Lucy Unstrung

by Carole Lazar

  “We have an offer on the house. Amy’s bringing it by at six tomorrow. Can you have your mom give me a call?”

  “Sure.”

  What more is there to say? Why is it such a shock? I knew the house was up for sale. Someone was bound to buy it sooner or later. Still, it isn’t until this minute that it all seems real to me.

  “Excuse me,” I say to Gina when I hang up. I go to my room. I don’t feel like talking anymore.

  When Mom comes back, I stick my head out and say, “Dad called.”

  “For you or for me?”

  “For you. Someone’s made an offer on the house. Amy wants to bring it by tomorrow. You’re supposed to call him.”

  Mom sits down hard.

  “Wow! That’s great news,” says Gina.

  “I guess.”

  Gina frowns. “What to you mean, you guess? You want to sell the place, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So an offer is good news, right?”

  “I suppose so … it seems so final.”

  “I thought you wanted final. I thought you wanted to make a life of your own.”

  “I do. I do.”

  “You can quit your job. You can take your course. You can buy another house on your own. You won’t have to listen to Harold fussing about finances 24-7.”

  “No,” Mom mutters. “I’ll be the one fussing about the money.”

  “Well, don’t do it in front of Jake or any other boyfriend you might have. It will completely turn them off.”

  Turned off is how I feel. I don’t want to hear any more of this conversation. I just want to be by myself. This place is so small, that even though I’ve shut myself up in my room, I can still hear almost everything they say. I come out of my room and grab the leash.

  “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

  “I just walked her,” Mom says.

  “She wants to go out again. Look at her.”

  The dog is dancing around, all keen and excited. Maybe she’s got a short memory and has forgotten that she just got back from a walk about two minutes ago. I snap her leash on. I’m not afraid to walk her now. If I accidentally pass by Brandy’s place, it won’t matter because it’s dark enough that she won’t know it’s me.

  We walk a long time. It seems funny that Gina’s the only one who hasn’t taken the dog for a walk tonight. Some pet owner she is.

  The next morning, I ask Mom if she’ll drive me to school.

  She looks up from the coffee cup she’s been staring into. “Why? If I drop you off on my way to work, you’ll get there just after eight. That’s way too early.”

  “I don’t care. There are worse things.”

  “Do you have a lot of stuff to carry again?”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t you walk?” She glances out the window. “It’s not like it’s raining.”

  “Remember how I told you about Harbie and Kuldeep?”

  She nods.

  “They’re not the only girls I met.”

  I tell her about Brandy. She says she’ll give me a ride this morning, but tonight she wants us to find out where Brandy lives so she can go talk to her mother.

  “You can’t do that! Brandy will kill me if she finds out I squealed.”

  “Well, I’m not going to have you afraid to leave the house because of Brandy’s bullying. Her mother has got to accept some responsibility.”

  “I told you about her skirt.”

  “You said it barely covered her bottom.”

  “And about her hair?”

  “I heard you, black with royal blue streaks.”

  “So does that sound like she listens to her mother?”

  Mom dumps the last of her coffee down the sink. “We’ll talk about it tonight. We need a better plan. You’re not going to be able to avoid her forever.”

  She’s right.

  At lunchtime, when Harbie and I get to the cafeteria, Rob is sitting at a table with his friend Trevor. They haven’t got any food yet, so they stand up and we all go to the serving tables together. I get a bowl of chili and a cup of chocolate milk. I’m carrying them on a tray and following Rob back to the table. Harbie’s behind me.

  We have to pass the table where Brandy’s sitting. I’m right next to it when I trip over something. I stumble forward and my tray hits Rob in the back. He spins around and grabs my shoulder with one free hand so I don’t fall. He drops his tray in the process. I hang on to mine, but the bowl of chili has crashed onto the floor and the whole tray is awash in spilled chocolate milk. It’s all down the front of my skirt and T-shirt. Rob has chili on his back. Brandy and her friends are laughing.

  “Jennifer, say you’re sorry. I mean, it’s not your fault your size 10 feet were sticking out, but look what you’ve done,” gloats Brandy.

  The girl she’s talking to says “Sorry.”

  Then they all laugh some more. I don’t even bother looking at them. I’m looking at Rob. He’s got splatters of pop on the front of his shirt. He’s still hanging on to my shoulder. He’s very close.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I nod. “But look what I’ve done. I’ve spilled my chili on your back and when you grabbed me, your pop splashed all over.”

  He looks down at himself. “Don’t worry about it. I can change in to the T-shirt I use for gym.”

  I think then he notices that he’s still hanging on to me because he lets go. We both bend down and start trying to clean up the mess. Someone must have called the custodian, because while we’re still trying to scoop up chili with napkins, he comes along with a mop and dustpan.

  Rob’s lost his drink, but his hamburger is okay. I have no lunch at all now, and I don’t have money to buy something else. Like I’d want to anyway. I’ve got chocolate milk all down the front of me. Who wants to sit around like that?

  “I’m going home to change.”

  Harbie looks at my clothes. “Yeah, you need to rinse out your skirt or it will stain.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. I just want to get out of here. I try to walk tall and look dignified as I leave the cafeteria. It’s not easy, being so short and now with food slopped all down the front of me, but I do the best I can.

  I drop by the office to tell the secretary that I’m leaving, and then I head for home. The good part is that I don’t have to take some weird circular route this time. Brandy’s still back at school, eating her lunch and laughing with her friends.

  The dog is glad to see me and starts barking because she expects a walk. I pick her up, and she’s distracted right away because I smell so interesting. She starts sniffing and licking my shirt. I feel sticky all over, so I strip off my clothes, throw them on the bathroom floor, and step into the shower.

  When I’m finished my shower, I put on my grungy bathrobe and go out to the kitchen to make myself a cheese sandwich. I give the dog little tastes. It’s past one o’clock. I told the secretary I was going home to change. So I’ll change. I didn’t say I’d come back. I decide I’m not going to.

  I clean up my dishes and hang my dirty, wet clothes on the shower rod. Then I go look for something clean to wear. I put on a pair of jeans. I’m thinking about Rob standing so close to me like that. I wish I could be at least a bit hot. It’s not fair that some girls get all the boobs.

  I wander into Mom’s room and start looking in her drawers. She’s got this one really fancy bra. It’s lace and it’s got push-up pads and underwire. I try it on. It fits around my chest pretty well, but there’s not much of me to fill the cups. I go into my own room and get a pair of socks. I stuff one in each side of the bra. It takes a bit of adjusting, but it looks pretty good. I don’t have any cleavage, but if I put a T-shirt on, I bet the boobs would look real. I pull on a T-shirt. It fits tightly now. I can make out the pattern of the lace through the material. It looks sexy but not too obvious.

  Things would have been different when Rob found himself holding on to me if I’d looked like this. I start poking through Mom’s makeup.
I put on some foundation. Then I try eyeliner and mascara, copying the way I’d seen Mom do it. I stand back to admire the effect. I let my eyelids droop like the models do. Not that I’d look this way at just anyone, only at my husband or maybe my fiancé. I put on lipstick. I have trouble making it even, but if I don’t look too close, it’s okay. I stand back from the mirror to get the whole picture. I pose with my chest out to make the most of my boobs. I pout my mouth and try to look sexy. I imagine what it would be like if I were getting dressed up like this to go out on a date with Rob. He would definitely think I was a hottie.

  Grandma wouldn’t approve at all, but there really wouldn’t be anything for her to worry about. I’d never be tempted to go too far. There’s no way I’d ever get naked with a guy when my boobs are a pair of gym socks. I’ll probably stay a virgin forever – and it won’t be because I made a promise to God.

  I wash the makeup off and put Mom’s bra and my socks back where they belong. Brandy won’t be home for another hour, so I take the dog for a proper walk while it’s safe to do it. I see Mrs. Warren, the lady from the pig house, eyeing me through her front window. When I get back, I call Grandma. It’s Granddad who answers the phone. Grandma isn’t home. She’s out playing bridge. This is so weird. Grandma never goes out.

  fourteen

  Mom gets home a little after five. She’s getting out of her car when Mrs. Warren comes out of her trailer and starts talking to her. I watch them from the window. I can’t hear what they’re saying.

  “So I hear you played hooky this afternoon,” Mom says as soon as she comes in the door.

  “I had to come home to clean up because I had food all over my clothes. Brandy’s friend tripped me when I was carrying my lunch tray.”

  She scowls. “Maybe I should talk to the principal on Monday.”

  “Do you want to get me killed? Brandy will just get me someplace away from the school. The principal can’t do anything about that.”

  I wish I could think of something to do about it myself, but I can’t. I guess I just have to hang around waiting for Brandy to find the right time and place to pounce on me.

  I reach for a tissue.

  Mom puts her arm around me. “We’ll think of something.”

  I just stand there, snuffling on her shoulder for a bit.

  “Why don’t you call Siobhan?” she suggests. “Maybe you could visit her this evening since tomorrow is Saturday. That would make you feel better.”

  That’s so true. Being around Siobhan might ease the sadness. I think of the cake she brought to school. She really likes me. I’m scared that Brandy might get physical, but even if someone could give me a guarantee that she wouldn’t, I’d still feel awful just because she hates me so much. Knowing someone likes me a lot really would make me feel better.

  “Maybe she could stay over,” I say.

  “There’s not much room here.”

  “Maybe we could stay at Dad’s. You have to go there to sign those papers anyway. You could drop me off tonight instead of tomorrow morning.”

  Mom nods. “That would work. You better check with your dad.”

  I call him. He says there’s no problem.

  I call Siobhan’s house. They’re eating dinner, and her mom sounds mad when she answers the phone.

  That’s okay, though, because Siobhan sounds happy to talk to me, and when I ask if she can come spend the night with me at Dad’s house, her mom says yes.

  Mom and I finish dinner at about six-thirty, so we’re kind of rushed. I haven’t walked the dog since two in the afternoon. I don’t know when Mom will be home to walk her again.

  “Maybe we should take the dog,” I say. “Siobhan and I could take her for a walk at our other house. No one wants to kill me there.”

  Mom has gathered up her keys and is halfway out the door. “Bring her along then. You might even want to keep her overnight.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “Don’t you want to keep her?” I ask.

  “You’ve spoiled her, letting her sleep on your bed. She expects to sleep with me when you aren’t home.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t know how you stand the doggie nightmares. She’s always yipping and scrabbling with her feet. I wake up every time.”

  I don’t. I’ve heard her bark and seen her do running motions with her legs when she’s having a daytime nap, but I didn’t know she did these things at night. I lift her into the car. It will be nice to have her at Dad’s. I sleep better with company.

  We pick Siobhan up and then drive over to the house. Amy’s car is in the driveway. Before getting out of the car, Mom flips down the visor and checks her face in the mirror. Then she gets out, straightens her skirt, and adjusts the shoulder strap of her bag. Finally she marches toward the house. Siobhan and I follow after her.

  We ring the bell and Dad yells, “Come in!”

  He and Amy are sitting at the kitchen table. I wonder how long Amy’s been here. Maybe Mom’s wondering too.

  “I’m not late, am I?” she asks.

  The clock on the stove says it’s 6:55, so she knows darn well she’s early.

  “No,” says Amy. “Come sit down, Kate. Now that you’re here, we can get down to business.”

  So if it’s time to get down to business now, what were she and Dad doing before? Mom sits down with them at the table. I go to the fridge to see if there are any snacks. There are some green seedless grapes. I wash them and use a pair of scissors to snip them into small bunches. I can only make the chore take so long. Finally, I go into the family room, where Siobhan is waiting for me. I hand her the grapes and turn on the TV, but I keep the volume really low. I gesture toward the kitchen so Siobhan understands that I’m trying to hear what Mom, Dad, and Amy are saying.

  Dad says the offer isn’t bad but that probably the people who made it would pay a bit more if they had to. Amy agrees it’s worth a try. After some more discussion, Amy makes some changes on the papers and Mom and Dad sign them.

  “That’s a reasonable counteroffer,” Amy says. “I think they’ll go for that.”

  I head back to the fridge and get a couple of cans of pop. Siobhan follows me.

  Amy doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. She takes her time packing up her papers. Then she starts asking Dad if he plays golf. He doesn’t. She says he should really try it.

  Mom’s hardly said a word since we got here. She picks up a library book that Dad’s left on the table. She pulls out the crossword puzzle he’s used as a bookmark and lays the book facedown so she doesn’t lose his page. She takes a pencil from her bag and fills in a couple of words. Then she puts the puzzle back where it was and pushes the book to one side.

  “Have you read much of Robert Ludlum?” Amy asks.

  “What?” Mom looks at Amy and then at the book. “Oh, no. I’m not in to the thrillers. This is Harold’s book.”

  Amy reaches over and checks the spine of the book. “Oh, a library book,” she says. “How quaint.”

  “Quaint?” says my mom. “If it was a hand-copied book where the scribe had worked little animal images in to the uppercase first letter of each chapter, now that could be called quaint. But a paperback published in 2004, what’s quaint about that?”

  Amy doesn’t answer her. She just gets up and puts the papers into her briefcase. “Don’t bother to show me out. I know my way.”

  That’s good because it doesn’t look like anyone is planning to walk to the door with her.

  “Sorry I was such a hag,” Mom says as soon as the front door closes.

  “Forgiven,” Dad says.

  “I never did like her much,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Siobhan says to my dad. “Lucy said you probably didn’t notice that Amy was acting real flirty with you.”

  “You noticed it too, didn’t you, Mom?” I ask.

  “I may have,” she says. She looks at Dad. “So have I messed up a beautiful relationship for you?”

  “No, I think it was the library book’s fa
ult, or maybe she was still miffed because I didn’t buy in to her suggestion that the two of us should have dinner tonight to celebrate our sales deal.”

  “She asked you out?” I say.

  “She thought I might like to take her to a five-star restaurant with a lot of ambience. I might have gone for it, but I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t have a clue which of our local eateries would qualify.”

  “How about Earl’s?” Mom asks. By now, she’s smiling a bit and looking more relaxed.

  Dad just grins, shakes his head, and replies, “’fraid not.”

  Siobhan and I take our drinks and go back to the family room, where the dog has made herself comfortable on a chair. Mom and Dad stay at the table.

  “So what are you going to buy if this sale goes through?” Mom asks.

  “I was thinking about an apartment,” Dad says. “How about you?”

  “I might be going back to school. If I do that, I’ll need to use the money from the sale to pay tuition and to live on.”

  “You’re going to go back to school?”

  “Maybe,” Mom says. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Of course not, it’s your business. What are you taking?”

  “That’s my business too.”

  There’s this silence that’s really uncomfortable. I’m about to butt in and end the silliness, but Mom breaks down.

  “Interior design. I’ve applied to BCIT, but I don’t know if they’ll accept me.”

  “You’d be good at that,” Dad says.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Me and probably five hundred other applicants.”

  “When did you apply?”

  “In February.”

  There’s another long pause. Dad’s scowling. “Why didn’t you tell me? You never even told me you were thinking about it.”

  “Because I knew how you’d react.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dad asks.

  “I knew you’d never approve, that you’d just be so freaked out about the finances that you’d try to talk me out of it.”