Inside Out Girl

by Tish Cohen

  “Dustin,” called Piper, holding up a dictionary. “Come and look at these. They’re bound in leather.” She looked closer, then dropped it in a bin. When Dustin reached in after it, she tapped his hands. “My mistake, darling. It was vinyl.”

  “I’m tired,” said Olivia. “I want to go home.”

  “You’re going to Rachel’s house,” Len said. “Just for the night. And you’re riding the school bus with Janie and Dustin in the morning. First day of school, remember?”

  Olivia shook her head, making the pencil case jiggle across her face. “I don’t want to go on the bus with Janie and Dustin. I want to go in a car with you.”

  “You’ll have much more fun on the bus,” Len assured her.

  “I’ll have much more fun IN A CAR!”

  “We’d better hurry,” Rachel whispered to Len. “They’re exhausted and you’ll end up driving all night.”

  “It’s less than three hours to Amherst. I’ll check in by two, sleep a few hours, and meet up with the Peytons for breakfast. They’ll drive me out to Tammy’s parents from there.”

  “I should come with you. Help with the driving.”

  He kissed her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Can’t you go later in the week? Or meet her family later in the day tomorrow? You need your sleep.”

  “I don’t want Olivia getting to know Tammy and Philip before I’ve checked out the whole family.” He sniffed, looking at Rachel. “I don’t want to waste time incase anything…goes wrong in the meantime.”

  She put a hand on his back, rubbing softly. “You’re sure they’re the right ones, babe?”

  It was barely perceptible, but his gaze lowered slightly and lost its focus. He drew in a long breath. “They are.” Then he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Who wants to come look for lunch boxes?”

  The parking lot was nearly empty by the time both families filed out of the store with their scanty purchases. Janie and Dustin grumbled and shoved each other as they raced for Rachel’s car. Olivia tumbled out of the shopping cart and ran toward the front door of her father’s car, shouting, “Called it!”—like Janie and Dustin.

  “Wrong car, sweetie,” Len said to Olivia. “You’re going with Rachel and Piper.”

  “Is Janie coming?” asked Olivia.

  “Absolutely.”

  Olivia’s shoulders sagged. She sucked in a deep breath and glanced toward Rachel’s Saab. The passenger seat was a writhing snarl of adolescent arms and legs.

  “Daddy, I don’t want to go with them…”

  “Of course you do,” Len said. “Janie’s your special friend, remember?”

  Olivia didn’t answer.

  “It’s my turn, assface!” Janie grunted from the car.

  “I have squatter’s rights!”

  “Language, darlings,” called Piper, opening Rachel’s trunk and setting her bags inside.

  Len gave Olivia a gentle shove toward the backseat of Rachel’s car. “Go on…”

  Once all three kids were strapped in, Len kissed Olivia goodbye, telling her he was off to an evening seminar. Rachel followed Len to the driver’s side of his car, leaning on the door after he’d climbed inside. He opened all the windows. “I’ll call you in the morning. You have enough Lucky Charms?”

  Rachel grinned. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He glanced back at her car. “I can hear them squabbling from here. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “They’re off to school in…what?” She checked her watch. “Less than ten hours. I can handle any amount of squabbling for less than twelve.”

  “Olivia seems a bit clingy.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Probably school nerves.” He kissed her nose. “I love you, babe, but I should probably get—”

  “Wait. I’ve been thinking.”

  His eyebrows inched upward as he waited, arms resting on the steering wheel.

  “About the whole Leaside thing,” she said, tilting her head. “I know you don’t want to discuss it, but I think I have the answer. What if I hired you as my lawyer? Then you could request Hannah’s file, right?”

  “Rachel,” he started to say.

  “The whole thing would be perfectly legitimate—”

  “I still couldn’t do it. We’d need a court order and no judge would ever rule in your favor, not if the adoptive parents are good people.”

  “Please.”

  “It’s unethical.”

  She stood up, taking her hands off the door. “You won’t do anything unethical? You just lied to your daughter—you told her you’re off to a seminar when really you’re going to meet her new, her new…”

  “That’s not fair. You know I can’t tell her the truth. Not until it’s…imminent, Dr. Kate said.”

  Rachel spun around to find her mother directly behind her. Piper handed Len a forgotten shopping bag and returned to the Saab without a word.

  CHAPTER 41

  “Jigsaw Feeling”

  —SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES

  Janie walked to the end of her driveway and paused. She squinted toward the bus stop. It was the first day of school and Tabitha was already there, talking to Arianna as if life was just perfect. Janie guessed that if you were Tabitha Carlisle, it pretty much always was. She bent over and pretended to tie her shoe while Olivia followed Dustin to the stop.

  She’d been praying that, by some miracle, Tabitha would have transferred to public school and Janie wouldn’t have to face her blue eyes ever again. She hadn’t seen Tabitha since the Night, mainly because she hadn’t ventured outside other than putting out the trash cans. The risk of bumping into the Goddess Herself had kept her on high alert the last few weeks of summer, causing her to abort her plans to go to Cody’s party—her one and only invitation all year—and seriously establish herself as one of the cool kids. Cody had left several messages urging her to come, then, after the fact, urging her to call him. Not only that, but because Tabitha might see her, Janie had given up getting a sun-kissed glow lying out by the river. Under her mother’s authoritarian regime, tanning by the river involved a half-mile hike down the road. Past Tabitha’s very exposed corner yard. So here Janie was, on the first day of her freshman year, looking as bloodless as a cadaver.

  And it didn’t help to be showing up with Olivia Bean.

  When she reached the stop, Tabitha and Arianna fell silent. Olivia was humming The Ramones’ “We’re a Happy Family,” and, still humming, she went over to Tabitha and stood too close. Tabitha stepped away. Olivia moved closer.

  “Mus musculus pee glows in the dark, you know,” said Olivia. “Like glow-in-the-dark bowling balls.”

  Arianna said, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Olivia blinked. “A mouse.”

  Arianna and Tabitha turned away from her, laughing.

  “I saw someone at your house,” Olivia said to Tabitha.

  Tabitha rolled her eyes and grunted.

  Undaunted, Olivia continued, “It was your special friend.”

  Tabitha’s eyes darted from Janie to Arianna. She laughed nervously, before saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,

  kid.”

  “Your friend. The one you talk to by the pool.”

  Tabitha flashed Janie a look. “I wonder who that could be?”

  “Me too,” said Olivia. “Your friend sure likes your house.”

  “Oh, really?” Tabitha folded her arms and shifted her weight. “Better keep your windows closed, Arianna. Berman just might climb inside. And while you’re at it, cover your mouth. Berman likes to lock lips.”

  Dustin snorted and looked at Arianna. “Sorry. Ain’t gonna happen, dude.”

  “Not you,” said Tabitha. “Your sister.”

  Janie noticed Olivia had clamped one hand over her mouth. “Olivia, you can let go of your mouth, it’s okay,” she said. Olivia ignored her and moved closer to Tabitha.

  “I’d keep it covered,” Tabitha sneered. “You could get a
disease from her.”

  Olivia smiled at her new friend before covering her mouth again.

  Janie removed Olivia’s hands from her face. “No, Olivia. She’s teasing you. That’s what Tabitha does best—tease.”

  “You’re a sicko,” said Tabitha. “You and your stupid Million Trillion.”

  “Shut up,” said Janie.

  “Hey!” Dustin looked at his sister. “That’s a secret!”

  Tabitha grinned. “Oh, I’ll tell you a secret…”

  Janie lunged forward and shoved Tabitha’s shoulders, knocking her backward into the dirt. “I said, shut up!”

  The bus roared around the corner and pulled to the side of the road. Tabitha picked herself up, dusted off her pants, and reached for her backpack. As she pushed past Janie to board the bus, she stopped and whispered, “You’re fucked, Berman.”

  Janie swung into the fourth last seat from the back and scooted right over to the window to make room for Olivia. Not her first choice of seatmates, but the bus was nearly full. She pushed her book bag down between her feet and watched Olivia stumble along the aisle, saying hello to all she passed. Some kids burst out laughing, others didn’t bother to look up.

  Assholes.

  When Olivia got to Janie, she started to say hello, then stopped herself. Janie half-smiled, but Olivia walked straight past and plopped into the seat behind Janie. A surprising move when you considered Janie was the only one on the bus who acknowledged the girl. Whatever.

  Tabitha’s hair looked too dazzling to be naturally sun-bleached. She’d obviously had it colored since the almost-sleepover. As the bus roared through traffic, Tabitha looked back at Janie and grinned wickedly. Then she leaned over her seat back and whispered into Jeffrey Greenblatt’s ear. Jeffrey’s head whipped around. Once he located Janie, he started laughing. Then he whispered to the boy next to him.

  Janie’s stomach took a dive. Tabitha wouldn’t. She wasn’t that cruel. Was she?

  “Janie,” said Olivia, tapping the back of Janie’s head. “Is it my birthday today?”

  “No,” Janie said, watching the other side of the bus.

  The kids behind Jeffrey were whispering now. And leaning forward into the next row. Soon half the bus was throbbing. Janie slumped down in her seat, propping her knees against the seat in front of her. Robert Charing ducked into the aisle and whispered into Olivia’s ear.

  “What did he say?” Janie asked when he’d gone.

  “He said you’re either-way gay.”

  Janie felt her insides go liquid in horror. She shrank down in her seat, willing herself to disappear. The laughter on the bus sounded distant. Muffled. For a moment, she thought of getting off at the next bus stop, looking for a field, a forest, anyplace she could lose herself.

  She’d hidden her feelings so well, for so long. And now, just like that, her life was over.

  Olivia tapped her. “Janie, what does you’re either-way gay mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It means you’re nothing?”

  She turned to look out the window. “Pretty much.”

  The bus pulled over again and a handful of kids piled on, including none other than the gloriously bronzed Cody Donovan. He lumbered along the aisle, pointing at people as a cooler-than-you ninth-grader. As he passed Janie, he didn’t point or grin or make some lame sexist remark. He just raised his eyebrows in mock amusement and sauntered past.

  He knew.

  CHAPTER 42

  Shannon

  Encourage grandmothers and grandfathers to get involved. They can play a magical role in your child’s life.

  —RACHEL BERMAN, Perfect Parent magazine

  Monday, the following week, Rachel looked up from her desk to see her mother stomp across the office, pumpkin-colored purse in one hand, McDonald’s bag in the other. She fell into the chair in front of Rachel’s desk. Piper’s layered bangs, usually artfully swept to one side, had splattered over her forehead and her face was taut. And, Rachel couldn’t be certain but Piper’s eyeliner might have been smudged ever so slightly.

  Rachel didn’t know what was more shocking—that her mother may have been crying or that she’d set a loafered foot in McDonald’s.

  “Hello, dear,” said Piper, after clearing her throat. Her eyes darted across Rachel’s desk.

  “Is that your lunch?” Rachel asked, incredulous.

  “Ours. I’m treating you.”

  “You are going to eat French fries and a, a…?”

  “Double Quarter Pounder. With cheese.”

  Rachel glanced at the crumpled bag, then back to Piper, unsure of what to do. Piper looked thoroughly unglued. “Well, I was going to skip lunch today,” Rachel said. “I’ve got a lot of financial things to figure out. But I suppose…”

  Piper picked up the papers on Rachel’s desk. “Is this your payroll?” Her eyes widened and she looked at Rachel, surprised. “It’s enormous. How can you stay afloat with expenses like these?” She scanned the statement. “Look here, Michael Singer in sales is making nearly as much as your father did.”

  “Michael’s been here for more than twenty years. Plus there’s inflation. And commissions.”

  “You don’t need so many sales people, Rachel. If you don’t downsize, you may lose the business.”

  Piper set the sheets down and picked up a pencil, crossing out name after name as she went through the list. When she’d finished, she slid the paper back to Rachel and laid her hand over her daughter’s. “I’m only telling you what your father would have.”

  Rachel stared down at Piper’s neat graphite strokes, marveling at how easy it would be to eliminate her problems. With one hand, she crumpled up the paper and hurled it at the trash can. “When I took over this business, I swore I’d do everything in my power to keep this company, this family, intact. When Dad and I discussed—”

  “I just left Leaside Adoption,” Piper blurted out, sitting back in her chair.

  “What?”

  “I wanted her file. For you.”

  Rachel was too stunned to move.

  “I called in advance,” Piper explained. “I wanted to find out the best time of day to arrive. I learned they open at eight, and most of them break for lunch at eleven. Except for the receptionist.” She stared hard at her daughter. “Shannon.”

  The reception area had been nearly silent but for a tinny radio. Behind the long desk, the wall was covered floor-to-ceiling in colorcoded files. Shannon wasn’t quite the vixen Rachel had made her out to be, Piper thought. About forty pounds overweight, with multiple piercings up one ear and a wrist full of clinking bangles, she could not have been less appropriate for Len.

  Shannon looked up from her desk and smacked her gum. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes.” Piper dug through her quilted leather purse, pulling out various items and laying them on the desk: first her wallet, then her car keys, then her lipstick case. Finally, she produced a torn piece of paper. “I’ve forgotten my reading glasses,” she explained. “So I’m not quite sure I’m in the right place.” Piper stared at the paper. Squinted. Held it farther away. “I can’t seem to read this address…”

  “Let’s see?” Shannon stood up and reached for the paper, examining it. Under the fluorescent office lights, Piper could see her face was slick with perspiration. Shannon pushed her sleeves up to her elbows and said, “Oh, no. You’re looking for 301 Eastern Boulevard. This is 31 Eastern.”

  “Oh dear.” Piper fluttered her lashes. “I should really keep those glasses hanging around my neck. At my age, I’m absolutely lost without them.”

  Shannon sat back down again. She smiled, holding up a finger as she reached for the ringing phone. “Leaside Adoption, how may I help you?”

  As Shannon dictated the mailing address to the caller, Piper swept her things back into her bag, snapped it shut, then—perhaps a shade too dramatically—swooned, pitching forward and clutching the desk.

  Shannon jumped up, told the caller she had an emergency, and r
ushed around to Piper’s side of the desk. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  Piper lifted a feeble hand to her brow. “I’m, I’m just a little dizzy,” she breathed. Shooting a sideways glance at Shannon, Piper congratulated herself at the look of panic on the poor girl’s face.

  Shannon took her by the arm and guided her to one of the ancient sofas in front of her desk. Lowering Piper down onto the crumbling black leather, she said, “Should I call 911? Or a family member?”

  “Heavens, no,” Piper said, forcing a brave smile. She reached for a magazine and fanned her face with it. “It’s just my blood sugar acting up again. Don’t ever get old, dear. It’s a terrible thing.”

  “Oh, I’d never consider you ol—”

  “If it’s not too much trouble…” Piper interrupted, touching the girl’s arm. “I could really use a drink.”

  “Sure thing.” Shannon disappeared down a hall, cheap metal bracelets chattering.

  “If you have juice or a small carton of milk, that would be perfect!” Piper called after her. Then she jumped up and darted over to the files, which were labeled with the first three letters of people’s names. Just as she located the Ds, all of which were coded in red, Piper heard the bracelets jingling back toward reception and flew back to her fainting couch.

  “Here,” said Shannon, slightly out of breath. She handed Piper a glass of tepid tap water. “It’s all we had. I didn’t wait for the water to run cold,” she explained. “Just in case.”

  “You know, I don’t think water is going to do it.” Piper set the glass on the side table and pulled a five-dollar bill from her bag. “I hate to trouble you…”

  “Not at all!”

  “I noticed a convenience store just down the block. If you could pick me up a bottle of orange juice, unsweetened, it might be enough to stabilize my insulin.”

  Shannon hesitated. She glanced toward the phone and crinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I should leave; I’m the only one here.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine on the couch by myself.”

  “No. I meant my coworkers are all out and the phone might ring. Or someone might come in.”