Raina's Story

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “Hey, watch this!” Carson called from the diving board.

  Kathleen and Teresa turned to see Carson execute a perfect dive into the sparkling water. A feeling of contentment spread through Kathleen. She cared about Carson more than she admitted to him, and spending time with him and his family gave her a sense of belonging.

  A noise at the side gate and Dr. Kiefer calling out “Hello there” from his position at the grill made Kathleen swivel around and shield her eyes from the sun. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach fell to her toes. Coming through the yard and across the brick patio toward them was none other than her nemesis, the beautiful Stephanie Marlow.

  four

  STEPHANIE CLAPPED when Carson surfaced and then went straight over to Teresa’s chair, bent and kissed her on the cheek. They greeted each other warmly in Spanish while Kathleen sank lower into her lounge chair.

  “Have you met Kathleen?” Teresa asked.

  Stephanie gave Kathleen a cursory glance. “Carson’s little friend. Yes, we’ve met,” she said, then turned her back to Kathleen.

  Little friend? Kathleen felt her cheeks grow hot and her temper flare.

  Kathleen listened as Teresa and Stephanie carried on a conversation in fluent Spanish. If awards for rudeness were passed out, Stephanie would win one hands down. It seemed obvious to her that Stephanie was flaunting her language expertise to show Kathleen up, for Kathleen understood very little Spanish and couldn’t speak much of it outside of ordering tacos at a restaurant.

  Carson’s father strolled over holding a tray with several choices of soft drinks. “Want one?” he asked the three of them.

  Kathleen took a can of diet cola, and so did Stephanie. Carson swam laps in the pool, making Kathleen assume that he didn’t want to face both of them just yet. Coward!

  “How are your parents?” Dr. Kiefer asked.

  “Dad’s in Switzerland on business. Mom’s in Brazil.” Stephanie didn’t elaborate.

  “Are you staying alone?” Dr. Teresa asked, in a tone that made Kathleen wonder if she might invite Stephanie to stay over for a few days.

  “The housekeeper and the cook are there. So is the groundskeeper. I have company. And I have school. And”—Stephanie flashed a smile—“I have friends.”

  Gag me, Kathleen thought, hoping it didn’t show in her expression.

  “You must stay for dinner,” Teresa said. “There’s plenty because Chris always cooks for an army.”

  Kathleen’s stomach knotted. This wasn’t the way she wanted to spend the evening.

  “Absolutely,” Carson’s father said.

  “I’d like to stay. Thank you.”

  Carson pulled himself out of the water and padded over. To Kathleen’s dismay, he chose to stand next to his father and not beside her chair. She longed to have him put his hands on her shoulders in a possessive gesture that would speak volumes to Stephanie. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Burned meat if I don’t take it off the grill,” Dr. Kiefer said.

  “I’ll help,” Carson said.

  “I have some salads inside,” Teresa said, getting up from her lounger. “I’ll bring them out to the table.”

  “Let me help,” Kathleen said, pushing up from her chair.

  Beside her, Stephanie popped the top on her can of cola and a plume of sticky spray gushed all over Kathleen’s face and hair. “Oh, goodness!” Stephanie cried. “So sorry.”

  Everyone turned to stare, and Kathleen went red with anger and embarrassment. She knew it was no accident, recalling how Stephanie had been turning the can over and over to build up pressure while she talked to the Kiefers. Cola dripped off Kathleen’s nose and forehead. Teresa grabbed up a towel and fussed over Kathleen, who took the towel and forced a smile. “No harm done. I was going to take a quick swim before going inside.” She started toward the pool.

  “Then I’ll help you bring out the food,” Stephanie said to Carson’s mother brightly.

  Kathleen dove into the cool water, certain that steam would rise from her skin, she was so mad. She held her breath for a long time, until her lungs felt as if they would burst, and wondered if anyone would even notice if she never came up.

  “You’re sure quiet tonight,” Carson said. He was driving Kathleen to Holly’s house. They were almost there and had hardly spoken a word during the trip from Davis Island to the other side of town.

  “Not much to say.” She was brooding. Stephanie had remained at Carson’s house through dinner and a movie in the Kiefers’ state-of-the-art home theater. In fact, she seemed perfectly at home in the grand house, and Kathleen was left to wonder how many times Stephanie had been inside Carson’s bedroom suite adjoining the theater. Kathleen had seen it only once, but she’d never forget the silver-framed photo of Stephanie. Kathleen had tried to outlast Stephanie, but finally she had to leave because of school the next day.

  “Look, I’m sorry Steffie horned in on the day. It’s not like I invited her, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Carson said.

  “Yes, poor Steffie … all alone on Labor Day.”

  “What’s with you and her? I don’t get why you don’t like her.” He sounded irritated.

  “Well, there was the cola incident. That didn’t endear her to me one bit.”

  He blew air through his lips. By now they had arrived at Holly’s. He shoved the car into park, but before Kathleen could jump out, he pushed the door lock down. “Let’s talk.”

  “I’d rather go inside.”

  “Not yet. I need to explain a few things about Steffie.”

  “Not interested.” But of course, she was.

  He ignored her protest. “She doesn’t have many girlfriends.”

  “That’s a surprise. Could it be because she’s such a … a …” Kathleen stopped short of using the word she wanted to use.

  “Will you just listen?” Carson said sharply.

  “Do I have a choice?” Kathleen crossed her arms.

  “Steffie’s had a pathetic home life. In spite of the maids and cooks,” he added before Kathleen could say anything sarcastic. “Her father’s always away on business. He runs a furniture importing enterprise and it made him rich, but absent. Her mother is Brazilian and from some kind of wealthy political family down there. She’s very beautiful and was once a runner-up in a Miss USA contest before she got married.”

  That explained where Stephanie got her looks, Kathleen thought, but not her personality.

  “We were in the same sixth-grade class together and she was the loneliest kid I’d ever met. My mom started bringing her home to our house every day after school so she wouldn’t be alone. Steffie’s mother never seemed to mind where Steffie went. That is, whenever her mother was at home. She hates living in the U.S. and is always running back to Brazil. When Steffie’s parents are together, they fight like cats and dogs.”

  “Why don’t they just get divorced?”

  In the darkened car, she saw Carson shrug. “I think they enjoy making each other miserable. And Steffie’s always been their weapon of choice, if you know what I mean. Anyway, my parents sort of took Steffie in through middle school. The only time her mother showed any real interest in Steffie was when she went into modeling. My mom argued against it but lost. Steffie was only thirteen.”

  “It’s obvious that she’s pretty,” Kathleen said grudgingly.

  “And when they dress her for a photo shoot, she looks twenty-five.”

  “Boys fall all over her.”

  “Why do you think that’s a good thing?”

  She had no quick answer. He was a boy and he couldn’t understand how important it was to girls to be noticed and liked by boys. The porch light flashed. “That’s Holly’s father telling me I’ve been parked out here in the dark long enough.” Instead of feeling resentment, she felt relieved. She was weary of hearing about Stephanie. And while Carson might feel sorry for Stephanie, Kathleen didn’t.

  “Holly’s right—the man’s a dictator,” Carson said grudgingly.r />
  “Holly exaggerates. He’s just overprotective. He worries about me as much as he does her.”

  Carson shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t want to sully your reputation. Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.” He unlocked the car doors and they walked to the porch. “Do you have a better understanding about Steffie now and how she fits into my life?” he asked at the stoop.

  Not one bit, Kathleen thought. “I guess so,” she said. But as she slipped into the house, all she could think about was that he was going back home, and she’d bet a week’s worth of hall passes that Stephanie would be waiting for him.

  “Why are guys so dense? Why don’t they catch on to the games girls play?” Kathleen was draped across Holly’s bed later that night, still stewing over Carson and Stephanie. Holly was sitting on the floor carefully applying glittery decals to her newly painted purple fingernails.

  “How should I know? I have no experience with boys, remember?”

  “Is Carson blind? Can’t he see how Stephanie feels about him?” Kathleen rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, her long red hair trailing onto the floor.

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to see. Raina says guys play games too … you know, pit one girl against another.” Holly looked up, her eyes widening. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Kathleen sighed and her heart gave a tug. “I couldn’t stand it if Carson was playing games with me.”

  “Carson likes you, Kathleen, or he wouldn’t keep coming back.”

  “You think?”

  “Of course, I—” Holly was interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door.

  “It’s Dad.” Mike Harrison’s voice sounded through the wood. Kathleen sat upright and Holly scrambled to put away her polish and decals. The door opened and Mike stuck his head into the room. His grin faded when he saw Holly’s nails. “What’s this?”

  Boldly, Holly held out her hands. “The newest look. All the girls are wearing it.”

  “I don’t see Kathleen’s hands painted like a streetwalker’s.”

  Holly flushed crimson. “Dad! That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “Take it off.”

  “But Dad—”

  “No buts. I’ll inspect tomorrow at breakfast.” He nodded at Kathleen. “Did you have a good time with Carson’s family?”

  “Yes.” She almost trembled. The man wasn’t even her father, yet his authority was unquestionable. “We had a cookout by the pool, then watched a movie.” She skipped the part about Stephanie crashing the cookout.

  “Good.” He smiled. “You two go on to bed and I’ll see you in the morning.” He shut the door and Holly threw a pillow at it.

  “He makes me crazy!” Holly all but shouted. “Why can’t I have painted purple nails? What’s wrong with purple nails?”

  Kathleen tugged on her nightshirt. She should tell Holly that the nails were really ugly and that her father had done her a favor, but why start an argument? She climbed into the trundle bed and pulled the covers up while Holly slammed around the bedroom. Her thoughts returned to Carson and Stephanie, and she remembered that Raina also had often said that there was a fine line between acting like a possessive, jealous shrew and watching out for what was yours. “Smart girls learn how to walk that line, because guys can’t stand girls with strangleholds. But girls who don’t watch their turf can lose it.”

  Kathleen didn’t want to lose Carson to Stephanie, but she didn’t want to scare him off either. She punched her pillow in frustration and rolled over to face the wall.

  “Do you have to hit every bump in the parking lot?” Holly was furiously applying a coat of purple polish to her fingernails in the backseat of Raina’s car.

  “Can’t you do your manicures at night?” Raina asked.

  Kathleen said nothing about the edict from Holly’s father.

  Raina pulled into a parking space. “Besides, we have to go to the hospital today, and you can’t wear that stuff around the patients. Read your rules.”

  “I know,” Holly said. “And I’ll take it off on the way this afternoon. But for today—” She held up her finished nails and admired them. “They looked better with the decals.”

  They were halfway to the side door when Raina said, “Crud! I forgot my chem book in the trunk.”

  “We’ll wait for you,” Kathleen said just as the first bell rang.

  “No, you’ll be late. Go on. I’ll meet you at the car at one-thirty.” Raina rushed back to the car, retrieved her book, slammed the trunk and hurried to the building. She was about to pull open the door when it flew open for her. “I thought that was you,” a boy said, his grin more a sneer than a smile.

  Her stomach tied into knots. She was looking up at the face of Tony Stoddard.

  five

  “WHY, RAINA, you don’t look happy to see me,” Tony said. “It’s your old friend, Tony. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

  “Some things I’d rather forget,” she said, attempting to brush past him. Three of his friends stood behind him, reminding her of wolves waiting for the kill.

  “And I thought we had something special going,” Tony said.

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “But I’m back now.” He threw open his arms, and his friends grunted out laughs.

  “I have a boyfriend.” She tried to pass him again, but he blocked her.

  “So I’ve heard. A senior. But I’m not impressed.”

  “He’s worth three of you, Tony.”

  One of his friends groaned. “Ow, knife to your heart, Tony, my man.”

  Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think that way when we were in eighth grade.”

  It struck her that Tony, whom she disliked, knew exactly what her body looked like without clothes. And Hunter, whom she loved, did not. She felt humiliated by the thought, and just the memory of Tony’s hands on her made her skin crawl. “I was stupid back then. Now I know the difference between someone who really cares and someone who fakes it.”

  Tony’s friends hooted and Tony glowered, malevolence all but shooting from his eyes.

  “Shouldn’t you all be in class?” The teacher’s voice startled them and made the group of boys jump backward.

  Raina was never so grateful to see a teacher in her life. “On my way,” she said, this time brushing by Tony.

  “This isn’t over,” he hissed as she passed.

  She ignored him, but her whole body was icy cold. She believed his threat and felt sickened. Her one hope was that Hunter loved her more than Tony hated her.

  Raina told Kathleen and Holly about her encounter on the way to the hospital.

  “The guy’s a creep,” Kathleen said.

  “Want me to sic my father on him?” Holly asked. “Nobody stands up to my dad.” She said it with a kind of pride that surprised Raina because Holly groused about her father so much.

  “What’s he going to do? Break Tony’s knees?”

  “Something wrong with that?”

  Raina laughed for the first time that day. “I wish it were that simple. It’s Tony’s mouth that needs breaking.”

  “What are you going to do?” Kathleen asked.

  “I don’t know,” Raina said. “I really don’t know.”

  She was still stewing over her problem when they arrived at the Pink Angels volunteer room headquarters, where Sierra greeted them. “Why, it’s the Three Musketeers. Are you ready to jump into deep water?”

  “How deep?” Kathleen was worried.

  “You’re an excellent worker, Kathleen. You’ve gotten wonderful reviews, but I realize you’d rather work with paper than with patients. Therefore, you’re being assigned next door, to the medical library, and the librarian is your supervisor.”

  “Really?” The assignment suited Kathleen just fine.

  “And me?” Holly asked.

  “Children’s ward. I’ve been told that you’re Mrs. Graham’s favorite art director.”

  Holly had to laugh because she’d managed to spill mo
re paint than help kids who were recovering from illnesses and accidents apply it to paper.

  “And me?” Raina asked. “Where are you placing me?”

  “The newborn nursery, up in ob-gyn.”

  “Babies? I get to help with the babies?” She couldn’t have been more delighted.

  Sierra laughed. “When they’re all crying at once, they make quite a racket. Some of the nurses actually wear earplugs.” She handed each girl a routing sheet. “Have your supervisors sign these and return them to me at the end of each shift. And don’t forget your pagers.”

  The girls fastened the pagers to their belts, grabbed their paperwork and headed for their assignments. “See you at my car at five,” Raina called, speeding off, her problems with Tony momentarily forgotten.

  On the ob/gyn floor, she reported to her immediate supervisor, Ms. Betsy Kohn, a tall, attractive woman wearing the uniform of her ward—green slacks and a pale yellow top sprinkled with images of cuddly bunnies and fuzzy baby chicks. She wore a stethoscope around her neck and had several pacifiers safety-pinned to her breast pocket. “You come to appreciate these things,” Betsy told Raina, gesturing to the tiny pacifiers. “The person who invented them should be nominated for sainthood. Come on. I’ll take you inside the nursery.”

  Once there, Raina understood why she’d been warned. Several of the newborns were crying, sounding much like screeching cats. Each baby lay in a clear plastic bassinet atop a wheeled cart. “One of your jobs,” Betsy said over the increasing wails, “is to wheel them down the halls to their mothers. And this part is very important—make certain you give the right baby to the right mother. Read every bracelet and see that it matches the name on the door and the name posted at the foot of each bed.” She pointed to the tiny plastic bracelet looping every baby’s wrist. “This is important work, Raina. Don’t assume. Know who belongs to whom.”

  “I’ll be careful.”