Leftovers

by Laura Wiess

  No, she didn’t tell us she’d done it. The detectives found the card later on the Cadillac’s floor along with her books, one of her shoes, her bra, and a fistful of hair. Ardith’s brother had apparently panicked when Della did and had grabbed on to the handiest part of her, trying to finish the job before she got away.

  He didn’t, though, never even got her pants off, and I have to give her credit for that. She didn’t make it easy for him and he’s got the ruptured balls and loose teeth to prove it.

  What? Oh, sorry. I guess I got a little ahead of myself.

  Anyway, when the final bell rang, Ardith and I ran up to the history classroom and while she was crawling around, pretending to look for her earring, I was lounging by the windows, watching all the kids in the courtyard waiting for their buses.

  Della came out first and stopped, searching for us. Ardith’s brother followed maybe a minute later and immediately spotted Della standing by herself. He looked around, smiled to himself, and sauntered right over.

  He said something and she lit up. He glanced around again and said something more. She shrugged and dimpled. He ambled backward toward his mother’s car and she followed. He opened the passenger door for her and she slid right in.

  “I can’t find it,” Ardith said, crawling along the radiator.

  I watched, heart pounding, as Ardith’s brother started the car and Della buckled her seat belt. Held my breath as they backed out of the parking spot and headed down the school’s driveway. Released it as Janica Silvain’s newsvan, which had been parked out on the street for hours, fell in line about a dozen cars behind them.

  “Blair?” Ardith said, pausing.

  I turned away from the window, looked at her dead-on, and said as calmly as I could, “Try over there in the corner.”

  She went still and gazed at me wide-eyed.

  “Seriously,” I said, caught up in an exultant, full-body tremble. “Look, I can see it from here.” I wobbled past her, knelt, and retrieved it. Sat back on my heels and offered her the cheap, five-dollar hoop. “C’mon, we’d better go or we’ll miss the bus.”

  “Really?” Ardith whispered without moving. “It’s done?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, rising and giving her a hand up.

  That’s all it took, you know. Her being in the car and him being horny as hell.

  We still don’t know what excuse he gave Della for taking the detour to his house, then pulling into the back woods instead of going down the dead end and into the driveway. Maybe he said he had to pick something up and wanted to avoid the reporters flocked on the front curb. I don’t know. Whatever it was, she believed it.

  God, why do we do that? Why do we always, always choose to believe?

  Anyway, Janica Silvain must have thought she’d died and gone to heaven when she finally tracked down the Caddie and crept up on the scene, mike open and camera rolling.

  And even though she told the cameraman to keep it rolling no matter what, at least she had the decency to drop the mike and call the cops.

  At least that’s the story she told when the local news station interrupted Dr. Phil and carried live coverage of Ardith’s brother, bleeding, grubby, handcuffed, and with his shirt pulled over his head, being led into the police station.

  Then they flashed to the reporter waiting outside the hospital in time to see a chalk-faced Camella Luna race into the emergency room.

  The coverage skipped back to the police station when my mother arrived, reporters crowding her car and shouting questions as she bulldozed through them toward the door. The only time her stony demeanor cracked was when an angry-looking Janica Silvain yelled, “Your client was just arrested for attempting to rape a thirteen-year-old girl!”

  “Allegedly,” my mother said, pausing and rubbing her eyebrow.

  “The video’s been turned over to the police! Were you aware of your client’s violent sexual nature?” the reporter demanded, fighting her way through the other media vultures and battering my mother’s back with verbal blows. “Could this tragedy have been prevented? How will this affect his pending trial? The Lunas have already contacted AP Kozlowski and are vowing to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law! You and the Lunas were more than professional colleagues once, Mrs. Brost; do you have anything to say to them or will you continue to defend this alleged sexual predator?”

  My mother didn’t stop moving again and it was notable that there were no uniformed officers outside handling crowd control, clearing a path to her client.

  I was sipping cappuccino and curled up in the corner of the couch when my mother finally got home.

  “You heard?” she said, dropping her briefcase. It hit the polished marble floor with a thud and tipped over onto its bulging side. She didn’t bother righting it, only stood there, hair messy, suit rumpled, and panty hose laced with runs.

  “I heard,” I said, watching her over the rim of the cup.

  “It’s all over,” she said and went straight to her room.

  So that’s it.

  Well, almost.

  We’re giving you these tapes, Officer Dave. You do whatever you need to do with them, okay? Erase them, turn them in, bury them in your backyard, whatever. We trust you to do right by us. We always have.

  Oh no, don’t do that. Come on now, stop. Please. If you cry, them I’m going to cry and I told you that I don’t want to do that anymore. So you really have to stop now, okay? Please? You’re getting your neck brace all soggy and spotting up your windbreaker.

  Ardith? Oh God, not you, too. Go into the house and ask Mrs. Finderne to come out here. And bring some tissues, will you? Hurry!

  Shhhh, it’ll be all right, Officer Dave. It’s a good thing. Really.

  Because we cleared your reputation and we’re not victims anymore. We did it, don’t you see? We learned how to play hardball with the best of them and we won.

  What do you mean, “Did we?”

  leftovers

  by laura wiess

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  READING GROUP DISCUSSION

  The Robert Frost poem in the epigraph states, “I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way.” Do you think this quote is meant to apply to any particular character(s) in the story? What context for the novel as a whole does this quotation, as well as the Mother Teresa quotation, provide?

  Discuss the narrative structure of Leftovers. Does the frame story make any part of the novel particularly compelling? Do you think that Ardith and Blair are reliable narrators? Why do you think the author chose to utilize this literary device?

  At what point during the novel did you begin to realize that Ardith and Blair are disclosing their confession to Officer Dave?

  Domestic dysfunction dominates the tone of this novel. How do Ardith and Blair each deal with the psychological abuse they endure in their homes? Are their survival tactics similar? How are they different? In what ways does each girl manifest the effects her family has on her?

  When Blair’s mother is anxious or unhappy, she rubs the scar above her eyebrow that is the result of a malignant mole. Besides the mole and the scar, what are some other symbols in Leftovers and what are their implications?

  Blair states, “guys freak out” and “girls freak in” (p. 3). Where throughout the novel is her assessment of the differences between male and female behavior exemplified? Do you agree with Blair’s opinion?

  Were you surprised when Gary broke up with Ardith? How did the circumstances of their breakup relate to some of the novel’s larger themes?

  Blair states, “Ignorance of the outcome doesn’t exempt you from the consequences” (p. 6). On the other hand, the concept of intent is especially significant in this novel. How does it apply to each character? Where throughout the novel are the consequences at odds with what was intended?

  Ardith and Blair’s relationship is maintained throughout the course of the novel, but in what ways does it transform? What effect do their peers at school, Ardith’s broth
er, and Blair’s mom have on their friendship? Do you think their friendship is one that is sustainable?

  Ardith states, “Blair’s mother caused some really bad heartache and while I’d like to say it’s over now and I don’t hold a grudge, I’d be lying” (p. 95). Do you think Blair’s mother should in some way be blamed for the devastating attack on Dellasandra that Blair and Ardith carefully orchestrated?

  The following lines provide the novel’s conclusion: “[…] we’re not victims anymore. We did it, don’t you see? We learned how to play hardball with the best of them, and we won. What do you mean, ‘Did we?’” (p. 232) Given the book’s final sentence, what lesson is to be learned from this story? What do you think the future holds for Ardith and Blair?

  Between Ardith and Blair, with whom did you most identify? Who do you believe is the better friend? Did you feel greater compassion for either one of the girls or does either deserve more forgiveness?

  Though their story is a predominantly tragic one, is there anything about Ardith’s and Blair’s school experiences that are at all reminiscent of your own middle school and high school memories?

  Discuss the title. What is its significance?

  ENHANCE YOUR BOOK CLUB

  Before your book club meeting, take a stab at writing a short first chapter in the imaginary sequel to Leftovers. Where would we find Ardith and Blair five years in the future? Share your chapter with the group.

  Read Laura Wiess’s first novel, Such a Pretty Girl. In what ways does this novel differ from Leftovers? Has Wiess’s literary style transformed at all between these two books?

  Visit the author’s website at http://laurawiess.com

  For information about school bullying, visit the website of the National Youth Violence Prevention Resource Center at www.safeyouth.org, as well as www.stopbullyingnow.hrsa.gov, a site designed by and for kids and teens.

  AUTHOR QUESTIONNAIRE

  Leftovers is your second novel. How, if at all, was your writing process different from when you wrote Such a Pretty Girl? Actually, my writing process was pretty much the same. A news story caught my attention, haunted me with compelling “What if…?” questions, and characters were born to answer them. While Such a Pretty Girl and Leftovers unfold in different ways, with Pretty Girl happening in real time, Leftovers required both immediacy and distance. Plus, Leftovers has two main characters and covers a greater time period, so I was privy to a lot more of Ardith’s and Blair’s hopes, experiences, and family interactions.

  How did you select the quotations for your epigraph? Did you intend to use them as part of the text before you wrote the book or did you find them after you had finished writing? Whenever I run across a quotation that appeals to me, I print it out and tack it up on a bulletin board. I was staring at the board one day during a Leftovers revision, skimming the same pieces of wisdom that I had so many times before but thinking about something else, when the Mother Teresa quote just…clicked. Right after that, while I was still excited over how perfectly it described Ardith’s and Blair’s hunger, I caught sight of the Robert Frost quote and thought, Yes, here it is: the beautiful, lethal, double-edged sword of free will.

  Did you draw inspiration from any real-life events or acquaintances when you developed this story? One incident I drew from emotionally happened in my senior year of parochial high school. My friend and I had some free time in the afternoon, so we headed for the cafeteria. The radio was playing on the PA, and over in the corner a crowd of jock guys from assorted grade levels were standing in a closed circle, clapping, stomping, jeering, and yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” My friend and I were like, What the…? and walked over to take a look.

  We peered through the crowd and saw another senior, a quiet, stocky kid who’d been tormented his entire high school career, trapped in the middle of that raucous circle. His school uniform was disheveled, his necktie knotted up around his forehead, and he was dancing frantically to the music, face beet-red, sweating bullets, desperate-eyed and unable to escape through the closed ranks.

  Now, I was no angel and probably caused my share of heartache making it through, but when I saw this I freaked and without even thinking, elbowed through the crowd, grabbed this kid’s arm, said, “Come on,” and we plowed right out of there. I was so angry that I don’t know what I would have done if the circle hadn’t dissolved in grumbling and let us pass.

  Which begs the question why? Why did they let him go then, when they wouldn’t before?

  Was it because someone had stood up for him, or because they were just looking for something to do, and figured they’d pass the time torturing him until it became inconvenient? Maybe they knew they could start back up on him later, when he was alone again, or maybe it was something as simple as deflating the mob mentality. Who knows? I still don’t.

  Anyhow, we went and sat in the courtyard, me furious, him humiliated and exhausted. We’d never spoken to each other before but that afternoon we hung out talking (and I’m pretty sure we each cut some classes to do it) about the different ways he’d been tormented, from the jock girls whining “Ewww!” and shrinking away whenever he walked by or changing their seats in class so they wouldn’t have to sit next to him, to rougher locker room crap and just generalized cruel, constant mocking.

  He was funny, kind, shy, lonely, smart, and interesting. Maybe a little scarred from a rocky home (and school) life. He was also visible but powerless, and his normal days at school were hell on earth.

  We became friends for the rest of the year, stayed in sporadic touch for a long time afterward, and lost track of each other about seven years ago, when he and his family moved, and left no forwarding. I hope he’s reaping the happiness in his adult life that was denied in his teen years because he didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

  I also drew on knowing kids who came from party houses where almost any activity short of wrecking the place was fine, houses where the parents were hardly ever home, and from houses where at least one parent was always there to supervise. Kids who were encouraged to be whimsical, creative, adventurous, and kids who were constantly being groomed, molded, criticized, punished, and pushed to be better, faster, more perfect, we have expectations and you must conform and fulfill them NOW.

  Intense stuff.

  So, inspiration came from many places: stories, research, journals, news, memories, triumphs, tragedies, imagination…all combined, simmered, and fictionalized.

  What inspired you to use two teenage girls as your main characters? Did you have to do any research to get inside the minds of Ardith and Blair? Would you like to focus on this particular demographic again in future novels? The tragedy of school violence started me thinking about the possible difference in gender reactions to the daily, unrelenting stress and torment coming in from all sides, and wondering what would happen if it was girls instead of guys who were pushed to their limits. How much could they take, what would be the most damaging, how would they react, and what would happen when they reached critical mass?

  I researched the effects of pressure on teenage girls, how it’s internalized and may manifest later but bottom line, Leftovers is simply the personal, emotional evolution of two girls, not all girls, whose decision-making skills and reactions are fueled in part with kid-logic because they’re too young to have the benefit of years of life experience to draw from.

  I enjoy writing teens as main characters so yes, I very well may revisit this demographic. It all depends on the characters that show up, and the stories they have to tell.

  Do you believe that America’s teenagers, especially girls, are in crisis? What factors, particular to today’s world, do you think contribute to their current condition? I tend to think more in individual terms rather than in categories, so while there are undoubtedly some girls in crisis, there are also ones that aren’t. It also depends on the definition of crisis, and on individual perspective.

  Are Ardith and Blair in crisis? From an adult perspective, probably. From a peer perspective, one fam
iliar with the normal day-to-day teen life, dealing with everything thrown at them, navigating the pressure to perform, temptations, little downtime, splintering families, the stress of trying to be what everyone wants you to be…I don’t know. It can be overwhelming for adults, so why shouldn’t it be twice as overwhelming for kids?

  So, are they in crisis, or are they simply products of the environments that we create?

  What do you think can be done to combat domestic abuse and dysfunction? Please don’t suffer in silence. Reach out for help. Get counseling, attend anger management classes, report the abuse, prosecute the offender, separate. Protect yourself and your kids, because what they experience growing up will, in some way, shape who they become and what they pass on.

  Much of the action in the end of the story is in part the result of the manipulation of the law and the press. What are your thoughts regarding America’s legal system and American media? When they both work they’re hugely admirable; but when they go wrong, they are capable of doing great damage. Manipulating, and being manipulated by both, is nothing new; the key, I believe, is to recognize that there’s always more to the story than meets the eye. I’m a big fan of pondering behind-the-scenes motivation and intent.

  You focus on disturbing issues and many unhappy relationships in this novel. What effect did immersing yourself in these grim themes have on you while you wrote Leftovers? I very much enjoy exploring all kinds of emotions, including the passionate but perhaps unhappy ones, so while I love these girls dearly, they also break my heart.