Jillie

by Olive Balla

  She’d tried to sneak crackers from the unlocked cupboard while doing the dinner dishes. But Margo must have heard the paper rattling, because she came roaring into the kitchen and yanked the box out of her hands.

  “I hope you got your fill, because that was tomorrow’s breakfast.” Margo replaced the box in the cupboard and locked it. A satisfied look on her face, she glanced sideways at Jillie. “I’ll know if you cheat.”

  Although Cleg’s plate always looked like he’d licked it clean, sometimes one of the others would leave a bite of pork chop, or a spoonful of beans. Careful to put bones or other inedible scraps on top of the trash where Margo would see them when she did her nightly garbage check, Jillie would snarf down a few bites then quickly wash the dishes.

  Nighttime was the roughest. Jillie would lie on her coat on the closet floor with Mickey under her head, stare up into the darkness, and cry.

  She sometimes saw Digger in her dreams, standing over her, yelling and cussing, the veins in his neck standing out like ropes. During those dreams, Jillie could neither speak nor move. She’d wake up sweating, her coat wrapped around her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

  During the first couple of weeks of Jillie’s life at the Elliotts’, she’d been allowed to visit Beth only once. The pain of seeing her comatose sister covered with a white sheet, and tubes coming out of everywhere, was nearly more than she could stand. The whole time she was there, she’d held Beth’s hand and poured out her soul to her.

  “The nurse says you can hear me. I’m doing okay, so you shouldn’t worry. Just get well.” She’d pleaded with her sister not to leave her and apologized for not keeping Digger from hurting her so bad. “I’ll be back as often as I can.”

  But another week passed, and although Jillie begged to go to the hospital, Margo refused. Her eyes blazing, she’d yelled, “Stop ding-donging at me; it’s enough to drive a wooden man crazy. I hate hospitals.” She stooped over to bring her eyes level with Jillie’s. A funny little smile twisted her lips. “Besides, your sweet sister isn’t going to last much longer. She’s just a meat sack waiting to die.”

  “She is not,” Jillie yelled. “She’s going to get well. She promised never to leave me, and Beth always keeps her promises.” Jillie ran out the front door as Margo laughed behind her.

  When Jillie’s dad died a year earlier, the county wanted to put her into foster care right then and there. But twenty-year-old Beth had promised they’d never be separated. She’d made good on that promise by marrying the first man to ask her, even though he had a reputation for being mean and a womanizer. She said she didn’t care about any of that, as long as Digger was good to Jillie. And he had been, for the first couple of weeks.

  But life with Digger quickly turned into a nightmare. He didn’t try to find a job, refused to do anything around the house, and drank. Obsessed with the rumor that the girls’ dad had stashed money somewhere, he’d lived up to his name by digging holes all over the place.

  Nearly every weekend he’d get drunk and work on Beth to tell him where their Pop’s money was hidden. At first, he’d just pushed her around. But Beth said she’d read that once that kind of thing started, it always got worse.

  So, Beth began keeping back a little money from the monthly checks the government sent after their Pops died. She promised once they’d saved enough, they’d get on a bus and not stop until they were good and ready. Some of the best hours of Jillie’s life had been spent looking over a tattered old atlas with Beth, giggling, and talking about the future.

  But they hadn’t planned on Jillie chopping Digger with a machete, or on Beth winding up in what a nurse called the critical care ward.

  Within the first couple of weeks, Jillie had explored all the Elliotts’ dilapidated farm. She didn’t do it so much out of curiosity, although there was plenty of that. She did it to get out of that horrid house and because Pops had said it was important to pay attention to her surroundings.

  He’d once told her about a hiker who got lost and was never seen again, most likely because he hadn’t noticed things. So, during her walks, Jillie often stopped and turned completely around to learn the view from every direction. Those walks were the only times she felt free.

  To the side of and some distance from the main house sat a small shed surrounded by tall weeds. Glass shards resembling stalactites and stalagmites rimmed a small window in the door—a gaping hole loosely boarded up from the inside. With warped wood sides and a corrugated tin roof, the little building looked like a place out of one of those scary movies where teenage actors try unsuccessfully to hide from a chainsaw-wielding fiend. Jillie steered clear of the little building.

  Often, when Jillie returned from a walk, her eyes were drawn to Cleg’s pickup. Sometimes, the temptation was nearly overpowering to grab his keys off the kitchen counter where he regularly tossed them and drive to the hospital to see Beth.

  But other than the family tractor, she’d never driven a car or truck. She’d probably end up in a ditch. Or she might get stopped by a policeman and get thrown back in juvie.

  But mainly, it was Margo’s threat that kept her from doing anything of the kind. She shivered at the image of Mort going to the hospital to finish what Digger started.

  As day after day dragged by, Jillie fantasized about ways to get out of the house, to the hospital, and back again without the Elliotts knowing she’d gone. Idea after idea sprung up, blossomed, then died. But a couple of possibilities stuck in her mind and turned into the beginnings of a plan.

  She’d have to be sneaky…sneaky and smart. And she couldn’t let her guard down even for a second because Beth’s life depended on her.

  Chapter Five

  One evening after dinner, Jillie pulled Beth’s brown leather money pouch from a side pocket in her backpack. With Mickey looking on, she untied the knot and poured the contents onto her coat. Paper rattled and coins clinked together as for the hundredth time she counted the fifty-two dollars and sixteen cents Beth had managed to save.

  She separated a five-dollar bill and four ones from the stack and replaced the rubber band around the other bills. Four dollars would cover the cost of a day pass on the Railrunner, a commuter train that ran north all the way from Belen to Albuquerque.

  Five dollars should buy her lunch in the hospital cafeteria, then she’d take the train back to the Elliotts’. Since the train station was only a couple of miles away from the house, a half hour of fast walking should get her back before the afternoon school bus made the drop-off at her stop. That’d leave several hours to visit Beth.

  Humming a happy tune, Jillie stuffed all the money into the pouch and replaced it in her backpack. She laid down on her coat, hugged Mickey, put him under her head, and tried to calm her racing mind. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

  ****

  Jillie awoke earlier than usual the next morning. She jumped up from her coat-bed, dressed, double-checked her money, and hurried downstairs to make breakfast. Her body sizzling with anticipation, she willed herself to act normal as the sleepy Elliotts made their appearance.

  Her eyes lowered to prevent Margo from seeing her excitement, she filled their plates before returning to the kitchen to eat. After doing the dishes, she went upstairs to wash her face and comb her hair.

  Cleg’s voice floated up the stairs. “I hear the bus, girl. Better hustle.”

  Jillie grabbed her backpack and ran downstairs. She got to the bus just as the driver was closing the door.

  “I have a ride today,” she said through the partially opened door.

  The driver nodded her head, pulled the door closed, shoved the bus in gear, and drove off.

  Jillie glanced back toward the house, relieved to see it wasn’t visible from where she stood. She sucked in a huge breath and let it out slowly.

  Her body felt light, like she could fly if she just flapped her arms hard enough. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she was in control of her life.

  She sang under her
breath and marched in time to the tune. The whole day was hers.

  When the train station came into view, she smiled to herself. She’d sing and tell stories to Beth, just like her sister had done for her every night before bed. She’d tell her how much she loved her and pretend that everything was okay.

  But just as Jillie reached the station entrance, someone grabbed her arm from behind.

  “Sorry, kid,” Mort said. “Life just isn’t that easy.”

  Jillie pulled free from the grip. “Let me go, I’m going to see my sister.”

  “Not today, you aren’t.”

  “I want to see Beth.”

  Mort shook his head, a look of what seemed to be sadness on his face. “Not happening. The school called the old woman when you didn’t show up.”

  “Please, she needs me.”

  “None of that’s going to work on me. Haven’t you learned anything yet?”

  The two walked to the pickup in silence, and in silence they drove home.

  Her shoulders slumped, Jillie stepped from the pickup and trudged toward the house.

  Margo stood just outside the front door, her arms cocked and fists on her hips. Jillie had witnessed the woman’s temper tantrums, but she’d never seen anything like what happened next.

  With fists balled so tight the knuckles looked white, Margo screamed words people probably used in R-rated movies. Flecks of saliva flew from her mouth; tiny gobs of spit dangled from her chin, and her nose flap whipped back and forth with every snort and growl.

  The flap’s gymnastics drew Jillie’s focus, and her mind wandered as Margo’s screeching voice droned on. Why had the woman never had the thing removed? Maybe she was proud of it. Or maybe she couldn’t afford to go to the doctor. Or maybe the thing had been cut away several times, but always grew back. Maybe it was filled with puss, like a zit, so if someone squeezed it, the insides would come out and leave a little sac, kind of like a tiny deflated balloon.

  In spite of herself, Jillie felt the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

  As if she’d been slapped, Margo’s head jerked up, and her eyes narrowed to slits. “Did I say something funny?”

  “No…I…”

  “You think you’re so smart,” Margo said. “But you’re stupid, just like your sister. From now on, Cleg will walk you to the bus stop.” She jabbed her index finger toward Jillie’s nose. “And in case you’re thinking of trying anything like this again, just remember what I said could happen to your precious sister. And it’ll be your fault.”

  “I want to see Beth. You can’t keep me from seeing her.

  “You’ll see her when I say.” Margo’s eyelids came down again until they nearly closed over the glittering pinpoint eyes. “I’ll be watching you.”

  Jillie should have remembered about the school’s policy to call a parent or guardian when a student didn’t show up. Margo might be right, maybe she was stupid.

  “By the way, in case you’re thinking you could walk to the hospital from the school,” Margo said, “It’d take you days to get there.” A thoughtful look came over her face, and she cocked her head. “Or maybe you think you could hitch a ride. Ooooh, that’s a really bad idea. I heard on the news about a girl your age who was hitching and got picked up by a mass murderer. They found pieces of her wrapped in newspaper in three different dumpsters.”

  Jillie gulped.

  “Now go get started on lunch while I think of a suitable punishment.” Margo whirled and stomped back into the house.

  “I told you to watch your back,” Mort whispered out one side of his mouth.

  That night, during dinner, Margo made her announcement. “You’ll be docked one meal per day for the next week. If you do as you’re told, after that you’ll be allowed the usual two.” She used a fingernail to dig something out of her teeth before adding, “You mess up again, and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. You and your sister.”

  Chapter Six

  Over the next couple of days, the only contact Jillie had with the Elliotts was when she served them their meals. The rest of the time she fled to her room to read or draw.

  One afternoon Jillie got home from school early. When she walked into the living room, Margo’s head jerked up as if she’d been caught stealing Moms Potter’s strawberries.

  “Thank you so much,” Margo said into the cell phone no one else was allowed to use. “I’ll call you back once we’ve had a chance to talk to her.” She snapped the phone closed, slipped it back into a pouch dangling from a sling around her neck, and turned to Jillie. “What’re you doing home so early?” Her voice was unusually high and squeaky, and she had a weird look on her face.

  “Today was early release because of Labor Day,” Jillie said. “I brought a letter home from the principal a couple of days ago.”

  Margo walked to the sofa, sat down, and patted a spot next to her. “Come sit down, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  But Jillie stood still. She’d probably pay for that bit of defiance, but right then she didn’t care. A feeling of dread clawed its way up her throat.

  Margo sneered. “Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants, don’t sit.” She harrumphed then smiled slightly. “We just got a call from the hospital.”

  “Is it about Beth?”

  “I’m afraid it’s bad news. Beth never regained consciousness; she died late last night.” The corners of Margo’s mouth twitched before resuming the usual straight line. “Sorry.”

  “You’re lying,” Jillie shouted. “You’re just saying that to be mean.” Tears blurred her sight and poured down her cheeks.

  “It’s hard to lose someone you love, isn’t it?” Margo cocked her head sideways. “Why don’t you go to your room for a few minutes before making dinner.”

  Jillie started toward the stairs, but Margo’s screeching voice stopped her mid-stride, “Cleg and I’ll be your legal guardians now.” She held her hands out palms down, fingers splayed, and inspected her new manicure. “We are, after all, your only living relatives.”

  Something in Jillie’s chest hardened. “Not to mention the eight hundred dollars a month you get from the county for keeping me as your personal slave.”

  Margo snorted out the nose-flap. She took a deep breath, smiled, and peered up at Jillie. “You’ll stay here until you’re eighteen, then you’ll get that house and all that land.”

  The house Jillie grew up in. The house Mommy, Pops, Beth, and she had lived in, laughed in, played games in. The land with the huge old cottonwood tree made sacred by her parents’ ashes scattered around its base.

  “Are you listening?”

  Jillie jerked her eyes back toward the hard face.

  “Don’t you worry about anything, we’ll look after you.” Margo ran her tongue over her lips. “Just like we looked after your house while you were in jail.”

  “It wasn’t jail, it was—”

  Margo’s voice grew louder and harsher. “While you were in jail with all the other juvenile delinquents. Did you know we had to have crime scene cleaners clean your house?” Her eyes drew down into slits. “Do you have any idea how much that cost? They had to pull up the linoleum and replace part of the wall because there was so much blood.”

  Hideous images swam through Jillie’s mind, and she swallowed hard. It hadn’t occurred to her…she hadn’t realized—

  “Oh, did baby-kins not concern herself with someone having to clean up her mess?” Margo’s voice grew sing-song. “Not just anyone can do that, you know. There are laws.” A thoughtful look crept across her face. “We should take you back to the house this weekend. I can’t think why we’ve waited this long. Who knows, we might even find some things that need to be put someplace for safe keeping.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Oh, and you needn’t worry, I’ll take care of funeral arrangements for your dear sister,” Margo said. “The county will do an autopsy to find out exactly what she died of.” She stared hard into Jillie’s eyes, a wicked light i
n her own. “They’ll cut her to pieces, you know. Like they did with our Digger. Then I think we’ll have her cremated; that’s the cheapest.” She puckered and un-puckered her lips a couple of times, and added, “You know what cremation is?”

  Jillie tried to blot out the hateful voice. She visualized sunshine on the waxy sumac leaves, tried to remember the smell of clean, rain-washed air, tried to put herself somewhere else—anywhere else but in the Elliott house listening to Margo’s words.

  “Well? Do you know what happens to a person’s body when it’s cremated?” Margo paused to let her words sink in and studied her fingernails again. “Of course, if there was any money, we could see to it that your sister had a proper burial, with a nice headstone and all.”

  “I don’t…there isn’t…” The image of a headstone under the cottonwood with all three names on it popped into Jillie’s head, and her thoughts flew to the money Beth had saved. “How much would that cost?”

  As if she’d been struck by lightning, Margo’s head jerked up, a look on her face like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh, at least ten thousand dollars.” Her eyelids dropped again to half-mast, and she hammered on. “So, your daddy did tell you where he hid the money he brought back from his trips.”

  “What is it with you people? There isn’t any treasure.” Jillie tapped an index finger against her temple. “Think about it. Did we live like we had piles of money?”

  For as long as Jillie could remember, Pops had left for a few weeks about twice a year. Beth said he worked out of town doing something that paid well, but all Jillie knew was that he always came back with money enough for new shoes and clothes. Once he even brought back enough to get a new car.

  For a second, Margo looked as if her head were about to explode. Then she shrugged and said, “I guess you didn’t really love your sister after all.”

  “Stop it,” Jillie shouted. Her eyes pricked, and even though she tried her hardest to keep from crying, tears poured down her face.