Sylv looked at me with wide eyes. “How?”
“You called her a man.”
“I said she looked like a man,” Sylv corrected, like it was a compliment by comparison.
“Well, you might have noticed that Jo cut and colored her hair after that and started reading about twenty books a day instead of her standard ten.” I sighed at my own realization. “She was doing it for Mr Bailey.”
“She was doing it for Mr Bailey alright,” Sylv said with a grin, but she stopped smiling when I turned and stalked down the street.
“Grow up, Sylv.”
Mr Green nearly slammed the door in our faces when we got to his house.
“You!” he said, looking thinner than I remembered. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than my own. I wondered if it was because of the cancer or his daughter, or a bit of both. “I should string the pair of you up. I know you have something to do with this!”
“Good to see you too, Dave,” Sylv said brazenly.
“Can we talk to Jo?” I asked. “Please?”
Mr Green sighed heavily and shook his head. “Sorry, Pipsqueak. She locked herself in her room last night. No dinner, no breakfast and I would reckon no lunch too. The school called…” he trailed off and then sighed again. “Yeah. OK. Give it a shot.”
We stayed for about an hour, talking to her bedroom door. I even got on my hands and knees and pleaded through the gap between the wood and the carpet. I could hear the sound of a nose being blown. It was muffled, like she was buried underneath three duvets and a pile of pillows.
Mr Green made us coffee afterwards, unable to hold a grudge. I wanted to ask about his health, but thought it would be out of line in front of Sylv. Plus, I could see the answer for myself from the state of the house, which looked like a bomb had hit it, followed by an asteroid.
“You girls have gotta watch out for each other,” he said as we sat around the kitchen table, which was covered in magazines, bills and old coffee mugs. “Keep your eye on the ball.”
He looked at me when he said this and I flushed. My ball had been bouncing between Tom, Melissa and Jackson these last couple of months and Jo had kind of been dropped. Well, Deb did like to remind me that my first word had been “Lillie”. It was all about me. Me. Me. Me.
Me and Tom, I corrected myself, swirling my mug between my two hands and watching the grains of instant coffee float up.
When I got home I curled up on the lounge under a hemp blanket and put on a musical. Deb had driven to the state park to meet up with a group of fire dancers, which meant I had the house to myself.
I chose Chicago. Jo had been in love with Richard Gere since we had watched a rerun of Pretty Woman in sixth grade. It was like her prayers had been answered when he signed up to do a musical.
As he belted out “Give ‘em the old Razzle-Dazzle” I looked at him with a nagging thought in the back of my mind. He looked like someone I knew. By the time he finished his tap dance I had worked out who. Mr Bailey. Yep. The same eyes. The same gray wavy hair. They could have been twins.
I hunted through the cushions for the remote and turned off the TV. As the house sank into silence, I thought I heard a sound on the porch. I sat up straight and waited for a knock, but instead I heard the front door creak open.
“Deb?” I jumped to my feet and looked down the hallway, but the front door was closed, deadbolted.
I was murdered in the lounge room in my dreams that night. The killer pushed open the front door with a creak and came down the hallway towards me. Richard Gere-slash-Mr Bailey had finished his tap dance and was befuddling Amos on the stand when the woman in the balaclava walked through the doorway.
I ran into the kitchen and heard her laugh as she followed, as if we were kids playing hide and seek.
I grabbed a knife from the counter. For the first time I had a weapon, even if it was a bread knife.
The woman in the balaclava laughed again and I recognized it as my own laughter.
“Is this a dream?” I asked.
She smiled, her emerald eyes crinkling behind her balaclava. “All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream,” she said cryptically before she grabbed me by the throat.
I dropped the knife as I fell against the counter, the cold washing over me.
18
The rumors continued the following day.
The three top picks were: 1. Jo was pregnant; 2. Mr Bailey was in jail; and 3. Jo had been given top marks in return for lap dances, as if Jo were the lap dancing type.
Jo was absent, of course. Mr Bailey too, which sparked another rumor that they had hit the road, moving from state to state, from motel to motel like Humbert Humbert and Lolita.
Tom was at school, but continued to treat me like the Invisible Girl. I was a social pariah anyway. Sylv too. We would have given out a few slaps if not for Turnip, who patrolled the corridors like a prison warden with a clipboard instead of a gun. We had to be on our best behavior after his word of warning, especially Sylv, who was going to be pulled out of school by her parents if she ended up on the wrong side of Turnip’s law again.
We decided to go to the Masquerade Ball that night. We both needed a pick-me-up.
“Plus, I told Brandon he would be getting lucky tonight,” Sylv said.
“I thought it was Simon,” I said.
Sylv shrugged. “I got bored of Simon.”
We got ready for the ball at my house, but the mood was like getting ready for a funeral.
Sylv was wearing a long red sparkling dress, but she made up for the modest hemline with a plunging V-neck that required double-sided tape to hold in her girls and a pair of red stilettos, which promised a sprained ankle by the end of the night.
My dress was kind of like a smock or a tunic, or even a caftan. It was made from a dusty pink fabric with three-quarter length sleeves and a square neckline. It was from another era. Or another dimension, I thought with a shiver.
I knew my feet would freeze in my sandals, so I pulled on a pair of worn-out cowboy boots. They were the color of toffee, reminding me of Jo joking about eating my hair after Sylv had made it look like caramel. Poor Jo.
Sylv curled our hair and then begged to do my make-up. “Come on, Lillie.”
I shook my head. “My mask will be on in any case.” My mask was pink and I had glued a tiny white bow to the top right-hand corner. Sylv had added horns to her mask, which she had coated in red glitter.
“Please?” Sylv pleaded, taking a swipe at me with her mascara and then with her eyeliner, until I gave in. It was either that or lose an eye.
I studied my reflection afterwards to make sure I was more model-esque than stripper-esque. I definitely looked different. Thanks to her concealer there were no dark circles underneath my eyes, which had been rimmed with brown eyeliner and pink eye shadow. Sylv had smudged the eye shadow along the top and bottom lids before sweeping white eye shadow along my brow bone.
My emerald eyes came and went as I fluttered eyelashes as long as falsies above painted cheeks. It seemed a shame to put on my mask.
“Enjoy,” Deb called out as we climbed out of the beat-up sedan she had been driving since our camper van broke down. It had belonged to a couch surfer who had stayed with us for a week last January, but I guess it belonged to us now.
“Holy Mary,” Sylv said as we stepped into the gymnasium.
“Mother of God,” I concurred, once my eyes had adjusted to the thousands of fairy lights that had been strung around the gymnasium and the ton of balloons that were floating above us. I heard a few popping over the drumming of the music, probably pulled down and stomped on by the skaters.
Our eyes were not on the decorations though. Jo was walking across the basketball court towards the bathroom. At least, I thought it was Jo, but the Jo I knew wore flats, not killer heels decorated with metal studs. She was dressed completely in black as expected, but her LBD was drawing dirty looks from other girls and a few wolf whistles from the boys.
We
followed her into the bathroom, which was filled with girls standing at the sinks, fixing their make-up and bitching about each other. The cubicles were empty though and we spotted her walking into one at the far end.
“Hey,” a senior complained, as I pushed past. I put my hand out as Jo closed the door, pushing against the painted wood.
“Please, Jo,” I begged.
There was a short stand-off before she relented.
As I closed the door behind me, I heard one of the girls at the sink mutter, “Lesbians,” before Sylv threatened to take them to the showers and show them a real-life lesbian. Yep. She liked to play up the rumor that she had kissed at least one girl in her sixteen years. She had started a rumor last year specifically about her and Melissa.
I was face to face with Jo, both of us wearing masks. I pushed mine up, but she continued to look at me through her eyeholes. Her lips formed a tight line below her mask which had been decorated with black satin and lace, but then I saw them wobble as she burst into tears. She dropped her shoulder bag on the floor and flung her arms around me, burying her face into my neck.
“Sorry,” she choked. “I screwed up.”
I gave her a tight squeeze, wringing her like a dishrag before putting at least two feet between us again. Jo was hardly a touchy-feely girl and I also liked my personal space.
“I should be the one apologizing,” I said.
An argument followed about who was sorrier, and so on and so forth. Jo pushed up her mask, revealing cheeks that were streaked with mascara. They were also as red as two tomatoes, as was her nose.
“Are you drunk?”
“No,” she said incredulously, but her eyes flitted to her shoulder bag. My eyes followed and we both dived for it at the same time. There was a tussle, the zipper cutting into my hand as the shoulder bag was pulled back and forth.
I spotted the neck of a whiskey bottle. “Jo,” I moaned.
She suddenly let go and my back hit the door with a thud, the shoulder bag landing like a wrecking ball against my stomach.
“Like you can talk,” she said. “Miss Irresponsible. You slapped Melissa, remember?”
I raised my eyebrows. “You went Goth,” I threw back.
Jo frowned. “You got detention.”
“You started wearing more make-up than Sylv.”
“You got arrested.”
My blood boiled. “And you got it on with a teacher.” As soon as the words fell out of my mouth I wanted to catch them and cram them back in. Jo looked like she was choking on them too, her eyes bulging before she burst into tears again.
I followed suit. “Sorry,” I blubbered.
Jo shook her head and sagged against the wall of the cubicle. “I was such a dunce, Lillie. I asked him for help with my homework and then I threw myself at him.”
I bit my lip, thinking about the pregnancy rumors. “And?”
“And he has a wife and two kids who he loves, thank you very much!” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God. Talk about humiliation.” She grabbed her bag from me and fumbled through it, pulling out the bottle of Johnny Walker. “Want a drink?”
I hesitated for a second and then took a swig. I coughed as it scalded my throat. They say alcohol messes up your memories and I had a couple of memories I wanted messed up, like the one about parallel dimensions and the one where I died in my dreams every night. I took another burning mouthful and gagged.
Suddenly, a head appeared at our feet. It was Sylv, on her hands and knees, looking under the door. “I can see up your dresses. Nice panties, Jo.” Her expression hardened when she saw the bottle. Sylv may have been a wild child, but she was a teetotaler because of her mom, who drank like a fish – and when I say like a fish I mean like an alcoholic fish. She had been sloshed on the eight or so occasions I had seen her in the past year, including once when Sylv had faked a migraine and was picked up from school.
Sylv finished crawling under the door and the three of us were crammed into the cubicle like sardines.
“Ow. Watch it,” Sylv complained.
“How about you get off my foot?”
I took the bottle from Jo and sat on the toilet cistern, taking another swig and another and another. I had a sudden sensation of déjà vu and I searched my memory bank to see if the three of us had shared a cubicle before. Nope.
Sylv grabbed Jo around the waist.
“Damn girl. Have you been eating?”
Jo shrugged and shuffled backwards until Sylv let go. I noticed for the first time how much weight she had dropped over the past couple of weeks. Her legs were like candy rope under her skirt and her wrists looked like they would snap like twigs as she took the half gallon bottle from me with both hands. I also noticed her strawberry roots were showing, and her nose was bright red and flaky from being sandpapered with tissues.
“Spill,” Sylv said.
“There was no kiss. And definitely no sex,” Jo said. She shuddered at the memory, before taking another swig from the bottle. “What the hell was I thinking?”
“You weren’t yourself,” I soothed.
“No. I was. I am,” Jo bawled. “I loved him. I still love him!”
Sylv rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to make a comment, but I gave her a shut-up-and-listen look.
“And now he has to leave Green Grove,” Jo continued. “He said he had to report it. Turnip called my dad. He said I would have been expelled, but Mr Bailey decided to leave school instead.” She choked for a moment on her words. “He got a transfer to Lincoln.”
“Did you at least get suspended?” Sylv asked.
Jo shook her head. “Turnip thought it would put a stop to the rumors if I continued on as normal.”
Normal? I suppressed a giggle at the thought. What the hell was normal about this? It was like being in another dream.
Jo sighed. “But the rumors will never stop.”
“Of course they will,” I lied.
“How stupid do you think I am?” Jo asked. “They feed off it, like vultures.” She nodded her head towards the gaggle of girls outside the cubicle. “And this is juicy meat.”
“Not as stupid as me,” I answered, thinking of Tom.
“Or me,” Sylv said. “Remember my modeling shoot? It turned out the guy was a sleazebag after all. He wanted me to go topless.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I took my top off.”
“What?”
“Just kidding! I told him to shove it and threatened to call the cops if he breathed a word to anyone. I lied and told him I was fifteen.” She clapped her hands gleefully. “He almost shat himself.”
Suddenly, Jo burst into laughter. And I am talking about proper belly laughter. It was a moment or two before we joined in, all laughing like our sides would split.
I was wiping the tears from my eyes when I heard Sylv say, “Cool tatt.”
“What?” I climbed down from the cistern and rotated Jo, so I could see behind her ear. She struggled as I pushed back her hair and there, hidden behind the cartilage of her ear was a string of numbers and letters. A formula, like the tattoo I had seen on Tom. “What the hell?”
“Come on. Give me a break,” Jo said, shaking me off. “You can poke fun at me tomorrow.”
My face crumpled with confusion. Did Jo like Tom? I guess it would have explained her makeover. It would also have explained her coldness towards me. And why she had thrown herself at Mr Bailey. To draw attention to herself. To make Tom jealous. I could understand all of that, but a matching tattoo? No. Not my Jo. But was she my Jo? I frowned at those skinny legs sticking out from under her miniskirt.
“How about we get out of here?” I asked, suddenly claustrophobic.
The gymnasium was claustrophobic too. The crowd pressed in on us from all sides and the music vibrated through the floorboards, like we were in the middle of an earthquake.
“Bleachers?” I asked over the music.
The girls nodded and we moved across the baske
tball court, giving a group of seniors who were dancing up an alcohol-fuelled storm a wide berth. A girl wearing a yellow maxi dress and a feathery mask collided with me, knocking the air out of my lungs.
I let Jo take my hand and pull me towards the bleachers, even though her feet were as wobbly as mine thanks to a combination of alcohol and stilettos.
Suddenly, a guy in a balaclava and a black suit that was a size too large jumped out at us from the shadows. I opened my mouth to scream, but the sound stuck in my throat. The moment had arrived. At least the alcohol would soften the blow.
“This is a stick-up,” he said.
“Jackson!”
I had been holding my breath and it whooshed out when I heard this exclamation from Jo. He put a finger to his lips and I remembered he had been banned from the ball.
As I scanned the crowd for Turnip, I spotted Melissa trotting across the dance floor with a silver mask in her hand. She was wearing a blue satin dress with a split up the side and sparkly stilettos. The crowd parted in front of her, as if she were Moses and they were the Red Sea, and suddenly there was Tom.
He was standing in the doorway, wearing a light gray lounge suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. He surveyed the gymnasium with an air of disdain.
Melissa pulled the silver mask over his head and moved in front of him to check it was on. She fiddled with it, tugging it to the left and then to the right, like a wife straightening a bow tie. My blood boiled. I imagined walking up behind her and grabbing her long black ponytail. I could hear her shriek in my mind.
Tom suddenly looked up, as if he could hear it too. I blushed and turned back towards my friends, following them to the bleachers. I am a good girl, I reminded myself.
Be. Nice. Be. Nice. Be. Nice, I willed myself with each step. Maybe I had finally hit puberty. That would explain my mood-swings. I looked down at my chest and giggled at myself. Yeah right. As if I would suddenly grow breasts four years after getting my period.
I was pulled onto the basketball court by the girls and Jackson. Sylv teased Jo, dancing sexily around her like a stripper around a pole. And I danced with Jackson, who had rolled up his balaclava until it looked like a stocking cap.
When the World was Flat (and we were in love) Page 12