I knocked on the door. No answer at first, so I knocked again. Finally, Momma answered it and looked at me, squinting her eyes.
"Hi," I said.
She wasn't shocked. She didn't even seem surprised. She just seemed a little put out over answering the door in her robe at midnight. "Can I help you?" she said.
I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. She had no idea who I was.
"Momma, it's me."
She looked at me blankly, her mind trying to mesh what she saw with what she knew.
Then she backed up and went kind of white.
"Franklin," she said, her voice all wavery. "Franklin, come quick."
Few things would lift my dad off the couch once he had settled in. But that tone of voice did the trick. As he came to her, I stepped inside. Now Vance was standing at his bedroom door, half-awake, wondering what was going on.
"It's me," I said. "It's Cara." And then, just for effect, I flicked my hair the way models do. "Don't you recognize me?"
Just silence for the longest time.
Vance was the first to react. "No. Way."
"Honey?" Dad said in the same wavery voice that Mom had.
And then it was like whatever was holding them back just fell away. Momma rushed at me and took me in her arms.
"My baby, my baby," she cried.
Even Dad cried. "We thought you ran away," he said. "Or worse."
"I did," I told them. "But it's okay now."
While Momma and Dad were still hugging me, Vance came over and looked me up and down. "What happened to you?"
And then, to my surprise, Momma turned to him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and looked at him sternly. "Don't you ask that! I'm sure Cara will tell us in her own time, won't you, honey?"
I nodded, knowing that I wouldn't. Maybe Momma sensed that, because she said, "Besides, true miracles don't always have explanations. Otherwise they wouldn't be miracles."
Vance looked down. "Yes, ma'am."
I told them I was only back for a little while―that people were waiting for me.
"I understand," Momma said, even though we both knew she didn't.
We all hugged and hugged. Momma whispered things you whisper to babies, and when all the hugging was done, I went to my room.
I thought they would have changed it in the months that I had been gone. I figured they'd turn it into a reading room, or a sewing room, or something. Make the memory of me go away. But they hadn't. It was just as I had left it. I even found the little "find the answers" note―a reminder that the answers had been found, and were waiting for me back in De León. Back home.
Before going to bed, though, I went up to my dresser and, for one final time, played my old familiar game. Would Cara do it today? Was today the day she would win? Without the slightest hesitation, I grabbed the sheet that covered the mirror and pulled it down. No more mourning in this house! At last I looked at myself in my own mirror. As far as I was concerned, I could have looked forever.
The next morning, we ate our family breakfast like usual, but there was a certain air of terror all around the table, because miracles are frightening things. No matter how much Momma wanted to follow a don't-ask-don't-tell policy with regard to my metamorphosis, it demanded some explanation. Dad began to delicately ask about it. It was like playing a game of twenty questions around a time bomb.
"Was it something. . . surgical?" Dad asked, without looking up at me.
"Not really," I said.
"Herbal, then? They're making amazing strides in vitamin therapy these days."
That was actually closer to the truth. I wondered if the fountain could be considered an herbal treatment.
"Vitamin therapy doesn't straighten teeth," Momma said. "That takes some sort of... intervention."
"So we're back to miracles again," said Dad, a bit frustrated.
No one said anything for a bit, and then Vance mumbled, "I think maybe Cara made a pact with the devil."
Momma brought down her fork so hard it cracked her plate in half.
"Sorry," Vance said. Momma didn't scold him. Maybe because she secretly felt it was in the realm of possibility.
"Actually," I said, with a completely straight face, "I was abducted by aliens."
Stunned silence from everyone . . . until I couldn't hold it anymore and cracked a smile. Vance was the first to laugh, then Dad, then Mom, and before long, we were all engulfed in a giggle fit that lasted at least three or four minutes. After that, they stopped asking.
I finished my breakfast quickly and asked if Momma could take me to school early. If I was going to accomplish anything during my single day in Flock's Rest, I'd have to use the time wisely―and the more I thought about it, the more things I realized I wanted to do . . . because this wasn't just about saying good-bye. This was also about saying "good riddance."
19
The new girl
Momma brought me to school and told the office staff I was her niece, Linda. I might be moving into town, she said, and could they be darlings and let me sit in on class while I was visiting? She sold them on me like my dad sold a car―not a word of truth, and bought for the highest price possible. I didn't mind being Linda DeFido for a day. After all, Linda was my middle name.
There was still plenty of time before the bell rang, so I went out into the yard to size up what had changed since I had left. As I suspected, nothing had changed. The same kids in the same groups. Of course, some girls were hanging on different boys' shoulders, but even then, the shoulders on which they hung were the predictable ones. One couple, however, had stood the test of time. Marshall and Marisol. They were all slithered around each other in the yard, like always. I made a beeline straight toward them.
"Excuse me," I said innocently, getting their attention.
I had Marshall's eye immediately. Marisol already looked worried.
"Aren't you Marshall Astor, of the famous Astors?"
Marisol answered for him. "That's none of your business. Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, as sweetly as could be. "I'm Linda DeFido. I'll be moving here from Billington." I kept my eye on Marshall, totally ignoring Marisol. "I remember you from one of last year's football games. I have never seen a run that long. I remember wishing that you were on our team."
Marshall just smiled dumbly. I made sure I had a lock on his eyes like a tractor beam. "So you're moving here?" he asked.
"And she's a DeFido?" said Marisol. "That family is a bunch of losers."
"Oh, we're all right," I said, still smiling. "Except, of course, for my poor cousin, Cara―wherever she is."
Marshall broke eye contact and looked down. "The DeFidos don't like me much. They think I'm the reason their daughter ran off. Your cousin, I mean."
"Oh, they don't think that," I said. "They know that Cara brought it on herself. They don't blame you at all."
Marshall smiled. "Really?"
"You should come by and talk to my uncle. I'm sure he'll be very forgiving."
"Yeah," he said, still smiling. "Maybe I'll do that."
"You will not," said Marisol. "You don't need to talk to trailer trash."
"Not all trash lives in trailers," I told her. She started going colors I didn't know the human face could go. "What's the matter, Marisol?" I asked. "You didn't choke on your gum, did you?"
"How'd you know my name?"
"Oh," I said, "you've got a reputation. Even as far as Billington."
"What?" Her mouth opened, and she just looked at me, her head shaking slightly, like her pea brain had just popped its one blood vessel.
Marshall looked at her like she was suddenly something unclean, and I went on my merry way. This was the start of a wonderful day!
I was the center of attention in every class, and when I walked into the lunchroom, all heads turned, boys and girls alike. They were whispering about me. By force of habit, I looked for my usual empty table―but without the old Cara here, creating her aura of untouchabili
ty, there were no empty tables.
I thought I'd find Marshall and Marisol again, and play with their meager minds some more―but then I spotted Gerardo.
I'd known I would see him today, and I thought I'd be okay with it―that I was beyond all those mixed-up feelings I had for him―but I was wrong. It only took a moment for all the feelings to come back.
It didn't make sense to me―I had Aaron now, didn't I? Gerardo was a flyspeck compared to Aaron, and yet he made me numb and light-headed in a way that Aaron never quite did. It made me mad, but not mad enough to turn and walk the other way.
I went to the table where he sat with his friends―and let me tell you, they made a space for me like I was Moses and they were the Red Sea.
"You need a place to sit?"
"Sit here!"
"No, sit here, he smells!"
"I've got lots of room for you on the end!"
"Don't listen to those idiots, you can sit wherever you want. As long as it's next to me!"
I smiled, and didn't accept any of their invitations. I knew just how to play this. "Someone told me one of you boys knows something about computers?"
And all of a sudden all five boys at the table were computer experts. I knew for a fact at least three of them weren't, but that didn't stop them from practically climbing all over one another to impress me with their know-how.
I didn't know all that much about computers, but I knew enough to be able to weed out the poseurs.
"Good," I said, "because I need to find a way to install a thirty-two-bit sound card in a sixteen-bit slot."
Sudden silence from four of the five. But Gerardo perked up.
"It sounds like you need to upgrade your motherboard. I could do that for you."
I put out my hand and smiled at him.
"Hi, I'm Linda."
"Gerardo," he said, shaking my hand. "I was a friend of your cousin's."
For a second it caught me by surprise. Then I realized, in a high school, news traveled at the speed of pheromones. Probably every boy in school heard that I was a DeFido. Of course, they didn't know which DeFido I was.
"Gerardo ..." I said, pretending to think about his name. "I think Cara talked about you."
"She did?"
"She was in love with him," said one of the other boys.
Gerardo shrugged. "We were just friends."
"Yeah, that's what she said. She said you were dating Nikki somebody."
"Ah," said Gerardo, "that was months ago."
I looked down at my plate, then picked up my brownie and put it on Gerardo's plate, like I used to do back in the ugly days.
He looked a little creeped out for a second. "Just how much did Cara talk about me?"
I didn't answer him; I just gave him a wink. "Have a nice lunch." Then I stood up and left with the grace of a swan.
There's this expression. I think it's French. Femme fatale. It means "deadly woman," but really means more than that. It means a woman so beautiful, she can twist the world around her finger.
That was me now, and until today, I had no idea how much fun twisting could be. The problem was, I only had today to do it, and it frustrated me. I wanted to take on this school like a tornado, and leave people quivering in my wake―but with only one day, I'd be little more than a passing breeze. I was already trying to figure ways to stretch out my visit―if only for a few more hours.
I knew Marisol had started spreading nasty rumors about me. Marshall was already preening to get my attention, and when I waved to Gerardo in the hall a little bit later in the day, he walked right into a locker. Femme fatale. In a way, it was so much more satisfying than just being one of the beautiful people in De León.
By the end of the day, Marshall had already asked me on a date, and I'd accepted―mainly because I knew once Marisol found out, she'd gnaw her own limbs off. Unfortunately, the date was for Saturday, so I wouldn't be able to follow through. It burned me that Marisol would have the satisfaction of my permanent disappearance.
Gerardo wasted no time, either. He showed up at my house right after school.
"Hi, is Linda home?"
"Who?" said my idiot brother, who had answered the door. "Oh. Linda, right. Yeah, she's here."
I ducked into my room and tried to get the sudden flush to leave my face. I didn't even think he knew where I lived. When I stepped out, I had the poise and presence of a movie star.
"Gerardo," I said. "How nice to see you!"
"Hi. I came over to fix that computer problem you were having."
"Excuse me?"
He held up a bag of cables and components. "Your motherboard?"
"Oh. Oh, right." The thing is, I didn't even have a computer. "Well, that's all right. We sent it to the shop already. But thank you."
He looked disappointed. "Oh. Okay. Well. Bye."
He turned to leave, but I put my hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
"Would you like a drink?" I said.
He smiled. "Sure."
I figure he would have said "sure" to whatever I offered him. He wanted to stay as much as I wanted him to.
I got him some pop from the fridge. We sat there for a long time, just sipping, and trying to burp up the bubbles quietly enough so the other wouldn't hear.
"So," he finally said.
"So," I said back to him.
He looked at me and looked away, then looked back at me again. "Why don't you give me your number? Maybe I'll call you or something."
"My cell phone, you mean? I don't have one."
"Okay, then give me your home number."
I thought it was an odd request because he already knew the number here. But then, maybe by asking for my number he was testing the waters, to see where he stood. If I gave him the number, it meant it was all right for him to call me―and that was one step short of asking me out. I wished he would have done it right then and there, but when it came to girls, I guess Gerardo wasn't quite as pushy as Marshall. I smiled at him, grabbed a pen and paper from the counter, happily wrote down the number, and handed it to him.
He looked at it closely. "Hmm. Right." Then folded it and put it in his pocket. "Well, see you in school, Linda."
He left, and the second he was gone, I went into my room and did a little victory dance. And then I remembered, if he did work up enough nerve to call me for a date, I wouldn't be here. I'd be back in De León. I flopped on my bed, cursing the unfairness of it all. If I could have just one date with Gerardo, just one, I could leave this place forever and be happy, couldn't I? But that wasn't going to happen.
That night, as I tossed and turned in bed, a war began in my mind. On one side were Aaron and Harmony and Abuelo―all the people of De León. I was truly one of them. I felt accepted, I belonged―I truly did miss Aaron―and besides, I had made him a promise that I'd be back in five days.
But there was that other side. The side that said, What's a few more days gonna hurt? Finish what you started. Get your revenge on Marshall and Marisol. Have that one night out with Gerardo. Twist them all around your finger until you're satisfied. And then you can go back to De León forever.
The war raged inside me, and with the hours counting down until I had to leave to meet my deadline, I had no idea which side was going to win.
I woke up the next morning and found myself standing in the corner, facing northwest. I had sleepwalked again. I was still drawn to De León. It was time to say that final good-bye and begin my journey back.
When I turned around, I saw Vance standing at my door, watching me. He didn't wisecrack, he just watched me. He seemed almost afraid to come in.
"The place you went," he said. "It's in that direction, isn't it?"
I nodded. First I was pleased that he had figured it out, then I got worried.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?"
He didn't answer me. "Are you going back?"
"Yes," I told him.
"Good."
Then he walked off. He would nev
er understand-―and neither would anyone else. That's why I had to get back to De León.
But did I have to leave right then? I could stay for part of the day, couldn't I? If I left after school, and came home to say goodbye, I could get a ride to the old billboard before dark. If I had a bright enough flashlight, I could walk through the night and shorten the two-day trek a bit. I still might be a little bit late in getting back to De León, but at least I'd get there.
I looked at the mirror above my dresser, studying my face. Right away I could see that I wasn't a hundred percent this morning. It was just bed hair, and the kind of droopy eyes and dark circles you have when you first wake up―but ever since washing in the fountain, I had never had messy hair or droopy eyes in the morning. I always woke up like they do on TV―looking perfect. It wasn't a big deal at all, but it bothered me... so I took a deep breath and shook my head so that my hair flung to the left and right.
And the strangest thing happened. My hair fell into perfect place―the rings under my eyes faded―and I swear to you, for the briefest instant, it was as if the sunlight in the room dimmed, and the colors on the wallpaper faded just the tiniest bit.
I decided it was just my imagination, but deep down, I knew that it wasn't.
The big news at school was that Marshall and Marisol had broken up last night. From what I heard, Marshall just couldn't keep himself from bragging about our upcoming date to his friends. It got back to Marisol. Word was they had a breakup so vicious, somebody should have called Animal Control. It happened at the bowling alley. Marisol confronted him, so he accused her of sneaking around with other boys. She chased him down lane twelve with a bowling ball, he slipped, went flying into the pins, and got himself a strike. Now he had a bruise on his forehead from where the automatic pinsetter kept coming down, trying to pick him up.
That should have been all the victory I needed, but I was now like a shark after smelling blood.
Duckling Ugly Page 13