by Su J. Sokol
“Where would I go without any shoes?”
He heads towards the building as I pull my feet up. Before long, he’s back with my boots. I put them on and we walk towards the hill where everyone is tubing. I look up, trying to find the kids. I see Simon first, his head thrown back as his tube spins down the hill.
“Do you see Siri anywhere?”
Laek doesn’t answer at first. When he does, his voice sounds a bit strained.
“Yeah. Coming down on the far left. See her? She’s with someone.” I finally spot her, going down on a giant tube in a boy’s lap. “Do you know that kid, Janie? Is it Gabriel?”
“I think so. How do you know him? You weren’t even home the times he’s come by.”
“I saw him on the first day of school. When I took Siri.”
“And you remember him from way back then?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know, Laek. He doesn’t talk much to me. He’s polite, though. That can be nice, but I can’t say I’m a big one for politeness. It’s too much of a surface thing. I’m more interested in what’s beneath that, what a person is really feeling or thinking. And you? You can’t form a fair impression from just one encounter.”
“No.”
“But?”
“I don’t trust him. And I think he’s too old for Siri.”
“Well, they’re just friends.”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s true that Siri’s fond of him.”
We stand there for a few more minutes.
“So are we going to go over there?” I ask.
“I’d like to go home now, I think. I’m cold. Is that OK?”
“Sure. Why don’t we get the kids,” I suggest.
“I’ll wait here. You can take a ride or two down the hill while you’re there. Maybe Siri or Simon will share a tube with you.”
“OK. Meet you back here?” I ask.
“No, back by the main building.”
But as I walk up towards the kids, I see that Laek hasn’t moved a muscle. He’s still gazing intently up the hill.
FORTY-FIVE
Siri
“And then the fucking bitch threw a chair at me. Grosse vache. She’s lucky I didn’t kick her fat ass.” Lilliana finishes by taking a long hit off the vaporizer. I push myself up from the dusty, grey couch under the stairs in Javier’s basement. I’ve already heard the chair story twice. Plus, I was there when it happened so I also know what Lilliana had said to our math teacher right before. Lilliana never tells that part, though.
“I mean we all knew that Madame V was ready to snap,” I say. “All she needed was a push.”
“Are you saying I pushed her to throw that chair at me?” Lilliana gets up from the couch too. There’s a saggy indentation in the shape of her butt where she’d been sitting.
“No. But you should’ve known she’d lose it when you called her an ugly freak.”
Lilliana turns to the others. “I knew Siri would take her side. Little teacher’s pet.”
“It’s not my fault I’m good at math. I’m failing French, you know.” Wow, that sounded dumb. To make up for it, I grab the vaporizer from where it’s leaning against the couch, almost hidden in the shaggy blue carpet. I breathe in some liquorice-flavoured smoke, hoping nobody notices that I’m not totally inhaling.
“Siri’s not a teacher’s pet.” Good, Gabriel’s defending me. “She’s just … young.”
“I’m not that young,” I protest. “I’ll be thirteen soon.”
Gabriel reaches his hand out for the vaporizer. I hand it to him. I watch his chest expand under his tight shirt as he slowly fills his lungs with the smoke. After he exhales, he turns to me.
“I’m not saying thirteen’s young. Some thirteen-year-old girls are already out earning money, or are even mothers. Kids from the United States, though, are more, you know, naive.”
“You’re being prejudiced.”
Gabriel doesn’t answer. He just looks at me like I’m acting naive. Like I’m just proving his point. That’s not fair. How can I win the argument if he won’t even argue with me? He stands up like everything’s settled and turns to the rest of the group.
“Let’s play something.”
“How about a screen game?” Anton says.
Lilliana rolls her eyes. “Only boys like screen games.”
I sort of like screen games, but I don’t say anything.
“How about poker?” Gabriel says.
Anton shakes his head. “Poker’s boring, unless we play for money.”
Gabriel turns to me. “Do you have any money, Siri?”
I shake my head. I already told Gabriel that, when he wanted to buy more weed.
“Well,” he says. “There are other stakes we can play for. Who wants to play strip poker?”
Anton immediately says he’s in. Javier shrugs as though to say “whatever.” I look at Lilliana and then at Gabriel. I have this feeling I’m being tested.
“Sure.” I say. I’m a pretty good poker player.
We walk across to the other side of the basement where there’s a small, square table and four folding chairs propped under the dirty glass window. Javier and Anton set up the table while Gabriel and I unfold the chairs and drag over a crate. Then Javier takes the deck of cards from the corner of the wobbly blue bookshelf and begins to shuffle, but Gabriel smiles and reaches over to take the deck from his hands. “I’ll deal,” he says, and as usual, everyone goes along.
At first, I’m winning. Then Gabriel lights up a blunt and we switch to smoking the old-fashioned way, which goes with poker and hand-held cards. Somehow, the blunt keeps coming around to me, and if I don’t take a toke each time, Gabriel looks at me as though I’m acting like a baby. He’s watching me so carefully that I even have to inhale. I just got this flash. Maybe the reason I always win at poker is because I’m usually less stoned than everyone else.
Javier and Anton both have their shirts off now. Anton’s skin is very white and his nipples are all puckered with cold since the basement has no heat. I don’t know why he didn’t take off his jeans instead—I can see that he’s wearing long underwear. That makes me think about how boys have an unfair advantage in strip poker. They can take more stuff off without showing their private parts. When I complain about this, Javier says he has an idea. He pulls over an old, worn cardboard box covered in cobwebs. He opens the box and pulls out different hats.
Javier throws a straw hat with fake red cherries at Lilliana. She wrinkles up her nose but puts it on anyway. Next he tosses me an antique Montréal Expos cap that’s a soft, faded blue and too big. I turn it around so that the bill faces backwards. Gabriel tells Javier that he wants a hat too. Javier hesitates, then gives him a grey cap that makes him like an old-time gangsta. Gabriel gives me a look, like he knows he’s hot in his boxers and black tank and cap. I feel myself blushing so I turn away and watch Anton pull a hat with furry flaps over his ears. Javier bows his head and puts on something that looks like a sleek, black magician’s hat. Then we all start talking in funny voices while pretending to be screen stars or other famous people, only stoned. I decide not to be mad that the boys got hats too.
There’s a cloud of smoke around our heads and everything is kind of hazy, but I also feel hyper-focused, like nothing’s more important than these four people I’m sitting with while slapping down cards on the little folding table. It’s exciting, too, with everyone half dressed and trying not to shiver, red and black kings and queens deciding who has to strip.
I think the pot may be affecting my brain because I’m not winning like I usually do. Maybe the difference is that I’m a good bluffer and there’s no way to bluff in strip poker. Merde, I lost again! I’m down to only three pieces of clothing—my underpants, my bra and my t-shirt. I don’t want to be wearing less than everyone else, especially Lilliana. It’s no fair because she started out wearing more layers.
“So what’s it
gonna be, little Siri? What will you take off?” Gabriel asks.
There’s no way I’m taking off my underpants. If I take off my t-shirt, I guess it wouldn’t be too bad, like I was wearing a bikini bathing suit. But I have another idea.
“I’ll take off my bra.” I undo the back of my bra and slip the straps off one arm at a time, with my arms still inside the shirt. Like this, I’m able to take off my bra without showing anything. I look over at Gabriel with a big smile on my face, but he doesn’t smile back.
Lilliana looks at her cards. She’s wearing black leggings, underpants and a black bra with lacy straps. I’m glad I decided to keep my shirt on since my bra isn’t all fancy like hers. Gabriel deals Lilliana another card, face down. She peeks at it. Then she throws her cards on the table and announces that she has to go home, that she promised to help with dinner. She puts her clothes on so fast, you’d think she practices taking them off and putting them on again all the time.
Anton stands up. “I have to go too.” He grabs the rest of his clothes and hurries up the stairs after Lilliana. Anton has a huge crush on her.
“I better go lock up after them,” Javier says as he pulls on his sweater.
I get dressed, beginning with my pants. I put on my socks and sneakers, looking around for my bra. Gabriel walks over with a weird smile on his face, my bra in his hand.
“Gimme that,” I say, but he just lifts it up higher, way above my head.
“What’s your problem?” I say. “I have to get dressed.”
“What will you give me for this bra, little Siri?”
“Nothing. It’s mine. And stop calling me that.”
“If you don’t want me to call you little Siri then you should stop acting like a child.”
He’s standing very close to me now. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take off my shirt and you take off yours,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head.
Usually I like seeing Gabriel without his shirt on, but right now, I don’t. It reminds me that he’s much stronger than I am. I back up, but Gabriel follows me. My back is against the wall.
“Don’t worry, Siri, I’ll help you take it off.” Before I have a chance to say anything, he pushes my shirt up and is squeezing my breasts. I don’t like how it feels. I want to go home. I think about how he’s supposed to be my friend, and I get so mad that I kick him as hard as I can.
“Ow!”
“You leave me alone or I’ll kick you somewhere else too,” I yell.
Just then, Javier comes back downstairs. “Uh, désolé. Didn’t mean to interrupt …”
I grab the bra from Gabriel’s hand and run upstairs. I put on my coat, stuffing the bra in my pocket. Javier comes upstairs, followed by Gabriel.
“Wait, I’ll get the door,” Javier says. “Are you OK?” he asks me quietly.
I look over at Gabriel, who says, “See you in school tomorrow?”
I don’t answer, just walk out the door. Once I’m around the corner, I take off down the block. All I want is to be alone in my own room. It’s raining and there are huge puddles on the sidewalk surrounded by slush. Where the snow has melted, you can see dog poop and bits of garbage that the snow had hidden up until now. It wouldn’t be so bad if it meant that spring was coming, but the forecast calls for snow again tomorrow. From one day to the next, you never know what to wear. I like the winter and the snow, but this freeze-and-melt, freeze-and-melt thing is getting old already. It’s been going on for, like, six months. If I were in Brooklyn, we’d already be playing baseball and I’d have photos of my new teammates on my screen.
Two blocks from my apartment building, I’m looking at a huge puddle in the street and trying to figure out where I should jump over it. Just as I’m ready to leap off the curb, a car goes by and splashes me with dirty, slushy water. My throat gets all tight as I look down at my soaked jeans. Tears come into my eyes. There’s a big chunk of ice right in front of me. I kick it as hard as I can to the other side of the street, where it sinks into the next puddle.
When I get home, the apartment is quiet, except for the sound of pots being moved around in the kitchen. I don’t see Simon’s boots on the little wooden shoe rack by the door, and Daddy’s bike helmet isn’t hanging from its usual hook. I walk quickly down the hall towards my room, but as I pass the kitchen, Mommy calls out to me.
“Where are you going, Siri? Hang your coat up and take off your sneakers. You’re tracking dirty water all over the apartment.”
I go back down the hall, take off my sneakers and hang my coat on one of the hooks, stuffing my bra into the pocket of my jeans. I try to go into my room again.
“Wait, Siri. Come over here. I need you to taste this.”
Mommy’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a towel over her shoulder and her hair tied back with a red and purple striped cloth, that looks like it came from the circus or something. She’s holding a wooden spoon out to me so I have no choice. I step into the kitchen. It’s warm and steamy and smells delicious. I taste what’s on the spoon, some white, creamy sauce.
“Good, it’s fine.” I try to leave but she stops me again.
“Siri, is everything alright? What’s that in your pocket?”
“Everything’s fine. I need to do my homework.”
“Since when are you in such a rush to do homework? And I asked you what was in your pocket.” She reaches over and pulls the bra out.
“Give that back to me! It’s mine!” I yell. Then I start crying. Why is everyone trying to take my bra away?
“Siri, what’s the matter? Take it, of course it’s yours. But why aren’t you wearing it?”
I don’t say anything.
“Siri, please tell me what happened. You’re starting to scare me a little.”
“OK, we were playing strip poker. That’s all. And … and I lost.”
“What do you mean, you lost? What did you have to do?”
“Nothing.”
“But your bra?”
“I took it off under my shirt. Nothing showed.”
“But something happened. Tell me. Please.”
“Just leave me alone.”
“Who were you playing with? Were you the only girl?”
“No. Lilliana was there.”
“I don’t like that girl.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I don’t know any of your friends well. I’d like to. What about Gabriel? Was he there?”
“Yeah. And Anton and Javier.”
“I’ve met Javier. He seems nice.”
“He was upstairs when …”
“When what?”
“When … when the others had to leave.”
“So you were downstairs alone with Gabriel. What did he do? Did he touch you?”
“He already thinks I’m a baby. And if I tell you … ”
“This has nothing to do with being a baby. Did he touch you, Siri? Please, sweetheart. I won’t be mad at you. And I won’t do anything without talking to you about it first. I promise.”
I feel trapped here in the kitchen with my mom and all her questions. Maybe if I tell her what happened, she’ll feel bad for me and finally let me go to my room. So I tell her. She doesn’t speak for a moment. Then she says, “Good for you.” I must look confused because she adds, “For kicking him. For standing up for yourself.”
I feel a tiny bit better when she says that, but Mommy keeps talking. “I want you to stay away from Gabriel from now on.”
“No! He didn’t mean anything bad. He just … He wasn’t totally himself.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“You don’t understand, Mommy.”
“What is it that you think I don’t understand? That he was high?”
“How did …”
“It’s obvious you’ve been smoking pot. Do you think I can’t see your eyes? Smell it on your clothes? I’m not as clueless as you think, Siri. Actually, parents usually aren’t. Maybe you should bear that in mind.”
I think ab
out this and wonder what else she knows.
“We need to address what happened,” Mommy says. “I want to speak to his mother.”
“No! You can’t!”
“He shouldn’t get away with what he did.”
“He didn’t. I kicked him.”
“What if he tries something else?”
“He won’t.”
“I don’t want you to spend any time alone with him. I don’t trust him.”
“Stop trying to control me! Gabriel’s my best friend. At least, ever since you ruined my life by making us move here.” Mommy opens her mouth to argue, but I don’t let her. “You don’t know him. He just made a mistake. He won’t do anything like that again.”
“I don’t agree. You need to think this through.”
“And you need to stop telling me what to think!”
“Siri …”
“I just want to be alone right now!”
“OK, fine. We’ll talk about this later, when Daddy’s home.”
Once behind my closed door, I immediately feel relieved. Sometimes when I’m with my mom, when I’m with any of my family, I feel like I can’t think straight. All their ideas, all the things they want me to be and do, it’s like it crowds me out.
I won’t let Mommy tell me what to think. She doesn’t even know Gabriel. Maybe what he did shows that he likes me. I like him too, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him to touch me like that. But maybe it’s my fault for giving him the wrong idea or something. He’s been a good friend to me, stuck by me all year, even the times I was in a shitty mood and didn’t act very nice. And even though all his other friends are, like, two years older than me. It’s true I sometimes give him some money or lend him my school work, but he has a really hard life. His family is poor and sometimes he has to work instead of going to school. And he always shares whatever he has with me. But why did he act like that, even when I told him to stop? I was scared of him. But my heart tells me not to be, that I can trust him deep down.
I press my face into my pillow so Mommy won’t hear me crying. In Brooklyn, with Michael, everything seemed simpler. But Michael’s my own age. Is that the difference? Or maybe Gabriel is just more complicated. Or maybe … I don’t know. I just feel so wrecked inside.