Honey Girl

by Lisa Freeman

  Voices overlapped whispering Spanish mixed with English. The Vals had crossed the deepest delta of Malibu. It looked like the entire McBride estate had been compromised. Something had to be done fast. I went into solider mode and stayed low. A small unit of girls gathered a few feet in front of me next to the shrub. Squatting made me invisible as I separated the leaves and peeked through. They were kicking something, no, someone, on the ground.

  It was Rox and Claire!

  I heard bells before I saw the large silver hoops. Tinkerbell and her tribe had Claire and Rox pinned, holding them by their hair. Tinkerbell yanked Claire to her feet and pulled out a giant pair of scissors from her back pocket. Poor Claire started to cry as Tinkerbell cut up Jacko the monkey: paw, tail, and then head. Claire was going to get a crew cut next. I had to do something.

  “Tinkerbell!” I screamed.

  The hose had me. Instead of rushing them, grabbing the scissors, and making sure Claire and Rox got away safely, I fell on my face. Tinkerbell laughed and turned away. That made me so mad I took my clog and threw it at her. The thick wooden shoe slammed into the back of her frizzy head. I heard it crack.

  Again I yelled, “Tinkerbell!”

  She let go of Claire and charged me like a buffalo or a rogue elephant.

  “Who you calling Tinkerbell?” she barked in my face. “I’m Maldita,” she stood closer, holding the top of her head. “You know what that means? It means ‘cursed.’ Now say it,” she commanded.

  “Cursed,” I said, pointing my finger into her face so she knew I was cooperating. Sparks of blue shimmered from my fingertips as I watched the trails from my hand streak into the sky like a rainbow of light.

  “Hey spaz,” she said, slugging me in the ball of my shoulder socket. “Say my name.”

  No one had ever hit me so hard in my life.

  “Cursed,” I said.

  She hit me again. Raw and full-on. Colors splashed out of her fist, and the gang of girls cheered as Tinkerbell held the scissors up in my face. She spread them wide so the blades made the shape of a V. Her thumb held them open.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, trying to catch my breath. That’s all I could spit out before Tinkerbell grabbed a thick handful of hair hanging across my forehead and swiped the sharp blade down. Her gang laughed as she threw my hair up into the air like confetti.

  That’s when I snapped.

  Something sounded like a mosquito buzzing loudly in my ears. I got a metal taste in my mouth. My knees buckled. Tinkerbell cut my hair. That was the end. It was the end of every rule, law, and regulation. It was the end of keeping it together. It was the end of the sweet girl. I began to burn. Everything I had been holding back about my dad, Hawaii, Jean, Uncle Mike, and trying to get everyone at State Beach to like me, exploded. I hated Tinkerbell so much it felt like the skin on my face was peeling off and fangs were growing out of my mouth. My fingers turned into claws. Black smoke poured from my ears. I was Pele.

  Tinkerbell turned to her cocaptain and said something in Spanish, obviously dismissing me as some kind of loser chump. I stepped back, kicking the upside of my heel into the base of her spine. I leaned down into her face and spit out, “Tinkerbell.”

  Her gang thought I would start crying like Claire. They expected me to fall apart, but instead I kicked her again so Claire could make a run for it.

  “We don’t fight!” Rox shouted.

  Part of me wanted to be a warrior and slam-dunk Tinkerbell. But I couldn’t because Rox gave me another order, “Haul!” she said, running down the driveway.

  I turned, not seeing that the hose had untwisted all around me. It was like getting stuck in a bunch of hula-hoops or quicksand. The more I moved or struggled, the worse it got. Tinkerbell slowly walked toward me. Her girls’ smiles were getting bigger the closer they got. I might not be allowed to fight. But I could use my Hawaiian know-how and nail Tinkerbell another way. For good and for sure. I picked up the muddy nozzle of the hose, turned it to the right, and let Tinkerbell have it. A thick spray jetted right up her nose. This wasn’t a gentle sprinkle. It was fire hose strong. It was so powerful, I could hold off the whole group, soak them, and sing a little song as I got up.

  “Ding dong, the witch is dead, wicked witch, Valley bitch.” Tinkerbell and her group didn’t melt, but they sure got wet. An engine started. Nigel’s van moved up toward me. Rox was yelling,

  “Come on, Nani.” There were streams of blue bouncing off my feet as I ran. I felt superhuman powerful. The van’s headlights flashed on and off, signaling me as Nigel honked his horn.

  “Nani,” he insisted, revving the gas louder and faster. “Hurry.” There was water everywhere. I jumped into the back of the van. As we drove away, I could see Tinkerbell’s black bra shine through her t-shirt, which clung to her chest as she stood in a puddle of her own red lipstick.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Full-On

  Rox had dark circles under her eyes, and she was gasping for air like a deep-sea diver with the bends. Her leather sandals were torn and wet. There were also grass stains on her velvet shorts and dirt under her fingernails.

  Nigel was buckled over the steering wheel, slapping frantically to get the van in gear. The stick shift dropped down, and we lunged forward into drive. He was so crazed, he accidently turned on the windshield wipers before his headlights. Nigel’s engine idled loudly. Finally he made a sharp right off the curb and onto PCH.

  Rox pulled long strands of hair away from my mouth. They were no longer attached to my head.

  “Oh no,” I said. There was no way this could actually be happening I told myself. Nigel was driving the exact speed limit down PCH. I sat up to see a smattering of locals quickly getting into their cars and making U-turns or any turn to get them off the highway and away from the McBride estate as a row of red lights came flashing toward us. Rox looked fragile, glassy, and broken.

  “Just be cool,” Nigel said. The police sped past us and started turning one after another into the McBride estate. They did not circle back or attempt to pull us over.

  “Okay so we aren’t getting busted. Now what?” I wondered aloud.

  “Everybody’s meeting up at the Sunspot,” Nigel said. He pushed in a John Mayall tape, and we drove silently for a while.

  The Santa Ana winds were blowing hard. They made the van sway back and forth. We were just about to turn into the Sunspot. I heard metal chimes clanging, and the jukebox inside the bar was playing. It was so late, PCH was deserted except for one black-and-white cop car with its lights off, waiting for the first drunk surfer to leave the bar.

  “So much for the Sunspot,” Rox said.

  “We’re going to the bluffs.” Nigel sounded strong and together but at the same time fumbled around the dash and console looking for something. At the bottom of Chautauqua Boulevard, we got a red light. Nigel dug around in the dirty ashtray.

  “Found it,” he said. He pushed the lighter in and held up a tiny roach between his fingertips. “Want some?” he asked. Rox and I both shook our heads and said no thank you. Nigel looked at me in the rearview mirror and winked as he took one long, giant hit.

  Rox and I both knew Nigel shouldn’t be lit up. Rox frowned, eyed PCH, then leaned into the front seat. She tapped Nigel’s shoulder and said ever so sweetly, “We have to get Nani home in one piece.”

  “Totally.” Nigel sat up sharply. Before he realized he had the parking brake on, the van gears grinded then jerked forward. Rox shook her head again.

  “He’s too stoned to drive,” she said. “Nige, let’s go to the bluffs and figure stuff out.” Rox got a big smile on her face. Mission accomplished, until Nigel started swerving around Channel Road. After everything that had happened, it was driving with Nigel stoned that made Rox crumble. She clenched my hand. Whenever Nigel made a turn, she sucked air like it was her last breath. I remembered Mary Jo told me that both Rox’s parents died in a car crash. No wonder she was so wigged. Nigel slammed on the brakes. We both fell forward. Rox had her
fist in her mouth so she wouldn’t scream.

  “I do that sometimes,” I said, pointing to Rox’s fist in her mouth. Rox’s eyes were shut. I don’t think she heard me.

  “I’ve got to take a wicked piss,” Nigel said, skipping away and hopping behind a tree. Rox and I crawled out of the back of the van and sat on the splintered fence propped up by broken surfboards.

  The bluffs were an active landslide area with a two-hundred-foot slope. The hillside was covered in thick clusters of poisonous plants with red berries and fernlike white flowers. People had tossed houseplants into the ravine with macramé string still hanging from their pots; abandoned cats roamed through the dill weed. Below all that was PCH and State Beach.

  “What stinks?” I asked.

  Rox pointed at the ocean. “It’s red tide,” she told me, lighting up a smoke and moving in to stay warm and cozy.

  “Did Mary Jo give you one beer or two?” she asked.

  What did that have to do with The Valleys cutting off my hair? But I knew better than to ask. I held up one finger. Rox shook her head.

  “Lord Ricky told me her peace offering was spiked with Blue Cheer.”

  What was that? Rox read my face. I didn’t want to look stupid, but she knocked on my head anyway.

  “Hello? LSD—acid?”

  I was almost relieved. I’d been tripping.

  “Have you been seeing colors and stuff?”

  I nodded.

  Rox laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

  “Wait till you see what I do to Mary Jo.” She patted my knee. “I’m gonna get her back big time.”

  On the bluffs it felt like time had cracked open. Like the morning my father died. Acid made my thinking super clear, and I knew there was no time to waste. This was my last chance. I needed to know if I was in the lineup, full-on. I’d never get Rox alone like this again.

  I asked, “Do you like me yet?”

  Rox stared out at the ocean and the moonlight. She looked like a bug. Her hair was wispy, and her big blue eyes glowed.

  “I’ve known since I saw you. Remember that first Sunday at State?”

  Of course I did. She had spotted me in the crowd and drilled her gaze right through me like the wicked Scorpion she is.

  “I knew then. I knew you would …”

  Nigel jumped right beside us, zipping up his fly.

  Knew what? I wanted to say. But before I could, Nigel said, “Close your eyes, Nani.”

  Because I was his girlfriend, I did as I was told. Something fell over my shoulders. It was my jacket. I stumbled a bit, fumbling through the pockets searching for my rabbit foot with my eyes shut.

  “Open,” he said.

  My blue rabbit foot was dangling off his finger around my face. He lifted it just out of reach. I jumped, trying to snag it, swinging my arms over my head.

  “What’ll you give me for it?”

  I grabbed his face and pulled it into mine, planting a big one on his lips then wiggling my tongue all around inside his mouth, checking for wires, making sure he was the righteous babe twin.

  “Do you know what you will say to your mom, Nani?” he asked.

  “Sorry I screwed up tonight.”

  What a genius plan. I was going to tell the truth.

  “And then I’ll apologize,” Nigel said, squeezing my hand. I turned and pointed at him.

  I couldn’t believe it. Nigel McBride was going to take the fall for me. He was actually going to take responsibility for my screw up. That was the most radical thing I’d ever heard. Jean would never go off on a McBride.

  All the color dropped out of Rox’s face as Nigel got back in the van.

  I said, “Just to be on the safe side, Nigel, let’s leave your van here in case my mom loses her mind for some reason.” I knew that would never happen, but I couldn’t stand the thought of Rox chewing her hand off just to get to my house.

  All the lights in my house were on when we walked up. Crickets were sounding off all around us, and the ocean stilled smelled funky. Dogs barked, but my street was empty and pitch black.

  “Are you coming with us?” I asked Rox.

  “No. I’ll wait,” she said, shoving me forward to follow Nigel, who was taking two stairs at a time. I had to run to catch up with him. We snuck in the back door.

  “Mom, I’m home.”

  We waited but there was no answer. The TV was blasting a John Wayne movie. I recognized his voice and cowboy talk before a round of gunfire with horses neighing sounded out.

  “Maybe she’s asleep?” I said.

  Nigel winced. He looked really stressed with his hands clasped tight behind his back and jaw clenching out a little smile. We tiptoed down to Jean’s room and peeked around her open door. The bed hadn’t been slept in, and the clicker was on the carpet. John Wayne fired his gun again. Oh no, I thought. What if Jean is passed out in the bathroom? I couldn’t let Nigel see that. I carefully pushed open the bathroom door.

  “Mom?”

  She wasn’t there. We checked the patio and the living room but still no Jean. Maybe she left because of the slap, or maybe something terrible happened to her. What if she was kidnapped or dead?

  Nigel whistled for Rox, who came running through the back door. “What’s wrong?” Rox asked, “Where’s your mom?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Rox frowned and looked around.

  “Wow. Your kitchen is a disaster like mine.” She started munching on some grapes. I tried not to drop my jaw, but it was the first time I’d ever seen her eat, chew, and swallow. She looked around the kitchen and headed over toward a gingerbread Bundt cake Jean left by some bran muffins.

  “Can I have some?” Rox asked, pointing to the cake.

  I nodded, still in shock as she began eating.

  “Did you and Jerry break up again?” Nigel asked her.

  Rox rolled her eyes and kept chewing. With her mouth overflowing with cake, she looked like a rabid animal that didn’t know the rules about eating in front of guys. It seemed that Rox had the habit of eating after a break up.

  “Milk?” I asked, pointing to the fridge.

  That’s when I saw one of Jean’s famous notes under a magnet. Each word was written boldly in a different color. It read, I TOOK THE SEVEN TO SEVEN SHIFT FOR ONE OF THE GIRLS. She had drawn angry faces in the sevens by making an upside down “u” under the number and two dots on either side. CALL! I’M AT ST. JOHN’S. —MOM

  Nigel extended his arms with hands turned up. His eyes closed as he gave thanks to the Lord; then he dropped his head and said a few silent words to himself.

  He asked, “Rox, you want a ride home?”

  She swallowed before answering. “No, thanks,” she said. “I’m spending the night here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Taller, Thinner, and Lighter

  Rox walked Nigel to the street. While they were outside, I ran to my room and ripped apart the makeshift tent. I slammed Mrs. Beasley under some pillows on my bed and tossed the half-eaten Pop-Tarts in the trash. Relieved that I had gotten it somewhat together, I raced back into the kitchen, grabbed the ham out of the fridge, and ate it quickly. Wow, wait until the lineup hears Rox spent the night at my house.

  When she finally came back inside, it looked like I had been chilling there the whole time. The ham and pineapple melted in my mouth. I closed my eyes and tried to savor every bite. I licked my sticky fingers clean. The sweet flavor made me think of Hawaii. I was finally able to eat without breaking a rule, but now I wasn’t hungry. Rox finished chewing and talked nonstop about breaking up with Jerry and how this time it was going to be different. This time it was for good.

  I listened patiently and waited for another chance to ask what she knew the first time she saw me at State. Rox stared at me, studying how I kept my lips together when I chewed and swallowed. Every so often, I’d see some blue liquid drip from her hair, but I knew better than to mention it. If she knew I was still tripping, she’d never tell me about her first imp
ression of me or how I ranked with the lineup.

  Something was buzzing in my face. I ignored it. I wasn’t sure it was really there or not until Rox clapped her hands next to my ear and smashed a fly dead on the counter. When I jumped back, she lectured me about never swimming when there was a red tide. There were too many bugs and too much kelp in the ocean. Then out of nowhere she said, “Let’s take a shower.”

  Rox was totally wet by the time I got the nerve to follow her to the bathroom. I had no choice but to get naked. It was like I was taking a shower with one of my centerfolds, and the reality was almost too much. I swung the curtains aside and made a complete turn as I entered the shower. I didn’t look at Rox and did my best to shield the front of my body from her. I was surprisingly cool until I slipped on the oily tiles and nearly fell face first. It was like dropping into a wave too late and losing my balance before hitting the curl. I always laughed when a guy did that, but it wasn’t so funny when it was me making a fool of myself. Rox looked smaller with her hair slicked back. She grabbed my hand.

  “Whoa, the boat’s still rocking,” I said.

  “No, it’s the shea butter,” Rox told me. “I use it to keep my skin from peeling. Hold onto me,” she said as she placed my hands above the curve of her waist. My arms locked around her as she pulled me in. I loved the way she was so bossy.

  Our bodies pressed together, my chest to her back. I nestled between her shoulder blades and spit out hot water as it rolled off her head and into my mouth. Maybe I was relieved knowing I was on acid and not going crazy. Or maybe it was Rox or maybe it was the steam that surrounded us, but for the first time in ages I felt good.

  Rox reached her arms up and held her bathing suit under the nozzle. She used her fingernails to dig out sand from each tiny seam. She scooped up my hair from around my lower back and poured Herbal Essence onto the tips, lathering from the bottom, up, until she reached my scalp to scrub away the loose hairs.

  “How bad is it?” I asked.

  “Not bad.” She repeated the processes of gathering and lathering. “Your voice sounds sexy like that, all hoarse.”