by Lisa Freeman
It was creepy the way he looked me up and down. “Well, well, who do we have here?” he asked with a Texan accent as he put his hand on my hip and pulled me in too close, slipping it down my waistband, almost to my ass. His voice plowed right through me. He looked at Mrs. McBride and asked, all friendly, “Is this Rosita’s daughter? My, Anna, how you’ve grown!” He grabbed my waist tighter and felt me up.
I couldn’t believe Nigel was just standing there watching. Where was the radical Jesus warrior I knew and loved? What, he could let his mom have it, but not his dad?
Then Mr. McBride went fierce and military. “Fix me some lobster salad, and next time, wear your uniform. I don’t care whose kid you are; I’ll fire you.” I had to squirm my way out of his grip. Nigel wouldn’t look at me.
Enough is enough, I thought. This was bogus. If I were blond, no one would be confusing me with the help, who they treated like trash. And that pissed me off even more than Nigel just standing there. Once and for all, I got it: because I was hapa, half white, in the eyes of people like the McBrides, I would never be more than half okay.
I turned to the son of a bitch and told him in my warrior voice, “You can’t fire me because I don’t work for you.”
“What did you say?”
“Listen here, you haole bonehead—”
That was all I got out before he took a swing at me.
Mrs. McBride tripped over herself, pushing me out of the way. “Hurry,” she said.
I swear, if it wasn’t for Shawn running into the kitchen and taunting Mr. McBride by yelling, “Don’t be a dick, Dad,” he would have taken me out. But instead he chased Shawn upstairs, shouting, “You bastard! Get back here.”
Nigel just stood there like a deer in headlights.
Until his mom shouted in his face, “Get her out of here.”
There was no way I was going to marry into that snake pit—pact or no pact. The scale had tipped too far. Nigel and I moved sideways like a couple of crabs in a fast-moving tide. When we were outside, he had the nerve to toss me the keys. I’d never driven the van before, but I wanted to get home as much as he wanted to get out of there, and Nigel was shaking so badly, I knew he wouldn’t be able to get it into gear.
“Want to listen to ‘Locomotive Breath’?” Jethro Tull always made Nigel feel better because he was a Christian, too. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he shoved an entire pack of Juicy Fruit in his mouth one stick at a time and started chomping really hard.
He put on a faded Dodgers baseball cap, dark glasses, and a scarf to disguise himself. “I’m incognito,” he said.
Then he launched into Father Nigel mode, like nothing had happened. He rambled on about how we were the last kingdom, and no one knew when everything would go kablooey, but most likely it would be soon.
“Uh, Nigel,” I said, “I think things already went kablooey.” When he ignored what I said, it made me wonder what else Mr. McBride had gotten his claws into. Until then, I’d had no idea that Nigel McBride just might have more secrets than I did.
I felt like I had been swallowed whole. I’d never realized how little Nigel’s head was; without hair, he looked like a jabbering skull, clicking away, telling me which scriptures to study while he was gone. He even got his highlighted Bible out of the glove compartment and gave it to me, reminding me to fear God.
Fear God? I thought. “Fear your Father,” I said. “Call the police on him. Do something.” Mr. McBride had been milliseconds from belting me one. And the worst thing about it was: if he had actually hit me, there wasn’t one cop in the world who would have believed me over him. I gave Nigel the silent treatment the whole way home.
When we pulled up to my house, he said, “You’re a lot braver than I am … I’m sorry.”
But you know, sorry didn’t really cut it.
He slipped out of the van and came around to the driver’s side. “Can I have one last kiss?” he asked. Then he pulled me closer and dipped his tongue into my mouth. Even though he was almost bald, he was still a gifted kisser.
I grabbed the hat off his head, popped him one, and put it on backwards. I was pissed, but I also felt sorry for him—especially when he quickly covered himself with the raggedy old scarf, arranging it to make sure both sides of his head were covered. Maybe absence would make my heart grow fonder.
When he got back into the van, he lit up a roach from the ashtray and took a hit as he handed me a pillowcase stuffed with a wet suit and old clothes. He laughed nervously. “Can you drop this off at the Salvation Army for me?”
“No!”
Then he smiled that McBride smile that I loved so much. “It’s for the poor.”
I grabbed it out of his hand, knowing this was the end and the beginning. I had seen the dark corner of his world. The surf god Nigel McBride had fallen from grace.
“Don’t let your dad get the best of you,” I told him.
I was never meant to see the chink in his armor. I wanted to yank his Saint Christopher off his neck, but there was too much sadness in his eyes. His strangled pride made him look even smaller as he pulled down his shades.
“Aloha,” he said.
CHAPTER TEN
Changes
Nigel had never said the word aloha before. It means hello and goodbye, and the way he said it, it sounded so final.
It made me angrier as I entered 33 Sage. The house was a mess. I just hoped Jean was still on the wagon. It had been seventy-two hours. But who was counting? She’d been seeing Joyce every day, but I still kept my eye on her. People who drink like Jean does can’t be trusted.
“Mom, I’m home.” She strolled out of the kitchen wearing an apron.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. With her hair up she looked like she was doing a Betty Crocker commercial.
“No, I had lobster salad at the McBrides’.” I was trying to impress her. And I did. She perked up and said, “Really? How nice!” Then suddenly she added, “I don’t like you up there unchaperoned.”
“Mr. and Mrs. McBride were home.”
“Oh?” She held up the LA Times and pointed to an article with her magnifying glass. “I was just reading about their charity. Apparently, they just had a fundraiser that brought in fifty thousand dollars in one night!”
If only she knew, I thought to myself.
“How are they?”
“Fine.” Then I added, just to make it sound right, “Tired.”
She waited for a moment. “What’s he like?”
I wanted to say, He’s an ogre, a child molester, and a bigot. “Nice,” I told her.
My mom was shaking a little and sweating, proof that she was still sick. Her face was puffy and jowly, but I think she was getting better. As long as we didn’t get talking about the Java Jones or Uncle Mike, who stole it from us, we could sit peacefully in her garden and do a crossword puzzle. I watched the moon rise higher in the sky as my mom ripped through the across words. Watching her figure things out, I remembered that once upon a time, she was smart.
When she finished whooping my ass at the crossword, Jean jumped up, looking at her watch. “I’m missing Bonanza. I’ve got to see Michael Landon.” He was the cutest actor on the show. I charged after her into her room. She adjusted the antennas on top of her TV and turned up the volume before hopping into bed and stretching out.
“He’s my new boyfriend. I love going to bed with Little Joe.” She laughed.
Ick.
I sat down next to her, and she nestled her head into my shoulder. Neither of us moved, even during commercials. After Little Joe got the girl and rode off into the sunset, I finally stretched and cracked my toes. Rox would be coming by to pick me up soon, but for the moment, I realized, this was actually nice. I loved hearing my mom laugh, and I lit a cigarette for her without her even asking. During the break, I wondered aloud, “Would you ever do that?”
“What?”
“Get a boyfriend,” I said.
“No. Your dad was it for me.”
I
hugged her. “I love you,” I said, and I meant it.
A horn honked outside. It was hard to let go now that Jean was back. I kissed her on the forehead, tucked her into bed, and said, “Sweet dreams. I’ll be home early.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Opposites
State looked different without the old members of the lineup at the center of it. Lisa was not easy to forget. I couldn’t just erase her from my life. But then again …
I took a few steps forward and stopped. Sitting smack dab in the middle of the SOS was Mary Jo. Her freaky, white hair curled loosely down her back, making her stand out like a sore thumb. To stop myself from saying anything, I had to squeeze my butt cheeks and bite my tongue. I was afraid I’d collapse, so I kept tightening every muscle in my body. Then I took refuge behind my hair. I couldn’t let my mind go into orbit.
Mary Jo was one of my least favorite people. But somehow she had become the star of the JV volleyball team. She’d gotten longer and leaner, strong as hell, and I had to admit, she looked good with her plum bikini, freckles, wild corkscrew hair, a ring on every finger, and that unstoppable, kinetic Leo energy. She was laughing.
I knew I had to do the exact opposite of everything I wanted to do. I pressed my fingertips into my temples and rubbed back and forth. I had to act indifferent, so as I began my walk—no, my stroll—no, my casual, leisurely stride—to the lineup, I reminded myself: when you want to kick sand in her face, say something sweet. When you want to flip her off, wave. When you want to shout, talk softly. Do the opposite of mean.
Mary Jo said hi, and I gave a little, low-to-the-hip wave. The smart thing for me to do was keep moving as we glared at each other.
I looked at Jenni and told her, “Come on, let’s go for a swim.” Non-confrontational and happy, like always. When Jenni and I were waist-high in the water, past the break, facing the horizon, I let it rip. “What the eff is going on?”
“It’s just a day pass,” she said. “We didn’t want her, but the Topangas can’t have her, either. We need to build our numbers, Nani. And besides, Lord Ricky insisted she get local status again. After all, Mary Jo’s brother was his best friend.”
Lisa splashed in on the conversation like she owned it. “Jenni and I can’t go against him on our maiden voyage.” We all three dove under a wave and popped up on the other side.
“It’s our first day,” Jenni continued.
“You know this is best for the SOS.”
What was I going to say? Judas, traitors? I could get a lot more dramatic, but instead I went along with the morning routine. We took off our tops at the fifty-foot buoy, and I dog paddled and talked like nothing was wrong.
Later that morning, we had our first drop-ins: a couple gingers with pearly white skin, plaid shirts, and suspenders. Lisa whispered, “They’re Eagles groupies.”
No recruit in her right mind would show up in suspenders. I was impressed by how Lisa surveyed them with an unstoppable stare. They weren’t the smartest tacks in the pack. They didn’t even realize what was happening as Lisa walked behind them and made a thumbs-down motion. They just complained about what a drag it was to babysit their tag-along next-door neighbor, Tina, all day. I mean, they talked and talked until finally, Lisa said, “Don’t you two have somewhere you have to be?”
Mary Jo added, “Like—now?”
I looked up at the sky, pretending to study the clouds.
“Okay, fine.” They pulled up their suspenders as they charged off, yelling back, “You can take care of Tina then. We don’t want her.”
Lisa said, “I don’t want her.”
Jenni said, “I don’t want her.”
Mary Jo said, “I don’t want her.”
And then—what a surprise—everyone looked at me.
Lisa plastered a smile across her face and said, “Nani, she’s all yours.”
I held my chin tight and squeezed out, “Sure.”
My eyes almost burst out of my head when I saw Tina fluttering out of the bathroom. I expected some annoying, knock-kneed little kid, but she looked like a bucket of stardust. I could see the future in the blond tips waving down her back. She was tiny and airy, wearing a creamy tangerine bikini. As she got closer, I could see her moss-green eyes were lighter than mine. They looked almost gray. I thought, This girl would not wither in the heat. It was like she had been anointed.
Tina stopped for a minute between us and the Topangas. I saw Melanie stand up, about to pounce on her, but before she could say a word, I called out, “Hey! Over here!”
She looked confused and asked, “Where are my friends?”
“First of all, they’re not your friends.” I said. “They ditched you. Second of all, how old are you exactly?”
“I’ll be fourteen on August fourteenth.” She had a sweet, little voice, but she was a Leo. I knew that meant staying power. I liked the way her low-slung Mexican purse hung on her hips as she waited.
“She’s only thirteen,” Jenni whispered, but Lisa and I were looking at each other, smiling.
“Who cares? She doesn’t look it,” I said.
“But she’s a baby!” Mary Jo complained.
“Let’s nickname her Baby,” I said jokingly. Lisa perked up. And that, as they say, was that. I’d have to be more careful of what came out of my mouth in the future, because now Tina was Baby. Our fledgling and first recruit of the new lineup.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Baby
Rox and Jerry still weren’t talking. I knew that because they called me behind each other’s back. Like, the morning before her “procedure,” Rox made sure I knew every detail so I could tell Jerry what time he had to pick her up. Then Jerry called me that afternoon because he’d forgotten the time. It had been going on like that for days.
Between that, taking care of my mom, and the nonstop recruiting, I was feeling pounded. Dozens of girls came out of the woodwork, but none were good enough, and it quickly became clear that Mary Jo’s day pass was never going to expire. Lord Ricky made sure of that.
Baby’s spot was next to mine. I didn’t realize I had been craving a new friend until she was put in my care. I liked the way it felt to talk with her about things like pet rocks and her favorite Cher song, “Half Breed.” I’m not sure she ever paid attention to the words—either that, or she had no clue I was hapa. Regardless, Baby made me concentrate. Taking care of her helped me forget the fact that no one was taking care of me.
In the ocean, I liked Baby even more. She had a strong underwater kick that didn’t make any splash. It looked like she just floated across the waves. She was someone I could have fun with, and, man, was she fast. Baby was so much cooler than I was at her age.
Lisa and Jenni started a lame version of the initiation process. They told Baby to run into the water as fast as she could. I watched her plunge face-first into the shallow whitewash. You see, there’s a ditch at State. It’s what makes for good waves, but it’s also treacherous to run out unless you’re a local and know it’s there. And I guess Baby had forgotten. It looked like she was heading into the rip. Once she realized she could stand up, Baby inhaled and pushed off again without looking back. Good for her, I thought.
Lisa and Jenni were laughing. That was the dumbest dare I’d ever seen. They had taken very quickly to being nasty rulers.
When Baby got back, no one acknowledged her. So I gave her arm a little pat as she sat down. “That was good,” I told her.
I needed to mellow out. I looked at Baby sitting next to me and realized that by that time the next day, Rox’s baby would be gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
That Day
The next morning, Jerry picked me up on his way to get Rox. It was weird, seeing him drive Nigel’s van. He had replaced Jethro Tull with his favorite band and hung a coconut air freshener from the rearview mirror. As we drove to Rox’s, he chatted incessantly about Marc Bolan, the lead singer of T. Rex, and the concert coming up. It was so trivial on a day like this. But that’s what he did. All
the way up San Vicente to Brentwood Flats, where Rox lived.
They hadn’t seen each other since the day Jerry broke his board.
Rox looked good this morning. She’d dressed for the event in flowing, dark stretch pants with white sailor stripes and an oversized shirt. When she walked over to the car, I could see she was holding the dolphin necklace the lineup had given her between her fingertips. It was like she was sending me a message that said, You are with me, Fiji girl.
Rox’s sister, Diane, followed closely behind her. Diane looked like Rox, but older. Same chiseled features and kickass body.
Before Rox got into the van, she said, “Wait … I have to pee again,” and ran back inside.
Diane stood next to the van, glaring at Jerry. To say they were not getting along was an understatement. They were like oil and molasses. Jerry handed her an envelope of cash. Diane grabbed it. As she lunged forward, reaching across my body through the open window, I tucked down and crawled into the back of the van, afraid she might smack me instead of him.
“You asshole,” she said.
I guess “asshole” is Jerry Richmond’s new middle name, I thought.
When Rox reappeared, Diane quickly backed off and acted normal. As soon as Rox got her seat belt on, Diane handed her a moist towel to lay over her eyes. “I have such a headache,” Rox complained.
I vowed never to let this happen to me. The only thing all of us could agree on, I thought, was that we hated Jerry Richmond.
Diane tapped the window. “Let’s go. I’ll be right behind you,” she said, pointing to her car.
As we pulled away, Jerry looked at Rox. “I thought it was going to be just you, me, and Nani?”