The coin was hot in my hand. I held it up to examine the hole winking in the center of the armadillo.
Scott and I didn’t take a limo to prom or anything fancy like that. We drove in the van he had bought two days before, a 1962 Volkswagen camper van, eggplant purple, that he had bought off a couple of hippies for a song.
“It’ll be perfect for our trip!” he said, as he showed me the van. “Look at all this room!”
I had to admit, the van was pretty sweet. It even had little tie-dye curtains and matching pillows that someone had made especially for it. There was a tiny sink and a mini-fridge in the back. There was a table built into the side that you could flip up into the wall when you wanted more room. “Look,” Scott said, putting the table down. “We can sit here and play cards.” He grinned.
My mom was smitten over the van, and maybe with Scott a little, too. His hair had gotten longer, and he had gotten stronger and leaner working construction in the months since he’d left Louisiana.
“I would have loved something like this when I was your age,” Mom gushed, running her hand over a headlight. “You’re so lucky, Abby. You’re going to have such a great trip. What an adventure!”
So we arrived in style to the prom. Scott wore dark jeans, a white dress shirt and a black pin-stripe jacket. He parked the van and I sat quietly in the passenger seat with my hands in my lap.
“You ready for this?” he said.
I grabbed onto my left hand to stop it from shaking. “I guess I’m a little nervous,” I said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been around all these people and…things are so different now. I’m different.”
“You want to bail and just keep driving? Because we could do that.”
I breathed in. Breathed out. “No,” I said. “I want to do this.”
“Okay then,” Scott said. “Let’s do this!” He got out and slammed his door, then came around to my side and opened the door for me and helped me out. “And did I mention how absolutely fabulous you look tonight, Miss Furlowe?”
I laughed. “Thanks. You’re looking pretty fabulous yourself.”
“Well, I did comb my hair for the occasion.”
I laughed.
“Oh no! Wait! I almost forgot. Hang on.” He unlocked the van and climbed into the back. I could see him through the windows, getting something out of the mini-fridge.
I took my compact out of my purse and checked my makeup. “Okay,” I said under my breath. “You’re okay.” When Scott came back, I clicked my compact shut and slid it back into my purse.
“Here,” he said. “Give me your wrist.” He held a wrist corsage with a white magnolia in the center of it.
“Oh my goodness,” I said. “Thank you! It’s beautiful.”
He carefully fastened it around my wrist. “My mom helped me pick it out,” he said, shrugging.
“Aw, that’s so cute,” I said. “I really like it.”
“I’m glad.”
I admired the corsage, breathing in its scent. “It reminds me of the magnolias at Carville.”
“Me too,” he said. Then he offered me his arm. “Shall we?”
I took his arm and we went into the banquet hall.
We had time to cruise around for a while before the dinner started. The dance followed the dinner and then they would announce the prom king and queen. We got some punch and I hoped that someone had spiked it. Everyone was dressed to the nines. It was pretty cool checking everyone out. Some people cleaned up so well I barely recognized them. Dustin came over and said hi. Aaron came over and said hi. Marla ran up to us while we were on our second round at the punch table. “Oh my God, Abby?!” She wore an emerald green tea-length dress and had her hair in an up-do. She squealed, hugged me. “Abby you look so good!”
“Thanks,” I said. “I feel good. That’s the important part.” I glanced at Scott. He smiled at me. I introduced them. I could tell Marla thought he was hot. Obviously.
“Where’s Liz?” I said.
Marla shook her head. “Nate doesn’t do prom. You know…so…she didn’t come.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. “She’s only been talking about it for three years.”
“Yeah, well,” Marla said. “She’ll regret it. One day.”
Marla leaned closer to me. “I love your necklace,” she said. “Is that an armadillo?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“So cool! Where did you get it?”
“Well,” I said, glancing at Scott. “It’s kind of a long story.”
She nodded. Took a sip of her punch. “We probably have a few minutes before dinner starts,” she said.
“Maybe some other time,” I said.
“Oh. Okay, well…I should check on my date, I guess,” she said, glancing behind her. “It was so good to see you, Abby. You look so great. You really do.”
“Thanks.”
“And nice to meet you, Scott.”
“Likewise,” he said.
She gave us a little wave and went away.
“Friend of yours?” Scott said.
“Best friend,” I said. “Used to be.”
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
“Nope.”
“Are you going to tell her ever, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll just send her a copy of my book instead.”
“A signed copy,” he said.
I shrugged. “If she’s lucky.”
“Whew! Don’t mess with Texas!” He laughed.
Then they made the announcement that dinner was about to be served and we made our way back to our table and sat down. The other people at our table came to take their seats. I said hello to them. Scott took my hand and held it on his knee. I gazed out over the balloons and streamers and sparkly decorations. I knew that I wasn’t going to be crowned prom queen, and I didn’t care one bit. I was happy.
*Not my real name
Author’s Note
I want to apologize for using the words leper and leprosy to those who are offended by these terms. Most people who have been affected by leprosy (now called Hansen’s disease) find the word leper derogatory, as it defines individuals solely based on their disease and carries over two thousand years of stigma with it. Many people have advocated for the name to be changed to Hansen’s disease, after the Norwegian scientist Dr. Gerhard H.A. Hansen who first discovered the bacteria in 1873. In some countries, including Brazil and Japan, the name has been officially changed.
I have nothing but respect and admiration for those individuals who have suffered or are suffering from Hansen’s disease, and I hope they will forgive me for using “the L-word” for the purpose of telling this story authentically in Abby’s voice.
Further, I would like to acknowledge that Hansen’s disease has naturally occurred in animals other than the nine-banded armadillo, including the African chimpanzee, sooty mangabey monkeys, the cynomolgus macaque and red squirrels.
For more information about Hansen’s disease:
www.idealeprosydignity.org (International)
www.effecthope.org (Canada)
www.leprosy.org (United States)
www.nippon-foundation.or.jp (Japan)
THANK YOU
My first reader, Ben Parker: I don’t know what I would do without you. My agent, Hilary McMahon, head cheerleader for this book. Lynne Missen and my editor, Samantha Swenson, for seeing Abby’s potential and helping me to realize it. Mitch Glessing for the jokes. My student at the Humber School for Writers, Abby Birmingham, who reminded me of the power of voice and whose character, “Faith,” inspired me to create Abby. Lorna Jackson, who assigned a historical fiction research project to our workshop in 2002 which led me to discover British Columbia’s lazaretto, D’Arcy Island, and inspired further research on its inhabitants and Hansen’s disease patients worldwide. Jacqueline Beamish, thank you for your assistance with my research and sending me the information I requested on leprosy in the Bible. My parents, Jennifer Little and John Li
ttle, who I know would show up early on visitor’s day. And thank you Warren Sookocheff for your unending patience, love and support.
The Canada Council for the Arts and the Access Copyright Foundation provided financial assistance in support of this book. The Vancouver Public Library’s Writer in Residence program and Wilfrid Laurier University’s Edna Staebler Writer in Residence program provided financial assistance and time to write this novel. I am grateful to these institutions.
In my research I consulted the memoirs of former Carville residents Betty White, Stanley Stein, José P. Ramirez and Neil White, as well as an ethnography by Dr. Marcia Gaudet. I am thankful for their work.
Confessions of a Teenage Leper Page 21