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Authors: Brenda Ortega

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BOOK: Fault Lines
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How come she never had to think about being nice when she didn’t feel like it? Why did she get to do whatever she wanted without worrying about anyone else?

“It’s OK,” Justine said, interrupting my thoughts – probably even reading my mind. “Taylor doesn’t bother me. She’s just an idiot.”

Taylor screeched on. “What do you think, Maddy? Want to get one so we match? We’ll go to the dance as twins!”

I tensed waiting for the response. Seconds passed, a minute, Todd laughing, nothing from Maddy that I could hear. I chose to believe she didn’t answer Taylor’s rude question. I wanted to think a piece of her heart still cared and she was protecting it from Taylor, even if she didn’t admit it out loud.

Me and Justine rounded the corner. My house sat on the curve straight ahead, and I relaxed to see a familiar blue Ford Focus parked in the circle driveway. “Grandma’s there,” I said. “I forgot my dad had a job interview today.”

Justine started up her driveway. “That’s great. See you tomorrow.” She smiled and waved.

I hurried the rest of the way, excited to have Grandma all to myself for a while. Bobby wouldn’t arrive from elementary school for another blissful forty-five minutes, and Mike had football practice after school.

She was waiting for me when I walked in, curled on the couch with her bare feet and skinny ankles sticking out from orange sweatpants. She’d watched me through the front window as I walked down the street. Her smile, I could tell, had waited for me all the way home.

Her hands rose up for a hug, though she didn’t get off the couch. Instead she held her arms in a U-shape and sang the corny beauty pageant song she sometimes greeted me with ever since I was little. “There she is, Miss America…”

It was good. Just me and Barney and Grandma sitting on the couch, talking together, Barney crashed on the floor and me rubbing his belly with my feet.

I told Grandma about Taylor and Maddy suddenly being best buddies, about Mr. Fritz and the Polock joke, and about Taylor tormenting Justine about her dress.

Grandma told me Aesop’s fable about the donkey that puts on a lion’s skin. He fooled everyone until he brayed.

Her smile shifted the wrinkles in her tissue-paper skin. “Write this down and hang it on your bulletin board,” she said. “Read it whenever Taylor bothers you. ‘Clothes may disguise a fool, but his voice will give him away.’ What do you think about that?”

“I get it, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

She took my hand in hers and squeezed it in her lap. “Sweetheart, it’s a natural law just like gravity. Taylor may get away with things for a while because she’s pretty and popular. But anyone who gets to know her will see the truth. Don’t you worry. Right will win.”

Grandma smelled of lilacs, her favorite flower and perfume. She always did, and the scent was one of those things – like eating dinner all together at the table or playing pickle with Mike and Bobby in the back yard, so easy to take for granted, like breathing – that used to make my world seem rooted and permanent.

Back then I believed her philosophy about life. Resting my head in the curve of her shoulder, it seemed like goodness and kindness would someday rule.

Now, not so much. Maybe that’s because there’s more than one donkey in this story.

now

I’m waiting for the pain

The waiting room door clicks.

It starts to open but swings partway back and stays ajar. “You’ll get a ticket in the mail with her court date,” says a voice I’m sure is Officer Simpson. “Since you’ve chosen this option, it should happen quickly.”

The door opens wide, revealing Mom in her purple sweatpants and tennis shoes under her long black dress coat, shooting death rays with her eyes. Officer Simpson is the doorman. I look at the floor.

Suddenly I’m looking forward to going to prison, but Officer Simpson says, “You’re free to go.”

Mom doesn’t say anything to me in the police station, or as we walk to the car. But I can sense her fury by the quickness of her steps, the slamming of the car door, the way she guns the engine and punches the car out of our parking space. She lurches on to the street, makes sharp turns. Angry, last-minute stops at lights and stop signs lurch me forward.

She’s building to a blow-up. All the way home.

She parks in the garage, stops the engine, jumps out, and stalks to the door. She fumbles for house keys in her purse as I watch through the windshield. She unlocks the door but then whirls to face me – the jangle of keys still hanging from the lock.

“What in the
world
were you thinking?” she screams through the glass. “What would
ever
possess you to do such a thing?”

I know better than to answer. I sit perfectly still and stare at the dashboard.

“Is
this
what you took your little brother out to do? Breaking windows? Destruction of property? What’s next – spray painting 101?”

She waits and stares, still standing by the partially opened door, as if she wants an answer. Am I supposed to respond? I don’t want to feed her anger – keep it going. I hope my silence and stillness will draw the oxygen from the fire.

“Is
that
the example you want to set for Bobby? Is it?”

“No.” I try to look up but my gaze only makes it as far as her purse, clutched in her fist, bulging with stuff as usual. “I ditched him when we got outside.”

“Get out of the car.” She swings around and goes inside.

I’m in no hurry, so by the time I follow, her coat is on the floor just inside the door and she’s banging dishes around the kitchen sink. I stand in the family room with my coat on, waiting again.

“You’re grounded for a month. That means no going out with friends, no TV, no computer, no phone, no
anything
. And that’s only the beginning. You’re going to
work
. You can’t begin to imagine the chores I’m going to pile on you. Now go. Go to your room and think about what you’ve done.”

I will. I’ll go to my room and think, believe me. And tomorrow I’ll think some more, and the next day, and I’ll remember everything, replaying all my mistakes over and over like a movie in my head.

But I’ll think too about what Mom did.

then

we kept taking hits

Mom couldn’t have picked a worse time to do it, in the middle of September, just after Justine’s dad passed away in an instant. The shock had barely worn off.

Dad said Mr. Hammond died from a heart attack, right at his desk at work. After that, Justine wasn’t in school for a week.

What saved me during that lonely time was Mrs. Luna, my second-period English teacher. She’s young and tall and pretty, with straight, black hair and brown skin that shows off her white teeth always smiling. She grabs your attention. In her class people treat each other with respect, because Mrs. Luna won’t accept less.

I loved it. For one hour a day, I could forget about everything bothering me.

A couple days after Justine’s dad died, Mrs. Luna announced the JV drama club would start meeting at lunch the next day. The freshman class always puts on a play in the fall, and Mrs. Luna directs. She made a point to stop me after class and tell me I should try out. So I practically had no choice. I couldn’t say no to her.

I joined, although I wished Justine could have done it with me.

When I walked into that first lunch meeting, I saw lots of people, but I zeroed in on two: Maddy Miskowski and her new best buddy, Taylor Rinehart. They sat near the door, heads together, whispering and giggling, probably making fun of everyone.

I got by them fast, but I didn’t know where to go. I ripped my fingernails into my lunch bag, I held it so tight, trying to find someone to sit with.

I almost had to turn back to find a seat, when I spotted a girl I knew, Kailyn Whitehead. She got this huge grin even though she was chewing food, and she waved one arm above her head, like I was a mile away in a huge crowd.

“Dani, Dani!” she shouted. “Sit here!”

I rushed over there just to shut her up. I’d known Kailyn Whitehead since we were in third grade together, and she was practically still that tiny. But she had a really big mouth that could make her sound stupid even though she got all A’s.

As soon as I sat down, she started in with the questions. “Are you joining the drama club?”

I took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “That’s why I came here.”

“What play do you think it’ll be? Do you think we’ll have to try out?”

I pulled out my peanut butter sandwich and potato chips. “I don’t know.”

I felt grateful when Mrs. Luna finally sat on her desk and started talking. It quieted Kailyn and gave me a chance to scope the crowd. It was a strange collection of cliques: the popular people with Taylor and Maddy, a couple Goths, some nerds, a few jocks, plus two class clowns. And I was shocked to see, way in back, Todd sitting with a couple other burnouts. I was sure they just wanted the extra credit from their English teachers and they’d quit eventually. I didn’t know where I fit in.

“I’m thrilled to see such a good turnout today,” Mrs. Luna said. “We’re going to have a great time putting together a play production that will inspire our audiences.”

I tried to focus on Mrs. Luna and make it be like English class, where I could lose myself in what she said. She told us the play this year would be
A Thousand Cranes
, a true story about a Japanese girl who died from the effects of an atomic bomb.

“Let me explain why it’s called
A Thousand Cranes
,” she said. “This girl doesn’t die from the bomb itself, which the United States dropped on Hiroshima, Japan, at the end of World War II. She’s only two when the bomb explodes and she appears unhurt. But ten years later, she gets leukemia from the radiation.”

Mrs. Luna stopped talking. Her eyes shifted left, and I looked to see Taylor Rinehart whispering something to Maddy Miskowski.

“Taylor, what are you thinking?” Mrs. Luna said.

I would have been embarrassed to be called out by Mrs. Luna for being rude, but not Taylor. She flipped her hair over her shoulder even though it already was pulled away from her face by a headband that matched her shirt.

“Well, it seems kind of depressing to me,” Taylor said, but she was giggling when she said it. “Can’t we do something else?”

I looked back to see if Mrs. Luna was bothered, but she just smiled. “You have to hear the whole story before you decide if it’s depressing or it’s hopeful,” she said, and she nodded at Taylor with her eyebrows raised, as if she was asking permission to go on.

“All
right
,” Taylor said, gazing around to make sure everyone still looked at her.

“This little girl hears an old story that says a sick person who folds 1,000 paper origami cranes will get a wish granted and become well again.”

“So,” Taylor interrupted, “she gets better in the end?” A few of the popular kids sitting around her were laughing even though what she said wasn’t funny.

“No. This is a true story, and as in real life, not everything works out as we might wish. Many thousands of Japanese died from being exposed to radiation, as did Sadako, the girl in this story. Before she could finish her thousand cranes, her grandmother, who died in the bomb blast, returns to take Sadako to the land of a thousand spirits.”

Again, Taylor’s whining voice broke in like an alarm clock in the middle of a good dream. “So what do the cranes have to do with anything if she didn’t finish them and she didn’t get her wish granted? Sounds pretty stupid to me.”

I prayed Taylor would just drop out if she didn’t like the play Mrs. Luna chose.

“The beauty,” Mrs. Luna said kindly, “is that her classmates finished folding the paper cranes for her. Eventually, Sadako’s friends realized their dream of building a monument to her. That statue commemorates Sadako’s biggest wish, beyond even her wish of saving her own life: that there would never be another bomb like that again.”

Finally, Taylor was silent. I looked over and she was making a face that looked like,
Huh? That’s the ending?
But at least she wasn’t talking anymore.

Then, of course, Kailyn raised her hand, and Mrs. Luna called on her.

“Will we have to try out?” Kailyn asked.

“Yes. First, we’ll read through the play together while we’re meeting at lunch like this. That will give you a chance to decide what part you’d like to try out for. Then—”

Kailyn raised her hand again. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Mrs. Luna said.

“Kailyn the questioner,” one of the class clowns called out.

Then everyone got to see Mrs. Luna’s tough side. She could be nice and patient with comments and questions like Taylor’s, but she didn’t go for people being mean.

She looked straight at him. “Sir, I don’t know your name either. It is?”

“Oscar.” He tried to slouch down in his small seat, but he couldn’t hide.

“OK, Oscar,” she said, and she wasn’t yelling, but the look in her eyes made certain no one else would mouth off. “I’m glad you want to participate, but you will be kind to your classmates. You won’t like the consequences otherwise.”

Kailyn was still raising her hand.

“Kailyn, is it?” Mrs. Luna smiled at her.

“Yes. When will the tryouts be?”

Just then the bell rang, and everyone grabbed stuff and shot out of their seats.

“Clean up your messes,” Mrs. Luna shouted over the noise. Then, quietly she added, “Kailyn, we’ll talk more on Friday, OK?”

I gathered my trash slowly, trying to come up with an excuse to quit. This wasn’t shaping up to be fun, especially without Justine around. But something stopped me. Maybe I couldn’t come up with a fake reason fast enough, or maybe I couldn’t bring myself to lie to Mrs. Luna.

Later I thought about it riding home alone on the bus. Voluntarily spending time with Taylor and Maddy sounded like torture. But my dog trainer voice didn’t want to disappoint Mrs. Luna.
You signed up. She expects you there
,
it said.
And then my good side and bad side kept arguing back and forth.

I thought how Kailyn was annoying and I didn’t want her to hang around me. S
he’s not trying to bother you. Don’t be mean
. I thought how Taylor and Maddy would pick on the quiet, nerdy types in there, and all of us would be sitting bulls-eyes.
But some aren’t afraid of Taylor. Get to know them.

BOOK: Fault Lines
8.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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