Blood Will Out

by Jo Treggiari

  Lynn put the dress back, an exaggerated pout on her lips.

  Ari skimmed along the next row, passing pastel dress after pastel dress. Mint green seemed very unpopular, judging by the number left on the rack. She sighed. “Movie? Cherry licorice? My treat.”

  Lynn didn’t even look up. “We’re on a mission. Victory or death!”

  “Does it matter? Really? In the bigger scope of things?”

  “Of course it does. It’s the little things that count the most. Like a rite of passage.”

  “I’d rather be spending the night in a haunted house, or hunting a polar bear with a fork,” Ari grumbled. “And my feet are killing me.”

  “That’s because you have no arch support in those cute flats. And you can’t kill a polar bear with a fork. You’re a girl, for Pete’s sake. You’re supposed to live for shopping.”

  “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Oh really? What kind of girl are you then?”

  “The boring kind who’s boring.”

  Lynn shushed her, intent on something in her hand.

  “This,” she said on a slow exhalation, holding up a draped bodice, one-shouldered, off-white dress with a pearly sheen to the material and a dramatic slit up the side.

  “You’ll have to wear some super high heels with it,” Ari said. Lynn was curvy but petite. “Or you’ll look like a scoop of whipped cream.” She swallowed a snort of laughter.

  “Not for me, twit, for you.”

  Ari opened her mouth to argue but Lynn cut her off. “Remember the jeans? You thought they’d make you look doughy.”

  “Dowdy.”

  “Same difference.”

  “Not really. Are you saying they did make me look dowdy?”

  Lynn made an exasperated noise. “No. What I am saying is, aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

  Ari nodded. They had looked pretty good: not too flared, not too straight, and they’d done wonders for her non-ass. She’d picked up a gorgeous linen blouse with delicate lace panels and cap sleeves to go with them. Her arms, toned from swimming, were about the only part of her body she liked. Well, her upper arms. Her lower arms were too downy with hair.

  “It looks so…grown-up,” she said.

  “Hello, we’re seventeen. In some cultures we’d be considered spinsters already.”

  “Oh yes, where’d you read that? Wikipedia?”

  “Wikipedia rules, ducks. You’ll look smashing in it.” Kajagoogoo and the rest of the British New Wave invasion had given Lynn a thirst for British slang.

  “I—” Ari began and then couldn’t go on. She was no match for Lynn’s energy when it came to shopping, or her skill in arguing. They’d already been to all six of Dempsey Hollow’s upper-tier stores, and the so-called secondhand alley, and now they were on to what Lynn had named Attack Phase II. It was easier just to give in.

  They walked toward the changing rooms, Ari examining the dress more closely and trying to figure out what kind of material it was made of. Silk? she wondered, walking into the back of Lynn, who had stopped abruptly.

  “Well, lookee lookee,” said a smarmy voice. “Teen dykes on a shopping spree.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Lynn said. “Following us again?”

  She turned to face Ari, her lips pressed into a thin line, and grabbed her by the arm.

  “Let’s go this way.”

  They moved to the left, slipping between the narrow racks of clothing. Jack Rourke cut across and stood in the middle of the aisle with his arms folded over his wide chest. He eyed Ari’s dress. “So you’re the woman,” he said with exaggerated emphasis, “which means that you”—he moved toward Lynn—“must be the man.” His voice dropped in register. “Do you feel like a man, Lubnick? Under those clothes do you look like a man?” He rubbed his hand suggestively over his crotch. “Want me to break you in? She can watch.”

  “Go away, Jack,” Ari said, wishing her voice sounded more assertive.

  Jack flicked his flat eyes over her briefly and then lasered in on Lynn again.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Ari could feel the anger shimmering off Lynn. Jack Rourke constantly dropped innuendos. “For fuck’s sake, Jack. Do you have to be such a pig?” Lynn snapped.

  He stared at her for a moment, guffawed, and then started squealing. The sound followed them all the way to the dressing room.

  “I hate that guy,” Lynn said. “If I could get away with it, I’d set fire to his car. Stupid entitled wanker.”

  Ari pressed her arm.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay. I just get so sick of it.” She forced a smile. “C’mon, forget that asswipe and his microscopic penis. Let’s see gorgeous you in that fabulous dress.”

  Ari submitted to being hustled into an available cubicle. Lynn pushed her toward the chair, twitched the curtain closed behind her and stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Strip.”

  “Aren’t you going to try anything on?”

  “I’m going back for that tight kimono deal.”

  Ari tried to remember which one that was exactly. Lynn had modeled dozens, most of them with accessories, bags and shoes. Go big or go home was one of her mantras.

  “The turquoise in the vintage shop?” She kicked off her flats and then slipped out of her shorts and T-shirt, wishing she’d put on something other than her grimy sports bra today. She should have remembered these oh-so-attractive walls of mirrors, which showed side and back views as well as front, all bathed in lovely fluorescent lighting. They brought out all the shades of dingy yellow in her sagging white cotton underwear. She folded her clothes carefully and put them on the chair, stalling for time.

  “It was teal,” said Lynn, snapping her fingers to hurry Ari along. The vibrant color had been spectacular against Lynn’s creamy skin and dark hair. And the wrap bodice had accentuated her boobs.

  “It won’t fit,” Ari muttered, more to herself than to Lynn. She was crap at picking out the right clothes for her body, and was therefore always disappointed. “Or if it does it’ll look like a potato sack.”

  “I picked it out, remember?” Lynn said.

  “It doesn’t matter. My shoulders are too broad, my calves are too muscular.” She broke off, having caught sight of the back of her head. The humidity was doing something outrageous to her split ends. She smoothed them down and then reached for the dress.

  “Five…four…three…two…,” Lynn counted down. Ari knew she was perfectly capable of throwing open the curtain so that everyone would see Ari standing there in her underwear.

  The material was silky under her fingers—without that stiff polyester feel that set her teeth on edge—but it didn’t look like lingerie. This was probably way out of her price range. She tried to read the tag and became aware of Lynn’s tapping foot. Her friend was practically vibrating with impatience.

  “I could move with even more agonizing slowness,” Ari remarked.

  “I could loudly comment on that saggy bra of yours. Then the sales lady will come in with her tape measure and insist on measuring you in front of everyone and their mother.”

  “That’s so mean. You know how scarred I was by that experience.”

  “I survived it.”

  “That’s because she let everyone within a two-mile radius know that you are a perfect C cup. Not”—she dropped her voice—“barely a B. She said I had a ‘measly bust-line.’ ”

  “You’re still growing. Just trust me.”

  Sighing, Ari tugged the dress over her head. The material rustled as it fell toward the floor, ending just below her anklebone. In the mirror behind her she saw Lynn’s eyes widen, and then her friend jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “I knew it!” She grabbed Ari’s thick reddish-brown hair and gave it a quick twist, holding it against the back of Ari’s head with one hand and achieving a casual-though-elegant style that Ari had never mastered. Ari turned slowly, looking at every angle. Somehow the dress, with its drape
d neckline, narrowed her shoulders and gave her the illusion of a waist. No, not just a waist—a figure with hips and everything. It hung in soft folds, hugging the slight curves of her body, shimmering with a pearly light that brought out the tawny color of her skin and added depth to her pale green eyes.

  “Oh,” Ari said.

  “Yes, ‘oh’ and ‘wow’ and ‘I told you so.’ I understand women’s bodies.” She sounded so smug, Ari choked on a giggle.

  “You can borrow those strappy red satin shoes I have,” Lynn continued, batting away Ari’s hand as she once again tried to see the price tag. “So that’ll save you a wodge of money.”

  “Wodge? You going to keep that up?”

  “As long as I possibly can, love.”

  “Listen, I know I can’t afford it, so this is torture,” Ari said. She’d scrounged and saved her tips from the café and had done extra yard work around the neighborhood to augment the allowance her parents gave her, but still—there was no way. “And it’s not like I’m wearing it for anyone.”

  “Yes, you are going with me, and, yes, I appreciate it since the lack of teen lesbians in this town is outrageous. But don’t pretend that you’re not going to be staring at Stroud Bellows the whole time, hoping and praying…”

  Ari tried to think of a snappy rejoinder. Stroud Bellows was new to the school, but given his natural gifts and abilities, he had shot straight to the top of the social ladder. He was on the swim team and played water polo and had the most amazing upper body, just the right amount of chest hair, and dimples. He smelled like the pool, which, as it turned out, worked like an aphrodisiac on Ari. Her eyes were continuously drawn to him even when she was supposed to be practicing her strokes. Inhale, stroke, Stroud; stroke, exhale, Stroud. He had seriously messed up her rhythm to the point that Coach Jenkins had asked her what the hell was going on and whether it was “a female thing.” Coach never spoke below a shout, so pretty much everyone in school had heard. Ari had sunk beneath the surface until the cold water cooled her cheeks and then crept the walk of shame all the way back to the changing rooms. The thing with Stroud was entering its seventh month, having lasted all through the summer, and had she said anything to him besides, “You dropped your towel,” in a voice too mouse-like to be audible? No, she had not.

  “He just bettered his time in the butterfly,” Ari said.

  “Yup, he’s one stellar dude, all right.” Lynn’s voice positively oozed sarcasm. Ari raised her eyebrows, but her friend had turned away.

  “Anyhow, why don’t you give him something to look at besides you in that drab Speedo?” Lynn said, kneeling to flare the skirt of the dress out to check the hem length and peeping up at her with a serious expression in her eyes.

  “I’m going with you,” Ari said firmly. It would fuel the lesbian-duo rumors but she didn’t care. She would do this one thing even if deep down inside she harboured the wish that Stroud would ask her to be his date.

  Lynn sat back on her heels.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think I’m going to give you the action you’re looking for. And, by the way, ditto. I just want to dance and make out with a cute girl who likes me. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Maybe there’ll be some kids from Center and United.”

  Their high school, Parkview, was small, so dances were open to other students from the surrounding areas.

  “Have you heard of a sudden influx of gay kids?” Lynn got up and gripped her arm in mock excitement. “Did I miss an explosive article in the Bulletin?”

  The Bulletin was the local newspaper Ari’s father edited.

  “Sorry.” Reaching out to hug Lynn, she said, “If I was ever going to crush on a girl, it would be you.”

  “That’s sweet, ducks. And also what all the straight girls say. But none of you ever put out.” She softened the words with a hug back. For a moment they stood together looking at their reflections in the mirror. Ari could still see the two little kids they’d been. She half-wished they’d never had to grow up. Everything felt complicated, and she yearned for simple.

  “Does it suck so bad?” she asked, pushing the dark curls off Lynn’s face.

  “I feel like I’m stuck in a box with a black-and-yellow caution label on the outside. ‘The Lesbian.’ Next September can’t come fast enough for me. I’ll finally be treated like an adult. An individual.”

  Ari moved from side to side listening to the swish of material against her legs. She didn’t share Lynn’s excitement for college. Lynn had six younger brothers and sisters and lived in a small house with her mother, who also happened to be their high school principal; she couldn’t wait to break out. To Ari, the Hollow was familiar and comfortable. She knew who she was here: squarely in the middle, academically and athletically. Coach and her parents might as well have been different species, but one point they agreed on was that the only thing holding her back was herself. “Reach, goddammit—be a shark, not a tadpole!” was how Coach so eloquently put it. Her parents just wanted her to dream bigger. “The Hollow will always be here for you, Ari. It doesn’t change,” her mother said. “It’s not as if you can’t come back.”

  But Ari didn’t want to come back, because she didn’t want to leave.

  Next year, Stroud was probably going to be playing water polo at the tiny local community college. It was stupid to not be able to see further into her future than some boy who had never even looked at her apart from checking out her form during laps, but she couldn’t help it.

  Was she stuck in a box? She didn’t believe so. It felt like a nest, safe and warm and lined with soft feathers, but the idea of Lynn thinking less of her was unbearable.

  “I want to make all my own mistakes,” Lynn said. “Hundreds of them!”

  She smiled, but then caught sight of Ari’s face in the mirror. Her beautifully thick eyebrows rose.

  “Nothing,” Ari said, avoiding Lynn’s gaze. With a groan she continued, trying to inject some backbone into her voice. “It’s not that I’m scared or anything. I just want…”

  How to word it? Familiarity made her sound like the most boring person on earth. What was that expression? Familiarity breeds contempt? Other synonyms? The expected. Routine. Rote. Rut. Oh god! It was just like when she’d tried to explain why she preferred swimming in a pool to open water. Because there, sitting at the bottom, looking up at the swimmers above and the four walls around her, she felt completely in her element, in control of everything from her breathing to her calm, collected thoughts. Finally she said, “Anything could happen out there.”

  “Exactly.” Lynn did a little pirouette. “Anything. Everything! God, the thought of it makes me feel as if I have never been able to take a deep breath.” She smoothed her hands over her ribs. “As if I’ve been trapped inside myself. Don’t you feel like that?”

  “No. But I like it here, remember?” It was hard not to be transported by Lynn’s enthusiasm. She felt the corners of her mouth turn up.

  “Fair enough. So—two-point-four kids, two-car garage, Stroud in the master bedroom?” She paused and looked closely at Ari. “My god, you’re obsessed. You should see your face right now.”

  Ari stopped smiling. “What’s your deal with him? He’s never done anything to you, has he?”

  “Not directly. He’s one of those people who gets other people to be mean for him, like his good buddy Jack Rourke out there. And he pretends to be less smart than he is. Why would someone do that?”

  “No. That’s not him.” Ari thought of his eyes. They sparkled like pool water. They had to be a window to a soul that was deep and pristine.

  “Yes, yes it is. Seriously, is that all you want?”

  “Not all I want….Swimming, college, I can do that stuff here.”

  “But there’s so much more. Things you haven’t even imagined yet. Roads you haven’t taken. People who will completely change your world.”

  Ari stared at her reflection. Her gooseberry eyes looked back at her, all watery and without spark, as usual. She thou
ght about the animation in every line of Lynn’s face, the way she carried herself as if she were six foot three as opposed to five foot three, and straightened her shoulders out of their customary slump. Maybe if she looked the part, she could act the part.

  * * *

  Ari drifted in and out of consciousness, the blood singing loud in her ears, agony worming around her body. Half her world was made up of the dark unknown, the other half a series of bright snapshots awash in artificial light: Lynn’s face; the changing room; storefronts; people, fuzzy and indistinct. With an effort, she struggled to think. Her head hurt so badly, the dizziness was so intense, that she felt trapped in a chaos of thoughts and images, like a fever dream. Slowly her prefrontal lobe threaded the memories together. What had happened next?

  She’d bought the dress, though the number on the cash register window had made her gasp. Lynn’s hand on her arm had gripped and then tightened until Ari released her death hold on her dad’s credit card and handed it to the cashier. It would take at least two more months of extra jobs to pay her father back.

  “Take a walk on the wild side,” Lynn said.

  Afterward, they’d returned to the vintage shop, where Lynn found an only slightly flea-bitten antique fur muff to go with the teal kimono dress.

  “Look, it’s granny’s dachshund,” she said, making it leap at Ari’s giggling face, and then they’d bought ice cream cones—raspberry for her and chocolate-chunk hazelnut for Lynn—and ambled in the direction of home, reveling in the end-of-September smell of bonfires and the tiny maelstroms of falling leaves, talking about the importance of accessories.

  Autumn was Lynn’s favorite season. She couldn’t pass a heap of leaves without jumping in it. It was right at the end of the tourist crush and residents were tidying up their yards, the summer people locking up for the winter. They’d spotted a mountainous pile just across the road on the back lawn of the big hotel and run toward it, hands linked.