“What about me?”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Mrs. Henning told Amy.
“You’ll receive your allowance tomorrow, as usual, young lady.”
Amy frowned.
Amanda wished she could smile, but she couldn’t. Her hand shook as she forked more food into her mouth. Luckily, the family conversation led elsewhere. It seemed to cover a lot of territory; however, it never once inched in the direction of Mrs. Henning or any expected (or unexpected) visitors. What possible reason did she have to cheat on her husband? Amanda couldn’t fathom, didn’t want to try. She just wanted to finish her dinner.
“Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Amy asked, finished with her meal.
“Is your homework complete?” Mr. Henning asked.
“Didn’t have any.”
Amanda, momentarily looking up, saw Mr. Henning glare at his daughter.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Sure, I’m sure. Do we still have chocolate?”
“You’re lying to me,” Mr. Henning said.
Horror reflected in the little girl’s eyes.
“No, I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to your father.”
“But I’m not lying.”
“You are so,” Mr. Henning stated. “In fact, Mrs. Stafford said you didn’t turn in your math homework yesterday. She said you have a long division worksheet to do tonight.”
“I already did it.”
Amanda saw worry in the little girl’s expression.
“Go get it,” Mr. Henning said. “I want to see.”
“Okay.”
“Now.”
Amanda, fork clanging against china, set it down with a shaky hand.
“I will after dinner.”
“You’ll do it right now, Amy Henning, so I will know you are not a liar.”
Mr. Henning’s emphasis on “liar” transmitted a chill up Amanda’s spine. She suddenly needed to urinate.
“I’ll get it after dinner,” Amy said.
“Right now, Amy. Don’t lie to me.” Mr. Henning stood up abruptly. His chair, scooting back on marble tiles, caused a horrible squawk.
“That’s okay. I don’t want any ice cream.”
Mr. Henning started to round the table.
“I’ll do it after dinner. Okay, okay, I’ll do it now. No, Daddy. No.”
“You’ll do it when your teacher tells you to do it. And you’ll go get it when I tell you to. Understand?”
Mr. Henning, grabbing Amy by the upper arm, jerked her out of her chair, making the chair topple over.
“No, Daddy. No!”
Mrs. Henning said, “Don’t you lie to your father.”
“I won’t, Mommy. I’ll go get it, Daddy. Please, no.”
“Too late now.”
Amy dropped to the floor and Mr. Henning dragged her screaming by the arm across the kitchen. Mrs. Henning, the adulteress, kept reminding her daughter to mind her father, and Mr. Henning, still tugging Amy by the arm, was saying, “I won’t stand to be lied to. You’re a lying cocksucker. A lying, filthy slut, god damn you. You’re going downstairs.”
“NO!”
Amanda’s heart leaped into her throat and her dinner threated to follow. Hands trembling, she watched madness play out before her eyes. Mr. Henning dragged Amy out of the room and a moment later Amanda heard the door to the basement slam shut. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried unsuccessfully to pick up her fork.
“Do you want ice cream for dessert?” Mrs. Henning asked. Amanda sensed a reward for not having divulged their little secret to Mr. Henning.
“No, ma’am. May I be excused?”
“Yes, you may.”
Amanda cleared her plate then went upstairs. In the bathroom she hunkered over the toilet, her dinner spewing into the bowl. After a quick brushing of her teeth, Amanda retreated to her bedroom where she curled up into a corner, arms wrapped around her knees, and tried to rock away insanity.
Some time later a knock at her door startled her.
“Yes?” Amanda stood up on uneasy legs.
Mr. Henning’s voice echoed through the door: “May I come in?”
“Yes, sir.”
Amanda sat down on her bed as Mr. Henning came in carrying money in his hand. The mattress sank when he joined Amanda on the bed, and the disturbance caused her weight to shift and their shoulders bumped together. She leaned away from him.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that. I truly am.”
“It’s okay.”
“Here is your allowance, along with a little something extra for all the good work you’ve done around the house.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I insist.”
Amanda accepted the money with a shaky hand.
“We are both very proud of you,” Mr. Henning repeated as he patted Amanda’s leg.
“Thank you.”
“I won’t stand to be lied to. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I don’t expect any trouble from you.”
With a squeeze of her thigh Mr. Henning stood up and walked out the door. When Amanda heard him descending the stairs she raced across her room and shut her door. She wished it had a lock.
CHAPTER TEN
On Friday the school day seemed to drag. Amanda found herself watching the clock in each class, counting down the minutes until the bell.
At lunch, though, time flew by. Amanda met Pammy at her locker, and the two went to the cafeteria. Amanda got a salad while Pammy piled two chicken breasts, mixed veggies, peaches, and rolls, with globs of butter on her tray.
“I don’t know where all that food goes,” Amanda said, astonished at her friend’s appetite.
“What can I say? The baby is hungry and so am I.”
“Obviously,” Amanda teased.
Over the past week the pair had bonded, and now Amanda felt comfortable with Pammy, despite their obvious differences. She had yet to ask her friend the question most gnawing at her. She had hoped, if she was patient enough, the answer might surface on its own. It hadn’t. Now seemed like an opportune time.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what are your plans after the baby is born? How are things between you and the father?”
Pammy shrugged, swallowed, took a drink of milk before saying, “My mother will take care of it. The sperm donor isn’t really involved.”
Sperm donor?
“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I’m an open book. That’s what friends are for, right?”
Amanda smiled. “Right.” After a pause, she said, “Do you know the baby’s sex? Have you come up with a name yet?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t want to know until it’s here.”
“Oh. Guess you don’t have any names, then.”
“Not really. There are a lot of names I like, but no sense deciding on any until the baby arrives. Kind of weird, I know, but that’s just how I feel about it.”
Amanda didn’t really understand. Then again, she wasn’t a teen mother-to-be so she had no clue what it might be like. The conversation made her feel a little funny and definitely more than a little curious. But she focused on her salad.
Pammy broke the silence.
“He was a one-night stand.”
“Oh.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never had a one-night stand, huh?”
“No, never.” Amanda glanced at her salad, panned the lunchroom wondering how many of her peers had done such a thing. Several girls wearing black dresses passed her eyes.
“Look at me,” Pammy said.
“What?”
Pammy, leaning closer, peered deep into Amanda’s eyes.
“What?” Amanda repeated.
“You are, aren’t you?” Pammy grinned.
“I am what? You’re confusing me.”
“You’ve never fucked a guy before, have you?”
A
manda looked away. She felt herself turning a dozen shades of red.
“I knew it.” Pammy’s voice became a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re a virgin.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“So?”
“I’m just screwing with you, girl. It’s no big thing. Well …” Pammy smirked, “some of them are.”
“Ohmygosh. I can’t believe you went there.”
“Went there, boned him, got the T-shirt.”
Amanda’s hand covered her mouth in shock.
“I think it’s great that you are, though,” Pammy said. “Wish I was still a virgin.”
“Really?”
“No. I like dick too much.”
“You’re so bad.”
“Sometimes.”
Amanda tried to stifle a grin. She couldn’t believe their conversation.
“Maybe we’ll find a guy for you tonight,” Pammy said.
The thought of meeting a sweet guy did appeal to Amanda. Somehow, though, she didn’t think her friend was alluding to boyfriend material.
“Or perhaps we’ll find you a guy,” Amanda teased back.
“Oh yeah,” Pammy said, leaning back and rubbing her growing belly, “we’ll find some guy who wants some of this.”
Gosh, what a hoot. Amanda loved her new friend. “First, we’ve got to find a job for me. Okay?”
“No problem. Then maybe we find an older guy who is into preggy teens.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. Pammy stopped joking and started forking food into her mouth. Not much time remained in the lunch period. They were headed back to their lockers when the warning bell sounded.
The afternoon passed almost as slowly as the morning, but Amanda’s mind kept churning through their conversation from lunch. Although Amanda now held a different perception of her friend, she also felt so much closer to her.
After school they met at Pammy’s locker and, backpacks loaded with weekend homework, the two girls met Amy in front of the Elementary School building.
“Wish I could go, too,” Amy said as they walked to the Henning home.
“You have fun with Tara all the time,” Amanda said.
“Not lately.”
True. Although the two had enjoyed the summer together, or so Amy had said, they hadn’t spent time together outside of school since Amanda’s arrival.
“You should ask. Maybe you could do something with Tara tomorrow or Sunday.”
“Okay.”
“My sister and I,” Pammy said, “don’t get along as well as you two do.”
“I’ve only lived with the Henning family for a few weeks,” Amanda reminded her friend.
“Oh, I know,” Pammy said. “Give it time.”
“Nope,” Amy said. “We’ll always be best buddies. Amanda plays Barbie dolls with me almost every day after school. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes. Usually. After our chores and homework are finished.”
“Amanda will have less time to play with you, though, after she finds a part-time job.”
“Really?”
“I’m afraid so,” Amanda said, causing a pout on Amy’s mug.
“Yep,” Pammy said. “And after we find her a boyfriend, well, I hate to break the bad news to you kiddo …”
“Hey! You’re not gonna do that, are you?” Amy said, worry in her voice.
“No,” Amanda said. “I’m pretty busy. Besides, where would I meet a boy? We go to a private all-girl school.”
“Well, dearest Amanda,” Pammy said, draping an arm around her shoulders, “we’ll just have to find you a part-time job somewhere that employs a lot of fine man-meat.”
Man-meat. The phrase conjured incomplete images of the male anatomy. Incomplete yet dangling images.
“Ew!” Amy said, reflecting Amanda’s sentiment. Such a thought struck fear deep in Amanda’s psyche. Amanda, thoroughly enraptured by the thought of boys in general, didn’t dare let thoughts of squishy, naked sex linger for long. The time for such thoughts (and acts) would arrive in time. There was no need to rush them. She said:
“I’ll settle for any decent job.”
“More man-meat for me, then.”
“Looks like you already had enough.”
“Amy. That’s not nice.”
“I don’t mind,” Pammy said.
“Still. Say you’re sorry.”
“I know where babies come from. I’m not stupid.”
“Just because you know where babies come from doesn’t mean you aren’t stupid,” Amanda teased, inciting a giggle from Pammy.
“You can do stuff without getting pregnant, you know.”
“How do you know that?” Amanda asked.
Amy shrugged. “Girls at school told me.”
“Tara?”
“Maybe. I can’t remember.”
“Well,” Pammy said, “it’s true, you can protect yourself. But accidents happen. Remember that.”
“Ohmygosh,” Amanda said. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this. Amy’s only eleven.”
“She’s obviously already heard all of this before. It doesn’t hurt to learn that your actions carry consequences before you’re old enough to make mistakes, or have accidents.”
“Well looky here,” Amanda said, changing the subject. “This is where we live. You did bring a change of clothes, didn’t you?”
“Nah, I thought I’d wear this sexy rag to flirt with boys. Of course I did.”
Did Pammy truly plan to flirt with boys tonight? Oh my. Amanda hoped she found a job early on so she could flirt with boys too, without the stress of job hunting weighing her down.
They entered the Henning home and went upstairs to Amanda’s room to change clothes. Amanda, wanting to make a good impression, had selected dark slacks and white blouse. The black, comfortable shoes she wore to school would have to do. Pammy also began to change clothes. Amanda, attempting not to be obvious, stole several glances at Pammy’s pregnant belly. Stretch marks left pale trails across taut flesh, and her bra was much too tight.
Pammy, before buttoning up her blouse, drummed on her belly, then cocked a hip and thrust out her bust. “Ain’t I a sexy thang?”
A smile spread across Amanda’s face. “Sure are. You’ll find some man-meat for sure.”
“Finding man-meat ain’t no thang, sweets.”
With a flip of her hair Amanda said in a sultry voice, “Pardon me, sir. Are you hiring?”
“Baby, I’d work you overtime.”
The two newfound friends burst out in giggles. They continued to joke while Pammy finished dressing and Amanda pulled her hair back into a long ponytail. Amanda thought doing so made her appear more professional. Not that she expected to land an office job but with a little luck she might find a mom and pop place to work instead of fast food. Either way, she didn’t truly care, but anything besides McDonald’s or Taco Bell would be an improvement.
“Wow,” Amanda said. “You look great.”
“What, a knocked-up chick can’t look sexy?”
“You certainly do. Way sexy.”
“Well, I’m not that fat. Not yet, anyway. We should be leaving, if we want to catch the Jo to Old Downtown.”
They headed downstairs where they encountered Mrs. Henning.
“Before you girls leave,” she said, “I want you to take this.” She handed Amanda a cell phone. “I assume you know how it works.”
“Yes, Mrs. Henning.”
“So this is your friend Pamela.”
“Hi, Mrs. Henning,” Pammy said.
“It’s nice to finally meet you. Well, I won’t delay you any longer. Curfew tonight is ten p.m. Call if you need anything. Our number is listed as ‘Home’ in the directory. Any questions?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have fun, be safe, and good luck with your job hunt.”
“Thank you.”
Pammy and Amanda left. They made it to the bus stop just as the bus pulled to the curb. An exhilarating rush filled Aman
da as the bus zoomed away from campus. It didn’t take long to reach their destination, only two stops away.
“We could have walked,” Amanda said, stepping off the bus.
“Speak for yourself,” Pammy said.
“True. I’m not carrying a baby or a backpack.”
The Old Downtown area, while not at all large, offered a variety of possibilities.
“If you don’t find something here, we can try Oak Park Mall,” Pammy said.
“I’d rather not work at the mall, if possible.”
“What about this Asian massage parlor?” Pammy pantomimed stroking a penis. “They could use a hand.”
“No, thank you very much.”
“Aw, why not?”
“For starters, I’m not Asian.”
“Suit yourself. Although I doubt you’d get any complaints.”
“I’d rather work the food court at the mall. This coffee shop looks promising.”
“Go ahead,” Pammy said, glancing down the sidewalk at some guys mingling outside a shop. “If you’re in there long I’ll come in. Otherwise, I’ll just wait for you.”
“Okay.”
“Good luck.”
Amanda, after taking a deep breath, strode in, consciously holding her chin up and smiling. The place was hopping and the baristas busy. A good sign for a job seeker. Amanda slid into line behind a guy jonesing for caffeine. Several minutes passed before a spiky-haired brunette sporting wrist tattoos and a nose ring offered to help her.
“Yes, thank you. Is the manager available?”
“He’s in back.”
“May I speak with him, please?”
The overworked woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, sighed and said, “Sure. What’s it about?”
“Well, I’m looking for a job.”
“Are you eighteen?”
“Not yet. I’m sevent—”
“Sorry, you gotta be eighteen. Can I get you a coffee or muffin?”
“No, thanks.”
Amanda, hanging her head, left the establishment.
Pammy said, “Not hiring, huh?”
“Not me. I’m not old enough.”
“Fuck them.”
“Pammy.”
“Let’s see what else is available.”
They passed an Easy Pawn and a liquor store, both places Amanda assumed she wouldn’t be old enough to work at. Further down the street they passed a place called Sugar Plum Grill with a Help Wanted sign in the window. Inside Amanda could see a teenage boy wiping clean a table and a girl about her own age scooping ice cream onto a cone. A chubby, middle-aged man worked behind a register. The establishment, clean and enticing, called out to Amanda.
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