Leftover Girl

by Bolick, C. C.

  “That’s Aunt Rainey texting,” Pade said, looking at his phone. “Let’s go.”

  “Where’s your ride?” I asked as our eyes met. “Aren’t you spending the night with Terrance?”

  “Not tonight,” he said softly.

  Outside the wall of glass, the silver van gleamed under the lights. At the sliding door, Danny and Collin inched closer to the pavement, no doubt wishing to ditch our parents as only ten-year-olds could get away with. Someone laughed behind us and Pade pushed ahead, refusing to let me turn around.

  The air slapped me, feeling more as a scalding bath would than the heat Atlanta had wielded without mercy. Bailey was recounting the night already, pausing only to hit my elbow and mutter “sorry” under her breath. Clutching my wrist closer, I tried to shut out the constant movement of her lips. At the sidewalk’s edge, my parents rushed forward and I shuddered imagining the guilt trip Dad had in mind.

  “Let me see your hand,” he said. Dad poked and prodded, while gauging the look on my face.

  I thought of the concrete, cold under my body, and the pain took a backseat in my mind. They could never care that much. I wasn’t really their child; our blood was not the same. In the end, I’d be alone, just as when we met. I’d—

  Dad pressed harder and I winced. “That’s what I thought. Okay Lorraine, next stop is the hospital.”

  “Really, Dad?” I bit my lip. “You should know how much I hate that place.”

  “Humor me,” he said, turning to Pade. “Are you staying or going?”

  “Going,” Pade said, without hesitation.

  Inside the van, Mom turned on a light and caught my hand. “Where did you get this cut?”

  I glanced at the half-healed wound. “My hand slipped at the locker. On the latch, first day of class.”

  Her eyes took on a look of torture, like the queen bee with no choice but to watch her hive sucked dry of honey, a storage shed of strength who’d rather bear all the pain than be leaned upon. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” She caressed my hand, sending guilt through every vein.

  “It’s no big deal,” I said, pulling back. “Did you guys really drive over here after Aunt Charlie dropped us off?”

  Dad cleared his throat. “We took the boys shopping.”

  “I thought we agreed I’m old enough to go out after dark.”

  “Sorry, honey,” Mom said. “After dinner the boys wanted ice cream. No reason to wait until late before driving over.”

  Dad cut in front of a lowered Nissan with blue lights, ignoring a hand that shot from the driver’s window and waved a lone finger. A horn blared when the van changed lanes, and then another when we rounded a corner and merged between a Cadillac and a dump truck.

  “Kick it,” Danny screamed.

  “Faster,” Collin said, laughing.

  “I’m not dying,” I said, but a quick peek in the mirror showed the strain in Dad’s eyes.

  Air filled the van, tasting heavy and metallic. I shivered and angled the nearest vent away, consumed by a strange new thirst for the heat outside the glass. “I can’t help you guys usually pick these redneck towns with no McDonalds.”

  “Hey,” Bailey said, “easy on the home town. I thought you liked living in Credence.”

  Dad slammed the brakes, though the next red light was two blocks ahead. “Other than our months in Atlanta, the only ‘city’ we lived in was Canton, and we’re never going back there.”

  I rolled my eyes and twisted to look at Pade, but he was staring through the layers of tint.

  * * * * *

  A woman’s voice filled the air, speared by pain, and then a man’s. I couldn’t understand their words, but felt a closeness to them in the deepest part of my soul. They were my real parents. And they were fighting again.

  At first, not understanding seemed a result of their lowered voices. From my hiding spot in near darkness, I willed the anchors below my legs to move closer, before my brain registered a total lack of control over the dream. Fear set my heart in motion.

  The angry voices approached, only the sound melted into sadness. Though I still didn’t understand their words, nearness to the sound soothed my fear. They stood merely feet away, almost close enough to touch…

  His voice disappeared from the room first, causing my heart to land somewhere near my feet. “Daddy,” I wanted to scream to the room, to the world, and make him turn around. She cried out in anguish, words meant for her ears alone, as if caution mattered to the empty room. Steps fell against stone, first heavy thuds and then fading to gentle clicks, merging with tears I could only imagine.

  Secrets Online

  I awoke the next morning astonished. After eleven years, I finally had a tiny glimpse into the life once mine. The smell of the room, lavender I think, and the sound of her voice resonated within me, yet at the same time tortured my thoughts. I’d vowed to hate them forever. My father’s voice was a kaleidoscope of pain and fear. My mother had cried, and the clicking of her heels as she ran from the room sent a chill through me.

  The weekend involved more shopping than I’d ever known. My own closet of clothes from stores that only sold new, an entire house of furniture, even a red mixer for Mom. With every stop, Aunt Charlie produced a credit card that a terminal accepted no matter how many times she swiped. She teased Dad about ‘finally being useful’ but he only smiled. I wondered how much Aunt Charlie really made as a nurse and if my parents could pay her back before I graduated.

  Sunday night I opened the striped bag and placed my collection of drawings in a drawer below my new desk. Sinking into the chair, I hugged the bag, wondering if I should empty it completely. Credence was different, but if our stop here wasn’t the last…No, it was ‘fate’ as Mom always said. Fate was why Dad found me, out of a million-plus people who could have been driving down that highway. Fate meant we’d finally come home.

  One by one, I pulled each item, removing the paper towels that protected the treasures of my life, and checkered the cherry-wood scented dresser with my past. At least the sales guy promised it was cherry-wood, as if I’d know the difference. The stone box Mom gave me at the cave in Tennessee, the brass pirate ship from a yard sale I helped with near Chicago, the snow globe Dad gave me that first week at the foster home, my old glasses.

  I dumped my new clothes on a bed that didn’t have sheets yet. Within the heap were jeans with designer labels, shirts I’d only dreamed of, and dresses that almost made me cry, especially the black one that stopped above my knees. In the smallest bag was a bracelet Mom handed me in the van. She said it was real gold, but I wouldn’t have cared if the bracelet was a piece of string with bottle caps like we made after the first move. Maybe I’d wear it on the wrist that wasn’t covered by a brace. I pulled out the old green dress and stared at the label for the last time.

  In six years I’d never worn it, and probably couldn’t anymore. But that was okay. All of the new things were me now.

  On Monday, Mrs. Pearson rushed into class less than a minute before the bell, followed by Chase. His eyes fixed to the brace. “What happened?”

  “I was skating at the Fun Connection— tripped on the concrete.”

  Chase opened his backpack, though his eyes never left the brace. “Anything broken?”

  I focused on the black binder in his hand. “Doctor said it was only a sprain.”

  The binder slipped from his hand and Chase grabbed air, only able to watch as his pages spilled across the aisle between us. “Thanks,” he mumbled, as I reached for detailed formulas I refused to learn for chemistry. He opened his mouth again, but Mrs. Pearson called for class to start. I shifted my attention to our teacher, preparing for any mention of Bailey’s phone.

  “Good morning, I have your first vocabulary test graded.” Smiling, her voice became a cheerful opposite of the usual strictly business attitude. “I am pleased at how well the entire class performed.” She lifted a stack of papers from her desk. “Someone even received a perfect score.”

&nbs
p; “Chase.”

  I glanced around for the owner of the voice. Several girls in front of us giggled, but Chase refused to raise his eyes.

  Mrs. Pearson crossed her arms. “Chase has to work harder than most to impress me. He does not make good grades simply because he is my son. Actually, Jessica made the one hundred.”

  She passed out the tests and it was my turn to feel like the only one not wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day. Never ace a test in her class again, I told myself. More giggles. Ugh!

  Mrs. Pearson dropped the paper on my desk and flashed another smile. “Congratulations.” Her smile faded as her gaze settled on my wrist. She hovered for a moment before passing out the remaining tests.

  When she reached the board, her voice had lost all trace of a smile. “You can review any missed words before the next test. I may have neglected to mention these tests will be cumulative.” Groans sounded around the room. “There will be a new test each week, but I will include frequently missed words.

  She held up a sheet of paper. “I will circulate a list of selected works for book reports. These reports will be due on the third Friday of each month and I expect four pages, typed and double-spaced. Twelve-point font is preferable in Times New Roman.”

  Four pages didn’t sound like the assignment from hell. Term papers would be worse, but so far our teacher hadn’t mentioned the ‘T’ word.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Pearson said, as she faced the board. “I do expect you to actually read the books you choose.”

  * * * * *

  Every morning Chase brought a renewed excitement to finish first block and race to second. Although week one was edgy for us both, the next four made edgy seem like no more than a false start. His jokes wiped away Tosh’s evil words for nearly half the day, as did his thirst to see each new page in my drawing pad.

  Instead of hanging at The Spot until first bell, I embraced the habit of being on time. Before the end of our usual gossip exchange, my path to Mrs. Pearson’s room began. Our teacher never had to scold me for being late after the first week. After the second, I felt convinced she’d never mention the phone.

  Chemistry became interesting for the first time. Chase seemed born to teach and spared no effort in shining light on all of Mr. Larson’s chemistry experiments. I marveled at how he enjoyed my least favorite class, his attitude a summer day when compared to our wintery first block. Only when called upon did Chase speak, and Mrs. Pearson rarely called his name.

  It took Bailey those four weeks in entirety to ask Chase about the phone. After listening to her daily dose of speculation, I finally convinced her to approach him. The only problem? It took even less time for me to wish I hadn’t.

  “You’ll never guess where I’m going Friday,” she said on a Tuesday afternoon, late in September.

  I laid across my bed in silence, knowing she didn’t have the willpower to make me wait.

  Light from the window splayed across her face. “On a date to the movies.”

  “Oh?” I asked and rolled away. “Well, have fun.”

  Bailey grabbed for my shoulder, giggling. “Guess with who.”

  “Skip Greene.”

  She threw a pillow at my head.

  “Ronald Pitts.”

  “Ronald, come on. That was so ninth grade.” Her laughter made me grin. “Besides, I’ve raised my standards. I only date the cutest guy in school now, the dreamy Chase Pearson.”

  The grin faded as I rolled back, alarms flashing in my head. “How did you get him to ask you out?”

  “I kept pestering him about the phone. Chase said he slipped it in my backpack when we were on the bench. He asked if there was any way I’d believe him.” She smiled wider. “That’s when I said only if he’ll go to the Fun Connection on Friday night.”

  I was impressed and somewhat jealous. Of Chase? No, that couldn’t be. “You really asked him?”

  “You know I go after what I want.”

  “How are you going to sell this to your mom? Dad banned me from dating until my sixteenth birthday, as if three more months will matter.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “The question is how are you going to sell this to your mom and dad?”

  “What do I have to do with you and Chase?”

  “Think double date.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I’ve got it all planned out. You and I will be going to the Fun Connection on Friday night.”

  “I just got the brace off my wrist. Mom and Dad will freak if I ask to go back there.”

  “Yeah, if you ask to go skating. Tell them we want to see a movie.”

  “Just you and me?”

  “Mom will drop us off and we’ll meet Chase inside the theater. It’ll work great, trust me.”

  Only one part of her plan kept me from relaxing. “I thought you said ‘double date’. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

  “You won’t be meeting anyone,” she said, but her laugh cut short my sigh of relief. “Pade will be riding with us.”

  I jumped off the bed. “You’re lying. Friday night is football.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I said, but slapped a hand to my forehead. “Credence is off this week.”

  “Just be glad you don’t have to hide him from your parents.”

  * * * * *

  On Thursday, I slipped into the library after school and signed in for a computer. Since Bailey left early for a dentist appointment, I had time to get online, though I’d watched the clock in every class as I wrestled with the possibility.

  Credence was different. Risking our new home was wrong. I knew I shouldn’t even think about typing my real name, but I hadn’t looked in more than a year. I sank into a padded chair and read the ‘Research Only’ sign posted above each of the six stations. Fortunately, no one sat at the other five.

  I opened the browser and typed ‘Jessica Naples’ and ‘New York’ in the search box. More than ten thousand hits appeared, but I knew the address would be on the first page. As the link hesitated to load, I slid the mouse over the close button in case a quick exit became the only thing keeping us from having to move again. Using the keyboard, I scrolled down as the page finished loading.

  A picture took form in the center of the screen. Strings of hair and smudges of dirt hid most of the girl’s features, but I knew the shape of her face by heart. Snapped less than a month before meeting the only man I remembered calling dad, the picture was a mesh of black and white creases. I touched the shiny surface, squinting at the bear in her arms. The fact I couldn’t remember the bear’s color didn’t seem quite so bad this time.

  I scrolled back to the headline of the article, ‘Mother Pleads for Safe Return of Daughter.’ Paragraphs followed describing her tearful pleas, and I read them like all the times before. Liar, I charged at the unseen face, as if hurting her would erase the mark upon my soul. Each time the words appeared, I hoped to learn more about the life just beyond memory.

  Something hit the floor and I turned from the screen. As before, every chair but mine offered freedom to surf. Sounds of laughter drifted through windows amid sunshine and stale gossip from students waiting for rides. After three days of rain, I imagined warmth on my face instead of a cold electric glow.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jumped, but one click of the mouse left only standard library wallpaper to greet me.

  Chase stared. “Did I scare you?”

  “Maybe a little,” I said, wondering how much he saw before the page closed. “I was just doing some research for my…” jeez what could I say, “book report.”

  “Really?” He dropped into the chair next to me. “You must by trying hard to impress my mom. You don’t need to bother. I can tell you she’s already impressed.” Chase turned to his screen and logged on.

  I laughed, imagining jealously. “I’m not trying.”

  “Mom can be tough, but you’re good at English. It drives her crazy knowing I’d rather be in any science class than hers.”

  �
��I’ve always been good with letters but seriously, I won’t make another perfect score in her class. I haven’t since that first test.”

  His eyes stayed on the screen. “If she finds out you’re missing questions on purpose, she’ll make you wish term papers were never invented.”

  “Why should she care?”

  “She cares about all of her students, probably too much. Mom is always talking about making a difference. Helping people means more to her than any power trip and being a teacher was always her dream.”

  With all my issues, a teacher on a mission would be like adding twelve lines to a haiku. “How do I make her leave me alone?”

  “I don’t know if you can.” Chase’s screen loaded pictures of a blonde girl who deserved a life-sized trophy in any beauty pageant.

  “Who is that?”

  “Lauren’s a friend from my last school.”

  Lauren, who Bailey had wondered about almost daily since seeing Chase’s binder. “You talk to her from the library?”

  “Mom won’t let me contact anyone there.”

  I connected with the familiar sadness in his voice. “I’ve moved a lot too. There were several times I had to leave friends behind.” When Chase remained silent, finding something else to say seemed harder than the worst chemistry test. “Where’d you go to school last?”

  “New York City.”

  As in my New York City? Looking away, the sadness beneath his words made me want to squeeze his hand. “You’re from New York? I can tell you’ve got some kind of accent.”

  “We lived there less than a year. We tell everyone we’re from California.”

  “Why Credence?”

  “Why not?”

  I thought of how Dad gave the same evasive answers and smiled, before remembering the day Bailey and I snuck into Mrs. Pearson’s class. “Is it just the two of you?”

  He nodded. “My dad died in an accident when I was five. Mom falls over her own words to make me proud of the man, but I can’t remember him.”

  We’d left New York by my fifth birthday. “A car wreck?”