Nance tosses the rest of her cigarette into her bottle and claps her hands together. “Anyhow, this is a summer for boys!” Nance says. “Last chance for summer flings.”
“We’re not going off to war,” I say, rolling my eyes at her.
“No. We are going to be seniors. It matters. But first, boys.”
I close my eyes and an image of Flynn fills my mind. I quickly open them, startled, and take a drink to wash his image away. Nance doesn’t notice my distraction and continues on about summer flings and summer parties until she stops to light another smoke.
“Jennifer says there’re lots of hot guys hanging out at Alderwood Mall. We can go there to shop and check out the merchandise.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down. “I can’t believe Jennifer’s dad actually made her get a job this summer, though I love that she showed him by getting one at the lingerie store. At least she gets to dress slutty.”
“My boobs aren’t perky enough to work at a lingerie store,” I say, looking down at them.
“Oh, your boobs are fine.”
I stick my tongue out at her, and we drink more and gossip as time passes by.
Later, after going inside to pee, I stumble back to the deck and Nance is on the phone, FaceTiming someone. I can tell it’s a guy by the way she’s flipping her hair. She turns the phone to me. “Say hi to Bryan,” she says. I pirouette for him and then bow, giggling, and almost trip. God. The coolers have definitely gone to my head. I don’t even like Bryan. He’s a jerk, just like his politician dad.
I plunk down on my chair but Nance seems intent on chatting him up. “Not fling material,” I say too loud.
She laughs but shushes me at the same time.
“Bryan. Bryan. Do you have a trust fund?” I yell with drunken gusto. “That’s not going to get you Nance action this summer.”
She waves her hand at me to shut me up. I listen for a while but quickly get bored and pull out my own phone. There are no new texts from anyone, so I flip to my eBay app. I’m addicted to watching bids on eBay.
I search dresses. After all, Mom said I could buy a dress.
I scan a bunch and then see one that makes my eyes pop. I laugh because it’s so ridiculous and yet so perfect at the same time. It’s short. Gold sequins. Ostrich feathers. Giorgio vintage. I imagine myself wearing it to school on the first day. Or better, to my college interviews. That cracks me up even more. Ostrich feathers at a college interview.
“Oh God. I totally want this!” I hold up my phone to Nance and point, but she’s making prune lips at Bryan and ignores me. Ugh.
“Gross,” I say and look down at the dress, really stare at it. “It is an important year,” I say out loud to it in my snooty lady voice. “Everyone says so.” I giggle some more. I’ve definitely had too many coolers. I imagine pirouetting in the dress. Maybe Josh is my date for prom. Ew. No. The Flynn guy! Taking a boy like him would get lots more attention. Not positive attention, but still. I laugh to myself and wonder how much the limit on my mom’s credit card is. I glance down at the auction button. The Buy It Now button says it’s $9,999. It’s regularly $15,000. It’s actually a total bargain.
I deserve something fun. There’s so little fun in my life these days. My house is like a morgue most of the time. And okay, I won’t wear it to school the first day, and definitely not on a college interview, but I could totally pull it off for prom.
I clap my hands together, imitating Nance, pull out my mom’s credit card again, then click the Buy It Now button. I fill in the payment information with the credit card number and my home address.
“Whoo-hoo!” I yell to Nance when the payment goes through.
She takes her eyes off her phone for two seconds to look at me. “I bought it!” I tell her.
“Of course you did,” she says and goes back to her phone.
I grab another cooler and move to sit beside her and stick my face into her phone screen. “She’s not going to sleep with you, Bryan,” I tell him. “Not this summer. You have too much money.”
He smirks at me. “Yeah? Well, least you can do is show me your boobs.”
Nance grabs my hand and swings it in the air.
“Oh no,” I say. After a few drinks, the girl does love to show off her boobs. “You asked for it, Bryan,” I say as Nance turns to me, a devilish twinkle in her eyes.
“Hold this.” She puts her phone in my hand. I make a face at Bryan.
“No. Point it at me!” she shouts, so I turn the phone so the camera faces her. “The sun’s going down soon and the girls need some sunshine.” In a flash, she’s undone her bikini top and tosses it down beside her.
I hear Bryan whoop and she flips her hair back, plucks my cooler from my hand, takes a sip, and wiggles around. The girl has great boobs, but God compensated by giving her no rhythm at all. That is for shizzle. I try to ignore her gigantic breasts bouncing up and down in the sun, though I should be used to her flashing them around.
I turn the phone toward me. “Okay, Bryan. You’ve had enough of a show. Bye.” I click off her phone and Nance yells at me. “You’re lucky he was too busy gawking to snap a photo of you. He’d post it everywhere. And that is not what you need to start your senior year. You have to stop doing that on the phone.”
She laughs. “Yeah. Fair enough. Okay. No more phone flashing. But this is fun. Join me. Be free!”
“Me?” I laugh at the absurdity and put her phone down.
“Yes. Otherwise you’ll have weird tan lines that will mess up your hot new dress.”
I giggle and jump up and down, and in a sane part of my mind, I sense it’s a little manic but don’t even care. “I bought it!” I scream again. “Oh my God. I bought it.”
“Come on, Jess. Show me your boobies!”
Can I do that? Can I? I suck in a breath as if I’m eight and have just been caught with chocolate stains all over my fingers after being told to stay out of the chocolate chip bag. “But what if your brother comes back?”
“He’s at work,” she says dismissively, lifts her hands, and twirls around on the deck. “It’s so American to be repressed about topless sunbathing.”
“Yeah. But we are American!” I shout.
“It’s no big deal. I was half-naked the whole time I went to Saint Martin.”
“Because you have great boobs,” I say. I’ve hated my boobs since eighth grade when Johnny Ryan announced to everyone that my boobs were saggy. I’ve worn a padded bra ever since. Preferably a push-up one.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your boobs are fabulous,” she says. “They don’t have to be big to be beautiful.” Nance twirls again. “Don’t leave me topless all alone. It’s more fun with someone else.”
“You always do it,” I remind her. “Last night, you were all party of one while you were flashing those boys.”
“Boring,” she says. “You are boring.”
“Not boring,” I tell her and sit up straighter. I take another swig of my cooler. What’s the big deal? I mean besides baring my boobs to the entire world. Well. Nance’s backyard.
“Jess-I-cup,” she sings.
“No,” I tell her.
“You’re not scared, are you?”
Grr. Nance knows the buttons to push.
“Bock, bock, bock,” she says, imitating a chicken.
“Not scared.” I reach around my back, then I pull my fingers back away. “No. I can’t!”
“Free yourself!” she chants. “Lose your inhibitions.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“You can! Free those boobies!”
I shake my hands. Breathe in and out, in and out quickly.
“You can do it!” she says. “Go, Jess!” she cheers. “Go!”
I can’t. I have saggy boobs. But also, I’m kinda drunk.
“Free them!” she squeals.
It makes me laugh. I’m tired of myself. I don’t want to be like the little girl next door, clutching my chalk and trying to hide my feelings. I squeeze my eyes closed, pump my fists in the air, and try hard to rock my inner Girls Gone Wild vibe. “Okay, okay!” I squeal as my fingers fumble over a knot. “Oh my God!” I say. “What is wrong with me?”
“Show me your boobies,” Nance chants.
There’s a weird humming noise coming from my throat as I struggle to undo the knot, and then it gives and I pull off my bathing suit top and fling it for good luck. It flies through the air, and I watch in horror as it lands way too far away, in the middle of the yard on the grass.
“Oops!” I say and stare at it, covering my boobs with my hands.
Nance is laughing so hard, tears drip from her eyes. “I can’t believe you did it!” she yells.
Actually, neither can I.
“Girls?”
I blink. Holy crap.
“Nance,” says Mrs. Green. “What the hell is going on here?”
As if she’s got magical powers, Nance’s mom is suddenly standing on the deck. She’s wearing her real estate agent costume. Power suit. Tight short skirt, low-cut blouse, a fitted blazer, and mile-high heels. My mom used to wear the same thing. When she worked.
She’s glaring at us, and my face heats up. I wrap my arms tighter in front of myself and stumble. I have had way too much to drink to deal with this right now.
“Jesus, girls,” Nance’s mom sputters, glancing around at the coolers and cigarettes, her mouth open, her eyes shooting sparks. “This isn’t a nude beach. The neighbors can see you. Put your clothes back on.” She looks around, horrified someone might be peering over the fence, witnessing the debauchery in her backyard.
“What will the neighbors think?” I shout with glee, but my giggle dies quickly in my throat when I see the look from Nance’s mom.
Nance nonchalantly grabs her top and slides it over her head and hooks the back together with one hand. She rolls her eyes and inhales her cigarette and exhales smoke that travels toward her mom’s face.
I’m frozen to the spot, my arms wrapped over my boobs, watching Nance’s mom cough and wave her hands in the air. Her eyes are bulging, which is kind of a feat with the amount of Botox she’s got injected in her face. Her eyes get even wider and her lips turn down. “Put that cigarette out. Now.” She turns her attention to me. “Jess! Put your top back on!” She looks about to commit murder. “Right now.”
I’m too shocked and kind of looped to do anything but stand there staring at her, my hands over my boobs. I glance at my bathing suit top in the grass about thirty feet away, but I can’t make myself move to get it.
“We didn’t expect you for a while,” Nance says and then glances at my face and bursts into laughter.
“Jess.” Her mom’s voice is pitchy and high. “What’s wrong with you? Put your top back on. Immediately.”
My face burns brighter, and with my arms still crossed in front, I run off the deck like a spaz and trip on the stairs. Nance laughs even harder as I scramble up and over to the spot on the grass where I threw my suit. I bend, trying to pick it up and keep myself covered. I finally manage to pull the top on and then clumsily tie up the strings in the back. Oh God. Nance’s mom saw my boobs. My mom hasn’t even seen my bare boobs in years.
“I thought you girls had more sense,” Nance’s mom says.
“So did I,” I tell her as honestly as I can, digging my toes into the grass, looking around the yard and not at her.
Nance snorts though, and the absurdity and the heat get to me. A laugh starts to build. It’s so ridiculous. And inappropriate and disrespectful. The more I try to stop the gigantic giggle that’s building, the worse it gets. I cover my mouth, but I can’t stop the laughter from spilling out of me. For a moment, I kind of lose my shit.
When I can finally breathe again, I inhale gulps of air and stand straighter. They’re both staring at me. Even Nance has a look that could almost pass for concern.
“Jess!” Nance’s mom says. “You need to go home. Are you okay to drive?”
I don’t think I am. But I don’t want to admit it. I bite my lip and stare at the grass, wiggling my toes around.
“For God’s sake, get dressed. I’ll take you home.”
Nance’s mom starts digging around her purse.
“Martin,” she says into her phone after she’s found it and dialed. “It’s Carol. Jess is here. She and Nance have been drinking. I’ll bring her home. No. She can’t drive herself. She’s had too much.”
She turns her back on me, and I can only imagine what my dad is saying in the silence that follows. “No. It’s fine. I don’t mind. Yes. I’m sure. I’ll take her straightaway.” She listens for another moment and then hangs up.
“Get dressed, Jess,” she commands. “Nance. You go and wait for me in your room.”
I silently find my shorts and shirt and pull them on. My face is hot and it’s not only from the time in the sun. Nance is gone by the time I go to the front door to find my shoes.
Mrs. Green drives me home in silence. When we pull up to my house, she turns to look at me.
“You’re not to wake your mom,” she says. “Your dad asked you not to. You’re supposed to wait up for him.”
I nod, my head down, concentrating on my hands in my lap.
“Jess?” I hear concern in her voice. “Are you okay? Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
“No. I’m fine. I’m very sorry,” I say. I can’t look at her or I’ll cry. Tears bunch up in the corners of my eyes. Nance and I were stupid. So stupid. I move my head so my hair falls in front of my face, hiding me.
“I hope so,” she says with a sigh.
I open the door. “I am sorry,” I say again.
“Good-bye, Jess,” she says right before I close the door behind me.
The house is quiet. There’s no movement from Mom’s room. Allie isn’t home. I sit on the couch and stare at the floor. I don’t have to wait long before my dad arrives.
He closes the door quietly behind him, but his face is white he’s so angry. “I don’t understand you, Jess,” he says.
I expect him to yell, but he doesn’t.
“Not only were you drinking and sunbathing topless. MasterCard called me,” he says in a quiet voice. “You charged over ten thousand dollars to our account? For a dress?”
“It had ostrich feathers,” I tell him and close my eyes. It doesn’t seem hilarious anymore. Or like the perfect prom dress. I don’t tell him Mom gave me permission to buy a dress. I’m stupid but not that stupid.
I wait. But there’s no yelling. Nothing.
Finally I open my eyes and what I see shocks me more than anything.
He’s sitting on his leather chair. His favorite chair. Across the room. His head is in his hands. His shoulders are shaking.
He’s crying?
I’ve never seen him cry in my life.
I feel even worse.
chapter four
“She’ll work here for the whole summer,” Dad says to the woman on the other side of the table. Stella is the volunteer coordinator at New Beginnings, the missionary shelter on Broad Street. For years I’ve been warned to stay away from Broad Street by the very man who dragged me here this morning.
Dad clears his throat, and I keep my head down since he’s acting like I’m not there anyway. “Every day you need her, she’s available,” he says to Stella.
His arms are crossed, and he’s leaning back in his chair. His hair is slicked back, as if he’s in a competition to keep every piece perfectly in place. He’s ignoring me, his body tilted slightly away, his chin up. The problem is he’s my dad, and I’m biologically programmed to want his approval. No matter how huge an asshole he is. Truthfully, I’ve been an asshole too. I think of what I did, and I’m hit by another
tsunami of guilt. But this? He’s taking the punishment a little bit overboard.
“We’ll work her shifts out,” says Stella, watching me. She has potted plants on a ledge of wood by the tiny window in her office. Green leaves reach down to the floor like they’re bowing to Stella. It’s the only thing I like about the place.
“Well. Whenever you need her. She’s available,” my dad tells her.
Stella tilts her head slightly, chewing a pen, studying me like I don’t belong. I agree, but she looks out of place in the stale room too. She’s colorful and vibrant. Everything in this multistoried building looks old and run-down. I pretended not to notice the people hanging around the building when we came inside. The tired-looking men with bad teeth and dirty backpacks. The weathered women with cynical slants to their bodies made me want to run. One lugged a suitcase behind her on wheels, probably with everything she owned in the world inside it. They robbed me of my voice and scared me a little.
“Don’t hesitate to work her hard. She needs the discipline,” Dad says.
“All teenagers need discipline,” Stella says.
I squirm on my chair, the epitome of the privileged white girl. He’s making sure it shows, but maybe he doesn’t realize it exposes him for what he is too. He’s intent on pretending he’s not spoiling me and that he’s in charge. In addition to working at New Beginnings for the rest of the summer, an idea I have no clue how he came up with, he also confiscated my phone. It’s a toss-up which is worse, but he won’t give it back. Not until the end of the summer. I feel almost violated. Sick to my stomach. I’m completely out of touch with everyone and everything. The loss makes me even more alone, if that’s even possible at this point.
“We’re short on servers right now. Or kitchen helpers.” Stella says it like it’s a question.
“Server,” I immediately say.
“You’ll work wherever they need you,” my dad snaps and then glances at his watch. “Speaking of, I have to get back to work soon.”
“Please. Go ahead,” Stella says. “I’ll get the child started. Show her around.”
The Truth about Us Page 3