Authors: Kristen Chandler
Girls Don't Fly (10 page)
Andrew tells me in detail about all the shows he watched on TV yesterday, like a rerun without pictures. Brett doesn’t talk. I’m still sore from being tackled, but I’m starting to feel better. Except for the Mel and Zeke show on the porch, it almost feels like a normal Sunday night.
When Andrew finally finishes his monologue, I talk to Brett. “So what happened to you that day, with the scratch?”
I scoot closer to him and he scoots away. Maybe if I fessed up about the bruises all over my body he’d talk too. Instead I say, “Who wants to hear what the white witch asked?”
Everyone, including Brett, moves closer.
In my best white witch voice I say, “Do you come from the land that holds the magic jewel of Isabela?”
Danny’s eyes are wide.
“The pirate king called, ‘Why yes, I do. Why do you ask?’
“The white witch leaned upon her school-issue yardstick and said, ‘The magic jewel that is hidden in the deadly cave of the cormorants, the precious jewel that kills trolls?’
“‘So you’ve heard of it then,’ said the pirate king.
“The crowd hushed. This was their chance to be rid of the evil stinking trolls. A magic jewel that could solve all their problems. What could be simpler? Except who could they trust to sail across the treacherous ocean to retrieve it?
“From the ranks of the miserable town stepped a band of volunteers as motley as the crew on board. Among them were scholars, noblemen, the town prince, a few maids in waiting, and a scullery maid who made a mean spaghetti sauce. But alas the pirate king had room for only two travelers. ‘We must have a contest.’”
“The prince wins,” says Carson. He moves in closer so he’s nearly on my feet.
“You think?” I say.
“Me too,” says Danny, crushing closer too. “The prince should win.”
Even my brothers know I don’t stand a chance. “Well, what if the prince is under a spell? Like a stupidity spell,” I say.
“From the witch?” says Andrew.
“From the king and queen, who want to keep him safe from all scullery maids.”
“You said it was going to be about pirates,” says Brett, pinching Carson to get him out of the way.
“Stop it!” yells Carson. “I’m listening.”
Mel shows up at the edge of the room. Zeke’s silhouette is gone. She’s crying. “Could you all just shut up? Especially you, Carson. Just shut up.”
Carson’s face collapses, and he runs out of the room.
“Nice, Mel,” I say.
“You shut up too, Myra.” She doesn’t even look at me as she says this.
Mom walks in, takes one look at Mel’s tears, and crosses the room to her. “Did you and Zeke fight again?”
“He’s such a thoughtless jerk.”
Meanwhile Carson is running down the hallway banging on things as he goes, thanks to Mel’s cheer and kindness.
Mom puts her arm around Melyssa and walks her into the bedroom. The other boys and I lie quietly on the floor until they’re gone.
“Melyssa’s mean,” says Danny.
“I can’t stand her,” says Andrew. “I can’t wait till she moves.”
I whisper, “Hey, you don’t mean it.”
Brett looks off into space.
I say, “Let’s get some sleep.”
“It’s not even nine o’clock,” says Andrew.
“You could go watch TV with Dad in the kitchen.”
“Sweet,” says Andrew, and bolts for the next room.
I hear the little TV in the next room. Whatever they are watching involves a lot of noisy gunfire. Danny crawls onto my lap. I say, “And you are going to help me cheer up Carson?”
Brett kicks at the couch. “I wish she’d move too. And I do mean it. I wish she’d take her big fat stomach and big fat mouth and get out of here.”
I reach my hand out for his arm but he moves farther away.
“This isn’t like one of your stupid stories,” he says.
In the kitchen I hear the sound of explosions.
I say, “How do you know? You haven’t heard the end of my story.”
15
Buffeting:
When the weather knocks birds senseless.
Ms. Miller offers to lend a movie on the Galápagos Islands to anyone who is interested. After class Erik sprints up to her desk. I’m still stiff from being a Chicken Sandwich, so I’m a little slower to suck up.
“I’d like to watch it too,” I say, pointing to the DVD.
“Are you applying?” says Ms. Miller. She doesn’t even try to hide how surprised she is.
I say, “Yes, I am.”
“How nice,” she says. We both look down.
“Anyone can apply, right?”
“Well, sure,” she says.
That’s the thing about doormats: sometimes they can slip right out from underneath you.
Erik says, “She can have it first.” He smiles at Ms. Miller, like he’s some sort of Boy Scout. Which of course, he is.
Ms. Miller says, “How nice of you, Erik! Don’t you need to get a start on your topic, though? Maybe you two could watch it together?”
“No,” we say simultaneously.
“Oh,” says Ms. Miller. She obviously has me confused with someone Erik would be seen with. “Well, then watch it tonight if you can, Myra. Erik needs to—I mean, you both need to get started as soon as possible.”
“Sounds great, Ms. Miller,” says Erik, in a deeply likable tenor. I wonder if anyone in the world knows the other side of Erik. Sometimes I think I’ve imagined it myself.
Erik says, “Myra, you should have it first.” Erik starts to hand me the DVD.
I say, “I don’t need to see the movie to start working. I’ve already picked a topic.” The words pop out of my mouth before I can swallow them.
“You have?” says Erik. “That’s great.”
“Well, good for you, Myra,” says Ms. Miller. She looks at me like she’s never seen me before. “What are you going to research?”
“The flightless cormorant,” I say. I am
so not
writing about that stupid bird, but I need to get out of this conversation without sounding like a complete moron, which of course I am. “They’re so rare and surprising.”
so not
writing about that stupid bird, but I need to get out of this conversation without sounding like a complete moron, which of course I am. “They’re so rare and surprising.”
“Surprising is right,” says Ms. Miller. She puts her hands in her lab coat pockets. I might be imagining it, but she seems like she’s holding in a laugh. “Good luck to both of you. And may the best scientist win. I’ve been told they would prefer not to give both awards to one school, but I suppose it’s possible. If you are both so much better than everyone else maybe they’d reconsider.”
“That would be
great
,” says Erik.
great
,” says Erik.
Great. Great. Great. Does he know another word? I say, “Yeah. Anyway, I’d still like to see the movie when you’re done, Erik.”
“First thing tomorrow morning. Or I could bring it by if you need me to,” he says. Ms. Miller smiles at his chivalry.
“I’m good,” I say. “In fact, I’m
great
. Just
great
.”
great
. Just
great
.”
Ms. Miller clears her throat. “Well, I’m glad you two worked that out then.”
As we walk away from Ms. Miller’s desk, Erik’s eyes narrow and his jaw tightens. I don’t think he appreciated my sarcasm.
Jonathon is waiting for me outside class. I intentionally didn’t sit anywhere near him in biology.
“Sorry about the chicken thing,” he says. “I didn’t know it was you.”
“What difference does that make?” I say. I know I’m taking out how mad I am at Erik on Jonathon. But neither one of them is my favorite person right now. “When someone’s getting creamed, you don’t just take a picture of it.”
He drops his eyes and his face sags, like he’s going to cry. “If I get involved in what I’m filming, it’s not honest. It’s not art.”
“It didn’t feel too arty, Jonathon.”
“That’s what makes it so honest.”
I should tell him he smells like stinky socks, but I don’t. He’s too sad and I only say things like that on the inside. “Just delete it, okay?”
“I have to be honest, right?”
“Honestly delete it.”
“For sure.” He looks up. “So do you want to go out, then?”
Even a doormat has to draw a line somewhere. “Honestly. No.”
I storm down the hallway of my school wishing I had someone to talk to. I used to. All through grade school and most of junior high I hung out with Danni and Kristi and Annesa. Then Mom got sick and I had to be home to help. Then I started dating Erik and I didn’t want to spend a free second on anybody but him. Erik knew everybody and talked enough for both of us. Which was fine with me, or almost fine with me, until Erik stopped talking to me, and now everybody else has too.
So I’m surprised when Sophie Anderson stops me in the hall. Sophie is smart and pretty and is not going to hang around Landon after she graduates, you can just tell. She adjusts her calculus book in her arm and says, “Hey, Myra.”
“Hi,” I say. She makes me nervous.
She gives me the sweep. “How are you?”
“Good,” I say. “How are you?”
“I heard you and Erik broke up.”
“Um. Yeah.”
Sophie says, “You totally did the right thing. And I don’t believe any of those rumors about you anyway.”
“What rumors?” I say.
She shrugs. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You know how guys are.”
“Yeah,” I say. I feel like I’m being tackled again.
“I’m just saying ... he and Ariel and a bunch of people were at my house Saturday night ... I mean, he acts, like, all sweet, but he isn’t, is he? Ariel’s bitchy. But Erik gives me the creeps.”
I have no idea what to say, so I just stand there. Clearly, I’m a mess.
She puts her hands up and shakes them like they’re covered in something disgusting. “I mean
the creeps
! I came upstairs and I heard them in my kitchen. Like
breathing
. In my kitchen. We eat in there. So I made some noise on the stairs. By the time I walked through the entryway Erik was all smiles and Bible stories. He actually asked me about our family’s trip to Omaha while he was standing there next to Ariel looking like she’d been mauled by Sasquatch.”
the creeps
! I came upstairs and I heard them in my kitchen. Like
breathing
. In my kitchen. We eat in there. So I made some noise on the stairs. By the time I walked through the entryway Erik was all smiles and Bible stories. He actually asked me about our family’s trip to Omaha while he was standing there next to Ariel looking like she’d been mauled by Sasquatch.”
Someone else has seen the other side of Erik.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Why are you sorry? He’s the creep. His mom and my mom are like best friends. They sit around and make humanitarian crap so they can talk about people. You should hear Erik’s mom talk about him, like he’s the patron saint of good sons. And then he acts like he had to dump you because you can’t keep your shirt on.” She puts her hand on my arm, but I pull away.
“I gotta go,” I say.
I walk away fast. I’m having humiliation whiplash. Two guys from the track team say hi to me as they pass. Maybe they’re just being friendly, but maybe they aren’t. I look at them and keep walking.
I cannot graduate fast enough.
The last period of the day I am a TA for sewing. I take roll and then try to sew to calm myself down. I nearly take my finger off in the serger.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Larson, the teacher, says, “They want you down at the office, Myra. And get a bandage on that finger while you’re down there.”
The main office secretary gives me a smiley face bandage and tells me my mom wants me to call home.
I go out to my car and turn on my cell phone. Mom answers. “I need you to come get us. Melyssa needs to go to her obstetrician.”
“Can’t you take Melyssa’s car?”
“It won’t start.”
“Can’t she wait until after school?”
“No, she can’t. She’s been throwing up all day.”
“You always threw up,” I say. It’s not that I mind leaving school early. It’s that I can’t handle one more drama right now.
“And I miscarried a few times, if you’ll remember.”
“Who’s going to get the boys after school?”
“I’ll call the school and leave a message for them to wait for you. All you have to do is drop us off. And then you can go get the boys and then come back and get us.”
I let my silence register my complaint.
“Do you have any other ideas?” says Mom.
“I’m on my way.”
All the way home I am thinking about Erik one second and Melyssa and my mom the next. If I think about being the new school slut, or about Erik and Ariel together, it makes me insane. If I try to focus on Melyssa, I’m flooded with memories of my mother when she was pregnant with my brothers, lying in her bed for months while my dad and I tried to keep everything together, with Melyssa always off being the star of something. I just can’t be the nurse again. I look at my finger on the steering wheel. I think I’m going to need a bigger bandage.
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