Just Wreck It All

by N. Griffin

  Huh, thought Bett. Huh.

  “Can I see you, though?” asked Stephanie. “Can I come live with you?”

  Bett broke into laughter again. “You wouldn’t believe where we’re living now,” she gasped. She laughed even harder, just as Bill walked up to them with his eyebrows raised.

  “My mom built us a shack out of library books,” Bett confessed, but before she could say more, the three of them were laughing and it was more pure Plus, blood coursing through Bett’s veins and whispering to her:

  Live.

  * * *

  HONK, HONK. That sound was familiar enough, anyway, although too loud in Bett’s drained ear. The bus pulled up next to her. Eddie opened the doors. “Get the hell on my bus,” he said. And Bett hugged Stephanie and Bill and got the hell on Eddie’s bus.

  An hour later everybody was gone except Eddie and Bett and the Eagles playing on the bus stereo.

  “Eddie,” said Bett. “Can we not have the Eagles the whole time now?”

  “I don’t know,” said Eddie, eyes on the road. “You going to let me talk to you?”

  Bett grew still. “Yes,” she said finally. “I am.”

  57

  Saturday, After the Meet

  BUT HE DIDN’T START IN about her weight.

  “Two years ago. Driving up that hill.” Eddie blew air sharply through his nose. “I was subbing your route that day. Christmas trees,” he continued. “Cold. Kids were loud. Then your friend. That little girl. Jumping.” Eddie shook his head.

  So this was it.

  Stop, Bett wanted to say. But she made herself listen, steeling herself for Eddie to tell her how he had seen Bett run toward Stephanie and land on the hose, bursting the tank. It was only what she deserved.

  Eddie exhaled again.

  “She hit that gas tank, Bett. The leaning one in the middle. Made it blow.”

  Bett was shocked into silence.

  Then: “What? No. It was me. I ran over the gas hose. That’s what made the pump explode.”

  Eddie shook his head. Blew air sharp again. “That’s what I mean. Why I wanted to talk to you. I always knew you thought it was your fault.” He paused. “I know you still think that. But it wasn’t you. I’ve been wanting to tell you since August, when I saw your name on the sheet of kids for my bus. It wasn’t you. Your friend fell against the tank, and that’s when it exploded.”

  “No,” said Bett.

  “Yes,” said Eddie.

  “No,” insisted Bett.

  “You girls,” said Eddie, voice cracking. “Flying. Falling.”

  Bett waited. Then Eddie pulled the bus to the side of the road because he had to see to drive, dammit, and could she quit distracting him.

  Oh my God, Bett thought suddenly. I was wrong, and this is the part where he kills me.

  “I just want to tell you one more thing,” said Eddie.

  “Okay,” said Bett, and braced herself for the inevitable something about how she had changed and how running would slim her down and blah blah blah.

  “I’ve wanted to say this since August, too,” said Eddie. “I just want to tell you you’ll always be safe on my bus.”

  Silence.

  Bett broke it. “Except for when you stop short or kidnap us.”

  “Even then,” said Eddie, and he turned and held out a hand to Bett. She took it and shook it awkwardly, and Eddie grasped her hand with both of his. “I never stopped thinking of you girls since that day. She okay?”

  “Yes,” said Bett, now crying. She had spent this whole day crying, and now here was more. “She is.”

  58

  Saturday Evening

  WHEN BETT FINALLY CAME IN, her mother and Aunt Jeanette were already there. They’d left after Bett’s race and not stayed for the boys’ one. Dan and Ranger had done well, coming in sixth and tenth, respectively.

  And now here were her mother and aunt, cooking soup like nothing was different.

  “Is it true?” Bett demanded, still in her running gear. “Was Dad having an affair with the—with Stephanie’s mom for a year before the gas explosion?”

  Bett’s mom stopped stirring. Bett knew she was shocked, not only at the question, but that Bett was asking it.

  “Yes,” her mother said finally. “It is true. How do you know?”

  “Bill Roan. I saw Bill Roan at the meet and he told me.” But even as she said it, Bett felt a dozen more puzzle pieces fall into place.

  Mrs. Roan with not enough on.

  Bett’s dad bent over Stephanie.

  He was bent over Stephanie after the explosion because he didn’t know Bett was there. He had snuck out of the house to sleep with Stephanie’s mother, so he was already there and he didn’t know Bett was, too. That was why he had run to Stephanie and not her. That was why.

  Oh my God, everything is different and nothing is different and everything in the world has exploded and I don’t know how the pieces will come back together.

  “You’re welcome to call her the Floozy,” said Bett’s mom. “You know that language is permitted here in this home.”

  “No,” said Bett. “It’s not fair. If she’s a floozy, then so is Dad. It takes two to tango.”

  Bett’s mother stared at her. Then she snorted. “Believe what you will,” she said. “Why do I make soup? I hate soup.”

  “So do I,” said Bett.

  Silence, except for the stirring pot.

  “How did you know?” Bett asked finally.

  “Took me a while,” said her mother. “He kept going to the insurance office where she worked. I thought he was straightening out something about our homeowners’ policy, but no.”

  Bett shook her head.

  “At least that’s better than what I thought,” said Aunt Jeanette. “I swore he was taking out a policy on your mother’s life and was planning to do her in.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Bett, irritation at Aunt Jeanette rising like a tide.

  “It was,” said Bett’s mom. “But in a way it was true. His leaving did do me in.”

  “Is that why you don’t care if I don’t see him? And why he stopped coming to see me in the hospital?”

  “He stopped coming because the twiddly little creep chose that day to leave us, and he wanted to come to the hospital to tell you, but I figured you had enough on your plate.”

  “He did? He wanted to tell me in person?”

  “Yeah,” said her mother. “When you were deaf as a post and in the hospital. And when I said he had to wait until you were better, he told me I had to do it.” She gave the soup a ferocious stir so it sloshed over the sides of the pot and hissed onto the burner of the stove. “The coward.”

  “MOM! You should have let him tell me!” said Bett.

  Bett was suddenly furious with her mother. But she hated her father more. Who left his family while his kid was in the hospital? Would Bett ever stop hating him?

  “I begged her, you know,” Bett’s mother said, not quite looking at Bett. “I begged her not to take your father.”

  “I told you not to,” said Aunt Jeanette.

  “I had to,” said Bett’s mother.

  There was a pause, and then she turned to face Bett. “But now,” she said, “just so there are no more secrets: I’m dating your principal.” And she moved away from the stove while Bett thought of the section of neck on Mr. McLean where he decided his beard ended and his chest hair could begin and felt physically ill at the thought that he would be spending time in the SIM card house and there would be no escape. What kind of day was this? Bett was suddenly too exhausted to even think about it.

  “Ugh,” she said to her mother, and went up the four stairs that led to her bed.

  59

  Saturday Night/Sunday Morning, Wee Hours

  DEEP NIGHT. BETT WAS AT the top of her slope at the river’s edge. There were no more cupcakes in her hidden cave.

  Then she saw Hugh Munin, nightfishing at the bottom of the slope.

  “I don’t deserve
. . . anything,” said Bett, her own voice clear above the rushing of the river. What did Hugh Munin know? Why was she telling him this? Why did she want to so badly?

  He heard her.

  “You do,” said Hugh. The light from the full moon spread out behind him on the water like a bulky coat, and even though it was time for them to roost, two grackles flew in and landed at Bett’s feet, pecking the dirt in front of her.

  60

  The Following Friday

  IT WAS NEARLY A WEEK later. The six of them—Anna, Ranger, Dan, Hester, Paul, and Bett—involved in the break-in were called into Mr. McLean’s office, as well as Mutt. Bett’s mom was there, too, arms folded.

  “We’re letting the six of you who broke into the school off with ten hours of community service each,” Mr. McLean said. “Mutt, you’re facing more. Forty hours. Half of them picking up trash on the sides of the streets. Half of them”—he cleared his throat—“in the aftercare program in the elementary part of this building. And you’ll be getting some counseling, too.”

  Counseling, thought Bett. Counseling. Could she get counseling, too? Should she? She imagined being in a quiet room with Hugh Munin, inside, away from the river. His kind eyes. Counseling. Maybe she should ask her mom.

  “For the rest of you, I’m considering not entering this on your school records,” he was continuing. “Though don’t expect this kind of leniency for any new prank you brain trusts might think up. Or any other misbehaviors you might do the rest of the school year. One more thing happens, forget it.”

  “That statue,” said Bett’s mom, shaking her head.

  Mutt lowered his head. “Do you think you can fix the statue?” he whispered to Anna, who was sitting in the seat beside him. “Like you did the other things? Please make something. Please.”

  Anna was silent. Then: “Yes,” she said. “But not for you. But because I always, always will.” And she folded her skinny arms across her chest and looked out the window as Mutt looked down at his hands beside her. “I’d make something out of those devil drawings, too, if someone would give them to me,” Anna added, still looking out the window.

  “That wasn’t me, I swear!” cried Mutt.

  Bett and Dan exchanged glances. Anna noticed and raised an eyebrow, as did Mr. McLean.

  “Do I have official permission to do something to transform the statue?” Anna turned and asked him. “Please? And can I paint something over the graffiti stains in the entryway, too?”

  “Yes,” said Bett’s mother, even as Mr. McLean was saying, “I’ll give you a ‘Maybe’ about the graffiti. I don’t know about the statue. We’d have to check with the town council. They’re the ones who commissioned it.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Bett’s mother. “Let the kid fix the thing. It can’t look worse than it does now.”

  Mutt lifted his head, and Bett understood something else. Because she’d been thinking about it, and it was starting to make sense. She got why Mutt had bashed the statue the same night the other kids were breaking in with the graffiti mural. It was the same reason he has done the other things so boldly during the day at school: Some part of him had wanted to be caught. As much as he said he’d done what he did because he wanted everyone to know he hated them, something in him craved help, too, for himself and his little sister.

  Without thinking, Bett reached out and touched his arm. Why compassion for Eddie, who yelled and stopped the bus short, and not for Mutt? Why compassion for Mutt and not his father, who probably had some bad damn things happen to him, too? Why not compassion for all of them? How was she supposed to figure this out? Her head was spinning. What if the explosion was because Stephanie fell on the tank? Would Bett hate Stephanie for it? She wouldn’t. She couldn’t even imagine it, couldn’t imagine ever even bringing up the possibility of blame. Not with Stephanie or with anyone.

  “You kids better go,” said Mr. McLean. “It’s picture day and it’s time for the juniors.” He put his hand on Mutt’s shoulder. “Dry your eyes and smile.”

  61

  Not Long After on That Same Friday, In the Bathroom

  CAREFULLY, BETT LINED EACH OF her eyelids. She had already done her blush and lipstick, so all that was left to put on was eyeshadow and mascara.

  “Can I borrow your eyeliner?” asked Paul.

  “Sure,” said Bett, and handed it over. Paul carefully dotted his nose and cheeks with fake freckles.

  “I’m going for a country white boy look,” he said to Bett, admiring himself from all sides. He was wearing overalls and a red tattersall shirt.

  “I’m going for okay-looking,” said Bett.

  Paul slapped her hand, then held it. “Mission accomplished, lady. You look beautiful. But you always were.”

  62

  Bus Ride Home, Friday Afternoon

  MUTT’S EYES WERE DISTANT WHEN he got on the bus that afternoon. Bett sat down beside him.

  “What the hell is up with him?” Eddie said out of the side of his mouth to Dan.

  “You know what all’s going on.” Dan lowered his voice. “And what Mutt’s dad is like.”

  Eddie shook his head, beating his steering wheel. “I’d like to punch that guy,” he said.

  So would I, thought Bett. And I would like to punch me for not calling my mom about him that day in Fancy Jim’s.

  The bus ride was silent, except for the Eagles.

  Then, her mind made up, Bett turned to Mutt. “Listen,” she said under the cover of the Eagles’ “The Long Run.” “I get it,” she said.

  “What does anybody get?” said Mutt. “People hurt people all the time and nobody understands. Might as well wreck everything before someone else does.” He paused to wipe his nose on the back of his sleeve. “You don’t get anything, Bett. Nobody does.”

  But Eddie had heard him. “Ha,” he said. “You can’t tell me I didn’t go to war and see my buddies die, see buzzards circling over a dying girl’s body, and I don’t get it.” His voice cracked, then steadied. “Made me mad as hell for years.”

  “You don’t get it,” said Mutt, his voice on the edge of breaking. “People just go on eating Ring Dings and holding fucking hands, running around a loop in a meet, and none of it makes any sense.”

  “Yeah,” said Eddie. “That’s what we do. But it matters. And a lot of us try to be good people, too. As best we can.”

  63

  Saturday Night

  BETT, DAN, PAUL, HESTER, AND Anna were celebrating their community service punishment with a party, a party that was, given the hosts, full of Twinklers and Stays, gathering in laughing knots of themselves in Hugh Munin’s field. It was like old Salt River times but better, somehow, Bett in her musty sweater, which she had decided this afternoon was cool and that she loved it. Stephanie was there, too (“Your makeup is amazing!” “I had this great teacher once.”), as well as Ranger, shorter and younger than all the rest but ecstatic to be included. Both Dan and Bett had reinforced their threats to him about that stupid tufty-eared devil of whatever, and Ranger had looked sufficiently scared that they had trusted him to come along.

  “This is a real partycakes!” he cried. “Are you guys going to drink stuff?”

  “No,” everybody chorused, and Paul and Eli put a cooler behind them.

  Bett went over to Mutt, who stood on the periphery of the field. He was not exactly attending the party, but not exactly not attending it, either. Very few kids were forgiving of him. Most, like Dan, were still enraged.

  “Are you scared?” she asked Mutt now. “About what might happen to you because of . . . ?”

  “Yes,” he said. “My parents . . . I need to get custody of Meredith when I turn eighteen,” he said. “That’s why I work so many jobs. I’m not letting her life be wrecked.”

  Wow. “I bet you could get help now,” Bett said. “My mom says—”

  “No,” Mutt said vehemently. “ ‘Help’ is code for foster care, and no way. I’m not letting the police or the department of social services do that to u
s. My dad’s a prick and my mother’s useless, too, but I can take care of things for one more year, and then we’ll be fine. I’ll take classes at the community college after senior year while Meredith’s at school during the day so I can be there for all the other stuff she needs when she comes home at five.”

  “Who’ll take care of her until five?” Bett asked.

  Mutt shrugged. “She goes to aftercare in the elementary wing most days, anyway.” He smiled a little. Bett smiled back. Now she understood that part of Mutt’s punishment. “Forged my dad’s signatures on the forms,” Mutt added. “Nobody notices. I’ve had to do it for three years.”

  “Mutt,” said Bett, “you are much less of a douche than I thought.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Mutt. “I said homophobic, stupid shit, and I was an asshole to you on the first day of school, too. I’m sorry, Bett. I totally . . . respect what you can do.”

  “Thank you,” said Bett.

  “I’m going to head over to . . . the cooler. Can I bring you anything?”

  “Nope,” said Bett. “But thanks anyway.” She watched him move through the group, some people ignoring him, some looking at him with pure disgust. Even most of his own minions were avoiding Mutt.

  Bett shook her head. What was going to happen to him? To Meredith? Who could help them? Maybe her mother, who knew Mutt’s situation. Maybe McLean. Bett shook her head hard. She’d have to think.

  Someone had sparklers and was passing them from group to group, so the whole field twinkled like fireflies, like stars.

  “What were you talking to Mutt about?” Dan asked Bett as they formed a tiny triangle with Stephanie in the midst of the party.

  But Bett couldn’t answer. And then there was Anna, buzzing up beside the three of them on her cricket-thin legs.

  “Hey,” she said to Stephanie. “I’m Anna.”

  “Hi,” said Stephanie. “I’m Stephanie. This is Dan and Bett.”