by Angela White
If the Marines said it wouldn’t work, I planned to talk with the Army recruiter next door. Joining that branch would take me longer to reach my goal, but either way would eventually make me a sniper if I had the aptitude and earned the spot. If both offices said I couldn’t have a family and that career, then I might do exactly what I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t. If it meant I could be with Angie, I might accept the awful deal my mother should offer soon. I’d almost made that impossible choice now. If I couldn’t have both, I wanted Angie more than I wanted the Marines.
It was bitter knowledge to carry, but there was no denying which one I wanted, needed, more.
Angie
I wasn’t happy that Marc had come by and I hadn’t gotten to see him, that he’d done so much work without me. I wasn’t happy at all.
Over the last four months, I had flipped into a slightly older, bitter kid who had no idea what was going on with her life. I felt like I was being held back by all the adults, abandoned by my Brady for his coming of age, and I loathed mother Brady as the family gleefully passed the rumors of Marc and Jeanie’s romance. In my jealousy, I still felt like I’d healed him just so he could go to her. I was tired of our ages and family being between us, tired of Georgie rubbing against me as we ran the grill, tired of witnessing my mom passed out across her bed like the prostitute she used to be. Tired of it all.
It wasn’t just me, though. Everyone was unhappy these days. Thanks to the strike, there were no baseball games to excuse hours of drinking or get men out of the house, and mother Brady’s petition to ban the senior backwards show had been successful. So was her attempt to ban trick or treating. Between the baseball strike and the Brady bans, there would be no sales rushes for any of the businesses to look forward to this year, which meant no extra cash for bills, other repairs, or a better way of life–which Georgie said was the single biggest reason a person opened up a business in the first place. It was one of the few times that I ever heard him say anything negative about mother Brady.
As June came, the flirty teenage girls were free for the summer, and I was once again out of a job. I spent a little time at the clubhouse that Marc had worked on without me there to ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ over his bangs and splinters. It was more than half finished now, with a full frame and two walls. The tornado damage had provided a lot of debris for building, but it hurt me too much to hang out there this year. We hadn’t had real time together in so long! I also tried the cornfield, dutifully replacing our flag from the town’s subdued Fourth of July party, but it had stung the worst.
None of my old haunts provided any peace, not even Patty’s shop. She was busy packing up old books to sell at auctions and didn’t have time for my misery. She was having trouble making the payments now that mother Brady’s tornado reprieves were up. Patty expected to be at flea markets and auctions all summer, and maybe even into the fall as well. That left two places for me to be. One was home, which I couldn’t stand. The other was an area forbidden to me because of my age. The top of the hill.
Our trailer park was nestled into a tall, wide hill that ran the length of the property. It had provided sled riding for generations of poor kids raised in these tuna cans. Atop the hill, behind the line of thin trees, was another playground that was shared between the older teens and the new adults. It was empty property and owned by no one as far as I knew. It ran for miles in three directions–a dusty stretch of dirt that was splattered with thistle weeds and led into a thickly wooded forest that even the bravest teens avoided. Supposedly, an old man with a bloody hatchet lived in a cabin back there. Marc had told me it was just a place for older teens and new adults to go and hang out. He’d started to say make out and then censored it. I’d caught the thought and blushed. I had dreamed about kissing him for years. I wasn’t sure what all was involved in making out, but I knew that was.
I climbed the sledding hill in a quick run and made it almost all the way to the top before I had to stop and clutch my sides, gasping for air. It was a big hill and I was barely used to my longer legs. I’d shot up a full inch over the winter and spring.
Ducking behind the first row of trees, I swept the dirt stretch for people and didn’t see anyone. I hurried forward, hearing the engine of a truck on the highway that was the fourth side of the hill.
I made it across the barren area quickly, though I didn’t understand why it was called that when the thistle weed flowers were half my height and covered the area thickly enough to hide any number of animals. Everywhere I looked up here, there was purple, brown, and green. I couldn’t call that barren.
I slipped into the forest with a small chill of rebellion that I knew was addictive. I was a good kid, even if the adults didn’t think so. I did what I was told and I didn’t expose anybody’s secrets. Why couldn’t they just accept me?
Completely into my thoughts, I failed to hear the other engine.
The dirt bike flew by, loud enough to make me jump and I tripped. Stumbling around to catch my balance, I looked up to find the kid on the bike staring back at me instead of where he was going.
“Watch out!”
He turned and whipped the quiet dirt bike to the right, barley missing the tree. Sliding neatly, he spun around and came to where I was standing.
As he stopped, he slid the kickstand down in a cool move that drew a reluctant smile from me. He knew how to ride, like Marc.
The boy took off his helmet to reveal a kid that I went to school with, though we’d ended up in mostly different classes. The only thing that stood out about him to me was a poem he’d recited for an english project. It had been all about bikes and some of the other kids had laughed. Since I’d witnessed the biking group heading up the hill behind my trailer many times, I had sort of understood and clapped.
“I’m Daniel.”
It was nice that he’d given his name. I wondered if he knew how many boys talked to me at school nearly every day, but forgot to tell me that important detail.
“Angie.”
He wiped his hand on his jeans and held it out.
Realizing my hands were filthy, I did the same to mine and then repeated the motion on my once-white shirt.
“Nice to meet you,” I said automatically as I shook his hand. Few boys bothered with that either and I waited for a reaction from the power inside. There was only a warm palm against mine.
Daniel let go and stepped back. “You too.”
As we stood there, I didn’t worry over being alone with Daniel, like I might have with some of the boys at school. He wasn’t threatening. I was worried about being spotted, though. Georgie had become more possessive since school let out for the summer. He’d told me not to be running with any boys, that when I was old enough for that, he would show me what it was all about.
A shiver of fear went over my skin.
“Hey, you’re okay,” Daniel soothed, realizing I was spooked. “I can go away.”
I forced myself to shrug. “Do what you want.”
I went around him, positive he would follow me since he was a boy and that’s what boys did.
Daniel began checking his tires. When I glanced back a few seconds later, he was still at it.
“Is it broken?” I called curiously.
“Naw, just need more air.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I went on, listening for the engine or his steps, but there was neither. A bit annoyed that I couldn’t predict his movements, I shoved into Daniel’s thoughts and found a life much like my own. It was bad enough to stop my feet and send me hesitantly back to where he was still messing with the bike.
Daniel glanced up. “You get scared to go any further?”
“No.” I leaned against a tree, peeling the bark with my broken fingernails. “Are you scared?”
Daniel paused, frowning. “When I have to be.”
“Me too. I don’t like it.”
The magic of friendship swirled around us as Daniel said, “I could give you a ride, if you want. It takes the scared away.”
>
“No, I...” Bitterness flooded me. “Yes, I can. I mean, I’d like that.”
Daniel grinned and I was sure his loneliness was why he’d stopped. The other kids his age didn’t understand his love of bikes and the kids who did, wouldn’t let him join their fun because he wasn’t old enough. I understood having age used against you.
“Now?”
“Okay.” I came over to the bike, but I waited for instructions.
Daniel got on and handed me his helmet. He laced it up without meeting my eye and his shyness was cute. It was also boring. I didn’t feel that special heaviness that I did when I was with Marc. It was actually something of a relief. Maybe Daniel and I really could be friends.
Daniel directed me to the seat behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I tried not to giggle. I was still learning to control these stupid female hormones.
“Hang on,” he instructed, turning the handlebars.
Daniel was a great driver and he was right–I wasn’t scared. He weaved us in and out of the trees and thistle weed like we were on television. Once I got over the first few seconds of trusting him, I loved it.
The ground whizzed by as we jumped potholes and shot around in dizzying circles that drew peals of laughter from my gut. Other than my time with Marc, it was one of the best moments that I ever had. What made it so good was how Daniel didn’t ask me questions or try to kiss me. In fact, he didn’t say much at all. It was nice.
After that, I climbed the hill nearly every day and Daniel always showed up to take me for a ride. I don’t know what he thought of the girl who ignored him during school and clung to him afterwards, but I never explained it. I hoped he understood that while I was at school or in public, I couldn’t reveal any weaknesses and even a friendship would be viewed that way by the people who ruled my life. All my pleasures had to be attained in secret and enjoyed the same way.
Over the long, hard years, that never changed.
Chapter Thirteen
September
Angie
Daniel and I both hated Junior High, just like we had feared. We talked about it sometimes, between bike rides. Daniel was bullied because he wasn’t as quick, athletic, or smart as the other boys were. I was bullied because I wasn’t as confident, as flirty, or fashion aware as the other girls. We tried to fit in, but it was hard. The other kids didn’t have the stresses and home lives that we did.
I found out that Daniel’s mother was a drinker too, but she liked to hit people. Daniel’s father had the same problem as Georgie, wanting what he couldn’t have and Daniel was forever getting between his parents and his younger sister. Daniel often brought her along for our rides so that she would be safe. I understood. It made me wish I had an older brother to protect me, but then I realized being a boy might not make Daniel safe. He wasn’t clear on what type of abuse he was suffering, but he would have told me if I’d asked. I didn’t.
I, on the other hand, wouldn’t name my terrors and claimed everything was fine. Daniel was nice enough not to call that bluff. Despite Georgie threats, I refused to stop spending time with him. Georgie and mother Brady were awful people and I wasn’t going to let them dictate my life anymore. I would do what I wanted and handle the consequences as they came. Other than concerns over the adults, the only other thing I worried about was Daniel wanting more than I could give, but I never once found anything in his thoughts or actions that said he desired me.
By my birthday in October, the rumors had spread that Daniel and I were going out. We denied it, but people don’t usually like hearing the truth and no one believed us. I got my first real beating from Georgie over it. I tried to explain through the slaps, but I could have saved my breath. Georgie didn’t like the idea of anyone touching me except him.
After I screamed that he was the sick pervert, not me, and Georgie slapped me hard enough to knock the beret from my hair, he calmed down. At first, I was forbidden to have any more contact, but when he made that demand, he did it in front mother Brady. He had to relent when she spoke up. I hated her even more for that. She wasn’t trying to help me. She was doing it to be sure that I stayed away from Marc. And the thing was, that’s exactly what I was doing on my own. I’d switched my obsession to Daniel in some ways. He needed me to lend him peace and happiness, the same things I needed from Marc, but without the future secrets lurking between us. In fact, I thought maybe Daniel liked boys. If that was true, the other kids might hurt him when they found out.
I met Daniel at the top of the hill on my birthday, once again not important enough for the family to gather in celebration. I thought thirteen was a big deal, but I’d forgotten my place. The family never failed to remind me of it with their snide remarks or indifference. The only one who paid attention to my birthday was the stepfather just counting the days until he could kiss me and do everything else in his sick mind. My revulsion didn’t matter to him and neither did my pleas to be left alone. He would have his way.
It had gotten me thinking about what would happen in a few years when I did reach whatever age he had set for his line of control. I needed to be gone from here by then. With no job and very little money, there were few options open. We had a large family and some of them might hate Mary enough to help me run, but they were also too scared of her not to tell where I’d gone. Plus, I still wouldn’t have a way to care for myself and that would lead to this same mess all over again, just with some other pervert.
I settled on trying to make more money to save for the run, but I never doubted that I was going to try. I wasn’t going to submit when the time came. I was going to run for my life.
My Brady wasn’t in that scenario at all and I spent many afternoons crying over it. I didn’t want to leave Marc, but he had obviously moved on with his life. He’d already left me. Even if he hadn’t, when he graduated, mother Brady would send him off on the country tour. He wasn’t here now and he wouldn’t be here in a few years when Georgie tried to take what I refused to give. Marc probably still didn’t know what my life was like anyway. As much as I wanted him, I was being forced to admit that he wasn’t the one. If such a person even existed. Whoever they were, they’d have to be really broken to love me.
Daniel didn’t comment on my tears, but he handed me his handkerchief over a shoulder and waited for me to give it back before he got the bike moving. I’d been like this once before and he’d known not to ask what had upset me. Maybe he knew. Maybe he thought I was crying over my home life. I don’t know and we never talked about it. Daniel was great that way.
Feeling particularly grateful to have a friend at all, I hugged him tightly and sent out a burst of the pleasure that I was still learning to control.
Daniel was unprepared for my action, but he didn’t wreck. He wobbled and slowed, then righted us and sped up. I could sense his grin as my emotions settled over him and we blasted down the dirt stretch, uncaring about anyone or anything else in that moment.
Marc
Angie was on Daniel’s bike with him. They looked like a couple enjoying time alone together. The rumors were true.
I forgot how to breathe, shocked by my reaction. I wanted to throw an arm out as they came by and catch Daniel in the throat.
Angie’s laughter rang across the hilltop and my anger tightened another notch. As I chose to go with a punch instead of a clothesline, it occurred to me that I couldn’t do anything. There were kids all over the hill–some sledding in the mud from yesterday’s rains, some riding and walking. Everyone was up here today. I had to pretend that I didn’t care and I wasn’t capable of it. Angie melted to Daniel, Angie’s pleasure flowing out, my Angie...
I’d been gone too long.
Eleven months.
Crushed, I forced my feet to take me back down the hill. I’d already been to the clubhouse and the cornfield, but both had the feel of neglect, telling me that she hadn’t been there much. It had only left one place left to search, which I had avoided since Rodney and Scot had informed me that Angie had a
boyfriend.
I wandered the cornfield, full of things I hadn’t wanted to face. I still didn’t, but there was no denying that Angie was wanted by the other boys. I had competition in every way and because I couldn’t make an open claim, I would have to watch her date. I hadn’t considered that. Was this heart wrenching emptiness how Angie had felt while observing me with Jeanie over the years?
I thought the answer was yes and I was ashamed of myself for never explaining to her that I didn’t even like Jeanie. She’d just become the perfect cover and a release that I rather looked forward to each weekend.
Once Jeanie learned to let me lead, it had gotten better, but I still didn’t have any feelings for the blonde that the other guys said I was a lucky man to be with. People expected us to announce an engagement eventually and the comments were always along those lines from the adults. We were told we’d make good parents more times than I could count. My mother certainly agreed. She’d had Jeanie to the house for dinner several times and she was currently making certain Jeanie got an internship at the local hospital that had been built over the summer. It wasn’t open yet, but my mother was making sure that when it did, my girlfriend would be there from the beginning. I hated it all. I wasn’t positive, but I thought I might even hate Jeanie. I didn’t think I’d ever met someone so self-centered.
And now, I’d lost Angie.
I wanted her arms around me, her laugh in my ear and heart. And I wanted her lips against mine. I finally allowed myself to say it.
“I want her in every way.”
I’d never told her any of that. Angie had no reason to wait for me. I replayed the last years as if I were her and cringed at how callous I’d been, at how much I’d been gone. I had only thought of my own happiness, so she’d gone out and found her own. I couldn’t blame her for that. She’d survived in the way open to her.
Come dusk, I was still stalking the cornfield, determinedly examining my options. I wasn’t giving up without a fight, but there were always our family lines to walk. It took hours of thought for me to be convinced that I wasn’t wrong to try. Angie had loved me once. I’d always known that. Maybe I could get that back.