“Uh-huh. And so I told her, I know you want to get his attention, but please keep your bra on next time.”
The group around her explodes into laughter, and Virginia raises a cocky eyebrow. It falls the instant she sees me.
“Just a second,” she sighs to her friends, then abandons them on the curb and runs up to the car, sticking her head through the passenger window.
“What, are you spying on me now?” she hisses, crossing her arms.
I roll my eyes. “I have better things to do. Mom told me I was supposed to give you a ride home. Here I am.”
“Oh my God.” She rolls her eyes and sighs so emphatically it fogs up the windshield. “You’re supposed to park over at the office building and call. It’s bad enough that I don’t have a car. You don’t have to remind people.”
My patience is wearing thin. “Go get your stuff and get in.”
“No! You’re just mad because I have friends and you’re some sort of leper now.”
I slam my hand down on the steering wheel and grit my teeth. “Virginia, get in the damn car.”
She sets her jaw and shakes her head, then storms away back to her friends. “I have to go. My brother is a complete ass.”
“Wait, is this Kennedy? Your hot brother?” One girl cranes her neck. Great. I’m being scoped out by my little sister’s friends. This day is turning out well. I stare ahead through the windshield, teeth gritted, waiting.
“Oh, put your fucking legs together, Erica. He’s not interested in getting the clap.” She shoulders her backpack and stomps toward me, her skirt riding up and revealing entirely too much of her thighs.
She yanks open the door and throws her bag into the backseat, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the car. “Fuck you, Pookie. Jesus. Jesus.” She rolls up her window, her left hand clenched into a tight fist.
“Good to be home. How was your day?”
She glares out the window, arms and legs crossed, a million miles away.
Saturday, August 16th, 5:52 PM
“Hi. Mr. Law?”
He stuck out a hand. “Call me Tobias. I assume you’re Erma’s grandson?”
I nodded, accepting the handshake with a shy grin. “Yeah. She wanted me to come over and let you know that dinner will be ready in just a minute.”
Tobias smiled back, showing lots of teeth. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” He turned to look over his shoulder and up the stairs. “Poppy! Poppy! Hurry up and get down here!”
He turned back and looks me up and down, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Ulysses Kennedy, sir. I go by either the first or the last. It’s a tough name to have.” I smiled again, playing nervously with the hem of my shirt, rolling it over in my fingers. “My grandmother said that your daughter goes to the local high school?”
He nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “She’s a senior. And yourself?”
“A senior, as well.” I willed him not to ask why I was transferring in my senior year. I knew it would be questioned, that people would pry, but I wasn’t ready, yet. I probably never would be.
He looked me up and down again, appraising me with a knitted brow, then flashing a smile. The thing about Tobias, I would learn later, was that his smile gave him the ability to get away with anything. He was a charmer, and he knew it. Counted on it. What his status and money couldn’t get for him, charisma could, and he exuded it in abundance. He always seemed so genuine, somehow, even when he was lying through his teeth.
Before either of us could say anything more, a girl appeared behind him. She had the same eyes as her father – hazel, with heavy lids and long lashes. The rest of her face, though, was entirely her own – a thin, slightly upturned nose; full, pouting lips; high cheekbones. While her father had brown hair carefully mussed with just the right amount of gel, Poppy’s hair was auburn. She had it pulled back in a loose bun, a few tendrils escaping around her face. She was beautiful. Double take beautiful. Movie star beautiful. And she looked pissed.
She caught me staring at her and raised her eyebrows. “You’re the new one, then.” She smoothed her pinstriped black pants with one hand, adjusting the straps of her white tank top with the other. “It’s been a damn long time since someone actually moved into this town.”
“Watch your language,” Tobias warned her, but you could tell Poppy had no intention of listening to him. About anything. Ever.
“Kennedy.” I held out my hand. She stared at it for a moment before accepting, wrinkling her nose.
She pulled back her hand after one shake, adjusting her hair. “Excuse me?”
“My name. Kennedy. Well, Ulysses, but everyone calls me Kennedy.”
Poppy nodded, running her tongue over her upper teeth. “Uh-huh. Cute story.”
“Poppy...” Tobias said warningly, but again his daughter seemed not to hear him.
“Look, I swear I’m not this much of a bitch,” she said after a moment, managing a faint smile. “Well, some of the time.” She glanced over at her father. “So you’re a senior at Quincy, then?”
I nodded. John Quincy Adams High School enrolled a total of three hundred and seven students, bussed in from the north, south, and east. Mostly farm kids who were too far from Mason to make it to the public school system over there. It was on the same campus as the elementary school, which went K-8, and none of the buildings had air conditioning, and the heating system was constantly breaking down during the snowy Midwest winters. It was going to be a fun year.
Tobias cleared his throat. “Let’s get going, then.” He stepped back and held the door open. Poppy passed by without acknowledging him, putting her arm around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a whisper as we walked briskly toward Nana’s house, leaving Tobias behind.
“Making my father hate you,” she answered in a normal voice, sticking her hand in my back pocket. “You’ll thank me later.”
I turned to look over my shoulder. The kind, smiling man I had met moments ago had disappeared, leaving in his place a glowering man with clenched fists. His eyes met mine. I turned quickly away.
“I hate him,” she said, smiling over at me. She winked. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve met anyone new. This is going to be fun.”
It was going to be something, all right.
Friday, December 12th, 5:14 PM
“Mom, stop.”
My mother brushes the hair from Josephine’s face with a sigh. “Sweetie, I’m just worried about you. I want you to be happy.”
Josephine backs away, arms crossed. “Mom, I’m fine. Great, really. I just... Look, Pookie’s home. Things are going to get back to normal soon, I swear. Just one step at a time, okay?”
“I just think it would be better for you to see some of your old friends, Josie. They called all the time when you were away, checking up on you. You’ve had two months to get settled since you’ve been back. I’m worried about you.” She reaches out and puts a hand on Josephine’s shoulder.
“Mom, stop it.” My sister jerks away, then massages her temples for a long moment, chewing on her lip. “Please,” she says softly, leaning against the counter. “Can we just make dinner? Please?”
Mom unties the back of her apron and pulls it over her head. “I’m done with this. I’m done.” She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and throws the apron on the floor. “Make your own damn dinner!” she calls behind her, storming across the hall into her bedroom and slamming the door.
“You need to tell her,” I say softly, stepping into the kitchen from my spot in the shadows of the hall.
Josephine looks up and glares at me. “Don’t start. Just... Don’t start.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, her makeup smearing. “I hate this,” she says quietly, staring down at the floor. “Jesus, Pookie, I just hate it.”
I step forward and lean against the island, nudging her toe with mine. “I know.”
She looks up, meeting my eyes. People have always said we looked alike. But I have our mother’s eyes, like Virginia. Green and grey. Josephine’s are dark brown. Our father’s, probably. And now, it’s like I’m seeing them for the first time. She looks terrified. And sad. So damn sad.
“She thought it would get better when you came back.” Her voice is so soft I can barely hear it. She uncrosses her arms and braces herself against the counter, examining the fingernails on her other hand. “I just... She thought I was lonely. I don’t know.” She chews at her middle finger, tearing off the nail with her teeth. “I just don’t have the energy to see people. I’m so damn tired.”
She focuses her eyes on the wall above my head. I stare at the ground. We stand there for awhile, the sounds of our mother’s sobs echoing faintly from her bedroom. Eventually, Josephine sighs, grabs a granola bar from the pantry, and heads for her room. I hear the door slam overhead. And I am alone again. Missing something. Wishing for a way to fix us.
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