Little Divas

by Philana Marie Boles

  Lane looked me up and down real slowly, like the sight of me was making her feel nauseous. With one hand on her hip and the other holding the cherry-flavored lip gloss that she’d been applying nonstop for the last two years, she offered a dry laugh. “Anybody want fried fish for dinner?”

  The whole crowd crackled with laughter.

  And they kept laughing, and laughing, and laughing. I wanted to punch all of them, each and every one, especially Shantal, that traitor! There was nothing even funny in the first place.

  The bottom of my right foot felt damp inside my sandal, and I had to bite down on my bottom lip in order to stop it from quivering. I glared at Travis Jones, who was laughing the loudest.

  Somehow, though, I managed to put one foot in front of the other. Going toward home, the farther away I got, the louder their laughter seemed, and the more my eyes burned with hot tears. I never wanted to see any of them again. Ever.

  “Cassidy,” Rikki said now, sensing how tense I’d become. “I know how you feel. But I honestly think that Travis likes you. Maybe you could just give him a—”

  “He’s annoying,” I reminded her.

  She shrugged, and with her voice noticeably softer, she said, “Okay.”

  “All of the boys at school are annoying,” I said. Then I snatched up a Jet magazine and started flipping through it. I stopped when I came across a picture of some actor, whose name I couldn’t recall, but I knew he was starring in a new flick about a college marching band. I pressed my thumb against his face and turned it around so that Rikki could see. “Now he’s cute.”

  She nodded, but didn’t seem all that interested.

  I flipped through the pages some more. “Let’s make our boyfriends work hard too, okay?”

  Rikki laughed a little. “What do you mean?”

  “You know,” I said. “Like all that stuff that Mary said. Before they get to smell our perfume…”

  “Oh,” Rikki said, reaching for a pack of banana Now and Laters. “Right. Of course. Not even a whiff.” And then a grin appeared on her face. “Yeah, we’re gonna make them sweat.”

  Tap. Tap.

  Finally! Another one of Mary’s rendezvous, as she likes to call them, had gone off without a hitch. Rikki, I was sure, was going to see to it that Mary made good on her end of the deal. And as Mary crawled back through the window, I hoped that she had made Archie work like Paul Bunyan tonight, just like she’d said she would. Whoever that was. Whatever that meant.

  August 13

  Dear Mom,

  The whole summer has been absolutely great. Daddy and I have been pretty busy with going to church every Sunday. I’m sure he’ll be there again tomorrow morning, as a matter of fact. Oh, and Rikki and I are getting along just fine.

  School is starting in a few weeks, and I can hardly believe it. It’s pretty weird to think that I’ll actually be going to King Junior High School! Can you believe it? Me. Cassidy Jane Carter, going to King! Yup.

  Daddy made scrambled eggs, Bob Evans sausage, and sourdough toast with grape jelly for breakfast this morning. Isn’t he doing a great job taking good care of me? I think so too.

  Hope they have real food like eggs and sausage where you are. Hope you’re having fun being so far away!

  four

  The Next Morning every head was bowed, including mine. In silence, the entire congregation was thinking about all the people that it wanted God to bless. Easy for me. I prayed for the same people every Sunday.

  Aunt Honey… Uncle Lance… my cousin Mary.

  When I prayed for my uncle, I asked God to let his sermon make people shout today. Church was always so much more fun when someone did. Sometimes, especially when Uncle Lance got real excited and started sweating a whole lot, or when he started talking extra loud into the microphone, I too would feel the urge to jump up, throw my hands in the air, and shout out to the heavens. But I never did. I just liked to watch.

  I felt Rikki tap my leg.

  And my other cousin too, Lord. Please help Rikki Renée Carter to be quiet when we’re told.

  It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to Rikki, but there are some pretty simple ways to avoid getting in trouble in life. Not talking during prayer is one of them. Things are just so much easier when you don’t have your parents fussing at you about something.

  “Hey,” Rikki whispered. “Hey, Cassidy.”

  I cleared my throat, closed my eyes tighter, and did not reply. Ignoring Rikki, I kept going with my prayers.

  And Daddy, too, Lord. Can you do something special for him? Maybe send him down a real nice surprise so he’ll stop thinking about sending me to Clara Ellis? Like maybe that shiny white and gold saxophone in Harmony’s window, the one he drives past and looks at when they’re closed. Or maybe a new dog. We could teach him how to play dead, and how to howl at the moon like he’s singing. That’d be nice. Well, whatever you think, just would you please send it? Please?

  Then I prayed for Mom.

  My mother—Lord please don’t let her catch any strange diseases and don’t let her get attacked by any wild animals. And don’t let her be too sad about missing me, okay?

  “Amen, amen, amen!” Uncle Lance was at the podium now, and his voice boomed out of the speakers. “Can the church say amen?”

  “Amen!” the church called back. And then a few phrases like “Praise the Lord” and “Glory be to God” trickled after.

  I glanced over my left shoulder and looked two rows back. Daddy looked so handsome in his white shirt and blue tie. He smiled at me and winked. So far Daddy hadn’t missed a Sunday. Everything had been going so well. So why was he trying to mess everything up with all this business about sending me to Clara Ellis?

  I shifted back around in my seat, and the pew made a noisy creak, so I concentrated on being still. Rikki sighed and grabbed one of those three-inch eraserless pencils that are always in the wooden pockets on the back of every pew. My cousin will do anything to avoid listening during church.

  Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t like having to go to church more than just on Sunday mornings either. Mary and Rikki have to go several times a week! Still, though, what’s the use in complaining or acting up? All that ever gets us is a lecture.

  As the seven-member choir started warming up, the swaying of their bright puffy yellow and green robes seemed to brighten the room. Uncle Lance, who is also the pianist, sat down, tapped on a piano key, and nodded his head enthusiastically as they got ready to begin. With his round upper body and the way his head just seems to sit, kaplunk, on top of his head, Uncle Lance reminds me of a walrus.

  On an envelope intended for tithing, and in her bubbly handwriting, Rikki handed me a note that was only one sentence long.

  We’re saying we’re going for ice cream. ’K?

  I knew what this meant. Once the last offering had been taken, after the prayer of dismissal had been fastened with a unanimous “amen,” we would head over to the Court.

  A few Sundays ago Rikki’s note had said the library. The week before that it had said the mall. Today it was ice cream. We can never reveal to Aunt Honey and Uncle Lance where we really like to hang out, because there are always lots of boys at the Court. They’ll just take it upon themselves to come by and check up on us for sure. Mary and Rikki would rather croak than have that happen.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Rikki twiddling her thumbs, and noticed she was trying real hard not to grin. My stomach tightened. Didn’t she know I had other things to worry about than going down to the Court to look at boys?

  Maybe once Uncle Lance started his sermon, he’d get on a roll and make it take a long time. Maybe it would be close to dinner by the time we left.

  I folded the note and placed it in the pocket of my jean skirt. Then I looked over at the pink floral print of Mary’s ankle-length skirt. Her right hand was holding a key chain that she’d purchased at a gas station, and a picture of a rose garden was staring back at me. Mary saw me looking and smiled. When she got her dr
iver’s license a few months ago, Uncle Lance bought her a new white Chevy Cavalier. It’s supposed to be for nothing more than getting her back and forth to work at the Dairy Queen, although occasionally Mary convinces her parents that she’s taking me and Rikki somewhere safe, for a good reason—someplace where we can’t get into any trouble. Yeah, right.

  I turned my attention back to the choir.

  “Do not.

  Do not.

  Doooo not pass me by!”

  The resounding voices seemed to be growing more excited as they sang out a plea to the Lord not to forget about them during His return to collect worthy souls for Heaven. The funny thing was, with their happy smiles and cheerful eyes, none of them really looked concerned.

  After church Daddy, Rikki, and I were waiting outside on the sidewalk for Uncle Lance and Aunt Honey, who had to stand in the lobby and greet members of the congregation. Mary was already in her car, talking on her cell phone and waiting for Rikki and me. Even though I had agreed to ride home with my cousins, really I just wanted to go home with Daddy. But a promise is a promise, and I still couldn’t say a word about the secret.

  I especially didn’t feel up to riding in Mary’s car today, with Rikki cutting me one of her you’re-so-stupid looks if I accidentally sang along to whatever song was playing on the radio. Rikki almost always rolls her eyes at me when I do, and then she’ll sing louder, her way of laughing at me without so much as a smile. She’s a great singer.

  Standing next to me, Rikki had plastered a huge grin on her face as she pleaded with Daddy to let me spend the night again. “Okay, Uncle Ray?” she begged. “Please, just one more night? Please? Pretty please? With sugar and a cherry on top?”

  Daddy laughed, but I didn’t see anything funny. The real reason Rikki was clinging to Daddy’s arm had absolutely nothing to do with her wanting to spend some more time with me. She just needed someone to talk to while Mary flirted with Archie at the Court. Boys. That’s all anyone cared about anymore, especially Mary. She’s hopeless.

  I was hoping that Daddy would say that I couldn’t go. Maybe if I went home, he would sit me down with that glass of lemonade. Then I could plea my case. But Daddy just gave me his usual kiss on the forehead and a crisp five-dollar bill, and then he told me not to ruin my appetite before dinner. Ruin my appetite? How about ruining my life! He still hadn’t said anything about me not going to King!

  Maybe Aunt Honey didn’t know what she was talking about. If Daddy were planning on making me switch schools, wouldn’t he have said something before now? School was starting in just a few weeks. I mean, not that it mattered. I was going to King whether he said something about it or not, but still.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” I said halfheartedly as I tucked the money into my purse.

  “You’re welcome, pumpkin,” he said. Then he smiled at Rikki. “You’re quite the charmer, you know.”

  Rikki giggled, and then her foot jerked out and hit mine. She gave one of her ponytails a determined tug, and I knew that that was body language for how excited she was that her plea to Daddy had worked.

  “You’re too cool, Uncle Ray,” Rikki said.

  Uncle Lance and Aunt Honey finally joined us on the sidewalk, and Uncle Lance sure looked tired. His thick, bushy eyebrows, coal-black ones just like Daddy’s and mine, were hunched together, but he tried to look pleased. “Good to have you with us again, Raymin,” he told Daddy.

  “Good to be here,” Daddy replied proudly.

  “Join us for dinner, Ray?” Aunt Honey suggested. Mary and Rikki get their creamy, coffee-colored skin and warm brown hair from her. That day Aunt Honey was dressed in a svelte purple suit and shiny black pumps with skinny heels, but I knew she was anxious to get out of her church clothes, to go home and let her hair fall out of its bun. She likes to sit down somewhere and “prop her feet up” like she always says, but not before preparing a huge Sunday dinner.

  Daddy said that he was going to have to pass, but thanked her for the invitation. Since I was staying the night again, that would give him time to go home and get caught up on some paperwork. He reminded me to be on my best behavior before heading toward his Cadillac.

  I didn’t dare tell Rikki that what I really wanted to do was go back to their house and chill, maybe watch a Cosby Show marathon on Nickelodeon or something. Rikki would have called me stupid if I’d have said such a thing, and when she calls you stupid, she definitely has a way of making you feel like you actually are.

  When we were out of earshot of Aunt Honey and Uncle Lance, Rikki tugged at my arm, leaning in close enough that I could smell the watermelon Hubba Bubba on her breath. “I bet the Court is gonna be packed today,” she said.

  Rikki climbed into the front seat of Mary’s car, and I securely fastened myself in the back. Just as we were getting ready to drive off, Uncle Lance flagged Mary down and she pulled the car up to the curb. Uncle Lance’s eyes were narrowed. “Home by seven o’clock,” he said, eyeing Mary’s unbuckled seat belt. “And I mean it.”

  Mary snapped herself into safety. “I know, Daddy,” she said, her voice sounding overly sweet and innocent.

  But Uncle Lance was still a little hesitant. “And I thought you said you were tired of looking at ice cream? ‘Daddy, all I do is look at ice cream all the time,’ that’s what you said.”

  Mary gave him one of her big innocent smiles. “Oh, Daddy,” she sang. “This is different from work; it’s just for fun. Just kicking it with my little sisters.”

  I always feel a tingle of pride when Mary refers to me as her little sister. Being an only child, I feel kind of happy to think of having a big sister, especially one as nice as Mary, even if it is just pretend. I’ve never one time in my life heard Mary call anyone or anything stupid.

  Uncle Lance opened his billfold and reluctantly counted out a few dollars. “You ask me, ice cream is ice cream.”

  No, it isn’t, Uncle Lance. No, it isn’t.

  five

  My teeth were clenched so tight that I was getting a headache. The whole way over to the park, Rikki kept looking over her shoulder at me, building up some anticipation like we were getting ready to have the time of our lives.

  Officially the park’s name is Grace Nelson Park, but you only know that if you look for the wooden sign at the entrance. Over the years the name has become less and less visible because the two bushes on either side of it have gotten so plump that they are closing in on the words. Now all you can see are the letters “son Par.”

  Everything goes down at the center of the park at the bottom of a long hilly road. Mostly it’s just a big wooden jungle gym, a long row of swings, a huge teeter-totter, a few tire swings, and a small pond full of ducks. But the real reason why on any given day in the summertime every person under the age of eighteen makes their way down there, the magnet for everyone, is the basketball court. It was pretty crowded that Sunday.

  Mary parked at the top of the hill and turned off the ignition. Once our ears got used to not hearing music, we could hear the laughter from down the hill, the jive talkin’, and insults spiked with occasional curse words. Every few minutes bass could be heard from a car cruising through the lot.

  Archie wasn’t there yet, but he would be. He’s older than Mary, a senior to her junior, and he’s very cute.

  We heard a loud thump and some shouts and looked down the hill to see that two boys had fallen on the basketball court. Both of them were cursing out loud. Rikki gasped when she saw that the one holding onto the basketball was Darwin Mack, the object of her obsession. But he got up, brushed himself off, and started playing again. It looked like there was a little blood on his knees, but that didn’t seem to matter; such things never do down at the Court.

  Rikki smacked her lips. “Who knocked down my baby? Don’t make me have to go down there.”

  Mary strained to see. “Sharee Jones’s little brother, it looks like.”

  Rikki and I looked at each other, and said at the same time, “Travis?”

  M
ary stared some more. Then she shrugged. Matter-of-factly she said, “Yeah.”

  I shook my head at the possibility.

  Yeah, right.

  “Travis Jones is not that tall,” Rikki said.

  “I don’t think so,” I agreed. “No way.”

  After glancing at the red Ford Escort parked a few spaces over, Mary insisted, “Well, that’s definitely Sharee’s car. I’m sure he probably rode with her.”

  Rikki said, “Travis isn’t that dark, either.”

  “Or that tall,” I noted, even though Rikki had already pointed this out.

  Mary had an answer for that, too. “Well, you know they spent most of the summer in California with their grandparents. So, with all that sun… You know, he probably just grew.”

  “Wait a minute,” Rikki said as she squinted. “I think that is him.”

  No way.

  I still did not think so.

  Uh-uh.

  Rikki nudged me. “Maybe laying out on the beach in all that sun did make Travis darker.”

  “Who cares,” I snapped. “He’s still ugly.”

  Rikki sighed and rolled her eyes. “He likes Cassidy,” Rikki informed Mary.

  “Awww,” Mary sang. “That would be so cute, Cassidy. My little sister and Sharee’s little brother. Awwww…”

  Yuck.

  And just then, I couldn’t believe it. The boy who I thought was way too cute and way too tall to possibly be Travis made a basket. He threw his hands up in the air and did a stupid victory dance, the exact one that Travis always does in gym where he moves his neck back and forth like a duck. I did not want to believe my eyes, but Travis Jones was almost as tall as Darwin now. How in the world did that happen?

  Rikki laughed, also recognizing the duck dance. “That is him!”

  “Go tell him hi,” Mary suggested. “Ask him how Cali was. Maybe he met someone famous. Maybe he’s got autographs. Maybe he’s got pictures.”

  I was so annoyed that I felt my teeth gritting. “Who really cares if he does?”