by Ciara Smyth
“Glenda,” I said, saying the first name that came into my head. Why Glenda I don’t know.
“Glenda,” she said flatly.
I nodded, not meeting her eyes.
“Well, Glenda, you’re not leaving here until you give me your mother’s phone number and she comes out here to pick you up. I would like a word with her.”
“Oh, she’s dead,” I said quickly.
“And your father?” she asked skeptically.
“Dead.” I shrugged. “Super duper dead.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she replied dryly. “Who do you live with?”
“Oh, no one, ma’am.” I looked at my hands sadly. “I’m eighteen.”
She looked me up and down and snorted. “Little lady, you’re thirteen if you’re a day.”
I was deeply offended. Why do people always think you’re young when you’re short? There are short adults, for God’s sake.
“I’m sixteen,” I snapped. Whoops.
She rolled her eyes at me like she couldn’t believe I was that stupid. Damn it. She was a fellow short. She’d known I’d be annoyed by that. One-nil to Mrs. Something.
“Well, I suppose if you’re a minor and you just tried to break into my house—”
“I was not breaking in. Daniel was breaking out.” That wasn’t a crime.
“And how did you get into my shed?”
“Uh . . .”
“Right, well, you have two options, Glenda. Give me your mother’s phone number or I will have to call the Gardaí to come and take you home instead.”
I ran through the options. I wasn’t going to be arrested, I was pretty sure of that. But if I didn’t tell them who I was, they’d take me down to the station, surely. They’d call social services. Damn it.
“Fine,” I said. “I need to look it up. I don’t know it off by heart or anything.”
“Don’t even think of giving me a fake number,” she said. “I’m going to insist she come and get you herself.”
As I scrolled through my phone, I cursed myself for not getting Angela’s number. She could have come up with some kind of plan. Was she was even still outside? She might have decided she’d waited long enough and taken off. My guts twisted.
Meabh.
I’d give her Meabh’s number.
Worst-case scenario, Meabh didn’t have a clue what was happening and gave me away. I wouldn’t be any worse off than I was now and I could call my mam if I really needed to. That was definitely a last resort though. And what about Daniel Something? I was failing him. This was my first proper failure. Reluctantly I called out Meabh’s number and internally I blessed myself and prayed she’d tell Mrs. Something that she had to let me go.
The low brrrrrng-brrrrrng of the dial tone kept going. Mrs. Something looked at me the whole time. Then I heard it switch on to voicemail.
You have reached the voicemail of Meabh. Please leave a message after the tone.
Mrs. Something hmphed.
“I have your daughter here in my home. She has been trespassing. Please call me back as soon as you get this message.”
She gave the phone a dirty look like my “mam” had refused her call on purpose.
What now? The kitchen clock told me I’d been on the premises for at least twenty minutes. Wasn’t Angela wondering where I was? Oh, who was I kidding. She’d definitely left. She wasn’t going to miss her own party to wait around for me all night.
Mrs. Something took a seat at the kitchen table and folded her arms. She had the unmistakable look of someone gearing up to a lecture.
“I’ll have you know that Daniel’s grandparents are visiting this weekend and you are spoiling their trip.”
I tried to think of something to say that wasn’t just . . . okay? But I was saved from my impossible feat of imagination by the doorbell.
Bing bong.
Mrs. Something huffed and stood, pointing at me. “Don’t you go anywhere,” she said. She almost made it to the kitchen and then she paused and turned around. She walked to the back door, took a set of keys out of her pocket, and locked it. She locked me in the house. Like a prisoner! Surreptitiously I patted my pockets, remembering I had another set of keys; they weren’t there. They must have fallen out of my pocket when I collapsed.
“Are you messing with me?” I said, unable to stop myself. “This is false imprisonment.”
“Take it up with a lawyer,” she scoffed.
“My mother is a lawyer,” I replied.
For a second she looked worried. Then she gave me a long look from head to toe, taking in my clothes, my shoes.
“I don’t think so.”
She flounced out of the kitchen closing the door behind her.
I’d never met someone I hated more. Would it have been wrong to burn her house down to get out? I’d kill Daniel and the Elder Somethings in the process, of course, but you know, collateral damage . . .
“I’ve broken down outside and my phone has no reception. I’m sorry but could I trouble you for your phone?” a woman with a thick Scottish accent said, loud enough to hear through the kitchen door. I should have shouted at her to run. Apparently if you turned up at Mrs. Something’s house unannounced, she might tie you up in the basement and keep you as her trophy.
“Pssst.”
I jumped. My mind went to Kavi immediately. Then I heard a quiet rap on the window and when I squinted into the dark, the light from the kitchen causing a glare, I just made out the top of a head. A head with braids.
“Angela?!”
Only her eyes were visible. She was crouched outside looking in. I hurried to the window.
“Och, I’m just on hold. Oh no, wait with me a moment. They might need your Eircode,” the Scottish woman said.
“It’s H18—”
“Oh, I won’t remember that. Head like a sieve. It’ll just be a second.”
Angela mouthed something at me and pointed at the door. I glanced over my shoulder, afraid Mrs. Something would hear me. I made a locking motion and then pointed to the outside.
“Lovely home you have here. That’s a beautiful vase. Waterford crystal?”
“Yes, thank you. Any luck?”
“Still the hold music, sorry!”
Angela looked confused, so I went to the back door and she followed. I pulled on the handle. It didn’t budge of course. She grimaced. Then I pointed outside again. She got it. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see, as though I could help from here. And I kept glancing over my shoulder waiting for Mrs. Something to burst back in.
“Well, you take one cup of sugar, three cups of flour, six eggs . . .”
A dawning realization came over me when I heard the Scottish woman giving out a very strange recipe and I burst out laughing. I clapped my hand over my mouth and then I quickly gave one hard rap of warning on the window and practically jumped back into my seat at the table. Mrs. Something burst in the room.
“What are you laughing at?”
I held up my phone. “Stand-up. Des Bishop video. You know him?”
“Give me that,” she said, holding out her hand.
As if I’d hand over my phone to her! “G’way and shi—”
CRASH
The sound came from the hall and whatever had broken sounded expensive.
Mrs. Something skidded into the hall.
“I’m SO SORRY,” the Scottish voice squealed.
A click, whoosh, and a waft of cold air let me know Angela had found the keys and opened the door. I ran toward it and practically mowed her down.
“Come on,” she said, pulling my hand, but I pulled back and stopped her.
“Daniel,” I said. I couldn’t leave him here. We had to do something. I wasn’t going to fail.
“We’re already on it,” Angela said. “Now come on to fuck.”
I didn’t have time to question who the “we” was. Although I knew Meabh was the one in the hall distracting Mrs. Something. Just then Daniel caught up to us, running much faster than me. I
trailed at the back of our group as we skidded round the corner to the front of the building. Angela’s car was at the bottom of the drive, headlamps on, like a lighthouse beckoning us to safety. I turned to look back at the front door. Meabh was standing on the front step, wringing her hands and saying sorry over and over in a Scottish accent.
“DANIEL!” Mrs. Something screamed as she spotted him running. We were crunching along the gravel drive now and a set of motion-sensor lights lit us up. I ground to a halt, realizing Meabh was trapped with Mrs. Something. She couldn’t run. But then in a blur, like a sprinting knight in shining armor, Kavi appeared, racing around the other corner of the house toward Meabh. He didn’t even slow down as he barreled toward her and threw her over his shoulder.
“Keep going,” he shouted at me. Mrs. Something began chasing after us, shouting.
“GET BACK HERE, DANIEL.”
Into the dark night air Daniel shouted back.
“BYE, MAM, I LOVE YOU. I’LL SEE YOU AROUND THREE.”
23.
“Oh my God, that was so much fun,” Daniel said, getting into the car. Angela took off as quickly as possible. Daniel’s mam was waving a broken piece of glass and yelling in the rearview mirror.
“What are you guys doing here?” I said to Meabh and Kavi. “How did you know?”
“When you didn’t come back for ages I panicked. I called Kavi,” Angela explained.
“I called Meabh,” he said.
“I was already outside she phoned,” Meabh said. “I heard her telling you to give her your mum’s number. I didn’t answer because I didn’t know what your plan was and we’d already decided on ours.”
“You’re going to be in so much trouble, Daniel,” I said.
He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it could have gone smoother, but you know, she’s way too strict. If I’m going to have to stand up to her, I want to do it when there’s a getaway car.”
I laughed, glad that he didn’t seem to be annoyed, even though I still felt like I’d failed the task.
As we drove toward Angela’s house, the rain began beating down. Her windshield wipers were no match for it.
“Shit, guys, I can barely see,” she said, swerving to miss what looked like nothing from where I was.
I turned around and whispered, not very subtly, “She mounted the pavement twice on the way here and it wasn’t raining then.”
“It was dark, Aideen,” Angela said testily.
“That’s what headlights are for,” I replied. “Why the accent?” I asked Meabh then, changing the subject.
Meabh blushed. “I don’t know,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “It just came out.”
“I didn’t hear the accent,” Angela pouted. “Do it now.”
“No way.”
“Go on,” Kavi said. And the rest of us pleaded with her. A chorus of “Go on, go on, go on.”
Finally, cheeks a deep pink, Meabh blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Keep yer eyes on the road, lassie.”
We all howled.
“That’s so offensive to the Scottish,” Angela said.
“Seriously though, keep your eyes—”
“Ahhhhhhhhh,” we all screamed in unison as the car hit an unmistakable something and Angela screeched to a stop.
A few seconds of silence followed. I dislodged my heart from my throat.
“Is everyone okay?” Angela asked.
A chorus of yeses answered.
“What do you think we hit?” I asked.
“I can’t look,” Angela said. “If it’s a cat I’m going to kill myself. Go look, Kavi.”
“Why me?” he protested. I could see him looking out the window at the lashing rain.
“You’re the boy,” Angela answered.
“I’m a boy,” Daniel piped up. “But this is my good shirt. I’ll ruin it for you ladies though.”
“Sexist,” Meabh replied. “Chivalry is simply another form of misogyny that places women on a pedestal, thus denying them full humanity and agency.”
“So you go look, then,” Angela retorted.
“No, I don’t want to. It’s raining.”
I rolled my eyes, opened the door, and stepped out in the downfall. I was instantly drenched right down to my underwear.
“It was a glass bottle in the road,” I said, getting in the car again, shivering already. “But we have a bigger problem. The tire is busted. Do you have roadside assistance?”
Angela grimaced.
“You have accidents all the time. How are you not more prepared?”
She didn’t even look apologetic. “I keep meaning to . . . But I never get around to it. There’s a spare tire though.”
I stared at her. She stared back. I was not going to win this one.
“I have no idea how to change a tire,” I said.
Meabh buried her face in her hands and then spoke through the gap between her palms.
“I do. But I’ll need help. I can’t kneel on the ground with my boot on. But I can talk someone through it.”
Kavi sighed and looked at Daniel’s party clothes. “I guess that’s me.”
We pulled up to the house, three-fifths of us soaked to the skin and turning blue. The rain had stopped as soon as we’d got back on the road, which had only taken about twenty minutes thanks to Meabh and Kavi’s teamwork. When we got there, there were several boys playing a very muddy game of Gaelic in the garden.
“That can only end well,” Meabh mused as we got out of the car.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t pass your strict health and safety regulations,” I said.
“I know you’re making a joke about how I am overly invested in rules and regulations, and there are some criticisms to be made of bureaucracy, but most health and safety regulations are important for preventing injury. The weird ones are usually because there’s some asshole who did something really stupid and then sued because nobody had told him not to.”
I yawned pointedly.
Daniel Something was halfway up the drive and looking like Dorothy landing in Munchkinland. Angela was several steps ahead of us, ready to rejoin her party and leave us behind.
“Okay,” I said, in a changing-the-subject tone of voice, “let’s see if we can’t get out of these wet clothes.”
I looked at Meabh when I said that and then immediately regretted it, feeling a hot flush warm me up. Neither Kavi nor Meabh seemed to notice and we traipsed up to the house, squelching as we did.
Angela showed us in the front door and gave us a tour. By which I mean she pointed ahead and said, “Kitchen” and pointed to her left and said, “Living room.”
She started to leave us but Meabh grabbed her by the shirtsleeve.
“Maybe we could use your tumble dryer?” Meabh said pointedly.
“Do you have one?” I asked.
Meabh frowned. “Of course she does, who doesn’t have a tumble dryer?” Then she realized what she’d said and met my eyes.
“Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”
I shrugged it off. It was weird when things like that happened. Like when I was really little I didn’t know we were poor. And then I figured it out and I avoided saying certain things that I knew marked me as “the poor kid.” But sometimes there were little things that I hadn’t thought about and they popped up and embarrassed me. Like not assuming that someone has a tumble dryer, when other people would assume that of course they do.
I could see Meabh felt terrible and I didn’t want to have to say it was okay. But I didn’t want her to feel bad either because she hadn’t meant anything by it. The others didn’t seem to notice anything weird about our exchange.
“One time,” Kavi started, and I pinched the bridge of my nose before the story even got going, “when I was little I told my brother that he should get in the tumble dryer and we’d turn it on and see what happened and then my mam found me trying to help him in, you know like stuffing his limbs in there, and she almost had a heart attack and
started screaming that appliances are not for people and then she told my brother to get out of the tumble dryer and never go in there again, but when he tried to get out again he was stuck and we had to call the fire brigade to cut him out of it. Then we didn’t have a tumble dryer for ages but now we have one that’s a washing machine and tumble dryer in one.”
Kavi to the rescue.
“Of course,” Angela said, pointing toward the kitchen letting the story wash over her. “Laundry room is beside the kitchen, there’s towels and stuff upstairs in the hot press.” She hesitated and then whispered conspiratorially to me, “There’s some extra beers in the fridge in the garage if you want them. Just pace yourselves.” Then she swept past suddenly. “Hey, you. Spill on my rug again and I will end you.”
I watched Angela confiscate a can and then we went to look for the towels. There were a fair few kids from school milling around but it wasn’t quite what I expected. I think I’d seen too many movies and thought there’d be people doing keg stands and dancing on the tables. In reality there were a few people in the living room sprawled around a sofa playing what appeared to be a Murder, She Wrote drinking game while Angela Lansbury solved crime on the TV, and in the kitchen there were several pockets of people doing an awkward half-chat, half-dance shuffle with bottles of Corona in their hands. Just when I thought I hadn’t been missing much by being a hermit, a girl shrieked “I SAW YOU KISS HER, RONAN” and everyone turned around and started watching them fight.
“That’s the party content I came for,” I said.
I peered through a gap in the assembled audience and realized it was Jill. She was a bit drunk but mostly she was absolutely fuming.
“IT WASN’T A REAL KISS, IT’S A PARTY,” Ronan shouted back.
“OH RIGHT, RONAN, BECAUSE AT A PARTY YOUR TONGUE IS NO LONGER REAL AND HER MOUTH IS NO LONGER REAL AND I SUPPOSE IF YOU HAD SEX YOUR DICK WOULDN’T BE REAL EITHER.”
Ouch. Well, I could have told her that would happen; Ronan was a scumbag. But she wouldn’t have listened to me.
Kavi, Meabh, and I squelched upstairs and looked for somewhere to change.
I tried the door nearest to me. Locked. I tried the next one. Towels. Jackpot. I threw one each to Kavi and Meabh. The next one was the bathroom.
