint that she’s been telling me she’s gonna do if we’re ever robbed, and now she’s finally got her chance.
The guy blinks twice and shakes his head like he’s not sure what he saw. Then he says, “Give me some Marlboros.”
That’s when I clue in to what’s going on. Since gas stations don’t keep money in the registers anymore, most of the robberies around here are about beer and smokes. So far, I don’t see a weapon, but I grab four cartons of Marlboros and slide them across the counter without hesitating.
He stuffs his hand into one of the deep pockets of his coat, rummaging around forever. Every muscle in my body tightens until I feel like I will shatter if I try to move. I just know he’s going to pull out a gun. I live in a crappy neighborhood, but I’ve never actually seen one in person. There’s this weird little part of me, like the ghost of Crystal, that sort of floats above my head and wants to see a gun. What the hell is wrong with me?
On the ground where the guy can’t see her, Rosa is wide awake. She’s already hit the silent alarm and is sending texts on her phone, probably to her kids to say she loves them. I see Natalie shift in her carrier. Please. Please. Please don’t cry. My hand is shaking as I reach for more cigarettes and start piling them in front of the guy. There’s a nice little wall of red and white cartons between us now.
“Dude.” He laughs. “I mean, dudette. I only want two packs, man.” He lays a twenty on the counter.
“What?”
“Two packs,” he repeats.
“Two packs?” I say like I’m a stupid friggin’ parrot.
“Yeah, man. I’m not made of money.”
I stare at him, and he stares back at me, making his eyes bug out, and then he laughs like we’re sharing some joke, his nose crinkling up, a gap showing between his back molars.
And then I get it.
We’re not being robbed.
The guy just wants to buy cigarettes.
The breath I’ve been holding whooshes out of me and I start laughing in relief, which makes him laugh more. I laugh so hard tears stream down my face, and he slaps his hand on the counter like he can’t believe how funny we both are. On the floor, Rosa’s looking at me, horrified. I guess because she’s been so busy texting, and everything’s kinda surreal anyway, she still hasn’t figured out we’re not being robbed. Now she thinks I’m losing it, which is not that far from the truth. My whole body is shaking, like I’m in an earthquake or something.
Finally, when I don’t stop laughing, the guy gets quiet and narrows his eyes at me. “You’re some weird chick. Can I have my change or not?”
“We’re closed,” I tell him, sobering up.
The guy looks around at the store and says, “I thought it was kinda dark in here.”
This cracks me up all over again. I’m so relieved that I’m not about to die, that Natalie’s not going to be murdered or kidnapped, that I grab a whole carton of Marlboros and hand it to him. “Take it,” I say.
He smiles a big, crooked slow grin and nods. “Really? Cool. I like you. You’re all right.”
“I’ll let you out.” I go around the counter, wiping tears off my face, and turn the lock with a shaky hand. As I open the door and let the guy through, I hear the distant wail of sirens.
Oh, shit.
When I finally get Natalie loaded into the back seat and we hit the road, it’s almost two o’clock in the morning. The police weren’t thrilled about the false alarm. They still had to do a full investigation in case there was a guy hiding somewhere and threatening us, making us lie to get the cops to go away. The officers even checked our cars.
And then Jimmy and his wife, Betty, showed up, and we had to go over the whole thing again. If that wasn’t bad enough, Betty was pissed I’d given the guy the cigarettes. I didn’t even mean to admit that part—it just came out. She told Jimmy to dock my pay, but he glared at her and handed me a lit smoke to calm my nerves.
Natalie was an angel the whole time, but I got a talking-to by a police officer and another lecture from Jimmy about bringing her to work. That won’t be happening again. Not that I’d be that stupid after tonight. Hell, I don’t even want to come back.
When I pull up to the house, Bonehead goes crazy, barking and tugging on his chain. Probably no one remembered to feed him. The front door opens and light spills out into the yard, and Amber and Gil come running out. Well, she’s running, he’s weaving, but he’s on his feet.
Mr. Hendricks screams at Bonehead from across the street, and Amber’s yelling at me, wanting to know where we’ve been, and then Nat totally loses it and starts crying at decibels that could shatter windows.
“Shut the hell up!” another neighbor yells. “Or I’m gonna call the cops!”
I hand Natalie to Amber and drag Bonehead up onto the porch, not unhooking him until I can shove him through the door into the front room. Mom doesn’t want him in the house, but he’s so excited by now that it’s the only way to shut him up. She’s not home anyway. He dances around in pure jubilation, his claws scratching the plywood floor even worse than it was.
“Have you been smoking?” Amber demands, sniffing me.
“Take care of Natalie—she’s wet. Let me feed the dog, and then I’ll tell you what happened.”
Gil’s already passed out on the couch again, thank God. A minute later, Bonehead is slurping down his food in the kitchen, and I drag my ass into the bedroom, where Amber is cooing to Natalie and putting baby powder on her butt. I collapse onto my bed.
“Where the hell were you?” she whisper-yells. “You were supposed to pick me up. I called here and no one answered, so Aunt Ruby had to drive me.”
“I was at work.”
“How come you didn’t tell Gil? He was freaking out too.”
“He was passed out when I left. Mom knew.”
“I couldn’t get her on the phone.”
“Sorry. I—”
“What were you doing at work until two o’clock in the morning?”
“We got robbed,” I say, finally shutting her up. She’s so shocked, she lets go of Nat, who almost wiggles right off the Rubbermaid container we’ve set up as a changing table. Amber grabs her before she falls, and Nat squeals in pain. I hope Amber’s fingers don’t leave a mark on the baby’s arm. That’s the sort of thing they check for at the school daycare. In the rich part of town, a mom can probably save her kid from falling, but around here, the authorities don’t believe in accidents.
“Are you okay?” Amber asks, sitting on my bed and holding Natalie so tightly the baby whimpers.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “But Nat’s probably hungry.”
“Okay. I’ll get a bottle. But don’t fall asleep before you tell me what happened.”
Now that all the adrenaline has left my system, the tension’s completely gone and I’m a wet rag. I lie there in that weird eerie light from the halogen floor lamp and close my eyes. When Amber comes back, I ask
her about Bonehead.
“He’s curled up on the couch next to Gil. Do you want me to put him in your car?”
“Leave him.” I’m too tired to care. And then I explain the whole night to Amber without even opening my eyes. And what does she zero in on? The smoking.
“We agreed no more cigarettes,” she says. “Especially around Nat.”
“You know what, Am?” I say, sitting up. “When you get robbed, or think you’re getting robbed, you can have a cigarette too. You can have a whole fucking pack, for all I care.”
“Yeah . . . okay. Sorry.”
We sit there in silence as she finishes feeding the baby. By the time Amber’s burped her, I’m under the covers and almost out again.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, keeping her voice low. “I hate this city.”
Me and Amber both know Portland has lots of great areas—we just don’t happen to live in any of them. Tonight, I hate it too. We didn’t even get robbed, but I’m not sure I could’ve been any more scared even if we had been. I turn on my side and look over at my sister. She’s wearing an old white T-shirt that’s gray from being washed with our jeans, and her long red hair tumbles around her shoulders. She’s shivering from the cold, and she looks small and fragile as she reaches for the lamp. I wonder how I can protect her and Natalie if I can’t even protect myself?
Once Amber has turned off the light and we’re wrapped in the familiar darkness, I say, “Hey, Am? What do you know about Kansas?”
“There’s no place like home,” she mumbles.
Exactly. That’s why I’m thinking maybe we should leave. Small-town America suddenly sounds pretty appealing.
Chapter 9
I wake up to Natalie’s whimpers. Lately she’s been doing this in the morning instead of full-on wailing. It’s like she’s figured out she’ll get more sympathy and attention if she sounds resigned to her fate. Amber’s dragged herself out of bed and is picking her up. I so want to roll over and go back to sleep, but we’re doing those lame-ass statewide fitness tests in PE, so I have to go. I’m the only senior in our class, which makes it even more pathetic—most students fulfill the PE requirement in the first two years of high school, but me and Amber had bronchitis for three weeks when we were freshmen and had to sit around in the library, missing PE class. She made it up junior year, but I put it off until the last minute.
