Little Divas

by Philana Marie Boles

  “It’s just the color…” Mary countered hesitantly. “It looks too much like your skin.”

  “Well. It’s the one I want,” Rikki said.

  If Uncle Lance could have seen his daughter right that very second, he would have had a fit. He would have laid holy hands on the salesperson for allowing that suit to be sold in their store, then he would’ve given Rikki—all three of us, probably—a sermon on sinful desires.

  But the swimming suits were top-secret gifts from Mary, and none of us would ever tell.

  Mary looked at me. “And what about you, kiddo?”

  I had my own money, so Mary really just needed to buy one for Rikki, but Mary insisted on buying my suit too. She was proud of her earnings from making ice cream sundaes and those delectable flurries with the crushed Snickers, and she’d said that she liked spending money on us.

  I held up a lilac suit with satin ruffles on the top that I’d been eyeing and tried to glance at the price tag, but Mary took it from me before I could.

  “This,” she said as she eased the suit from my hands, “is a splendid choice, Cassidy. A ladylike color. And it’s so demure, just like the princess who’ll be wearing it.”

  Mary has the graceful vocabulary of a poet much older in years. Mundane words, she always says, are repulsive, absolutely lazy.

  “Mary,” Rikki said, “it’s not like I really care if you don’t like mine. Just so you know.”

  A faint smile appeared in Mary’s eyes. “I like yours, too, Rikki. It’s a little risqué,” she said. “But who cares? It’s fun.”

  Mary was excited to pay for those suits. I could see it on her face, like there was something satisfying about having such authority.

  “Look,” Rikki said to me as Mary exchanged small talk with the sales clerk. “All I’m saying is what if she embarrasses us?”

  Apparently Rikki had decided that we could get back on the subject of Golden.

  Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “How would she do that, Rikki? She’s nice. She even has a pen pal in Italy.”

  “And I thought you said you didn’t want to go to Darwin’s party in the first place?”

  “Well, I do,” I said. “I just don’t want to see Travis.”

  Rikki thought for a moment. “What if she snorts when she laughs?”

  “She won’t,” I moaned. “Come on, Rikki.”

  “What if she wears an ugly suit?”

  I sighed. “She won’t.”

  “What if she stinks?”

  “She doesn’t,” I said. “She wears Exclamation. Like Mary.”

  “Well, what if she talks too much?”

  “She hardly talks at all,” I reminded her.

  “Well, I don’t like her.”

  I sighed again. “Please don’t tell me it’s because she’s white?”

  “I—don’t—like—girls—with—messy—hair—and—weird—brothers! I wouldn’t care if she was green.”

  I considered that for a moment. I honestly doubted that it would make a bit of difference to Rikki if Golden were any other color. Rikki doesn’t have a single friend besides me. And Darwin, of course, but that’s it. There just aren’t too many people that Rikki likes, no matter what race they are.

  I said, “Well, at least you could try to get to know her, Rikki. She seems cool.”

  “I don’t,” Rikki said, “want to. And neither should you.” But for once I didn’t really care what Rikki said. I’d already asked Golden to go with us. And an invite is an invite.

  ten

  On the way home Mary pulled up at a corner store and gave us five dollars to stock up on goods for our contraband box. As Rikki and I were getting out of the car, Mary was already dialing the phone to talk to Archie.

  As we started walking up the sidewalk, Rikki started humming.

  I ignored her.

  But then she broke out into laughter.

  I turned to her. “What’s so funny?”

  “Bet you don’t know what I know,” she sang as we approached the entrance to the store.

  I was starting to detest Rikki Renée Carter! I was tired of always having to beg her to tell me something, so this time I didn’t even bother to respond.

  She put her hand on the door just before I could. “Don’t you wanna know?”

  I put a hand on my hip. “Why should I, Rikki? So you can just say that you’ll tell me later?”

  She looked a little bothered. “Well, all I was going to say was that I heard something about Uncle Ray.”

  I put my other hand on my other hip. “What do you mean you ‘heard something’ about my daddy? Kinda thing is that to say?”

  I reached for the door, but Rikki wouldn’t move.

  Still, I put my hand on the door handle too. I had as much right to open up the door as she did.

  “For real,” she said. “I heard Mama on the phone this morning. She said that Uncle Ray went out to dinner with some woman last week. Ms. Carol’s niece.”

  I swallowed.

  A knowing grin crossed Rikki’s face, and her tongue made a ticking sound.

  I put my hand back on my hip. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mama said that Ms. Carol’s niece likes Uncle Ray. Like maybe even as a boyfriend. And Mama thinks Uncle Ray likes her back, too.”

  “What do you mean ‘likes her back’? That’s ridiculous.” I figured that Rikki was only trying to get back at me for inviting Golden to Darwin’s pool party, but I still wanted to hear what she had to say. And boy, was she anxious to tell it.

  “Mama said that Uncle Ray thinks Ms. Carol’s niece is real pretty.”

  Well. So what? I’ve heard Daddy say that a lot of women were beautiful. “And?” I said.

  “And”—Rikki took a deep breath and took her hand off the door—“she said that Uncle Ray hadn’t had this much fun in along time.”

  “Yeah right. Daddy has fun all the time.”

  “She works for an airline or something like that,” Rikki continued.

  “Oh, wait. And let me guess. I’m not supposed to know about this, either? Don’t say anything to Daddy, right? Just like what you thought you heard about Daddy making me go to private school.”

  She shrugged. “Go on ahead and tell. I’ll just deny it if Uncle Ray asks me if I said it. See if I care. And I did hear Mama say that Uncle Ray was thinking about sending you to Clara Ellis.”

  I cleared my throat and reminded her, “Only you didn’t say ’thinking about.’ You said he definitely was.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Whatever, Rikki.” I pulled open the door and marched inside so that I could get away from her.

  But maybe it wasn’t really Rikki that I was angry with. Why in the world was Daddy keeping so many secrets from me?

  Following close behind me, Rikki tried to sound reassuring. “Uncle Ray is probably gonna tell you, Cassidy. He probably just doesn’t want you to be mad. You know, with the divorce and all.”

  I bit down real hard on my tongue, so hard that afterward I was surprised I didn’t taste any blood.

  “She’s probably ugly,” Rikki suggested.

  “Who cares if she is?” I snapped. “My mother is beautiful too, even more so, and she’ll be back in a year.”

  “Ten months,” Rikki happily corrected me, trying to sound cheerful. “So this woman had better be ready to run.”

  “The only reason Daddy likes listening to the blues is because he misses Mom and can’t wait for her to come back from Africa.” I didn’t really know if that was true, but I thought it could be.

  “Ms. Carol’s niece is probably desperate. Probably looking for a husband real bad like those women in church Mama’s always talking about.”

  Who did this woman think she was? Didn’t she know how busy Daddy was running his own business? Did she honestly think he really had time to date? He had me, plus work, plus cutting the grass to worry about. And didn’t she know that divorce doesn’t have to mean forever?

  Rikki was s
miling now. “Ms. Carol is a sharrrp old woman, don’t get me wrong. I like the way her heels always match her purse and everything, how she be wearing them bad hats, the kind like I’m gonna wear one day. Watch. But, I still bet that niece of hers is butt ugly. She’s probably oogly. I bet she wears corduroys and frumpy sweatshirts.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah. And I bet her teeth are yellow,” I said as I began looking at the candy selection. The corner store is small and dusty, and sometimes the Now and Laters are abnormally hard. Trial and error has taught us what not to purchase.

  “I bet her breath stinks,” Rikki whispered.

  “I bet she can’t dance,” I whispered back as I walked toward the end of the aisle.

  “I bet she’s dumb.” Rikki followed close beside me.

  We both laughed. “Oh, I know she’s dumb,” I said.

  “And if she doesn’t go away on her own, Cassidy, we’ll just have to make her.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll think of something, I’m sure, if we have to.” Rikki picked up a box of Boston Baked Beans and a pack of Juicy Fruit. “Because I don’t know who she thinks she is, coming around here trying to marry my uncle Ray.”

  I grabbed a pack of Starburst and some Skittles. “I know,” I said.

  “With her old ugly self.”

  “Oogly,” I said. “Remember?”

  Rikki laughed. “Right. Well, you know what I meant.”

  There was no air conditioner in the store, and the fan behind the counter was blowing out warm air. Mr. Post was behind the counter grinning, and his face was shining with sweat. He had big, round wet spots in the armpits of his T-shirt.

  “Well look-a here,” he chuckled. “The Carter girls! How’s your daddy?” he said to me.

  “Fine, thanks,” I replied as I slid open the glass door to the soda case. I grabbed a Sprite for me and a Cherry Coke for Rikki.

  “Lookin’ more and more like your daddy every time I see you, I do declare. Jet-black hair, just like him. You know your daddy and me used to play peewee ball together when we were kids, back in the day. Just round the corner from here, ’bout three, four blocks over, matter fact. We used to call him Tonto, looked so much like one of them Indians.”

  I handed him my money. “Yeah, I know.” I sighed at the same politically incorrect history lesson that he gives me all the time.

  “Mr. Big Shot.” He grinned. “See him all the time now, ‘round the city, ridin’ around in his Cat-lack. Mr. Computer Man. Mr. Busy Man. Tell your old man I said, ‘Hey.’ Old jive turkey. Tell him I remember when he used to drive a scooter, them little knobby knees out delivering newspapers.”

  “Will do, Mr. Post,” I replied.

  “Yeah… So, what ya’ll doing for Labor Day?” He wanted to know. “Barbecuing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He looked at Rikki. “Your daddy still preachin’?”

  “Ain’t nothing changed since the last time you asked me.” Rikki rolled her eyes. “And I already know—tell my daddy you said, ‘Hey, jive turkey.’” She tapped her fingers on the counter.

  “I swear, if you don’t act just like your mama,” he said. “Back in the day, ooh-wee.”

  Rikki held out her hand and waited. “My change, please?”

  Mr. Post chuckled as he counted out the coins. “Yeah, them Carter boys always did get all the fine girls.”

  I braced myself, knowing what was coming.

  He said, “Heard from that mama of yours? Out somewhere in the jungle, ain’t she? That’s what I hear. We’ll have to call her Jane.”

  Rikki snatched my bag off the counter and thrust it at me. “Let’s go,” she said.

  “’Bye, Mr. Post,” I called back as we left the store.

  Once we were outside Rikki tugged at my arm, mimicking Mr. Post’s chuckle. “‘Your daddy and me used to play peewee ball together.’” She doubled over laughing. “‘Your mama sure was fine.’ What does he want, a cookie, every time we have to hear that?”

  I laughed with her. “I know.”

  “He’s so gross. I swear it.”

  “And stupid.”

  “And everybody knows,” she said as she crunched on a few Boston Baked Beans, “that our daddies are still the best. Talking all that ‘back in the day’ stuff. That’s why Ms. Carol’s niece is chasing Uncle Ray. Chickenhead. That’s all she is, is a cluck.”

  That stopped me.

  Wow. Could Daddy actually have a girlfriend?

  “Rikki?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Uh…”

  Recognizing the quiver in my voice, she said, “Bite down on your tongue, Cassidy.”

  But I didn’t want to. Maybe if a tear came out, if I let it fall, I’d feel better. Without crying, I managed to ask, “Do you really think Daddy is seeing Ms. Carol’s niece?”

  Rikki hesitated. “Well…”

  “Because that just wouldn’t be right. So soon, you know? Don’t you think?”

  Rikki nodded. “See? That’s why we’ve got to keep things in the family the same. That’s why we can’t let anybody infiltrate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like invade on our territory,” Rikki explained. “That’s what Mary said about Tonya Randles liking Archie, that she’d better not try to infiltrate.”

  “Oh,” I said. But I had the distinct feeling Rikki wasn’t only talking about Ms. Carol’s chickenhead niece doing the infiltrating.

  August 25

  Dear Mom,

  I know I haven’t written in my journal lately. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, just so you know. I’ve been pretty busy, that’s all.

  I’m sure you’re pretty busy too. I’m sure that’s why you haven’t called In a few days. I know you said it’s not always convenient with the time difference and all. The phone rang real late the other night and I thought it was you that Daddy was talking to, but it wasn’t. Maybe it was one of the guys from the band. Not that they have much to talk about, I’m sure. You know, maybe he just wanted to say hello or something.

  eleven

  The following saturday I told Daddy that Mary was going to pick us all up from Golden’s house on her way to work and drop us off at the movies. Afterward we would go to Gino’s Pizza. It was actually becoming fun, keeping secrets from Daddy for a change.

  Rikki, of course, told Uncle Lance and Aunt Honey the same thing, and they agreed to let Golden stay the night, stressing that they expected us back home as soon as Mary got off work.

  So the plan was set.

  Golden did my hair in crimps, and Rikki wore hers down too, more full and curly, though. Rikki said that if Golden was going to come with us, she had to let Rikki do something with her hair. So Rikki had brushed it up into a real high ponytail like I Dream of Jeanie and, for the first time, I realized how lovely Golden’s eyes are. They’re a butterscotch-tinted shade of hazel.

  Golden hadn’t told her mother anything about where we were going. Not the truth, not even a lie. In fact, when Mrs. Anders cheerfully asked where we were going to hang out for the day, Golden had clenched her teeth together and groaned.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Mrs. Anders had said. “Too pushy?”

  “Way,” Golden replied.

  I could tell by the smile in Rikki’s eyes that she was impressed. As we finished primping in the bathroom, Rikki asked Golden how she managed to keep her mother in check like that.

  “What do you mean?” Golden asked.

  “She doesn’t even care where you’re going?” Rikki asked.

  “She saw me with my swimsuit,” Golden said. “I mean, come on. She’ll say anything to make me talk to her. All because a guy comes by in his big blue van and tells us that we need to communicate more.”

  I’d seen that man the other day. Long silver hair in a ponytail, wearing khaki shorts, Birkenstocks, and a white T-shirt. I asked Golden if that was her mother’s boyfriend or something, and it was the first time I heard her laugh.

>   “Yeah, right,” she said. “Please. That’s Mr. Burns. Our headman.”

  I didn’t know what a headman was, and I wasn’t sure if I should ask. Rikki was eyeing me suspiciously, with an I-told-you-so look on her face.

  Hadn’t I prayed for normal neighbors? The Anderses might turn out to be even worse than the Thompsons. Would a headman be scarier than a mortician?

  “What in the world,” Rikki asked Golden, “is a headman?”

  Golden didn’t answer at first, and I thought that maybe she was dismissing the question with silence.

  “He’s a shrink,” she finally said. “My mom makes Freddy and me talk to him about the divorces and stuff because she thinks we can’t handle it all on our own. Like we’re still babies or something. It’s so stupid, though. If anyone can’t handle things, it’s her. I hate talking to him. He’s gross.”

  Rikki started shaking her head, and I took a deep breath and swallowed. How many times had Golden’s mom been married?

  Golden thought some more. “He makes me sick,” she added. “He thinks he knows so much, I swear.”

  Without saying a word, Rikki just kept shaking her head back and forth. There was something very secretive about Golden, but now she was opening up to us a little. I didn’t want to risk annoying her by asking too many questions, though, so I decided to just let the subject drop. Golden could tell us more whenever she was ready. Besides, I didn’t want whatever Golden had to say to give Rikki a dozen more reasons why we shouldn’t be friends with her.

  We could hear Mrs. Anders coming up the hallway, and she stopped in the doorway of the bathroom with her big Nikon camera. Again.

  “Mom,” Golden said, “isn’t that the whole roll yet?”

  Mrs. Anders was smiling from behind the lens as she snapped yet another picture. “Nope,” she said, and snapped again. “How about a group one, girls?”

  We pressed our faces together and smiled as Mrs. Anders snapped away some more.

  “Okay, Mom,” Golden said. “Enough.”

  But Mrs. Anders giggled, and snapped one last candid picture before she left us alone.

  Golden got out huge pink towels from the linen closet for us to use as wraparounds. We helped one another put them on and tie them up in big fat knots at our sides.