Inside Out Girl

by Tish Cohen

  “Which adoption agency?” she repeated.

  “One of the local ones. It’s called Leaside.” With his palm, he smacked his arm again. “Gotcha.”

  Rachel could only squeeze her eyes shut and look away.

  CHAPTER 24

  Promiscuity Barbie

  Len picked his way across the puzzle-strewn floor and informed Dr. Kate’s secretary that they were somewhat early for Olivia’s appointment. He found two seats next to the stately and oversized dollhouse—Olivia’s favorite play area—and settled himself while his daughter dropped onto the red carpet and thrust Birthday Wishes Barbie sideways into the townhouse kitchen, a perilous environment for Barbie’s exposed assets.

  It seemed Barbie wasn’t long for the kitchen. Olivia pulled her away from the stove and, holding the doll upright, tried to ram her into the upstairs powder room, a room cursed with an extraordinarily low ceiling, even for a dollhouse. Every week Barbie was forced to endure the same thing—being simultaneously slammed into floor and roof in Olivia’s effort to squeeze the doll inside the stunted rooms.

  The man next to Len chuckled. “Nonverbal LD?”

  “How’d you guess?” said Len.

  “I’ve been bringing my daughter here for eleven years. Did the same thing with her Barbies every week for six of those years. She never used to have much spatial awareness.”

  “Did it improve—her spatial awareness?”

  The man nodded. “Sure. Or maybe she just stopped playing with the Barbies, I can’t remember.” He laughed at his joke and checked his watch. “This isn’t our usual day here. If she doesn’t come out soon, I’ll be late getting her to music class.”

  “She’s musical, your daughter?”

  “It’s helped with…well, Dr. Kate recommended music therapy in addition to this.” He lowered his voice. “Kendra had a problem with a boy in the neighborhood last year. It left her, and us, traumatized. Music helps her forget.”

  Len watched Olivia pull another Barbie from the bin and begin to undress her. Knowing full well it was intrusive, impertinent, he asked, “Did, uh, may I ask what happened to Kendra?”

  The man frowned and tucked his magazine under his arm. “She was thirteen. He was eighteen. She had no friends her age. So when he asked her into his basement to look at his aquarium, she was thrilled.” He sighed heavily. “He forced himself on her.”

  Len looked from the distraught father to Olivia and back again. “Is she…was she okay?”

  “Physically.”

  Len’s chest heaved with horror. It was his biggest fear.

  A pretty teenage girl emerged from Dr. Kate’s inner office. Hiding behind a curtain of brown hair and a binder covered in musical notes, she nodded to her father and hurried toward the door. Her father stood up, then turned back to Len. “You’ll want to watch your little girl carefully. She’s going to turn a lot of heads in a few years. They won’t all belong to good people.”

  Len stared at Olivia, watching her rip the clothes off Dr. Kate’s Barbies one by one, tossing the tiny outfits behind her on the floor. Finding the perfect guardian wasn’t going to be enough. As a teenager, she’d surely walk to and from the store by herself. There would be moments, for the rest of her life, during which she’d be entirely alone. Entirely vulnerable.

  He needed to protect her from the inside out.

  “Olivia, sweetheart. Do we have to strip the clothing off every single doll?”

  “We don’t, but I do.”

  “You know, Daddy has a little game we might play. Is there a boy Barbie in that bin?”

  Olivia reached into the box and pulled out a male doll. “He’s called Ken, Dad.”

  “Right, Ken. I’m going to be Ken and you’re going to be Barbie.” He took Ken from her hands only to have her snatch him back again and set about removing his blazer.

  She tugged it off one arm. “Wait till I get his clothes off. Then we’ll play…”

  “No!” Len took Ken from her busy hands and worked the jacket back on. “Ken’s clothes are NOT coming off. Not now. Not ever. And while we’re at it, put some clothes on Birthday Wishes Barbie.”

  “I like her naked.”

  “She will not be naked. She’s meeting Ken!” Len dug through the bin and pulled out a doll-size shirt, a skirt, and a pair of brown boots—none of which went on easily. After nearly fracturing Barbie’s arms and legs in his attempt to clothe her, he said, “There. That’s better. Now she looks…” Actually, in her Velcro halter top, miniskirt, and thigh-high boots, she looked sluttier than she did naked, if it were possible.

  Olivia grabbed Barbie by the hair and stood her on the floor, facing Ken.

  “Now,” Len said. “Here’s the scenario. Barbie and Ken have never met. Which makes them strangers. Barbie is walking home from high school and this new boy, Ken, stops her.”

  “Does he go to her school? Because then he’s not a stranger.”

  “No. Ken is Catholic. He goes to a special school on the other side of town.” Len leaned closer and widened his eyes. “Or so he tells her.”

  “What’s his favorite band?”

  “Britney Spears.”

  Olivia made a face. “Who’s his special friend?”

  “Let’s just start at the beginning. Barbie is walking along…” He nodded toward her hand for her to begin.

  She pushed Barbie up close to Ken. “Hi.”

  Len pulled Ken away. “No! Barbie does not run up to boys like that! She’s a lady.”

  “Then how do they meet?”

  “Barbie is minding her own business like her father always taught her. Ken walks up and says hi first.” He bounced Ken up and down. “Hi, I’m Ken!”

  “I’m Barbie.” Barbie waggled side to side.

  “Hey, we live on the same street,” said Ken. “That means we’re neighbors.”

  Barbie fell over onto the carpet, then got picked up and set straight again. “That’s pretty good.”

  Ken sidled closer, then pointed toward the dollhouse with his head. “I live right here. Do you want to come inside? I’ve got some Halloween candy left over. I keep it in my room.”

  Barbie stared straight ahead for a moment. “I can’t eat Halloween candy unless my dad checks it for razor blades first.”

  Len slid off his chair and onto the floor. “Good, Olivia! You remembered our candy rule. This is very good!”

  “Dad. You’re supposed to be Ken! Not my dad.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Ken touched Barbie’s arm. “We don’t have to eat candy. We can just listen to music and talk.”

  Barbie stayed perfectly still. “Your music is mainstream bullshit.”

  Len’s mouth dropped open. As shocked as he was, he faced a dilemma. Should he scold his daughter for her filthy mouth, so she’d learn this sort of talk was unacceptable in polite society? Or commend her for refusing to allow Barbie to be hoodwinked into Ken’s squalid lair? “Perfect, Olivia!” he said, pulling Ken away in his triumph. “You’re not giving in to him. Good girl.”

  “You’re supposed to be Ken!”

  “Right. Let me think…” Len repositioned Ken in front of the house. “Barbie, do you want to come inside and see my aquarium full of fish?”

  “Sure!” Barbie rocketed into the air with excitement, losing her Velcroed top in the process. Olivia bundled Ken into her Barbie-holding hand and shoved the two dolls, bare-breast-to-face, into the attic bedroom without a moment of spatial interference to slow them down.

  Dr. Kate’s secretary leaned across her desk. “Olivia, honey. The doctor will see you now.”

  Len gaped as his daughter sprung to her feet, stripped off Barbie’s remaining clothes, and raced toward the inner office, swinging the imperiled doll by the hair. Ken lay perfectly still on the attic floor. Like Len, he was at a loss for words.

  Olivia didn’t need one guardian. She needed a whole army.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Moral Majority”

  —DEAD KENNEDYS

  Jani
e pulled her geometry book from her locker Friday morning, the last day of school, and caught sight of herself in the mirror she’d superglued to the inside of her locker door. She pulled out a black kohl pencil and swiped it across her lash lines, upper and lower, then smudged the lines until she looked like a rock star who’d been up all night dodging paparazzi and trashing hotel rooms.

  Satisfied that her mother would freak, she slammed her locker door shut.

  Olivia was on the other side.

  “Hi Janie!” She wore what appeared to be inside-out Lisa Simpson pajama bottoms. Behind her stood two snickering fifth-graders. One was the blonde who set her up for humiliation in the gym.

  “Olivia, you should get back to class…” Janie began.

  “I told Callie Corbin and Samantha you’re my special person and they didn’t believe me,” Olivia said. “They said prove it so I’m prove-itting. Proving it.”

  Tabitha’s friend Charlotte walked by, sneering. With a stack of books clutched to her chest, she slowed down and looked, incredulous, from Janie to Olivia and back to Janie. She snorted. “Please tell me this isn’t happening,” she said. “Again.” With a nauseated roll of her eyes, she walked away.

  “I have to go,” Janie said to Olivia.

  Either Callie or Samantha, Janie had no idea which was which, broke out laughing. “I knew Janie Berman wasn’t your friend, Bean!”

  Janie leaned down over the blonde and hissed, “Shut the fuck up you little—”

  “Tell them how we’re going to have a sleepover this summer,” said Olivia. “Tell them how you’re just like my sister, Janie!”

  The door to the girls’ bathroom swung open. Tabitha Carlisle strode out into the hall, hair and hips swinging. She smiled at Janie and waved, heading straight for her.

  “Olivia, you have to go. Right now,” whispered Janie.

  Tabitha raised her eyebrows as she surveyed the scene. She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “I don’t know, Janie Berman. You’re going to get a reputation if you keep this up.”

  “They were just leaving,” Janie said.

  “You toddlers are swarming my Janie,” Tabitha said. “It’s rude.”

  My Janie.

  “Get lost, kiddies,” Tabitha said, linking arms with Janie. “We need to talk big-girl talk.”

  Janie covered her chest with her books and allowed herself to be led away. With a quick glance back, she saw Callie and Samantha disappear into the stairwell. Olivia stood, motionless, for another moment, before dragging her feet toward the stairwell at the other end of the hall.

  “You do realize hanging with that kid will strip you of your social life. People have barely stopped talking about the other day in the gym.”

  “Hanging with her?” Janie’s laugh rang too shrill in the empty corridor. “I’d rather hang her.”

  “Mm. Anyway, your advice earlier was perfect. I totally wrecked my dad’s weekend.”

  Olivia Bean was forgotten. For now. “Cool. I hope you messed up their alone time. All of it.”

  “I did. As soon as I got there, I pulled Kristina into my room and told her I—just that moment—got my first period. She spent, like, no time with my dad, other than running to the store three separate times to pick me up different sizes of pads. I kept saying I needed bigger ones. The last package they brought home was for women who’d just given birth! I told her I needed my Red Tent experience. You know, from the book? I never read it, but my mom said it’s where these women with their periods meet up every month. In a tent. I told Kristina I wanted us to bond in a small room where we could share our hopes and dreams. Share the wonder of menses.” Tabitha snickered. “You should have seen the expression on her face. She looked like she wanted to cry from happiness and throw up all at the same time.”

  Janie didn’t know whether she was going to cry from unhappiness or throw up. The thought of two days locked in a small room with Tabitha was almost more than she could bear. Janie forced a smile. “Perfect.”

  Nothing could have prepared Janie for what came next. Tabitha said, “Let’s go find seats,” and motioned for Janie to follow. Until then, Janie’s social value to the A-listers, school royalty, had only been as the jester. She was meant to entertain the popular kids, to reinforce their own superiority—as long as Janie was around to laugh at, they’d never, ever have to laugh at themselves. And today, she was going to walk into class alongside the monarch herself, Her Royal Highness, Tabitha Carlisle.

  Barely daring to breathe, Janie tiptoed inside and slipped into a seat next to Tabitha and Charlotte, and directly behind Cody Donovan.

  Cody spun around just as Tabitha announced, “Janie’s been teaching me the coolest things…” and proceeded to explain Janie’s version of her mother’s lame parenting advice.

  When she was finished, Cody grinned his approval, looking Janie up and down. “That’s some sweet stuff, Berman,” he said. “Too bad school’s almost over. I might need you to discipline me one day. Nothing major, you know, a little spank here and there.”

  Charlotte said, “I don’t think we need to hear that so early in the morning, Donovan.”

  Janie looked down at her pencil, still feeling the heat of Cody’s stare.

  “Not a problem,” he said lazily. “I’ve got all summer to expose myself to Janie.”

  Revolting, Janie thought. Still, it felt so fucking good to be worthy of more than a laugh. Feeling her cheeks burn, she opened her binder and decided maybe, just maybe, things were looking up.

  “What’s with you and Inside Out Girl, anyway?” asked Charlotte.

  Janie laughed. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Good,” Tabitha said before spinning around and picking up her pencil.

  CHAPTER 26

  Inexplicable

  The Peytons didn’t look nearly old enough to be parents. Both of them wore sneakers. Hers were fresh-from-the-box white, perhaps in an attempt to create the impression that she was fully capable of making a wholesome home for nine-year-old Liam, the child they’d been waiting months to adopt. Her husband’s sneakers spoke less of his hopes and dreams and more of the work he did—contracting—covered as they were with paint splatters and grease. The couple might not have had an abundance of money, but Len had sensed when they walked into his office nine months ago that they would be ideal parents.

  Tammy had been adopted at nine herself, and made it her lifelong goal to do the same for another child the moment she was able. She and Philip were waiting to hear that Liam’s adoption was final.

  Len’s words were going to crush them.

  “We’ve got the whole evening planned,” said Philip, bouncing his palms against the arms of the chair. Through the glass window behind Philip, Len could see coworkers charging past in a blur of conservative suits and tidy blouses—a bustling highway of finely cut dark wool and crisp cotton that stood in sharp contrast to Philip’s faded but carefully ironed Old Navy T-shirt. “First we’ll take Liam home,” Philip continued, “let him see his room and unpack his things, then we’ll take him to Roxborough Station for burgers. Then—”

  “I’m afraid we have a problem,” Len said.

  The light in their faces blew out. Tammy’s eyes grew wide. She sat perfectly still. “What kind of problem?”

  “The biological father has stepped in.” Len softened his voice. “He wants custody of Liam.”

  Tammy reached for Philip’s hand. She looked as if an eighteenwheeler had just crashed through the shelving behind Len’s desk. Philip leaned forward. His right hand curled in and out of a fist. “But everything’s in place. His room is ready, we’ve talked to the school…”

  “It’s not that simple,” Len said. “His father has parental rights. There would be a long court battle, with enormous expenses—this thing could drag out for months. And Liam wouldn’t be living with you during this process. He’d be with his father.”

  “I don’t care,” said Tammy, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I want to fight for him.”


  “I don’t recommend it,” said Len.

  “I’m with Tammy,” said Philip. “We want what’s best for Liam. And that’s us.”

  Len leaned forward on his desk. He rubbed the side of his head, where he felt the pinprick starting. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. But Liam wants to live with his natural father.”

  With Olivia finally in bed for the night and his head throbbing, Len wandered into the living room and, without turning on the lights, lowered himself onto the couch. Rain was bucketing down from the sky, creating a misty halo around the glow of the streetlamps.

  He felt like shit. The Peytons had been inconsolable, not at all interested in the files of the other children Len had researched before their meeting.

  Outside, something moved in the dark. Len leaned forward. A woman wandered in front of his house—no umbrella, no rain hat—just ambled along, looking down at her shoes, as if the cold rain wasn’t troublesome in the slightest.

  He set down his drink and crossed the room to the window. The woman spun around in front of his driveway and stood perfectly still. For the first time, he could see her face.

  Rachel.

  He rushed to the front door and pulled it open to find her stepping onto his straw mat, water dribbling down her cheeks. She was shivering. Without a word, he pulled her inside and shut the door.

  Ten minutes later, Rachel was sitting cross-legged in Len’s living room with a dry towel wrapped around her shoulders. He handed her a glass of red wine and she sipped hungrily. Despite Len’s questions, she still hadn’t spoken.

  Len dropped down onto the carpet and turned to Rachel. She scrubbed her hair with the towel, then sipped again.

  Rachel looked up. “I think she’d do anything for you.”

  “Who?”

  “Shannon.” Rachel wrapped her hands around her glass and watched the liquid swirl. “From the adoption agency.”

  “All this,” he gestured toward her wet head, the rain outside, “is about Shannon? Surely you can’t be jealous of—”