Chapter 19 #3
I knew the name of the town, the one I was supposed to say.
Mae had drilled me on the details. If I’d been able to repeat them with any conviction, it might have made a difference.
But I had no faith in that possibility. I’d been kidding myself, thinking I’d fooled everyone.
People, even my friends, were just being polite. I was as bad a liar as ever.
“Tell them, Nora.” This from Roberta, now beside me as well. She touched my arm, and when I turned, her eyes were desperate, imploring.
“Arkansas City,” Irene said. “I got letters from her all winter. So did Bertie.”
Hazel’s freckled brow furrowed. She looked only at me. “Cat got your tongue, Nora?”
This got one of her friends laughing, though the other girl looked away.
“Well,” Hazel said. “Whatever you did up there, it did wonders for your figure.”
Someone outside my field of vision laughed. Someone else shushed them, then laughed as well.
“Nice talking to you,” Hazel said, though she stayed where she was, looking at me. She knew I’d be the one to flee. And she was right. I turned and walked out of the courtyard. I didn’t cry. I kept my head up. I was surprised I managed that much.
I’ll never know what motivated Hazel to corner me like that.
There hadn’t been any previous trouble between us.
It’s possible that she was rankled when Mr. Fray praised me in class.
Or maybe she just didn’t like lying, or the idea that I was getting away with something.
Some people feel consequence is important, not something to be evaded.
A lot of people feel that way.
—
All afternoon, I grew increasingly aware, given the stares and silences, that news of my conversation with Hazel had traveled. I marched on from class to class, telling myself I could tough it out.
My last class of the day was gym. Because it was raining, we were inside shooting baskets, girls on one side, boys on the other.
I heard laughter, turned, and there was Robbie Delvers with a basketball under his gym shirt, his friends laughing.
When they saw me looking, they hid their faces, but they laughed even harder. Plenty of girls were smiling, too.
That was it for me. Three more months in that school would have felt like twenty years. I said nothing to the teacher, just headed for the locker room to change.
I came home to an empty house. A neighbor had given us a cherry pie to help us through Mae’s hospital stay, and I ate a full slice without sitting down.
Even my chewing was angry. Maybe Mae could’ve convinced everyone I’d been in Arkansas.
Maybe anyone but me could’ve done it, and not stood frozen in the courtyard, terrified and mute.
In six years, the only lies I’d told successfully had gotten me on the ferry to Bradenton.
I should have learned my lesson, once and for all.
The next day, I went to the library. My supervisor was happy but surprised to see me, as I wasn’t due for the first shift of my return until the weekend. I told her that due to unforeseen circumstances, I needed to quit school and obtain full-time work as soon as possible.
“Oh, Nora.” She gave my arm a gentle pat. “I’m sorry to hear it. I’ll see what I can do.”
She was a nice woman, my supervisor. For all I knew, she never believed the lie about Arkansas either, and she expected all along that I’d be too humiliated to return to school.
But I’d chosen my words with care, and she might have assumed what I hoped she would: that my family had fallen on hard times financially, and it was because of my embarrassment, for my father, and for all of us, that even as I thanked her, I couldn’t look her in the eye.
—
I didn’t tell anyone about dropping out until my stepmother was back from the hospital.
Bobby and Janet had already left for school, and my father had left for work.
Mae listened with Shirley at her breast, her robe half open, her hair uncombed, her eyebrows still naked of pencil.
She didn’t ask why I’d dropped out, but I could tell by the slump of her shoulders that she guessed.
I told her I was sorry, and she shrugged.
All winter, she’d picked up my school assignments, mailed them to Arkansas, and delivered my completed assignments back to my teachers. So all of that work for nothing.
“Well, you’re eighteen,” she said. She glanced down at Shirley, who stared into the distance with dreamy eyes. “It’s your choice.”
She said she’d tell my father for me, and we both knew that would be the end of it. Regardless of how he felt about my leaving school, he would guess my reason, and he wouldn’t want to discuss it.
Mae used her pinkie to tug her nipple back from Shirley, who already looked different than she had at the hospital—her head rounder, her pruney cheeks turned round and smooth.
“I have to pee,” Mae said.
I didn’t offer to hold Shirley. I’d done dishes the night before, and in the morning, while Mae slept, I’d made breakfast and packed lunches. But I would not touch Shirley, not even for a minute. Mae seemed to grasp this rule without my announcing it. She stood and carried Shirley to the hall.
“I got more hours at the library,” I called out. “So I can start paying you back. Sooner, I mean.”
She’d already shuffled out of sight, but I heard her open the bathroom door. “When you can,” she said, and closed it.