“I don’t know.”
I took a deep breath and raked all ten fingers through my hair. Maybe I looked like someone whose head was about to explode.
“Do you want to be a freshman jackass your entire life or do you want to be a man?” I asked as coolly as I could.
“I’m not going to be a freshman jackass my entire life because next year I’ll be a sophomore,” Khalil said, and I knew by the sound of his voice he felt bad and was paying attention.
“Just do the right thing, Khalil. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said.
Thirty-Three
After that, there was another streak of the notorious LeFrancois bad luck. The next day when Maman went to pick up Khalil from school, he claimed he wasn’t feeling well and he thought he might’ve gotten food poisoning from the meat loaf he had for lunch. They say actions speak louder than words—well, it wasn’t too long after he got home that his actions started speaking a whole lot louder than his words. His parents were out of town, but his dad was supposed to be back early that night. Later on, his dad called and said the flight was cancelled because of bad weather and he couldn’t make it home until the following afternoon. Naturally, Maman wasn’t going to leave Khalil alone in that condition, so she brought him to our house with a bucket on his lap. We moved Papa to the bedroom and Khalil took the couch. Needless to say, none of us got much sleep that night.
By the next afternoon, it was obvious Khalil didn’t have food poisoning but most likely some version of the stomach flu. The way we knew this was because everyone in the house had it by then, including me. Khalil was back on his feet and feeling pretty perky so that was the good news; whatever it was only lasted twenty-four miserable hours. Khalil refused to let his dad come pick him up. He said he’d made us all sick, so he was going to stay and take care of us until we were all better. Which he did really admirably. Trust me, it’s not easy to take care of a 6’2” Cajun man who can’t get himself to the bathroom at a moment’s notice. Khalil earned massive bonus points in all of our books that day; in fact, Claude and Del regarded him as something just one step down from superhero status. And I realized what a fool I’d been to think Khalil would judge the way we lived.
The one bright spot of that day was when Khalil brought me a cup of ice chips and whispered that he’d managed to do the right thing before he came home sick from school. I didn’t have the energy or presence of mind to ask him what that meant.
No sooner were we all back on our feet the following day when Angie called to say Jason had lost his job as a rep for an air conditioner manufacturer. We’d been hopeful for this one, which he’d actually held on to for six months. It wasn’t Jason’s fault, Angie explained; the company was going through hard times. Jason wasn’t exactly a LeFrancois, thereby allowing him to piggyback on to our bad luck, but Papa allowed as to how he was close enough, which explained his inability to hold on to a job. The fact that Maman or Papa had never lost a job didn’t change the way Papa saw it. He loved Jason—Papa loved everyone—and so it was simply a matter of the LeFrancois bad luck, and nothing could be done about it.
In spite of all this, or maybe because of it, the days passed quickly. A shake-up of your routine, even if it’s bad—especially if it’s bad— speeds up time, so it was already Saturday morning and my alarm was jolting me awake at seven o’clock. This time I didn’t linger in bed and drag myself through breakfast and a shower. This time I had wings on my feet, and even the truck seemed to have them when, before I knew it, I was already at the turnoff to the Diaz Ranch. Imagine my surprise (and okay, maybe even delight) when I saw Bettina perched on the fence post like a little owl, apparently waiting . . . for me? I pulled into the driveway and stopped. She climbed into the cab beside me.
“I’ve been waiting,” she said, clicking on her phone to look at the time, “for fifteen minutes.”
“I’m not late. In fact, I’m exactly on time.”
“I know that.” She looked over at me. “I was early.”
“Well anyway, we’re both here now so what’s up? How’ve you been?”
I made the slow crawl down the long, narrow gravel lane.
“I can’t wait for you to see something,” she said, and it was only then I noticed her hands, covered with bandages, and her arms, crisscrossed by scratches.
“You look like you’ve been fighting dragons,” I said.
“Oh, these?” She held her hands up in front of her, fingers outstretched. “Just a few blisters.”
Ray and some of the other guys, including Carlos, were still in the parking area, shedding their jackets, rummaging for lunch buckets, generally getting ready for a long day of work. What I didn’t want was to make the grand entrance with Bettina. That would only confirm their teasing from my first day at the Ranch. I hadn’t even known her that day, and here I was, just a short while later, pulling my truck into the parking lot with Bettina sitting by my side. She seemed completely unfazed and even unaware of my apprehension.
She jumped out of the truck before I’d come to a complete stop and ran to catch up with Ray, who was walking toward the area where the tractor was parked. While I parked and prepared for my day, I could see her talking to Ray. When they were done he looked over at me and waved.
“What was that all about?” I asked when she was back.
“I just wanted to make sure everything was good to go.”
“Good to go where?”
“Follow me,” she said.
I knew by then that Bettina loved surprises. I followed her through the side gate that led to the area where I’d left off working on the snake fence and was shocked to see the entire perimeter had been completely trenched. Bales of mesh wire dotted the inside of the fence about every fifteen to twenty feet.
“The digging’s all done!” I said. “That’s cool.” It was the digging that was so mindless and backbreaking.
Bettina stood there proudly surveying the scene, hands on hips. She was wearing her faded ripped jeans (which now looked like real faded ripped jeans, not the kind you buy that way on purpose), an actual old white T-shirt (maybe her dad’s?) and boots similar to the type Ray and Carlos wore. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was wearing the baseball cap with the white cat head. She had on aviator-type sunglasses with lenses light enough I could still see her eyes.
“I did it,” she said.
“You? You did this whole thing?”
“Yep.”
“Nobody helped you?”
“I told you, I did it myself.”
She held up her hands as proof in case I doubted her, which I didn’t.
“You know what, Bettina? You’re kind of amazing,” I said.
“You know what, Beau? I know.” She smiled. “Just kidding. I know I’m not.”
“No, you are . . . for real. I can’t always figure you out, but I do know for a fact you’re amazing.”
She beamed bright as the sun.
“I had Ray put out the wire mesh for us,” she said. Somehow, somewhere along the way this had become our job, not mine. Fine with me. Odd, but fine with me. “With both of us working, it’ll go faster.”
“Let’s get started then,” I said.
We began at the gate, which is where I’d left off.
Thirty-Four
“Remember how we did this? We each take an end and lay it down in the hole. Then we fill it back up and pack the earth around it.”
“And cinch the ties,” she said. “I know.”
I unrolled the first bale of wire, and we each picked up opposite ends the way people do when they’re folding a sheet.
“On the count of three, we drop it in,” I said. “One . . . ” Pause. “Two . . . ” Pause. “Three . . . ” Deep breath. “Are you ever going to tell me why some kids call you The Beast?” I asked, hoping the mindless task of laying out the mesh wire would make it easier to talk about. It was something she’d brought up and then dropped. I felt i
t was something we needed to get out of the way, so we could move forward. I also had an idea it was something she needed to deal with before she could move forward with anything.
She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Her glossy eyebrows dipped toward the disapproving frown line right above her nose.
“Your friend said something to me at school, as if you didn’t know.”
“Who? Khalil?”
“As if you didn’t know,” she repeated.
“What did he say?”
We took up our shovels and began scooping dirt into the trench.
“As if you don’t know.”
“Bettina, please just tell me what he said, because honestly, I don’t know. Yes, I know he talked to you but when he told me about it I was in the middle of a gut explosion . . . a series of them, in fact.”
“A gut explosion? That sounds mildly disgusting.”
“Everyone in my family was sick last week and Khalil took care of us. At some point between when I was emptying out my stomach and emptying out my you-know-what, he told me he talked to you. Forgive me if I didn’t express an interest in following up.”
“Okay.” She held up her hands in the surrender position. “Sorry, I had no idea you were sick and I’m glad you’re better but please spare me the gory details. I happen to have a very strong gag reflex, and maybe. . .” She covered her mouth with her hand. “In fact, I think I might be coming down with it right now.”
“Then spill the beans or I’ll tell all. And, by the way, the incubation period is longer than fifteen minutes, I’m quite sure.”
“Spill the beans?” She groaned. “Bad choice of words.”
I was starting to think she’d go to any length to avoid the subject of her school nickname. I could’ve let it go and maybe I should’ve. But somehow, I had the feeling she needed to talk about it with someone. Maybe even with me. And finding out what happened between Khalil and her was the first step.
“Are we ever going to talk about it?” I asked as gently as I could. “Or do you really want me to drop it, because I will if you do.”
We’d finished filling in the trench, so we started tamping down the earth with our feet like we were stomping grapes or something.
“He said, sorry,” Bettina said.
“Just like that? I mean, nothing leading up to it?”
“Yeah, just like that. Almost as if . . . his mother told him to do it.”
“What does it matter who told him to do it if he did it?”
“I guess it doesn’t. But I know it was you.”
We continued stomping around and not exactly looking at each other.
“This is like that square dancing we did in fifth grade,” I finally said to break the ice. “Maybe we should link elbows and spin around.” I laughed weakly because it wasn’t really funny. She didn’t laugh at all.
“We were spared square dancing,” she said. “In fact, I’m not even sure what it is.”
“Square dancing? Really? It’s just this sort of . . . ah, never mind if you don’t know. It’s not like you missed out on anything. Let’s start cinching and meet in the middle.” I squatted down since sitting wasn’t a position I enjoyed, not being limber enough to sit cross-legged. “Two ties per post, every other post.”
“I know,” she said.
“Do you have a pair of cutting shears to trim the edge of the ties, so it looks really nice?”
“No.”
“Here, take these. Heads up, okay?” I tossed the shears to her. “Give ’em back when you’re done.”
“Your whole family was sick?” she asked.
“Yup. It wasn’t pleasant.”
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Two brothers and a sister, but only the boys live at home. My sister’s already out of the house.”
“And both your parents?”
“Yup.”
“It must be nice to have siblings. And both parents.”
I had to think about that. “It is, I guess. There are ups and downs.”
I looked over and saw she was perfectly posed like the Buddha. Straight back, legs folded, long slender fingers nimbly securing the ties.
“Your mom probably hates me, right?” She snipped off the end of a tie, then scooted to the next post.
“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.”
“What question?”
“You know what question.” It was an ugly thing that would have been easier to drop, but I made a decision not to do the easy thing. Bettina didn’t seem like a girl who would normally choose the easy way. I knew from personal experience that she confronted things head-on. A ladybug crawled up my arm. I let it walk onto my hand, and when it reached the tip of my finger I pointed it toward Bettina, so she could see. She leaned forward and watched it fly away.
“Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. Your house is on fire. Your children are gone,” she said. Even though I’d heard that rhyme before I hadn’t really given it much thought. Right then, it seemed especially sad.
“That’s somewhat depressing,” I said.
“I know.”
“Do you still want to know if my mom hates you?”
She reached into the bag for another tie. “Are you sure you really want me to answer your question? You think the ladybug poem is depressing. Well, so is my poem.”
“Try me.” I scooted closer to where she was working.
“Go back to where you were,” she said. “I don’t want to look at you when I tell you.”
I scooted back, sat down and started cinching another tie. “Okay, I’m not looking.”
“I didn’t always go to Castlegate,” she said. “I used to go to private school, but I begged my dad to let me go to CG because I wouldn’t have to wear a uniform and you’ve probably noticed I like fashion.”
“I’ve noticed you do a lot of wardrobe changes,” I said, my gaze aimed firmly at the fence in front of me.
“So last year my dad finally let me transfer after a whole year of begging.”
“Weren’t you going to miss your friends?” I asked. “Wasn’t it intimidating to start a new school?”
“Why would it be?” She seemed genuinely puzzled.
“I don’t know. I guess it would be for me, that’s all.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, and I thought sometimes she could be so unbelievably obtuse, but I kept my voice level so she wouldn’t think I was trying to get the last word in.
“I mean . . . I’d miss my friends, I suppose.”
“Oh that,” she said. “I’ve never had a ton of friends, so that wasn’t an issue. I don’t even want a lot of friends. If I need company, I hang out with my cousins. School’s just . . . school. It’s where you go to learn, right?”
“Okay, I guess so,” I said. Technically, she was right but school was more than that to me.
“And the trade-off of being able to wear whatever I want was worth it,” she added.
I have to be honest, carrying on a conversation when you can’t look at the other person is not only uncomfortable, it’s just plain weird. Nevertheless . . . her rules. So, proceed.
“The first week I was invited to a party by two girls I met in one of my classes. They seemed nice. Even though I don’t like parties . . . at all . . . I wanted them to like me since I was new, so I agreed to go. The night of the party, I wanted to cancel but my dad pushed me to go. He worries about me not having enough fun or friends because his personality is totally opposite mine. He loves me, but he doesn’t get me.”
I wondered at that moment if I got Bettina. My personality was probably totally opposite hers too because I liked people and being around them as long as they’re what Papa calls good people. So, could a person like me and a person like Bettina coexist? I figured we could if we both understood what the other needed and respected that. After all, if Masie could coexist with The Goose, then anything was possible.
/> “So, you went to the party,” I said. “And then what?”
“Worst mistake of my life,” she said, and I knew sometimes things can go south at a party, so I was a bit nervous for why it was the worst mistake of her life.
“The party was at this guy’s house—Decker, a name I wish I could forget but probably never will. Anyway, he’s gone now, graduated last year. And he was the star player on the baseball team, which apparently is one of the best teams in the state. I didn’t know anything about that and wouldn’t have cared if I did.”
But I did know that. Papa and I followed local school sports and Decker’s name always came up in the stats. I remembered him being out for his final season, but I just assumed he’d had an injury. And anyway, CG baseball wasn’t that much on my radar, even though everyone knew they had a state championship team.
“I was a sophomore, new kid at school. He was a senior who was having a party at his house where I didn’t even want to be. Dad dropped me off and I was getting a ride home with the girls who invited me, but they weren’t there when I got to the party. Decker answered the door and seemed nice and attentive. I asked about my friends and he said they’d probably be there soon and he could show me around in the meantime.”
I stopped cinching the ties. “This doesn’t sound like it’s going to end well,” I said.
“And it didn’t. I don’t feel like going into the details because I’ve already done that with people I feel a whole lot less comfortable around than you. But basically, at some point I wound up alone in a room with him and he took that as a green light to shove me down on the sofa and forcibly make out with me. I told him to stop, and tried to push him off, but he wouldn’t stop. When he yanked my dress up, I bit his lip so hard I tasted his blood in my mouth. And then while he was screaming and calling me a bitch, I ran out of the room. By then, the girls who invited me were there, and when I finally found them, they asked what happened and were super-supportive. The mom of one of them came to pick us up and we waited out front on the street, so we wouldn’t have to see Decker.”
“And then?”
Beau and Bett Page 13