“Hang onto the stubs, ‘cause the girls’ team is holding a draw for door prizes. Doors open at six-thirty, game starts at seven.” Elise nods along with wide-eyed wonder like he’s telling her the secrets of the universe. He politely pretends not to notice her stare. “Yeah, so, we’re selling tickets at the door, too, so bring your family, friends… girlfriend?”
Elise’s intense smile disappears. I push past Chris shit-for-brains Elwood and try to grab Elise’s arm, but she darts away before I can. The basketball player looks a little horrified, watching her run away in tears.
“Dude,” is all I can say to him. I turn to follow Elise. She has a good head start, and I hope she hasn’t gone into the girls’ bathroom or some other place where I can’t get to her.
Her ego is going to be bruised for weeks. If that guy she likes thinks she’s gay, there’s no way he’s interested in her, and Elise isn’t going to take that well. And that stereotyping jerk had to blurt out his assumption in front of a group of people—I can already hear what uncreative taunts they’ll have for her by Monday morning, and it’s not like her hair will grow to out by then. I’m sure that’s why he thought she was a lesbian. Why else would a girl have such short hair, right?
I feel even worse because it’s my fault her hair is short to begin with. She collected sponsorships to shave her head last fall and donated the money to cancer research projects. Girly little Elise wouldn’t have done anything like that unless someone close to her had cancer—me.
I find her curled up on the backseat of Eric’s car, holding her knees and crying. She’s locked all the doors.
“Open up.” I tap on the window and she gives me the finger.
“Come on, open up. We’ll go get food somewhere—I’ll take you for ice cream or something.” That’s the universal comfort food for girls, right?
“Go
away
!”
I give her some time and space to calm down, but when I return to the car after fourth period, she’s still sitting in the back seat. She only opens the door when I suggest that we cut classes for the rest of the day and go home early. When Mom and Dad come home they find us on the couch in the den, watching
Harry Potter
. They take one look at Elise—full Hogwarts uniform, round glasses, wand in hand—and say, “Bad day, sweetie?”
Saturday
I wake up to find Elise in my room, standing in front of my closet mirror with one of my hats on.
“What are you doing?”
She tugs the toque off and her hair sticks up in all directions. We both inherited that unfortunate genetic trait. “Do you think it would look good if I dyed my hair blonde?”
“No. You’d get called a blonde ditz all the time and your Harry Pothead costume would look even dumber.”
“Only if I kept wearing Gryffindor colors.” She twists a short lock of her hair around her finger, frowning. “Maybe I’ll dye it red like yours.”
“What the hell do you mean, like mine?”
Elise huffs. “You’re so sensitive.”
“Put my hat back where it belongs.” I roll over and drop the pillow over my head to broadcast ‘go away.’ It doesn’t work. A few seconds later I feel the mattress dip as Elise climbs on.
“Forget dyeing it,” she says. “Maybe I should go with extensions.”
“Elise, you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am your sister. If you want to talk about girly shit like your hair, go to Mom.”
“But Jemmy,” she whines, and flops down on the pillows next to me. “Mom’s busy. And you’re honest.”
I hold the pillow tighter over my face to muffle my groan. “Don’t get extensions. Your hair’s too short; it’ll look like shit.”
I shouldn’t have encouraged her. She snuggles up to me and asks more of my opinion. “Maybe I’ll just dye the front part? I could do something edgy like blue.”
“Or you could act your age and get a boyfriend.” She makes injured puppy sounds at that. Elise has mastered the art of being the spoiled youngest child. She can play us all like violins.
“Sorry.”
“But while we’re on the subject, you could use a girlfriend.”
I yawn. “Yeah, right. Know anyone interested in emaciated bald guys?”
“Your personality is the bigger turn-off,” she says, and pats my head. Fucker.
*
I get up and take a shower as an excuse to make Elise leave me alone. A big fat day of nothing stretches in front of me. The school dance is tonight, but hell if I’m going. It’ll be a quiet evening without Elise for once.
By the time I get out of the shower I can hear
Harry Potter
playing downstairs, and decide I need to get out of here. I get dressed and ask to borrow Mom’s car.
“Where are you going?”
“Visiting some friends.” I can see
what friends?
written on her face before Eric tactfully blurts it out.
“School friends.”
“Did you grow this friend in a petri dish in Bio?” I take off my shoe and throw it at him.
“Eric, that’s enough.”
“He threw a shoe at me!”
Mom gives me a disapproving look, but she’s been prone to letting my shenanigans slide since I got sick. I get off with just an apology to Eric, but I just know he’s going to mess with my stuff while I’m gone as payback.
Mom sighs and tells me to have the car back by seven. It’s loaned to me on the condition that I drive Elise and her friends to the dance.
At first I just drive around Smiths Falls with no destination in mind. I stop at the store for a cup of yogurt, and then carry on driving around aimlessly. I end up sitting in the school parking lot, eating strawberry yogurt and watching the streamers for tonight’s dance flap in the wind.
I really need to work on making some friends. I had a good group of friends back in Ottawa, before we moved. I haven’t heard from Emily in awhile. Her emails have been sparse since Christmas. I guess I’ve fallen a few places on her priority list now that she has a boyfriend, whatever the hell his name is.
A girlfriend might be a good idea too. Not that Elise was right, or anything. It’s just a thought.
Really? And how much would you pay her to pretend to be attracted to you?
Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a blind asexual girl to go out with. Or maybe a chick with dementia that can’t compare me to other guys and realize I’m rather inadequate.
When I get sick of my own thoughts I turn on the radio to fill the silence. “Ruby Tuesday” by the Stones is playing, and I’m reminded of Willa. Maybe I’ll drop by unannounced to bother her again. I could make it a Saturday tradition, since I have nothing else to do with my weekends.
*
When I get to the Kirk house, Willa is shoveling the driveway. She asks me what the hell I’m doing there and I ask her if she wants help clearing snow off the cars. She hands me a brush.
“You’re not getting ready to drive to the dance, are you?”
“I don’t do stuff like that.”
“So what are you doing tonight?”
“Your mom.” I didn’t know anyone over the age of ten still made ‘your mom’ jokes.
“No, really.”
Willa shrugs. “Hanging out. Going down to Joe Moore’s house tonight.”
“What’s at his house?” I thought Elwood was trying to get into her pants. Did I miss that dunce Moore’s attempts to do the same? Does she keep turning down Elwood because she’s into Moore?
“A small after party with people from school, and some of my friends from Port Elmsley.”
“So you don’t dance, but you’ll go to an after party with the jackasses from school?”
“You visit a classmate you can’t stand on a Saturday. You don’t have anything better to do, do you?”
I toss the brush back to her and turn to leave.
“Harper.”
“Piss off, Kirk.”
“Do you want to come to the party tonight?”
I half-turn to look at her incredulously. That was one hell of a mood swing. One minute she’s insulting me and the next she’s inviting me out with her friends.
“What time?” Shut up, I’m lonely.
“Eleven.”
“I’ll meet you here and follow you.”
“Fine.”
When Mom hears that I made plans tonight, she offers to drive me. I think she just wants to spy and see if I imagined the whole thing or if I’m telling the truth.
Three of Elise’s friends are over. I can hear them giggling and chattering in her room as they get ready for the dance. Maybe it’s not too late to convince Elise to wear a more modest dress. Or a tarp. And a chastity belt. And blinders so she can’t ogle the seniors.
She comes downstairs with glitter in her spiked hair—seriously,
glitter
—and asks Mom to borrow some lipstick.
“What do you need lipstick for? It’s just a school dance.” Both Mom and Elise roll their eyes at me and neglect to answer my question. Damn it all. I remember making mud pies with Elise and pulling her pigtails. Now she’s getting all slutted up to go to a dance, and I’m chauffeuring her there. I should have bought a ticket so I could chaperone her, too.
“She’s really growing up, isn’t she?” Dad says when he sees the look on my face.
“Yeah. Is there a drug that can stop that?”
He laughs at me. “I know, it’s hard. But she’s lucky she’s got two older brothers to look out for her.”
Not that she makes it easy.
“How come you’re not going to the dance?”
“Because it’s dumb.”
“You might try to have a little more fun, Jem,” he tells me. “You’re so serious. You’ll get old before your time.”
Too late.
*
I arrive to pick Elise up half an hour before the end of the dance and send a text to let her know I’m here. She doesn’t answer, and I fidget impatiently. She’d better not make me late to meet Willa. Elise stays until the last possible second and then skips out to the car, sweaty and smiling. I drop her off at home and then head back into town to go to Willa’s house. By the time I get there she’s already in her car, waiting for me. We exchange waves and then I follow her out of the neighborhood.
It’s about a forty-minute drive to Joe Moore’s house, adding the time spent on a detour. Willa heads toward Port Elmsley first and stops to pick up three teenage boys at a little white house nestled against the woods. I wonder if one of them is Luke.
It’s eleven-thirty by the time we get to Moores’ house. A few people are already there, sitting around the woodstove in the enclosed porch. Elwood waves to Willa through the wide porch window before either of us is even parked.
“Wait up.” Willa explains me to her friends as I make my way over. She introduces us—this
is
the mysterious Luke; he does exist—and we head inside. A few of the kids from Willa’s lunch table are already here. I recognize Paige Holbrook, Hannah Whatever, and who could forget Chris shit-for-brains Elwood? The rest I know by face but not by name. A boy with thick glasses whose name escapes me has brought a guitar. Bowls of chips are being passed around, and a few people are roasting marshmallows next to the wood stove. Willa, in typical weirdo fashion, has brought healthy food. She’s got fruit, veggie sticks and hot cocoa in her backpack. Then she pulls out a second thermos and hands it to me with a spoon.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued. Last time she cooked something for me, I didn’t eat anything else for three days. I open the thermos and steam rises up to meet me. This stuff smells good. It isn’t the carrot and pea soup, but I do detect a hint of ginger in the aroma.
“What’s in it?”
“Nothing you can’t eat.”
Good Lord, it’s good. It’s some sort of puree of broccoli and honey and a dozen other things I can’t identify. I thank her between bites and she responds by slipping a folded piece of paper into my jacket pocket. I bet that’s the recipe.
It’s kind of nice being here, even though I don’t know half the people. It’s like being part of a group of friends again. Most of them don’t look at me, as usual, because my appearance makes them uncomfortable. The only people who look at me and talk to me are Willa and her friend Luke, who doesn’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary with my appearance. For the first time in a long time, I’m having fun.
Everyone is hungry after the dance, so the first part of the evening is spent snacking and roasting marshmallows. Paige Holbrook starts a game of Never-Have-I-Ever, and when that gets old What’s-his-nuts brings out the guitar. He’s not bad with that thing, but I still can’t help wanting him to stop playing—the impromptu sing along has given Luke an excuse to cozy up to Willa’s side and put a hand on her knee. She doesn’t seem to mind. What is he, sixteen?
It isn’t until well after midnight that the group concedes that the temperature has dropped too low to keep sitting on the enclosed porch, and we move inside. Paige suggests getting another group activity together soon. She proposes ice-skating and manages to get almost everyone on board.
Willa turns to me. “Care to join in, Harper?”
I shrug. “I might not feel up to it.” There are a lot of things to consider, like what time of day they’ll be going and how that will affect my stomach and energy level.
“You could meet us at the rink if we decide to go out after.” She’s trying, which is more than most people do for me, so I offer her a smile.
“I’d like that.”
*
It’s two o’clock in the morning by the time I get home. I walk in the front door to find Mom and Elise on the couch with hot chocolate, waiting up for me.
“You have a curfew young man,” Mom says.
“Sorry.” I lean over to give her a goodnight kiss and she less-than-subtly smells my jacket. I smell like smoke from the wood-burning stove, and I hurry to explain myself before she jumps to the more obvious conclusion.
“You really went out,” she says with surprise. Always good to know she has faith in me. “Did you make friends?”
“Good night, Mom.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“
Good night,
Mom.”
“Jem!”
Sunday
Sunday is sleepin day at the Harper house. Everyone except Mom, chronic insomniac that she is, lies in till ten or later. By the time I wake up the sun is shining across my bed and it’s blissfully warm. I just lay there for a few moments, listening to the sounds of a sleeping house, before I bother to take stock of my body. When I do get around to it, I notice I’m hungry—that’s been happening more and more this past week. My hand, as usual, has made its way into my pants of its own accord while I slept. The difference is, I wake up hard today. Last time that happened, there were still Halloween decorations around town. I smile and start to move my hand. This has got to be my favorite sign of recovery.