Secrets

by Marthe Jocelyn

The old woman’s voice faded to a whisper. “And she was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter.”

  She reached out a frail hand toward Rosalind – its veins miniature purple mountain ranges, its tendons a fan of straight roads through them. “I put this story in your charge,” she whispered, “because you’re the one.” Her dry fingers closed around Rosalind’s sweaty hand. “You’ve been given it.”

  Rosalind ran, stumbling against furniture. Howling, she fled the house. Lucy flew down the stairs, following her out the door. “Little sister! Little sister!” Rosalind heard, as she ran onto the ice. Buttoning her coat, she looked back. For the space of three heartbeats they stared at each other. She knew, now.

  She followed the red petals of Corny’s blood in the snow. She thought they grew bigger as she passed – splashes, pools. Omens. She was nearly home before Corny, with his questions, caught up.

  “Nothing,” she answered. “Just some story.” She turned to him, eyes bright as jet.

  Dream Girls

  Gillian Chan

  I didn’t actually meet Sonia Elliot until I was ten, but I had hated her for two years before that.

  The year that I was eight, my mom had gone back to her hometown to visit Grandpa. Sonia lived in that town. She was the daughter of Mom’s best friend in high school, and she was three months older than me.

  According to my mom, Sonia was everything a girl should be – dainty, and a real little lady. She liked to wear the dresses her mother picked out for her, and have her hair fixed in fancy styles. She was always polite to adults and made an effort to talk to her mother’s friends whenever they stopped by for a visit.

  These Sonia stories really ticked me off because, although Mom never actually said it, I knew that she was thinking not like you. I mean, I didn’t set out to disappoint her deliberately; it was just the way I was. Being thin and lanky like my dad, I looked like a jerk in the dresses Mom wanted me to wear. They were always made of material that itched and they showed my knobby, grazed knees.

  I didn’t see what was wrong with the clothes I liked. Pants in the winter and shorts in the summer were practical, especially if you spent most of your time outside, joining in whatever game was going on.

  That was another thing that we didn’t agree on. Mom thought I should spend more time indoors, doing quiet things, and less time with Ella Bean, whom I’d finally succeeded in making my best friend.

  The summer I was ten, Mom went to visit Grandpa again. I dreaded her coming back because, at Ella’s urging, I’d convinced my dad to let me have my hair cut short. He gave me the money without asking any questions. I felt kind of mean because I knew that he’d get into trouble too. But Ella and I headed into Elmwood and, instead of going to Lilian’s where Mom always goes, we went to the town barbershop and persuaded Mr. Mason to give us boy-type haircuts. I was expecting a real explosion when Mom saw me.

  It never came. Mom came home with news. As her car drew up, Dad and I went out to meet her. I couldn’t stop my hand straying to the satisfying sandpapery feel of my head. Mom gave a double take when she saw me, but then she sighed and told us her news: Sonia Elliot was coming to stay.

  This was awful.

  Later I just had to ask her, “Why is Sonia coming here?”

  “Well, Dee Dee, her mother’s not been very well. She’s really run-down and could use a rest. So I suggested that while her parents went away, Sonia could come and stay with us for a couple of weeks. They jumped at the idea. I was a little surprised that they were so enthusiastic, especially as you and Sonia have never met.” She smiled at me. “Anyway, it’ll be nice for you to have someone to play with, won’t it, sweetie?”

  I could see Mom was going to love having Sonia around, being how Mom thought a girl should be. Mom had already made it pretty clear what she thought of Ella and her family. If Sonia were here, I wouldn’t be able to spend so much time with Ella.

  Ella and I had been planning, with her brother Jud, to build a fort out at the town dump, near where Ella lived. I knew that, even if I did get to go out, I’d almost certainly have to take Sonia with me. From Mom’s description, I knew that Ella would think of Sonia as a real girlie-girl. With both wanting to be tough and as much like Jud as we could be, a girlie-girl was the ultimate insult. My new friendship with Ella might not survive a test like this.

  “When’s she coming? Exactly how long is she staying? Will she be sharing my room? Do I have to take her with me when I go out to play?”

  Mom’s sweet, patient answers made me feel mean for even asking. “Now, Dee Dee, I think you can be a bit more charitable. It can’t have been easy for Sonia with her mother sick. I’ll be relying on you to make her feel welcome. You think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

  “I s’pose so.”

  Mom drove me crazy all week with preparations for our little guest, as she called Sonia. My room was a major problem. Mom used Sonia coming as an excuse to get me to throw stuff out.

  Then there was the matter of clothes. After huge arguments, she gave in and said that I didn’t have to wear dresses the whole time Sonia was here, but I most definitely had to have a new dress to greet her and in case we went out somewhere fancy. The dress was pink, with tiny pearl buttons. It had stiff white crinolines that made its skirt stick out, so that I looked like a powder puff on thin stork legs. The worst thing was the hair bow – a fat satin one that perched on my head like a pink crow on a field of mown corn.

  Sonia arrived with her father. He seemed eager to get away as quickly as possible, but Mom persuaded him to stay for tea. Sonia and I eyed each other like two cats.

  “Sonia, honey, you don’t know how pleased we are to have you stay with us. This is Della and I just know that you two are going to be good friends.” She shoved me between the shoulder blades with a sharp knuckle. “Della, why don’t you take Sonia to your room and get to know each other? You can show her where everything is.”

  Once we got to my bedroom, I was able to look at Sonia more closely. She was as pretty as Mom said, small and neat-looking. She reminded me of one of those fancy china dolls that you’re never allowed to take out of the box. Sonia stared back at me without saying anything and then started to unpack her suitcase.

  I thought I’d better make the first move. “My mom called me Della down there, but I prefer to be called Dee Dee.”

  “So?” Her voice had changed. It wasn’t the sweet one she’d used downstairs.

  “I just thought, if we are going to be friends, you’d like to know, that’s all.”

  She looked straight at me then, her face blank. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t know you and, looking at you, I don’t think I want to know you. What kind of girl has a boy’s haircut?”

  I was so shocked that I just stared at her.

  “It’s all your mother’s fault. We were going to go to the lake and she convinced them that my mother would get more rest if it were just her and Dad. I wouldn’t have been any trouble. And now I’m stuck in this dump, Elmwood, with you.”

  I couldn’t let that pass. “Elmwood’s OK. We can go swimming at the creek and I’ll take you to meet my friend Ella.”

  “Hick stuff. Ella and Della, hick names, too!” Her laugh was mean. My joke with Ella, the rhyme our names made, turned into something babyish and silly.

  I knew then that the next two weeks were going to be awful. And there were definitely two Sonias. Downstairs, she was all smiles and her voice was sweet.

  “Dee Dee is so kind, Mrs. Carson. She said she’d take me to meet her friends and that you’d be taking us shopping.”

  Her father looked at her sharply. “You make sure you’re on your best behavior, Sonia.”

  That was how it was. The nice Sonia turned up when my mom was around, but when we were alone, she was downright nasty. I tried telling Mom, but she laughed at me. “I just can’t believe you, Dee Dee. Sonia’s always so polite. Anyway, why would she be mean to you?”

  “Because she hates it here, and she
hates you for persuading her parents to go away by themselves.”

  “That’s enough, Della Jane Carson. Now I know you’re making things up because Sonia’s told me how much she likes it here. I think you’re jealous of all the fuss people make about her.”

  There didn’t seem any point in trying again after that. Mom was having such a good time taking Sonia out shopping and to visit with her friends. I trailed along, hating the dresses Mom made me wear, wishing I was down at the dump with Ella.

  I hadn’t seen Ella for a whole week and it was driving me nuts. But, one day, Mom went to visit in the next town and said I could invite another friend over. Trudie, our cleaner, was to keep an eye on Sonia and me. Mom agreed when I said that I wanted the other friend to be Ella.

  When Sonia heard, her face wrinkled into a sneer. “Ella? Ella Bean? Your mom’s told me about her. She lives down by the dump, doesn’t she? I bet she smells.”

  “She does not! She’s my best friend. She makes up the best games and her brother Jud says she’s the fastest pitcher he knows, boy or girl.”

  “Yeah, well, she sounds like a freak to me. But only a freak would want to be friends with you. You look more like a boy than a girl half the time. I can see why your mom gets so fed up with you.” Sonia smiled as she saw tears well up in my eyes. It hurt that Mom had talked to Sonia about me.

  There was a rat-a-tat-tat on the door then, the one that Ella and I used as our signal. She was standing on the porch grinning, hands stuffed into the pockets of shorts even older and scruffier than mine.

  “How ya doing, Dee Dee? Jud and I have missed you.”

  I was so happy to see her. “I’ll be back out at the dump with you next week.”

  Sonia had come up behind me and was staring over my shoulder. “So this is the great Ella, is it? I was right about why you two get on so well. You are a pair of freaks.”

  With one strong tanned arm, Ella pushed me out of the way and moved towards Sonia. “Well, it’s better than being a two-bit girlie.” Ella said this quietly, but I knew that I had to act fast because she was likely to take a swing at Sonia.

  “Hey, what shall we do today?” My voice sounded bright and false.

  Ella looked at me. “You said on the phone that we have to stay by the house so Trudie can keep an eye on us. There’s not much we can do, right?”

  “What about playing baseball cards?” Ella and I both loved baseball.

  “That’s boring,” said Sonia. “I don’t want to do that.”

  Ella looked at her. “Who cares what you want to do!”

  “Ella, we can’t leave her out. She’ll tell on us when Mom gets back.”

  Ella grinned. “Who said anything about leaving her out?”

  “I don’t want to play baseball cards.” Sonia’s voice was whiny, “I want to play dress-up.”

  I was stuck in the middle. “Let’s play both.”

  Ella and I sorted our cards, carefully putting aside the ones that were too good to play with. I loaned Sonia some so that she could play, too. The game was flipping cards against the wall, landing them on your opponent’s cards to win them. Sonia wasn’t much good and swore it was an accident when she used some of my best cards and they got bent.

  Dress-up was just plain dumb. “I don’t have any dressing-up clothes,” I told Sonia.

  She smiled. “We can use your mom’s. She won’t mind.”

  I wasn’t too sure about that, but I reckoned that if we left everything as we found it, she’d never know.

  Sonia tried on lots of Mom’s clothes and got mad when we wouldn’t join in. I was scared that she’d make a mess, especially when she started in on Mom’s makeup. Ella just lounged against the wall, looking bored. When Sonia showed no signs of wanting to stop, Ella and I left her to it and went downstairs to wait for lunch.

  All through lunch, Sonia kept smirking at us as if she had some kind of secret, but she left us alone in the afternoon. While we pitched to each other in the backyard, she sat on the swing and read Mom’s magazines.

  Ella had gone by the time my parents got back. “Did you girls have a good time? Trudie left no notes of complaint, so you can’t have been any trouble.”

  In her sugary voice, Sonia said, “We had a lovely time, Aunt Jennie, didn’t we, Dee Dee?”

  I wondered why she wasn’t telling Mom how Ella and I had kind of left her out.

  “That’s good to hear. I thought you might find Ella a little rough. Now, I think I’ll go and change.” Mom was upstairs for only a minute before she came running back down, shouting and shaking with anger.

  “How dare you? You girls have been in my room, going through my things!”

  Dad said, “Calm down, Jennie. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

  Mom ignored him. “And if that’s not bad enough, you’ve poured perfume and powder all over my new satin comforter. It’s ruined! Who did this?”

  I started to explain but Sonia interrupted, her voice low and steady, “It must have been Ella. She was up there a while by herself when Trudie called Dee Dee and me to help lay the table for lunch.”

  I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears. “That’s not true! It was Sonia who was up there alone!”

  “Delia, stop making that dreadful noise,” Mom said, staring at me. “I know Sonia well enough to know that she wouldn’t do anything like this, but Ella – she’s wild….”

  “Mom, please listen.”

  “No, I’ve heard enough lies from you about Sonia. Just go to your room.” She didn’t see the sideways look that Sonia gave me as I stood and headed upstairs.

  The remaining three days of Sonia’s visit dragged by. Mom barely spoke to me except to tell me what to do, or to make remarks about Ella. But Sonia was the worst. Whenever Mom was nearby, she acted like I was the best friend she had in the whole world.

  When Sonia’s dad arrived to take her home, Mom cried. My eyes were dry as stone.

  “Oh, John, it’s been such a pleasure to have Sonia here. She’s any mother’s dream – polite, helpful, and so charming.” Not seeing the puzzled look that Sonia’s father gave her, Mom carried on, “I do hope you’ll let her visit us again. You will come, won’t you, sweetie?”

  Sonia smirked at me. “I’d like that. I had a really great time.”

  As we walked behind the grown-ups to the car, Sonia and I were silent. I had nothing to say to her.

  I couldn’t even smile when I heard her father quietly say to Mom, “We can’t thank you enough for having Sonia. It was a real break for Carol. She and I were just wrung out. I wish Sonia were more like Della, and not so demanding and difficult.”

  The Thunderbird Swing

  Nancy Hartry

  Uncle Ted said Jimmy bumped his head falling off the swing. He said Jimmy just seemed to let go of the chains and, when he reached the highest arc, he fell, thunk, to the ground and lay still. Uncle Ted got out of his car and ran over to Jimmy. He said he talked to him. “Jimmy. Jimmy, wake up!” He slapped Jimmy’s face. He jiggled him. When Jimmy didn’t wake up, Uncle Ted carried him to the car and placed him gently on the backseat of his Thunderbird convertible. He didn’t even stop to open up the door.

  The last part is right. The getting out of the car, the talking, the slapping, the jiggling, the carrying, and even the laying down. The first part is not.

  Jimmy never fell off the swing.

  It was dim in the park when it happened. The streetlights had come on above the ravine, signaling all the little kids to leave. It was too early for lovers, and all the cigarette-puffing teenagers were at a community dance. Uncle Ted chose the perfect time to teach Jimmy a lesson he’d never forget.

  Uncle Ted must have thought he’d get rid of the remaining kids by paying them off. He’d snapped a blue five-dollar bill over his head, folded it lengthwise, and passed it to Betty Lou, the tallest kid. “You’re the banker, my dear. Off you go, and mind the little ones don’t push and shove at the Dairy Bar.”

  Uncle Ted just didn’t c
ount on me, Cyndy, perched in a tree where the park and the parking lot meet.

  It started at the beginning of the summer of 1958, on the last day of school. It was a Thursday. I know this because it was Uncle Ted’s regular visiting night at his sister’s house. Uncle Ted had made it his habit to visit Aunt Jean each Thursday ever since her eldest son, a fighter pilot, had been shot down over the English Channel in the war against Germany.

  Just to be perfectly clear, I call them Aunt Jean and Uncle Ted, but they aren’t my real relatives. Jimmy and I were born ten days apart. Aunt Jean is his mom and they live in the other side of my duplex house, which is the end one before you go down into the park. My bedroom and Jimmy’s are separated by a fire wall. When we were little, we used to do Morse code messages on the wall after “lights-out,” until Aunt Jean would scream, “Stop that blooming racket!”

  So, since I’ve been born, I’ve spent more time in Jimmy’s house than my own. My mom works crazy shifts at the button factory. Aunt Jean gets paid to watch me.

  On the last day of school, a Thursday like I said, Uncle Ted parked in front of Aunt Jean’s duplex house. All the kids streamed out of their houses, like ants to a honey pot, to see Uncle Ted’s honey of a brand-new car. A baby blue and white Thunderbird convertible, with fins like wings.

  Every kid in the neighborhood coveted that car, but no one more than Jimmy. All summer long, twenty times on Thursdays, Jimmy would say to me, “Yippee, it’s Uncle Ted Day. Don’t you love that car, Cyndy? Wouldn’t you love to drive that car more than anything in the world?”

  Boys are so dumb about cars. I could have said, “Jimmy, you need a license to drive a car.” Or, “Jimmy, you have to be sixteen to drive a car!” But what was the point? I ignored him.

  Every Thursday during the summer, while Uncle Ted was visiting with Aunt Jean in the back kitchen, the kids swarmed the car. They jumped on the bumper. They took little kicks at the white wall tires. They opened the doors, or slid over the doors and fell, plop, onto the white leatherette seats.