Girls of July

by Alex Flinn

  That memory, Daddy’s stricken face, her kitty—though she hadn’t seen him—in the road, was what went through Kate’s head as she dashed toward Route 9. How would she explain to Lizzie or their father that she hadn’t watched Ray-Ray, that she’d been on the phone?

  “Ray! Ray!” Her throat was raw, and she must look weird, especially as a stranger in a neighborhood that seemed to have few, if any, strangers. To add to the wild look, she ran first in one direction, then in the other, before realizing with some relief that he wasn’t there. He was a little boy with short legs. He couldn’t have gotten that far. She herself was winded. She jogged next door to check there.

  That was when she saw a red spot up in the green-leafed tree, his T-shirt! He was in a treehouse behind the neighbor’s house.

  “Ray-Ray!” she screamed. “Ray-Ray, you get down from there!”

  As soon as she said it, she realized her mistake. He started visibly at her voice, then disappeared. Had he jumped—or tumbled—to the ground? Kate searched for an opening in the fence, all the while screaming, “Ray-Ray! Ray-Ray!” in an unladylike manner. Finally, she scrambled over the fence, something she hadn’t done since she was maybe eight years old, and ran toward the tree.

  He was still up there, but hiding, secure in the childish belief that, if he couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see him either. With a relieved sigh, Kate clambered up the wood-slatted ladder. She grabbed his arm. “Gotcha!”

  He shrieked, leading her to wonder, for the first time, if anyone next door was home, if they’d yell at her or, more to the point, if they had any dogs.

  “Come on, Ray,” she whispered. “Get down.”

  “No!” He wasn’t whispering.

  “You can’t stay here. It’s not your treehouse.”

  “No!” he screamed, and struggled against her. Kate let go, fearing he’d fall. Up close, she realized the treehouse was old, dilapidated. With every move, the railing slats creaked, and she could see they were close to coming unmoored, despite the nails. She climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and grabbed Ray-Ray around the waist. He screamed and held tight to the railing as she pulled him out of the treehouse. “NO! NO! NOOOOOO!”

  “Need some help?”

  38

  Britta

  BRITTA KNEW EXACTLY how Spider felt. Sometimes she was clumsy too, and she wanted nothing more than to pretend no one had noticed. But was Britta supposed to let Spider bleed out to save her embarrassment? Still, she moved on, walking at a snail’s pace, so Spider, now limping, could catch up to her.

  When she finally did, Britta said, “I have some Band-Aids.”

  “I don’t need Band-Aids.”

  “You do. It looks gross. You’re scaring those kids.” She gestured toward the McCoys, whom she’d let go ahead.

  “They’re way past us.”

  “We’ll see them on the way down. We’ll see other people. Plus you’ll see me.” She held the baggie that was serving as a first aid kit out to Spider.

  Spider made no move toward her. “I’m fine.”

  Britta knew she should just move on, but she said, “What’s the big deal?”

  “I’ll get it when we reach the top. Go ahead.”

  “God!” Britta moved as if to toss it to her, then thought better of it. “Why can’t we just walk together? Why do you keep trying to lose me?”

  Spider took another step, avoiding some slick leaves that Britta had almost slipped on a moment before. She planted her feet and her stick. It had been smart, bringing the stick. Britta had been looking for a good one the whole time.

  Finally, she said, “I don’t want you to see me fall, okay?”

  Britta couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “But we all fall, Spider. It’s not that big a deal.”

  Spider reached the path where it was level. She caught up with Britta. “You don’t.”

  “I don’t fall? Of course I fall. I fall all the time.”

  Spider didn’t answer and kept walking. Britta knew she didn’t believe her.

  Britta continued. “I literally fell in front of the whole school last semester.”

  “God, I hate when people say literally for emphasis.”

  “I didn’t say it for emphasis, though I literally hate when people are snobby about that. But in this case, I did literally fall in front of the whole school—or, at least, all the people who fit in the auditorium. We were doing Little Women, and I was playing the youngest sister, Amy, who’s sort of silly.”

  “Perfect casting.”

  “Shut up.” Britta kept walking. “There’s this scene where she comes downstairs in an old ballgown that doesn’t fit, and when I did it, I tripped over the long skirt. I rolled down and face-planted center stage. People laughed so hard. Some of them thought it was part of the show, but all my friends knew it wasn’t. And, for a minute, I couldn’t breathe. I thought my nose was broken. But everyone just went on with the play, so I had to. Then, when I went backstage, instead of offering me an ice pack or some help, people made fun of me.”

  “That sounds really embarrassing,” Spider admitted. She was managing to keep up now.

  “It was. And as far as nonliterally . . .”

  “Figuratively,” Spider said.

  “Figuratively, I’ve fallen a lot too. I flunked math. I’m going to have to take two math classes next year to graduate, and I don’t want to tell my mother about it because she only cares about her stupid, pervy boyfriend who hits on me one minute, then acts like I’m annoying the rest of the time. So I’m so not perfect, but I’m also not someone who doesn’t understand anything. I’m an actress. I have empathy for people. I . . . hey, look.” She pointed ahead.

  There it was. The waterfall, or at least a rushing river, ahead of them.

  “We made it,” Spider said.

  “Yeah, we did! We did it.” Britta felt a flood of pride and camaraderie, and also, the urge to take selfies and post them on Instagram. She’d set it so her mother couldn’t see it. “Do you want to stop for lunch here?”

  Spider checked her watch. “I don’t know. Maybe we should stop for a drink, definitely take some pictures. But I want to have lunch at the top. I mean, if that’s okay.”

  Britta nodded. “It’s okay.” She kept walking. Spider followed until they reached the water. Then she started washing her bloody leg with water from the waterfall.

  “I brought a towel.” Britta offered it to her.

  “Oh, thanks.” Spider took it.

  Britta removed her hiking shoes and dangled her feet in the water. Her toenails were painted blue. Suddenly, she felt a splash of cold water on her face. Spider!

  “Hey!” Britta yelled. “Hey!”

  Spider concentrated on applying a second Band-Aid to her leg.

  “No big,” Britta said, then splashed her back. The day was so beautiful and peaceful. She heard the flowing water and the wind in the trees.

  “Hey, thanks for coming with me. I . . .” Spider looked down. “I appreciate that you came when no one else did.”

  “I wanted to come. We’ll still do the fire towers.”

  “We can work up to them.” Spider trailed her fingers in the water. “I talked to Ruthie.”

  Britta didn’t answer, staring up at the filtered light coming through the trees.

  “She and Janet, they were . . . you were right. They were special to each other. They were . . .”

  The light hurt Britta’s eyes, and she looked down. “They were in love?”

  “Right. Their parents kept them apart. Janet’s parents. They haven’t seen each other since then.”

  “Wow.” Britta had suspected it, but it was still so strange to think about. Britta breathed in through her nose. “That’s tragic.”

  “I know. I guess that’s how it was back then, but yeah.” She shook her head.

  Britta thought about it, the way she did when she was playing a role. Sometimes, she got caught up in the characters’ emotions. At Thespian conference the year before, she’
d done a monologue from The Diary of Anne Frank, and when it came to the line “I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart,” she couldn’t keep from sobbing, even when Ms. Barfield said she was being melodramatic, because she was just so consumed with the sadness of it all. Now, thinking of Ruthie, she felt the same ache behind her eyes. She drew in a breath before saying, “And there’s no way to find her now?”

  “Ruthie said she tried.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  They sat there another minute. Britta took a few selfies in front of the waterfall. She put her shoes back on. “Hey, do you mind if I take a picture of the two of us together?”

  She was worried Spider would think it was silly, the way adults thought it was stupid to take selfies and post on Instagram. But Spider said, “Why don’t we wait until we get to the top? Then we can get someone there to take one of us with the whole valley in the background.”

  “Good idea,” Britta agreed.

  It was maybe half an hour to the summit, and they walked it together. When they reached an area where they had to use their hands, Spider held Britta’s backpack while she did it, then tossed her own to Britta for her final ascent.

  Then, they were there, atop the rocks, the clouds, above the entire world, below only the round, blue sky, above the aching beauty of July.

  “I never want to leave,” Britta said.

  Spider said, “I never want to walk down those rocks.”

  Britta wanted to say she’d help her, but she knew that wasn’t what Spider wanted to hear. Instead, she said, “We can stay awhile, anyway.”

  39

  Kate

  “NEED SOME HELP?” It was a lady’s voice. Kate, startled, loosened her grip on Ray-Ray’s waist. He scrambled to the other side of the treehouse.

  “Oh!” Kate looked down. It was an older woman, at least in her sixties, with a face like a pink pincushion. “I’m so sorry. I turned my back for a second, and he ran into your yard. Come on, Ray-Ray.” She tried to make her voice firm.

  “No!” he said.

  “We can’t just stay in this lady’s yard.”

  “Mind if I give it a try?” the woman said.

  Kate shrugged like, Do I have a choice, and came down the ladder.

  The lady replaced her. “Racecar—you must get down from the tree.”

  Ray-Ray seemed unimpressed, clinging more stubbornly to the far side of the treehouse.

  “Don’t you ignore me, young man. That is my tree, and I am telling you to come out of it. Your father will be very angry when he comes home.”

  “My mother’s asleep!” Ray-Ray said.

  The woman nodded. “I know. And this nice young lady who is watching you was very worried when you ran away. I heard her yelling, and that’s what brought me outside.”

  Ray-Ray didn’t seem to care.

  “Well, stay if you like then. But I have some lovely brownies I just baked, and if you come down, you can help me eat them.”

  Ray-Ray squished his lips together. Kate said, “You can’t stay up there, Ray-Ray. Those boards are old. You could fall.”

  “That’s true,” the woman said. “The treehouse is from when my children were young.”

  “Come on, Ray-Ray.” Kate wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell him to go inside a strange lady’s home, but she obviously knew his name, Racecar. Also, it was better than trying to drag him out of the tree. “Your father will be home soon, and he’ll wonder where you went.”

  “If you come down, you may have two brownies after lunch,” the woman said.

  This seemed to persuade Ray-Ray. At least, he started for the ladder.

  “Hold on tight.” Was this what it was like for mothers, always worried something bad could happen to their offspring? Kate had a new appreciation for her own mother. For about a second. Her mother worried only because she viewed Kate as an extension of herself.

  Finally, he was able to scramble down the ladder, and, to Kate’s surprise, ran right to the lady. “Mimi!” Kate watched as they hugged. The woman looked at Kate. “I’m Mimi Steele.”

  “Kate. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Steele.” Kate reluctantly followed the pair into the house.

  The house was small but very neat. A man about twenty watched SpongeBob SquarePants on television while doing a maze from a book. He was short and blond and had Down syndrome. “Hello?” he said when they entered.

  “Robert, we have visitors. You remember Racecar from next door, Lizzie’s brother.” To Kate, she said, “Robert works at the supermarket with Lizzie some days.”

  “Hi!” Robert waved, but he looked in a hurry to get back to his puzzle and show.

  “And this is Kate,” Mrs. Steele said.

  Robert waved his hand in annoyance and gestured toward the television.

  “Yes, you can go back to that. Maybe Racecar would like to watch with you.”

  Ray-Ray said, “Brownies!”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said. “I was about to make lunch when he ran away.” She’d actually forgotten all about it, but now Mrs. Steele had already offered the brownie as a bribe.

  Mrs. Steele smiled at Ray-Ray. “We’ll have a nice sandwich and then the brownies.”

  Ray-Ray agreed to take a grilled cheese sandwich, and Mrs. Steele set out to making it while Ray-Ray settled down by Robert. One episode of SpongeBob had ended, and another started, with both Ray-Ray and Robert chanting “AYE-AYE, CAPTAIN!” along with the television. Television! Why hadn’t Kate thought of that?

  “So how do you know the Bittels?” Mrs. Steele was asking her.

  “Oh, we just met, actually. I offered to watch Ray . . . Racecar, since Lizzie was having a hard time.”

  Mrs. Steele raised an eyebrow. “And she agreed?”

  Kate laughed. “She said no at first. I think she only agreed because they were going to fire her from her job if she brought him again.”

  “Still more than I’ve been able to do.” Mrs. Steele turned on the stove and added the butter. “I used to watch Ray-Ray all the time when his mother . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  That piqued Kate’s curiosity. “What did happen with his mother?” She kept her voice low. “He keeps saying she’s asleep. I don’t know what that means.”

  Mrs. Steele added the sandwiches to the pan. She looked over at Ray-Ray. In a low voice, she said, “I guess that’s what they told him. His mother overdosed. This was a few weeks ago, maybe a month now. When they found her, she was unresponsive.”

  Kate felt her mouth form an O. “Overdosed on what?”

  Mrs. Steele paused, as if trying to decide whether to say anything. She checked the bottom of one sandwich for doneness, then another. “Did you want a sandwich too?”

  Kate nodded. “Thanks.” She didn’t know if Mrs. Steele was going to tell her more about Ray-Ray’s mother. In fact, she respected Mrs. Steele if she didn’t want to talk about it. She was so used to gossips. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s fine.”

  Mrs. Steele turned over the sandwiches that were on the stove. Then she started making another one for Kate. “He came over here because he was used to it, I suppose. I used to watch him all the time when Lizzie was at school and his mother was having trouble.”

  Kate thought she saw. “Oh, so that’s why he ran over here to go in the treehouse.” It also explained his easy way with Robert. “So his dad won’t mind.”

  Mrs. Steele shook her head. “Oh, he’ll mind.”

  “Why?”

  Mrs. Steele took the two sandwiches she’d started off the grill, cut them in half, and brought them over to Ray-Ray and Robert. “Feet off the table! You know the rules!”

  They both sat straight so Mrs. Steele could put down the plates.

  “What do you say?”

  “Thankoo,” Ray-Ray said.

  “Thanks,” Robert muttered, waving his mother away from the television again. “Squidward sucks,” he said to Ray-Ray before chomping his sandwich.


  “Sucks,” Ray-Ray agreed, then chomped his own.

  Mrs. Steele walked back to the stove and started to grill the other sandwiches. She glanced at Robert and Ray-Ray. Still engrossed. To Kate, she whispered, “Someone reported Angie, that’s Racecar’s mother, to child protection. The police came to look for drugs, but they didn’t find any. Angie accused me, and I wasn’t able to have Racecar over after that.” She sighed. “He was like my own little boy. All my children are grown now. Robert is my youngest.”

  “I can understand why you’d report it. You were just trying to keep Ray-Ray safe.”

  “But I wasn’t the one.” Mrs. Steele flipped both sandwiches. “I tried to mind my own business and watch him. Though considering the situation she’s in now, she might have been better off if someone had done more.”

  Like everything else, this made Kate think of her family’s friends, her old neighborhood. Had people covered up for Daddy? Were they right to do that, or had it made things worse?

  Mrs. Steele finished the sandwiches. She gave one to Kate and gestured to sit at the kitchen table. Kate recognized the episode Ray-Ray and Robert were watching, where Pearl gets the Krusty Krab to sell salads. They were repeating “Saaaaa-laaad” behind her and giggling.

  “Will his mother get better?” Kate asked in a whisper.

  “I don’t know. I heard from someone at the market that she came out of her coma, but I gather she’s in bad shape.” She looked back at Ray-Ray. “It’s a sad situation.”

  “Yeah.” Kate was amazed that people in such a small, beautiful town would have such bad problems. Then again, her small town was a regular reality show. Maybe everyplace was.

  “I wish I could help. I love that little boy.” Mrs. Steele took a bite of her sandwich and chewed. “If you’re going to be babysitting, maybe you could bring him over to visit.”

  Kate ate her own cheese sandwich. Her mother never bought processed cheese. Clearly she’d missed out. Mrs. Steele seemed like a nice lady who just wanted to help. Also, she was going to be around after Kate had gone back to Georgia. “I’m not sure I can do that, if his dad doesn’t want him over here. In fact, I should bring him back to the house soon.”