Harmonic Feedback

by Tara Kelly

  Make your bed.

  Clean up any mess you’ve made in the bathroom getting ready. That includes putting your dirty clothes in the hamper.

  Unload the dishwasher. Then reload it with any dirty dishes before you leave.

  This was followed by a page-long description of how to vacuum.

  “Fine, I’ll do that other stuff, but I’m not vacuuming.”

  Mom put her hand over mine. “Maybe you can wear some headphones—turn the music up real loud. I’ve got some ear plugs you can use.”

  “Just tell her I’m not doing it.”

  She rubbed her temples, exhaling sharply. “We need to keep the peace until I can afford a deposit on an apartment, okay?”

  I nodded, knowing what she’d say next. Same old story. Compromise or live in her car.

  Mom reached down and squeezed my hand. “You deserve better, baby.” Her voice was strained and muffled.

  “Quit saying that.”

  “I just wish I could give you more. The depression hit me bad in San Francisco. I couldn’t pull out of it. And I really am sorry.”

  “I know.” I twisted my green quilt around my finger until it went numb.

  She wiped her eyes. “I got that job at the law firm. Start Monday. We’ll be out of here soon. And I promise that we’ll stay put for a while. Do you want to finish high school here?”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  Mom cupped my face with both hands, forcing me to look into her watery eyes. “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to keep us here. The paralegal there is retiring soon, and she offered to train me. That would be a really good thing for us.”

  “Do you even want to be a paralegal?”

  She dropped her hands and shook her head. “It’s a lot better than any other options I’ve had in the past. And the pay isn’t bad. Enough to live on our own—just you and me.” Mom sighed and tousled my hair. “I’m going in the shower. Let me know if you need any help.”

  I could handle the vacuum noise for about five seconds before I had to shut it off. Even with sound-canceling headphones blaring my favorite songs, the squeal cut through, making me feel like I was being zapped from the inside. My skin itched, and I feared that the bulging bag would explode. I sat on the couch and hugged myself.

  “Doesn’t sound like you’re making much progress out there!” Grandma called from the kitchen. She had a mini TV with antennas on the kitchen counter. The buzzing from the crappy signal filtered throughout the house.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and thought about calling Naomi. But she’d already hung up on me once. Justin’s name stared back at me from my address book. The letters alone made my stomach flutter. We’d exchanged numbers a couple days ago, but he’d yet to call me. Would it be weird if I called him?

  I pressed dial and squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Drea?”

  “Um, hi!”

  “What’s up?” His voice sounded deeper on the phone.

  “I have to vacuum.”

  “That’s… nice?”

  “Does your family ever drive you insane?”

  “All the time.”

  “Andrea, I still don’t hear that vacuum!”

  He laughed softly. “I dig your grandma.”

  “Why? I want to buy her a muzzle.”

  “I like how she just doesn’t care. But I can see how she’d drive you nuts.”

  “You’ve never met her.”

  “What can I say? The comment about garbage on the walls at the café won me over.”

  Silence. He was probably wondering why I called him.

  “You and Naomi still doing that movie night thing tonight?”

  “I think so. She’s asleep.” Ask questions, Drea. “Are you doing anything after work?”

  “Why?” His voice got softer. “You asking me out?”

  My heart jumped in my chest. “Like on a date? No, I wouldn’t do that. I mean—I’ve done that, but I wasn’t asking you. Um…” It was official. I sucked at the phone thing.

  “So let me clarify. That’s a no, right?”

  “No. I mean—yes. Yes, that’s right.”

  He chuckled again. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  I swallowed hard. “Is that bad?”

  “No and—yes.”

  “Um…”

  “No, because I really like that about you. And yes. For the same reason.”

  “Huh?”

  He sighed into the phone. “Nothing. It’s not bad, Drea.”

  Grandma appeared in the living room, hands on her bony hips. “Mobile phones don’t vacuum living rooms. Get off right now.”

  “Sounds like you should go,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, bye.” I flipped the phone shut and looked at Grandma. “I can use this phone when I want to—it’s mine.”

  “And that’s a big part of your problem. You’re used to getting your way all the time.”

  “If that was the case, we wouldn’t be living with you.”

  Grandma’s mouth dropped open, but Mom walked in before she could speak. “She didn’t mean it. Right, Drea?”

  “She needs a good paddle on the behind,” Grandma said.

  “Give me that phone,” Mom said, holding her hand out to me.

  “What? No.” I hid it behind my back.

  “I said give it to me!” Her voice made me jump. She rarely yelled like that.

  I slowly held the phone out to her, avoiding her dark eyes.

  Mom ripped the cell from my hands. “You’ll get it back when you finish your chores. And only then.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off. “Apologize to Grandma.”

  “For what? She interrupted my phone conversation.”

  “Say you’re sorry, or Naomi can’t come over later.”

  What was the point of that? It wasn’t like I’d mean it. “But I’m not sorry.”

  Grandma shook her head. “You should make her stay in her room for the rest of the weekend. And unplug her computer too.”

  “Mother, please. Just let me handle this, okay?”

  “I’m not going to tolerate this in my house, Juliana.” Grandma retreated into the kitchen, turning up whatever news program she had on.

  Mom walked over and knelt in front of me. “Drea, please,” she whispered. “Stop pushing her.”

  “Don’t make me say things I don’t mean.”

  “Remember what we talked about in San Francisco? About letting things go? Apologizing to her will keep her out of your hair.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Drea, she took us into her home, and she didn’t have to. Do you understand that? She’s tough to be around, yes. But right now, she’s all we have.”

  I understood why I was supposed to appreciate Grandma. And I did—a little bit. But it didn’t mean she could force me to do things. “Fine, I’ll do it. For you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I’m not vacuuming. I can’t. It hurts.”

  She sighed. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. But you have to finish the rest of your chores.” She held up my phone. “Then you’ll get this back.”

  Grandma ignored me when I walked into the kitchen. That’s how I knew she was really angry. She almost always had something to say.

  I focused on the beige tile below my feet. Pale brown lines carved out triangles and squares. “I’m sorry I said that to you. I appreciate you letting us stay here.”

  She nodded but kept her eyes on the television. Her shoulders were hunched, and her mouth turned down at the corners.

  I waited for a few moments. Nothing. She didn’t even look in my direction. It made my stomach hurt. “I said I was sorry.”

  “I heard you,” she said, still not looking at me.

  “Okay.” I turned around and left to clean the bathroom.

  My day didn’t get much better
when Naomi finally showed up. She insisted on dragging me to the mall with her, which was as bad as Grandma making me scrub the bathtub three times—if not worse.

  “I hate malls,” I said, avoiding eye contact with the hordes of people walking in the opposite direction. All the faces and chatter made me dizzy.

  Whoever came up with the idea of food courts needed their head examined. The smell of sugary dough did not mesh with teriyaki sauce. Add cheap tomato sauce to the mix, and it had the same effect as ipecac.

  “Scott wants to hang out tonight. I need something sexy to wear.”

  “What about painting and the movie?”

  Naomi rolled her eyes. “It’s only five thirty. Scott isn’t coming to get us until at least eleven or midnight.”

  “Us?”

  She grabbed my arm, pulling me close. “Yep. He’s racing tonight.”

  “Racing?”

  She let me go and bit her lip. “You’ll see. There will be lots of hotties there.”

  “I’d rather just stay home like we’d planned.”

  “What? And do each other’s makeup and hair all night? God, Drea, I was only kidding about the slumber-party thing. We aren’t ten.”

  A lump formed in my throat as I followed her into a store filled with fancy underwear, bras, and lingerie.

  “I know you think he’s this big jerk,” Naomi said. “You know how guys are, though—they talk like pigs to each other, but they don’t mean anything by it.” She rummaged through the piles of underwear, plucking out a lacy red pair. “Justin might like these.” She thrust them into my chest, grinning.

  I dropped them back into the pile. “Well, I don’t like them.”

  Naomi tore a silky black slip from a hanger and held it against her body, fingering the plastic security tag. “What do you think? Pair it with some thigh highs maybe?”

  I checked the price. “It’s almost fifty dollars.”

  She leaned into my ear. Her breath smelled like mint gum and cigarettes. “No worries—they’ve got the cheap non-ink security tags here. Easy to remove.”

  “Can I help you ladies with anything?” a girl with bleached teeth asked. She eyed Naomi from head to toe, pausing on her baggy jeans.

  Naomi grabbed a pink gauzy thing and what looked like a doll gown off the rack. “Yeah, can you start a fitting room for us?” She handed the garments over to the clerk.

  “Certainly—two rooms?”

  “We can share,” Naomi said.

  The girl scanned me up and down before flashing a quick smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She walked away.

  “Okay, bitch,” Naomi whispered. “Did you see the way she looked at us? It’s why I don’t feel bad ripping them off.” She glanced at the other clerk before stuffing the black slip down her jeans. “I just wish this place was busier. It usually is on Saturdays.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhh.” She looked over her shoulder before cramming a white lacy slip down the other side of her jeans. The oversized band T-shirt she wore covered the bulge.

  Mom said she’d never resort to stealing. Even if that meant living on gas-station food. I picked up a silky corset with fraying laces—$110. “I could make this stuff for a lot cheaper. You don’t have to steal anything.”

  “I was going to ask if you made your clothes,” she said in a louder voice. “They’re really awesome.” The salesclerk who’d started our fitting room had come back out. She straightened racks a few feet from us.

  “Kinda have to—not much fits me otherwise.”

  She nodded at my white skirt. “Did you make that?”

  “I added the lace hem to this one.” I leaned closer to her. “Put them back, Naomi!”

  She put her finger to her lips, her eyes widening. “So what do you think Justin would like? I’m betting on something innocent.”

  Heat ran up my neck at her words. “Do you really think he likes me that way?”

  “I swear, Drea. Sometimes you act like you’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

  “I’ve had plenty of boyfriends.” My pulse throbbed through my ears and my fingers ran cold. She’d caught me.

  “And didn’t you have to make the first move with at least a couple?” She took my hand, pulling me toward the fitting rooms. “We’re ready,” she called over to the clerk.

  The salesclerk smiled. “Okay, let me know if you need a different size.”

  We squeezed into the fitting room. It smelled like roses and sweat.

  Naomi pulled the white lacy slip out of her jeans and tossed it at me. “This will look so good on you. Sweet and sexy.”

  I unraveled the light material. A pale ribbon swirled around the high waist, and it was barely long enough to cover my butt. What exactly did she expect me to do with this? “How do I act like I’ve never had a boyfriend?”

  She took off her T-shirt and gave me a sidelong glance. “Mostly, it’s the way you act around Justin. You blush a lot—and you get all shy and giggly.”

  “He’s different from most guys I’ve been around.” At least that much was true.

  “I figured. Were most of them jerks?”

  “Yeah.” I thought back to some of Mom’s boyfriends. “A couple drank a lot, and they’d get violent and break stuff sometimes. One of them stole our—my money and gambled it all away.”

  Naomi smoothed the black slip over her baggy jeans and raised her eyebrows at me. “Like, online?”

  “In Vegas.”

  “Was he older?”

  Oh, crap. “Yeah.”

  She nodded. “I’ve dated a couple older losers too.”

  “Like Scott?”

  “He’s really sweet when we’re alone together. Oh my God, I didn’t tell you what he did last night.” Naomi’s cheeks practically glowed as she twisted in the mirror, eyeing her behind. “He brought yellow tulips—my favorite—and took me out to this really nice restaurant in Seattle. Like the kind that gives you warm bread before the meal.” She gazed up at the ceiling. “Anyway, he told me he wouldn’t see other people if I don’t.”

  “I’d rather a guy not see other people because he doesn’t want to.”

  “You and every other girl. Guys just think differently, you know?” She sucked her stomach in. “Do you think I’ve got too much tummy for this?”

  All I saw was a huge chest, a small waist, and curvy hips—the perfect female figure. Everything mine wasn’t. “You look beautiful,” I said.

  “Aw. Try yours on.”

  “No thanks. I’ve got no reason to wear it.”

  “Drea! Boys or no boys, there’s always a reason.” She winked. “I think Justin suffers from FGS, by the way.”

  “What’s FGS?”

  Naomi giggled and peeled the slip off. “It’s a term me and Kari came up with—we used to be joined at the hip.”

  “She told me.”

  “Yeah, anyway—it’s Former Geek Syndrome. Guys who are late bloomers and don’t get hot until their junior or senior year. Most of the time they aren’t aware of it yet, so they haven’t gotten all arrogant. They usually make the best boyfriends but have no idea how to make the first move.” She nudged me. “So do it already.”

  “There’s more to life than boys. I’d rather write more songs.”

  She pulled a flathead screwdriver and a small pair of pliers from her pocket.

  “What is that for?”

  Naomi put her fingers to her lips. “The security tags,” she whispered. “Make some noise, okay? Talk loud or something.” She slid the screwdriver in where the tag gripped the clothing.

  “I’ll make you something. Don’t do this.”

  “Quit worrying,” she whispered. “I’m not exactly new to this.”

  “I’m leaving,” I said, reaching for the door.

  Naomi grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. “Chill the fuck out. You’re going to get us caught.”

  I avoided her gaze, which seemed to burn into me. Her nails dug into the skin of my arm. />
  “Please, Drea. Just help me out, okay?”

  I yanked my arm out of her grip and slid to the ground. It was so hot in here. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Look underneath the door,” she whispered. “Tell me if someone walks by.” She started to sing the lyrics to “Invisible” as she grasped the tag with the pliers. It snapped a couple seconds later and she handed me the remnants, which included a sharp pin. “Hold this. Anyone coming?”

  I glanced under the door and shook my head, my breaths coming out fast. Naomi put the black slip back on, tucked it inside her jeans, and then pulled her T-shirt over it.

  “Now yours.” She took the white lacy slip from my hands and repeated the process, still singing. “Put this on under your clothes.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Fine, whatever.” She stuffed it down her jeans, then grabbed the broken security tags from me and tossed them under the divider into the adjacent fitting room. “Let’s get out of here.”

  When we opened the door, the salesclerk came around the corner smiling. “How’d it go?”

  I felt like there was a knife twisting in my stomach.

  Naomi handed her the doll gown and the unidentifiable pink thing. “Neither of these were me. Maybe next time.”

  “Would you like to try a different size or color?”

  Naomi took my hand, pulling me forward. “No, no. The cut just didn’t work.”

  We’d almost left the store when the salesgirl asked us to stop. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the security tags in her hands.

  “Run.” Naomi took off in a sprint.

  I tried to follow, but running through crowds was near impossible. Every time I avoided one major collision, someone else appeared out of nowhere. Two security guards were jogging in my direction. I sucked in my breath and froze, watching them close in on me.

  A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hallway with a green exit sign. “Come on!”

  I chased Naomi toward the sign, but I could hear the buzz of radios and voices behind us. The two guards entered the hallway just before we reached the doors.

  “Found two females matching the description,” a breathless guy said. “They’re running out the south exit. Over.”

  Naomi pushed the door open, and I dug my heels into the pavement, using every last bit of muscle to get to her dad’s car.