by MK Schiller
I knew better, though. Sylvie dressed oddly because she was trying to avoid people. It worked. People talked about her, but not to her, and she preferred it that way. That was everyone but Mandy and me. I knew we were Sylvie’s only friends, and for some reason, it made me feel special. I hadn’t chosen her. She’d chosen me. We never talked in school, but I spent just about every day with her in some capacity.
Miss Simms scanned our purchases and held a bag of licorice mid-air, pausing to stare at the box of maxi pads. “Cal, why are you buying this?”
Shit. Most people used their personalities to attract friendship and acceptance, but Mona Simms relied on gossip. She bartered it like currency, often using it to garner favor with the community. I suddenly wished I’d picked another checkout line.
“I’m shopping for my mother,” I replied quickly.
Mona arched one of her drawn-on eyebrows at me. I noticed the mole on her right cheek moved independently from the rest of her features. She smacked her lips together, which looked clownish since her chosen lipstick shade of glittery orange drooped outside of her actual lips. “What about all this candy? Surely your mother doesn’t have this much of a sweet tooth.”
“It’s for Mandy,” I stammered, wanting to shut her up quickly. I could have just said it was for me, but I wasn’t thinking too clearly at that point.
“Does your momma know that you’re buying all this for your sister? Mandy’s already heavy for her age. I don’t think it’s wise to encourage her with candy.”
What? Was this woman calling my sister fat? I knew Mandy was a little plump, but hell, that was baby fat. It was ironic as hell, since Mona Simms looked like a cow in woman’s clothing.
“Miss Simms, I’m in a hurry. My momma’s waiting for me.”
She laughed, looking down at the maxi pads. “Of course she is. You’re a good boy for doing this for her, Cal. Not every boy would do this.”
No shit. To my relief, she finished scanning our items. Sylvie stuck a twenty in my hand, which I held out to Miss Simms before she even gave us the total. “Now, it’s this girl who could use some candy,” she remarked, gesturing toward Sylvie. I suddenly wished the store were more crowded, and there were people behind us. I doubted Mona would stop this opinionated conversation, though, even if it was to do her job. “We sell clothes here, dear. You should find something that actually fits you. Doesn’t your father feed you?”
Sylvie didn’t respond, which wasn’t surprising. There were actually some people in our town who swore she was mute.
“If money is a problem, I could talk to the pastor about getting you some church donations from our clothing drive. You don’t have to be a member. We Christians want to help everyone.”
Oh, hell no.
“Is that where you get your clothes from?” I was surprised by how even my voice sounded, especially since my fists were clenched so tight it actually hurt. Mona’s sugary smile shriveled into a deep frown, causing the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes to intensify. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say,” I added quickly. She nodded and opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “You’re the biggest woman in town. They’d have to sew all the donated clothes together to get an outfit to fit you.”
Her face reddened as her jaw dropped so wide you could see the cavities in her teeth. I had done the impossible. I had made Miss Mona Simms speechless. I snatched my change out of her hand before she could say anything else. I grabbed the two plastic bags that held our purchases and gripped Sylvie’s hand, pulling her away.
“Cal, why did you do that? You know she’s going to tell your mom,” Sylvie reprimanded when we were outside. I placed the bags on the handlebars of my bike and walked it alongside her.
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Let her. She’s a bitch. She can’t talk that way about Mandy.” I stared at Sylvie’s tiny frame and added, “Or you.”
She shook her head, but I caught the curl of her lips trying desperately not to smile.
“Thank you,” she replied simply. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You didn’t do anything, Sylvie.”
“I probably got you into trouble.”
I winked at her, bumping her shoulder with mine. “It was worth it.” She was worth it. “Can you walk the rest of the way? I have to get to the game.”
“’Kay.” She went to take the purchases off the bike, but her hand trembled and she dropped one of the bags. I reached for it, glad the maxi pad box didn’t fall out. She took two rapid breaths, which signaled she was close to tears.
“Damn it, Sylvie, what the hell is wrong now?”
“Nothing.”
“Spit it out, girl. I ain’t got all day.”
She sighed. “It’s just that I wish I had someone to talk to about this. Stuff is happing to me and I have so many questions.”
I held up my hands and backed away from her. “Do you think I have the answers?”
She choked out a laugh, crossing her arms tightly. “Hell, no. You know less than I do.”
“Thank God for that.”
Sylvie bit her lower lip, staring at her black Chuck Taylors. “I just wish there was someone,” she said softly.
I had no idea what the hell she wanted to talk about and I really didn’t want to know, but I did feel sorry for her. Sylvie’s mom was dead and her dad was more interested in Glenlivet’s company than his own daughter’s. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so rushed to get to the game. “There is someone. Come on.” I took the bags out of her hand and placed them back on the handlebars.
“Where are we going?”
“Where we should have gone in the first place.”
We both picked up the pace and headed home. My momma was peeling potatoes at the kitchen table while Mandy sat on the floor playing with her dolls and their million tiny accessories. I threw the plastic bags on the counter, glad to be rid of them. I would have made Sylvie carry them, but my momma had taught me that a man should never let a lady carry something, especially when his arms were empty.
“Sylvie, did you come to play with me?” Mandy asked, holding out a doll to her.
“Not today, princess,” I answered for her. My parents called Mandy ‘princess’ as a term of endearment. I used it in a more sarcastic manner.
“Cal, I thought you were going to the game,” Momma said.
“Sylvie needs to talk to you.” I pulled out the empty chair at the table for her. It was another mandatory gesture from Amelia Tanner’s ever-growing list of requirements for being a decent man. “Sit,” I told her.
Sylvie looked around nervously. She came over to play with Mandy and my mom liked her, but this wasn’t something she was comfortable with.
“Cal, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” Momma admonished, before turning to Sylvie. “What do you need to talk to me about, sweetheart?” she asked, patting the chair.
“It’s private,” I replied. My mother arched her eyebrows at me. “Women problems,” I added.
She gave Sylvie a knowing smile like there was a secret I wasn’t in on, which was just fine with me. “Watch your sister, Cal.” Shit. Now, I would never make it to the game.
“I want to stay. I’m a woman too, Momma. You said so,” Mandy chimed in.
“No, you’re not,” I replied, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her attention was diverted by the bags on the counter. She was like a hound dog with that stuff. It was like she could smell it through the wrapping.
“Candy? I want some,” she squealed, running toward the counter.
I slapped her hand away. “Not for you.”
Mandy started her half-whimper fake cry she always did when she didn’t get her way. “Momma, Cal slapped me.”
“I did not!”
“He did and now my hand hurts awfully bad. I need candy to make it better.”
I laughed, my mother grimaced, but Sylvie actually looked like she felt sorry for Mandy.
“Can she have some, Mrs Tanner?”
My mom was thoughtf
ul for a moment. “Two pieces, that’s all.”
“Thank you.” Sylvie walked over to the plastic bag and took out the bags we’d bought. I was thankful she managed to keep the embarrassing item under wraps. She bent down so she was at eye level with Mandy. “Which one do you want?”
I shifted, knowing that Mandy would take longer than a Sunday sermon to make a decision like this. Sylvie was patient with her, though. Much more than I would have been. They sat there talking about the pros and cons of each kind of candy like some people debated the instant replay rule in baseball. I glanced over at my mom, hoping she would put an end to this stupidity and make Mandy choose. She was too busy grinning at them, though.
“Which one is the best one for me?” Mandy asked.
“Your favorite one,” Sylvie said, brushing Mandy’s hair to the side.
Mandy looked down at her hands, shaking her head so her pigtails flew, smacking Sylvie in the face. “No. I mean which one won’t make me fatter?”
My mouth dropped open. So did Momma’s. Where had my little sister gotten it into her head she was fat? I wanted to punch whoever’d had a hand in that. Had Mona Simms said something to her? One of the girls at school?
Before I could ask, Sylvie took Mandy into her arms and embraced her. “You are not fat. You are beautiful. Do not let anyone tell you differently because they are fibbing. Do you understand? You are perfect.”
“Yes.”
“You can eat any candy you want. Just eat a piece or two a day. That’s all. ’Kay?”
“Okay, Sylvie.” Mandy took the pieces Sylvie offered her.
“C’mon, I’ll push you on the swings.” I grasped Mandy’s hand before she could say anything else. I knew she would come willingly because she always begged me to push her on the swings.
That was just what I did. I propelled Mandy on the swings for forty-eight minutes, during which time I learned more about Barbie and Ken’s life than I ever wished to know. It was then that my mom came around to the backyard with Sylvie towing behind her.
“I’m taking Sylvie shopping, Cal,” she announced. “Watch Mandy.”
“What?”
“You heard me, young man.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I grumbled.
* * * *
That night I lay in bed, wondering what else Sylvie had needed to buy. Surprisingly, I wasn’t too upset about missing the game, although Nate had called to tell me about the more heroic plays to make me jealous. My thoughts kept drifting to Sylvie. I hadn’t seen her when my mom had got back, and I felt a crazy need to talk to her.
I quietly snuck out my window and made my way over to her house. I would be in a heap of trouble if I got caught, but my dad was a heavy sleeper and my momma wore ear plugs due to his snoring. I tapped on the screen, expecting Sylvie to freak out or give me the bird, but she opened the window, smiling brightly.
“Can I come in?”
“’Kay.”
I looked through the window into her brightly lit room. I’d never been in there before. It was a more girly version of my room with pale pink walls and floral crap everywhere. I was surprised because Sylvie had never seemed especially girly to me. I’d expected her room to be dressed in black and gray. “Is your dad home?”
“He’s always home, but he’s asleep.”
I thought she was confusing sleep with being passed out, but I didn’t correct her. I lifted my foot over the window frame and entered, trying not to snag her frilly drapes.
My eyes stopped moving when I looked at her—really looked at her. I had to blink a few times to make sure I was in the right place. Her face was free of makeup, and she was wearing a set of pajama shorts and a tank top that had tiny yellow polka dots on them. Her hair came down to her waist in spiraling curls, falling against her flawless olive skin. She was beautiful. Of course, some part of me already knew that, but I still had to do a double-take seeing her like this.
“What did you buy?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.
She sat on her bed. “Want to see?”
I sat next to her. “Well, I asked, didn’t I?” She put the two shopping bags on the bed and proceeded to take out a few bras and other undergarments. “You’re showing me your underwear? You’re such a weirdo.”
She shrugged. “You asked, Cal.” She threw a bra at my head. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t bite.”
“Shit, I hope not,” I replied, snatching it off my head. Part of me wanted to study the foreign garment, but I didn’t want her to know that I’d never seen a bra up close. It kinda looked like two tiny inverted pyramids, but it was utilitarian in design. Boring white with no signs of femininity. I rubbed the cotton material between my fingers. “This is plain. I thought you’d get something fancier.”
“It doesn’t need to be fancy. It just needs to hold my boobs up,” she replied, readying to seize it out of my hand. I jumped off the bed and slingshot it across the room before she could.
“Damn it, Cal! You’re going to stretch it out.”
“Well, something should,” I said, cracking up at my own joke.
She started giggling too. I walked over to retrieve it and stopped, noticing the almanac on her desk. I started scrolling through the pages. There were several cities circled in different-colored markers and notes written on the margins with little facts about each state. Things like Braden, Arkansas had the lowest cost of living or Eau Claire, Wisconsin was the safest city.
“What’s this? Are you trying to get extra credit in geography?”
“No, it’s just research.”
“Research on what?”
“On where I want to live.”
“You’re moving?” I felt an intense anxiety course through me with the idea, but I had no idea why.
“Not now, but you know… When I’m older.”
She lay down on her bed. I stared at her, unsure if I should leave, but then she slid over and patted the vacant area next to her. I stretched out down on my back, leaving the most space I could between us, and crossed my arms under my head.
“If you could live anywhere, where would you go?” she asked.
“Prairie Marsh, Texas,” I replied.
“Seriously? I’m talking anywhere.”
“And I’m answering your question. I love it here.”
“Why here?”
“Where else can you pet the cow one day and eat it the next? Where can you feel as comfortable in cowboy boots as you do in Doc Martens or Chuck Taylors? Where can you spend the whole day watching or talking or playing football?”
She shifted to her side, leaning her head against her hand, staring down at me. “What about college?”
“Oh sure, I’ll go to college. Probably Baylor or Texas A & M. I mean I have to if I want to play football for the Cowboys, but then I’ll probably come back here when I’m retired. This is home.”
“It must be nice to belong.”
“You’d fit in better if you didn’t dress or act so weird.”
“But I am weird.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, grinning like a fool. She grabbed the pillow and flung it at my head. “Why’d you do that when I can’t fight back? You know I’m not allowed to hit girls.”
“First you make fun of my bra and then you agree I’m weird.”
“You said you’re weird.”
“You didn’t have to agree.”
“And I wasn’t making fun of your bra. I just thought you’d get something pretty…like you.”
She sat up, staring at me intensely as her dark eyes got wider. “You think I’m pretty?”
I cringed, realizing how stupid I sounded. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“Cal, can I try something?”
I shrugged. “I guess it depends on what—”
Before I could finish her mouth was on me. It was a quick, chaste kiss and totally unexpected. Her breath was warm and sweet like the spring wind. The blood pumped faster in my veins as it made its way to my lower extre
mities. She lowered her face toward me again, but I couldn’t take any more. I jolted off the bed, landing right on my ass. Luckily, her thick rug protected my butt from any lasting injury.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I spat out, sitting up.
“What? You didn’t like it?”
I wiped my mouth. “You don’t just kiss a guy like that. Besides, if I wanted to kiss you I would have kissed you. It’s my job to make the first move.”
“You didn’t want to kiss me?” The hurt was unmistakable in her voice.
“It’s not that. It’s just…that I wasn’t ready for it, that’s all.”
“Well, do you want to kiss me back now?” She was lying on her back where I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her rapid breaths, or perhaps they were mine.
“Uh, no. I’m gonna hold off for a while.”
“Am I a bad kisser?”
“You’re not the best, but it’s okay ’cause it was your first time. You’ll get better.”
She peered her head over the side of the bed, staring at me as I lay sprawled on the floor. “How many girls have you kissed?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Lots.”
“Like who?” she demanded.
I tapped my fingers on my chest and smiled with measured cockiness. “Wendy Watson for one. Now that girl’s a good kisser.”
“Ew, she wears a ton of lip gloss.” It was an ironic statement coming from a girl who caked her face with white powder, but even at twelve, I knew better than to say that.
“Yeah and her lips taste like the sweet cherries at Durbin Farms.”
“So, you’d rather kiss her than me?”
Shit.
“I didn’t say that. It’s just I can’t kiss you right now. You ruined the moment and you’d be expecting it.” I almost wanted to pat myself on the back for pulling that one out. The truth was I really wanted to kiss her, but I was too scared to admit it.
“So, you’re going to surprise me?”
“Yeah, I am. When I kiss you, it’s going to be the best kiss you’ve ever had.”
She laughed. “Cal, I’ve only had one kiss. Just now. I think you were there.”