Stories About Corn

by Ri, Xesin

  She had changed her clothes repeatedly in the last five days. She wore sunglasses for two days and then threw them out. She wore six different types of hats in one day. All of which she had given away to other women who looked a little like herself. Nicolas had never had to do anything but wait. He, simply, was here where he’d always been; and she’d returned. Her plan was probably not that good. She’d have to leave soon. But, as for today, she sat down on the couch, rolled herself down onto her side and decided to try and fall asleep while the sun still shined. Tired as she was, the fear was hanging on inside of her, dominating her thoughts; and if they had followed her this far, it seemed, she probably wasn’t going to fool them by running away when she hadn’t another place to run to in the whole world. Better than two hours from Chicago was nearly plain sight but so was an airplane or anything else that needed ID. And so she let herself grow tired for the first time in weeks. She thought of many, many names. She thought of her next new look and the one right after that. She thought of how she would disappear and reappear as someone totally new and totally interesting to those she met. What would Chuck Dean think? What would her stepfather think? She knew what Nicolas would think. She knew just what he would say. He would look her over once and say, “You have changed so many times, done so many things, and yet, just like me, you remain the same.” No, she thought, he would not say that. He would tell her about her trips before she told him. He would predict the future. He would see gloom and doom. He would see happiness and thrills.

  Her eyes opened. They had just started to close.

  The thought jumped in her head: Would Nicolas see revenge? Would he see violence?

  She got up and checked the door and looked out the windows. There was no one outside on the street. No Jake Knews riding in circles in the cul-de-sac; no Chuck Dean running away with a flashlight in the night as she fled from him, just in time; and no dark men would be waiting at the end of a down ramp—no police, no hackers, no anarchists, no group, no No-bit, nobody—and not Nicolas.

  She went back to the couch. The cushions seemed sharp somehow. She had never been on a bed of nails and did not know what that would feel like, but the couch felt exactly like what she imagined that would be.

  But she was wrong. She was a dragon again. She was sleeping on the shards of the past. Hurt, misery, and sadness were what she laid her body upon.

  She found comfort at last.

  She was where she belonged at last.

  She slept, and she slept—so very soundly.

  The scream was sharp and instant.

  She grabbed her bag where she had no knife with deadly instincts.

  There was a girl of sixteen standing above Mrs. Loretta Dean, Miss Raewyn Alistair—above the Shards’ One and Only Dragon.

  Despite the fact the girl was wearing short pink shorts, a tight bright-white tank top and white shoes with pink laces, there was still a pang of fear since the girl stood tall and scared like she was going to do something crazy.

  “Oh, it’s you. Does my dad know you’re here?” she asked quickly calming. “He didn’t tell me you were stopping in.”

  “No,” she said from the couch as she wheeled herself up to sit. “Your dad always said I could come by whenever I needed a place to stay or if I was just taking a vacation.”

  “Oh yeah, well, cool. You can meet some of my friends. They’re almost here. Did you hear I’m going to be this year’s corn queen?” asked the girl, smiling big.

  She smiled back. “No, I didn’t hear that. Good for you.”

  “Yeah, I beat out, like, sixteen other girls to win. Dad got me an awesome dress and everything. A few of my friends told me that they had some things that they thought I should try on too for the festival over the weekend.”

  “You should—you should have fun. Sounds like a real once in a lifetime thing.”

  “Most things are,” said the girl smiling as she sat down on the edge.

  The girl sat on her hands on the edge of the couch smiling so big. “Oh, it is going to be so much fun. And now you’re here. Do you want to stick around? You always had a really cool style; a little anti-fashion is always good when you are trying to look smooth. Dad always said that you were a good critic. You could be nice, and you can be truthful with my look. That’s what he tells me.”

  “Are you still going by Betsy?”

  “Call me Elizabeth today. I don’t go by Betsy so much after I turned twelve. Elizabeth is much more adult and better for the corn queen and soon to be a whole bunch more.”

  The urge to laugh at the girl’s naivety came on hard, but she squashed the feeling within herself.

  “Very fine, Elizabeth.”

  The door rang. Elizabeth ran to it. The girls began to squeal with glee the moment the door opened. Emotions popped. Friendships were reinforced and embellished with joyful embraces.

  Before Elizabeth and the girls could pull her in for the girlish glee, the dragon got herself a beer, had it opened, and drank one bit of the freezing cold acceptance.

  The girls all entered the kitchen.

  “This is my stepsister—um, what should I call you.”

  “I’ll be Kiera today, Elizabeth. I’m not felling very regal.” Whipping back her black hair, she wondered whether Nicolas would think it nice she used his suggestion.

  Elizabeth laughed while her friends were all puzzled. She began to try and tell them about Kiera and names, but she stopped then and simply said, “She’s my stepsister and she—we were always friends when I was young.”

  And that was all young Elizabeth said to her friends about that.

  Elizabeth began introducing the trio then. “These are three of my favorite cowgirls.”

  The three girls all yelled a chaotic “Yee-ha!”

  The girls all laughed. Kiera found herself easily joining in to the fun after another sip of acceptance, odd how much it tasted like beer. She was so good at joining in and pretending to be one of the gang.

  “First, there is my friend Jessica. We’ve been friends since we met as babies in nursery school.”

  “We were the bad babies,” said Jessica.

  The girls loved this joke too. Everything was fun and funny to them. The sun could only shine, thought Kiera.

  Kiera nodded at Jessica. Jessica would be nine or ten if she had met her when she last lived here.

  “Then I became friends with Hilary and Ellena when we were all in Girl Scouts together.”

  “Inter-state Girl Scouts,” said Ellena. “The Ill-noise and Indiana troop.”

  “Ill-noise?” asked Kiera to Elizabeth.

  “She’s our mean girl,” said Elizabeth.

  Kiera looked at Ellena. Apparently, wearing things like dark brown corduroy pants and black bras with an exposed shoulder strap made this girl a mean girl.

  “C’mon,” said Jessica, “Let’s see the dress!”

  It had been so long since Kiera had heard someone so excited about trying on pretty things. It was adorable.

  Kiera sipped her beer.

  Elizabeth ran into her room and was half-naked before Kiera got there. The plastic that protected the dress, apparently from one night of dust since she’d worn it the day before, was lifted off and balled up and tossed to the side. Jessica whirled the dress around like a million girls did after watching a million princess movies.

  “Gorgeous!” said Ellena.

  Hilary sat down on the bed.

  Kiera stood, leaning against the door, sipping her beer.

  Ellena was a bit overcome by her emotions. Kiera wondered if the so-called “mean girl” was so jealous that she wasn’t corn queen that she couldn’t speak.

  Jessica held the dress out for Elizabeth to step into.

  Kiera noticed Elizabeth’s perfect hair and make-up. She must have come home from the beauty shop when she saw Kiera on the couch and shrieked.

  Jessica pulled the zipper up, easy and smooth. Kiera wondered when the girl had eaten last. Two or three days, she guessed. Maybe the g
irl drank a little water with some sugar to keep from passing out, a little salt too. Elizabeth might have seen her do that little trick.

  “Wow!” said Hilary. “Your dress looks even prettier today.”

  Elizabeth did a little jump of excitement now that she was in her dress and her friends all looked at her with total sweetheart-sister envy.

  “I added this little flower broach because with this cute necklace the line is so much softer, just right. What do you think, Kiera? Am I missing anything?”

  Kiera suddenly saw herself sipping the beer, her own black hair, her own rumpled traveling clothes, leaning against the door to a sixteen year old girl’s room and felt out-of-place. She was twenty-six. This girl was ten years younger than her. The other three girls were all about that same age too. The room was soft and gentle and spoke of a young woman growing up and living her life. Clean dolls were stacked up high and neatly. They stared out from where they stood or from inside their decorative boxes. Funny little toys lay on shelves and finished off the young girl’s section of the room where baby and toddler pictures of Elizabeth stood with big smiles, some gap-toothed, that were too cute to even look at. A closet overflowing with shoes and clothing, mostly neatly stacked or ironed and ready to be worn, some were rolled up tightly. A drawer was open where three bras had been left drying on the edge, one cup in and one cup out of the drawer. A bed with cute pink sheets under a bright lavender sheet under a black and fuchsia comforter could burn the eyes if looked at directly without the soothing, calming effects of wearying travel and beer.

  “You look great,” said Kiera. “I bet your father is just beaming proud of you. Your necklace is great. If it was me, I’d be wearing some wild black underwear.”

  The girls all burst out laughing a little embarrassed by the suggestion. Kiera laughed with them.

  “I like being shocking under a super pretty party dress, but that’s just me,” said Kiera.

  “I love you, Kiera. Don’t you love her?” Elizabeth asked her friends. The trio nodded. “You say stuff like that. She’s got tattoos; she doesn’t even need panties to be wild,” said Elizabeth.

  Ellena wasn’t sure how to react. Her face was frozen with a smile. The fun was totally overwhelming her.

  “No doubt, what else can you do to be shocking when you’re naked?” asked Kiera.

  Hilary loved it. Ellena was speechless. Jessica seemed upset with Kiera’s ruining the pretty moment with ugly ideas.

  “Well, I’d love to play hostess, Kiera; but I’ve got to go. Dad should be back in a little while, like an hour or so.” Elizabeth slipped her shoes on. Kiera was surprised she was putting her clean shoes on now instead of carrying them all the way to wherever the parade began. “I think there is plenty of food, and I think dad would be fine if you wanted a few more beers; but I know he was saving some of the liquor; so maybe just avoid the ones that are mostly full or unopened.”

  “I don’t think I’ll have any liquor,” said Kiera.

  Elizabeth walked towards Kiera and exited her room in obvious haste.

  “There’s lots of food. Dad likes to keep the refrigerator full. Coke and Diet Coke is in there.”

  Kiera was hearing the strain in Elizabeth’s voice when she said the word “food.”

  “We would eat with you, but we absolutely are late.”

  “Okay,” said Kiera.

  The trio followed their friend. Kiera realized they were nicely dressed in clean jeans and t-shirts with their better-than-everyday make-up. They would take Elizabeth over to the start of the parade, and then they would find a nice place to watch with their families. They would yell crazy things so that Elizabeth would know they were out there among the audience. Likely, that Ellena girl would yell something with a positive word and then the word bitch. Something like “hot bitch,” “super bitch” or “goddess bitch.”

  “Kiera, Kiera—Did you hear what I asked you?”

  Elizabeth and her friends were there looking at her like she missed minutes. It was the effect of Nicolas, the details rising up and swallowing her thoughts.

  “No, I was thinking about something.”

  “Are you coming with us?” repeated Jessica.

  “No. Is there—um, not after party, like a festival thing?”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth, “Tomorrow.”

  “You’re going to actually be crowned then, right?”

  “Sort of, but I’ll have a different dress then.”

  “I just—I have a lot of things. You look beautiful. I wish—I just need a few minutes. Things have been wild and hectic for me. I hope you understand. I promise I’ll see your whole ceremony tomorrow. I wouldn’t miss that, no matter how tired.”

  “Okay,” said Elizabeth. She walked to Kiera and gave her a big hug. “I’m glad you’re back. Don’t leave without saying goodbye this time.”

  “I won’t,” said Kiera.

  With quick purposeful steps, ruffling friction between skirts, and a soft colorful barrage against the dim day outside the house, the girls left for the car; and Kiera was alone in the house again.

  Seeing herself in a nearby mirror, Kiera couldn’t believe how black her hair seemed.

  Kiera ran outside real fast.

  Elizabeth was trying to figure out how to get into Jessica’s mom’s car, wishing for the minivan instead.

  “Elizabeth,” called out Kiera. “Can I borrow a dress?”

  Elizabeth was surprised, but she yelled, “Of course, sis!”

  The girls got Elizabeth, skirts and all, into the car.

  Kiera went inside, laid back down on the couch and tried to think of the colors she would need the dress to have if she was going to make it past this day.

  Kiera wanted to rest, but she wanted to quickly see if Elizabeth had a dress that would fit and was a pattern of broken colors.

  Reentering the room, Kiera felt like a cat on the hunt in another’s territory. Her skin was buzzing and her hands were fast and swift as she looked through Elizabeth’s clothes looking for a dress to wear.

  Elizabeth’s dresses, on Elizabeth, must have been cute and darling; but when Kiera thought about herself in the yellow, white or pink tops, bottoms, and dresses, she found herself disgusted beyond words. The horror of imagining herself in some of the girly girl things made her glad she had her tattoos and piercings to prove she wasn’t meant for such things, or maybe it was to prove she wasn’t those things; she wasn’t a pretty doll; she’d never been a pretty doll. Not her, not Loretta, not Raewyn, not Kiera: she wasn’t like that even when she wasn’t herself.

  There it was. A price tag was still on the dress stuck laying in the back of Elizabeth’s closet. The dress was simple and traditional, but the colors were dark and flamboyant, almost masculine, the shapes were definitely sharp and piercing.

  Peeling off her tight jeans and t-shirt, Kiera felt the oddity of the moment as her body was exposed to the mirror. Long black hair, pale skin, tattoos all over, piercings, small breasts, decent hips, smooth skin, bruised-blue looking nail polish with a hit of purple, and dark black eyeliner mixed with a little red eyeliner smudged to finished-up perfection was the reflected story from the mirror. It was hard to see Loretta there, but Raewyn or Kiera were very much present, a dragon too. The word “beast” remained absent from her thoughts.

  She lifted the dress and put it on like a super long t-shirt. It was tight; Elizabeth was short and small; but Kiera was thin too, maybe thinner. Her nerves over the last few months hadn’t hurt her desire to stay thin. The dress felt pleasing and tight. The effect was accurate.

  The mirror reflected her hopes but also her confusions. She looked good, and Nicolas was sure to like and understand the significance of the pattern, but she didn’t feel good wearing Elizabeth’s dress. The feeling of aging, rapidly, as if she had ignored the last three years and suddenly here they all were staring back at her, rushed over her.

  She had to get to Nicolas. He could fix that. He could unwind time. She would be seventeen ag
ain. She would be the dark girl staring out again upon a bright future.

  Kiera took off the dress and got back into her jeans and t-shirt.

  She pulled the tags and put the dress and some of the clothing she had left after purging much of Raewyn’s wardrobe from her own into the washer.

  A few moments later, the washer running, her clothes getting clean, the house quiet, and a new plan for a new future left Kiera time to really think about something she had been debating since weeks ago, whether to get her gun from out of the basement stairs.

  The little 9mm had been there for a long time without cleaning or anything. It might not even work, she thought. She wondered, “How long is gunpowder good for in its casing?”

  She found a crowbar and hammer in the garage. She took them with her down into the basement where she carefully pulled and rocked the paneling off the side of the staircase. Down at the third stair, she drew out a drawer she’d made when she was nineteen and not sure if she’d ever be back here again. She’d hated shop in school, but the stupid stuff she’d learned there had made this moment of safety possible.

  The drawer was like a time capsule. The gray box that held the gun was at the back covered in a thin layer of dust and little wooden splinters. She’d also put in an old purse with a red and purple jungle pattern. She’d called it her Red Purse of Doom. It was, fashionably speaking, ugly as sin. Mixed inside the purse were a few trinkets that she’d collected that year as she dated, drank, smoked, and partied into debt and danger. A dollar bill that might have residue from any number of illegal substances on it was wrapped around four hundred dollars in tens and twenties. Pins and stickers from various nightclubs and bars. Gifts from boys she’d forgotten to call. Gifts from boys whose faces she couldn’t remember at all. And there was the letter from Nicolas. So many words wrapped up in so much emotion. Just how many times had she thought of coming here and destroying that short stack of paper over these six years?