The Shore Girl

by Fran Kimmel

  I crawled out from behind the hedge and ran through an open patch of dirt, while the stars shone a bullseye on my head, free geek, come get him. But no one spotted me, so I hid behind a tree.

  They formed a circle in front of Rebee’s house. Even from behind that tree, the stink of booze was so heady I couldn’t breathe.

  They stumbled around and then the guys went off at once. HELLOOOOO. Beeeeeeeee afraid. I’m completely dead. I’ve come to drink your blood. WAAAAAAH. I’m the asshole Judge and I’ve come to — “Stop it,” the girl with the sparkly glove whined. “It’s creepy enough up here.”

  More ooooohing and aaaaahing.

  “Forget the fucking ghosts,” boomed the big one with ice cream girl attached to his hip. “Car, remember.”

  Ice cream girl slapped his cheek. “You’re such a dipshit, JD.”

  He lurched forward, pushing ice cream girl back, and yelled, “So where is it? This car you been beaking off about? The ’59 Caddy. That asshole loved his car.”

  They passed the bottle, blubs and glugs. A guy lit a pipe, and sent it round the circle. A crumbled pack of Marlboros whizzed through the air. A click of Bics, flashes of fire.

  The shaved head guy said, “Maybe we should have ourselves a little bonfire. Burn the creep’s place down.”

  I crouched on the ground in my hiding spot behind the tree. What had I done? I felt too sick to be sick, dizzy and bloodless.

  The greasers hooted and hollered. For sure. Absofucking-tootly. Burn the house down. The girls hugged themselves. They didn’t know I was there.

  Ice cream girl piped up, “You burn his house down, you stay in jail for sure this time.” She stamped her foot and her cigarette dropped from her mouth.

  My heart lubbed in my chest. I felt like crumpling. Only now they were moving towards her door. What if they really did burn down her house? What if Rebee was inside and couldn’t get out? What if she was crouched behind a window, scared out of her skull?

  I tried to stop my feet, begged them to stay still, but they wouldn’t listen. I picked myself up, pieces of me, and stepped out from behind the tree.

  “Wait,” I sputtered.

  Ice cream girl spotted me first. She stumbled over and fell into me, a giggle and whoosh. “Tiger. Tiger. Buddy. LUUUUV you.” She pulled-pushed me towards the others. The JD guy loomed right in front of me. He seemed to be the one in charge.

  “You the kid next door?” he said.

  I kept my eyes down, not daring to look. The others bunched behind, except for the Kiss T-shirt guy, who muttered something about taking a leak. He wandered round the side of the house, back to where the Judge’s rotting garage tilted on the cliff.

  Ice cream girl crashed into JD and slid down his arm. He grabbed a wad of blue hair and yanked her back up.

  “Tell ’bout the car, Tiger,” she slurred. “Asshole Judge.” Black streaks ran down her cheeks. She tried to point at me, but she couldn’t hold her finger steady, doodling wildly in the air.

  Rebee’s dark porch breathed at my back. “There is no car.” My heart stopped.

  “Really,” JD snorted, blowing smoke in my face. “Thas not what you told Jemma here.” He steered her around to face me.

  I swallowed. Did not take a breath. “There is no car. I made the story up.”

  Her name was Jemma. She couldn’t stay upright. JD let go and she thudded to the ground. The not pretty girl with the square face tripped over her, but righted herself before she fell down. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, stumbling towards JD. “This place creeps me out.”

  Shaved head said, “We’re gonna go in. Check things out. See where the Judge did the dirty deed.” They all laughed. Except JD.

  The sparkly-gloved girl hugged her arms and rocked back and forth. “We can’t go in there. He’s in that house.”

  “So’s Elvis,” someone yelled from behind.

  “No. Really. I can feel him. Let’s go, ’kay?”

  JD flicked his arm. “Shut up already.” Everybody shut up. Jemma groaned on the ground. JD’s whole mad-drunk concentration landed on me. “So what about the car, kid?”

  I looked down, catching a glimpse of his belt buckle, and swallowed.

  “Well?”

  I shook my head. “I made it up. About the car. The Judge sold it to a car dealer in Edmonton. Before he died. Melvin Peevley said so. Ask him yourself. At the LetterDrop.”

  The others went quiet.

  “The Judge would never a sold that car,” JD said.

  I couldn’t think of anything else to convince him.

  “You lie to all your friends?” he asked this friendly-like, just a nice simple question. “Well?” He grabbed a fistful of my hoody and pulled me into him. I dangled under his chin in front of the constellations and gulped mouthfuls of leaking booze and oniony sweat and a sour smell like my sheets after a bad night. If JD let go in that second, I’d fall on my face. But he didn’t. I stayed pinned to his hand, while he contemplated what to do next. I flashed through the possibilities, the parts of me he would hurt first. I thought about how long I’d last until I cried like a baby. My heart hammered against my skin.

  I was about to pee myself. But then she was there. No one knew how. She just floated from the shadows of the porch and landed right beside me.

  “Jesus,” JD flung his fingers wide, freeing me in an instant. He fumbled backwards. “Jesus.” He panted a little, blinking. The others, too. Sparkly glove covered her mouth. Jemma got on all fours and then climbed herself up off the ground, bracing herself against square face.

  The goons huddled together, all bluster gone. They stared wide-eyed at the ghost of the girl in front of them. I stared, too. Had she swum out of my head? Nothing about her looked real. The whites of her unblinking eyes were piercingly bright. She had a wild, warrior look, almost electric. The slivered moon washed over her, skin deathly pale, blue tinged. She wore no shoes, her bare toes planted wide, hands at her side, perfectly still. Fearless.

  “Who the hell are you?” JD wanted to know.

  She stared at JD so fiercely he had to look away. He groped his pockets for cigarettes, then a match. It took him three tries to get the thing lit.

  “You’re on my property,” Rebee said.

  He shrugged to the others, as if, look, it’s only a girl. “Your property,” he snorted. “This is the Judge’s place.”

  “So you don’t belong here.”

  “And you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “You a relation or sumthin’? He’s dead. This place was supposed to be empty.”

  Rebee didn’t answer.

  “The Judge was a friend of ours.” JD grinned to the others standing behind him. “We’re gonna take a look-see is all.

  Make sure his old Caddy is doing okay.”

  Nobody else made a sound.

  “There’s nothing to see,” Rebee said, as if she believed it.

  “You say.”

  “I do.”

  “I’m sorry, Rebee,” I whispered. I wanted to get us inside and barricade the door. But she stood her ground.

  Then there was a commotion around the side of the house. The greaser who’d gone off to piss in the trees came back into sight. “JD, come see,” he yelled. “There’s an old garage back there.” And then, “Holy shit! Who’s she?”

  Rebee didn’t bother to look his way. Her eyes stayed on JD. “Like I said,” she told him. “There is no car.”

  “But there’s a garage,” JD said.

  “Apparently.”

  “That Caddy inside, all dressed up, nowhere to go?”

  Rebee didn’t blink.

  “If there’s no car, you won’t mind if we go see.”

  She narrowed her eyes and took a long, slow, deep breath. “All right. I’ll show you the way. And then you and your little friends can get off my property.”

  She glided away from us. JD was pissed, eyes glaring. He wasn’t used to this kind of girl. He stomped off after her, his drunken groupie
s following.

  “Rebee,” I called out, my guts rising as I stumbled to keep up. She couldn’t have forgotten what was behind that door. I’d spent the best night of my life inside that car. What was she planning to do? Twitch her nose, make it disappear?

  I could feel the earth biting her bare feet as my runners tripped along beside her. It was a long trek, farther than I remembered. The stars tracked us across the clearing. That sorry building loomed closer and closer.

  “I’m sorry, Rebee,” I stammered. The others rustled and crunched behind us like rats. What would JD do to her?

  Too soon we were in front of the garage door. Rebee stood, legs apart, hands on her hips. There was no place to hide. I stood beside her.

  She turned and faced the pack. “Here we are,” she said casually.

  JD licked his lips. “Here we are.” That big, stupid greaser wanted to slide in behind the wheel like he was king of the hill, stomp his foot on the pedal, gun the engine, squeal out of there. Rebee couldn’t stop it. She’d try. And she’d get hurt. She’d get hurt bad cause of me.

  “Go ahead,” Rebee said, pointing to the door. “Open it.” JD stepped forward, puffing himself up like a peacock. He bent at the waist and grabbed hold of the rusted handle, twisting around slowly to glint at the others. The door cracked open a few inches, releasing a musty smell.

  My insides roared, my fear stink wrestling with all the other bad smells. JD was yanking the curved metal of the handle, his body bent in two right in front of me. He moved in slow motion, like he had nothing but time. I didn’t. I only had a second before the whole world fell apart. Open the door, JD. See the shiny car. See Joey run.

  Everything bad in me needed to get out. I hadn’t done a single right thing in my small pathetic life. I was good for nothing. I had one and only one skill. I didn’t so much think it, as become it. I opened my mouth, clenched my gut muscles, and summoned up great mounds of vomit. JD was on his way up, coming out of his crouch. I blaached everything I had at him. It landed on his belt buckle, dripped off the swell of his gut, splattered along the thighs of his jeans, coated his outspread arms.

  “Jesus,” he cried, staggering backwards into the pack. Rebee stood motionless. The others yowled and scattered. JD stared down at himself, at the globs dripping off him. My globs.

  “I’m gonna kill you, you little puke,” he snarled, flinging his head, a mad dog.

  Rebee stepped closer to me. “You wanted a look-see. Here you go.” She tugged at the door ferociously until it groaned all the way up. I blinked the water from my eyes, waiting for the Cadillac to come out of the shadows. But there was just a black empty nothingness.

  “Satisfied?” Rebee said calmly, brandishing her arm like a magician. The smell didn’t seem to faze her.

  JD stared into the gaping empty hole beyond the door, his jaw hanging open, his rage extinguished.

  The others were done with this party. They slunk back through the clearing in twos and threes, arguing about who would ride with JD.

  “So you can get off my property now,” Rebee said to JD.

  He glowered from me to Rebee to his disappearing buddies and then back to me. His fist clenched against his nose. He reeked. What was he thinking? I can ignore it, beat the crap out of this puker. I inched backwards into the empty garage.

  “You really want to do this?” Rebee asked, her voice low. She stepped towards JD. “Your friends are leaving.”

  He glared after his retreating buddies. “That kid puked all over me,” he growled.

  “I know,” Rebee responded. “He does that when he’s scared.” And when he’s happy and when he’s bored, I wanted to tell her. But she was right. He does that when he’s scared. Mostly. “You just wanted to take a look was all,” Rebee was saying, so quiet she was almost whispering.

  “So whad he do with it?” JD had toned it down considerably. “Go, JD. If it turns up, you can have it.”

  “Yah, sure.”

  “Really,” she said. “I don’t want it.”

  He looked like he could almost believe her if she just kept talking in that calming voice.

  “Go JD. There’s nothing you want here tonight.”

  Miraculously, he went. Slowly, at first. One clumsy backwards step at a time, not taking his eyes off her. Then he turned and stomped towards the others, the stink going with him. Drunk talk. Yelling. Doors slamming. The ground vibrating with the boom, boom, boom of cranked stereos and engines. Tires spun on the loose gravel.

  And then we were alone in the night, Rebee and me. I crept out of my hiding place and stood beside her. What do you say after something like that?

  “Hi, Rebee,” I said.

  She looked up at the stars. So much light reflected in her eyes. We were mere specks under the twinkling sky. It felt like we were the only ones left to breathe for the world.

  Rebee took a deep gulp of air, filling her lungs. “It’s nice here,” she said quietly.

  “Rebee, I’m sorry that I — ”

  But she was moving away. Again. Striding forwards, into the clearing. It seemed if we weren’t in a car, I spent all my time scrambling behind her.

  “Rebee. I’m trying to tell you. I brought them here. Oh purpose. To stir up trouble. Trouble for you. On purpose!”

  She dropped down in a grassy patch by some overgrown bushes. She lay on her back, spread her arms wide, and stared up at the sky. Of course I’d seen this before. That first time, from my hedge spot. The next kazillion times, she did her lying-down thing in my head. Rebee under the sky. Rebee under my skin. The pictures looked the same. I loved looking at them. I loved looking at her.

  “I’m trying to apologize.” I stood over her, feeling hot and fired up. “You’re not even listening.”

  “Lie down beside me. Look up.”

  “Don’t you care I brought them here?” I said, my voice too loud, echoing a little. “JD could have punched you. I bet he punches girls all the time. This whole stupid night was my fault.”

  Rebee pulled one knee up and swayed it back and forth. She kneaded her toes in the tall grass. “It’s not so stupid. Look.”

  I felt like a human blender. My body ached all over. I didn’t want to look up, or look down on her like a moron, so I plunked on my ass and flattened myself in the grass. “Where did the car go?” I asked, eyes closed.

  “It’s gone,” Rebee said.

  “Gone where?”

  “I got rid of it. I didn’t want it here.”

  Got rid of it? Just like that? “So who did you call?” A tow truck? Mr. Melvin I-Can-Do-Anything?

  “No one.”

  “You said you couldn’t drive.”

  “I underestimated myself.”

  “Oh.” I was afraid to open my eyes. I was afraid to think about what she’d done. Did she get rid of everything she didn’t want? Cars, mothers, crazy aunties, drunken grease balls, zit boys from next door?

  “Open your eyes, Joey. Look for a shooting star.”

  It was incredible. The big night sky hurtling down. Blue-white points, reds and yellows, round fuzz balls, light bouncing. It was better than a movie.

  We lay like that for a long time, side by side on the grass. There was a kids’ song about falling stars, but I couldn’t think of the words. Rebee spotted two, one right after the other. I missed them both.

  “How come you were ignoring me?” I asked. “That’s why I told Jemma about the car. I was mad at you. I knew she’d tell her hoser friends.”

  “People do bad things,” Rebee said, too matter-of-factly. Then she passed me her Wintergreen package. I wanted to ask, what people? Did she mean me, or her, or JD, or the world? But she said, “Un-focus your eyes. Look for different shapes in the patterns.”

  I saw floaters more than shapes. I took a Life Saver and gave her back the roll.

  “I thought I hated you,” I said.

  “Do you?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  She pointed to the tiny lights above us. “Makes yo
u want to reach up and grab one.”

  I wanted to take her hand. “Are we friends?” I held my breath.

  She stayed quiet for too long, so I asked again. “Are we, Rebee?”

  Rebee cupped her hands behind her head. She still wasn’t looking at me. “You don’t need a friend like me, Joey.”

  I leaned on my elbow and stared at her. Her eyes were enormous. Strands of her hair shimmered silver under the stars. “Yes, I do,” I said. “Is it cause I’m a dweeb?”

  She sat up and brushed grass off her sweater. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re quite brave really. And you’ve got perfect aim.”

  “Brave,” I snorted. “I’m the biggest coward I know.”

  “I watched you behind that tree.”

  “You saw that? Me?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  Of course she could see that dweeby stick of a boy sniveling behind a tree. She was a girl who saw everything.

  “You could have stayed there,” she stretched her arms. “But you didn’t.”

  “And you think that’s brave?”

  “I do.”

  She didn’t say things just to be nice. She really meant it. “Then why can’t we be friends?”

  “All right,” she said, finally. “For tonight we’re friends.”

  “I don’t want to be friends just for tonight.” I was whining like a baby, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Rebee sighed. “You’re hard to please.”

  “Don’t you care what happens?” My heart was thudding.

  She was remarkably calm. Annoyed maybe. “We’ll call this whatever you want. Your mom will come back. Soon, I bet. You’ll get settled in school somewhere and you’ll meet real friends and you’ll forget all about Chesterfield and this crazy summer.”