Just Another Girl (6 page)

I hurry through the mall, eager to get away from a place where I clearly don't belong. I don't even
want
to belong here— expensive clothes, purses, shoes . . . things I obviously can't afford. As I mentioned, I'm more of a Target girl, or “Tar-zhay,” as Rose likes to say. And right now I have about ten dollars in my wallet, the remains of the meager allowance I “earn” by helping with Lily. I figured it out once—it's like fifty cents an hour. Slave wages.

As I walk past a wall of store windows curtained off so that a new display can be set up, I notice a girl walking next to me. She's alone too. Her shoulders are slumped, her head is hanging, and she looks like she's carrying the weight of the world on her. And then I realize that's me. That's my reflection.

Eager to escape that pathetic girl, I begin to jog . . . and then I run full speed, bursting out of the mall into the hot afternoon sun. I sprint over to where my bike is still chained to the bike stand. I look at the empty slot where Owen's bike was. Then I hurry to work the combination and unlock my bike. And, although it feels like an inferno now, I pedal like crazy for home.

When I get home, I'm dripping with sweat and out of breath. Seriously, I feel like I could be having heatstroke as I fill a glass of water from the faucet and begin to chug it down.
I go to the family room to find Lily flopped down on her old purple beanbag chair and glued to some lame cartoon that's playing on TV.

I stand there trying to determine whether or not I need professional medical attention, but decide that my heart rate seems to be recovering. So I pick up the remote to turn the volume down, which causes Lily to peel her eyes off the TV and look at me with a puzzled expression. “What's a matter with you, Aster?”

“Hot,” I gasp.

“Oh.” Her brow creases as if she's trying to compute this.

“I just rode my bike all the way from the mall, and it's about a hundred degrees out there.”

She frowns and nods like she's taking this in. “Really hot?”

“Really hot.” I swipe the cold glass across my forehead, then sink down into the old plaid couch that sags in the middle. Like a hot, sweaty zombie, I sit there and watch
Powerpuff Girls
with Lily. This is my life.

When the show ends, Lily turns to me and says, “Oh yeah. Mom said for you to call her.”

“Mom called?” I stand up and reach into my pocket for my cell phone, which I turned off to save the nearly dead battery during my bike ride home. Great. Mom probably tried to call me too. And it's unusual for Mom to call from work, unless something's wrong. “Why did she call?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. She did not call. I called her.”

“You called Mom?” Okay, this is definitely not good. Mom does not like to be disturbed at the store unless it's a real honest-to-goodness emergency. It took a long time to get Lily to understand this concept. Once she learned to use the phone, she called Mom again and again, and never for any good reason.

“So why did you call Mom, Lily?” I'm trying to keep my voice calm.

“I wanted to tell her what happened to me.”

“You mean about getting your period at the park?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But why did you need to call her at work, Lily?” I'm trying not to get mad at her. I know it won't help. “You could've waited until Mom got home to tell her. Remember, you're not supposed to call her at work unless it's an emergency. And then you should always call me first.”

“I did.”

I nod with realization. “But my phone was off.”

“So I got worried. I called Mom.”

“What did Mom say?”

“For you to call,
Aster
. Like I told you
already
.”

I take in a deep breath and dial O'Leary's. I ask for Mom, and then, seeing that Lily is occupied with another dumb cartoon, I hurry to the bathroom so I can have this conversation in private.

“What is going on there?” my mother demands in a tight voice that's laced with anger.

“Nothing, Mom. Everything's fine. I'm sorry Lily disturbed you.”

“She said she was covered in blood and that you had to come and get her.”

So I quickly explain, playing it all down. “Then I had to take Rose's car back to her and ride my bike back here and—”

“Wait a minute, Aster. You're saying you rode your bike clear over to the mall, then you borrowed Rose's car to pick up Lily at the park, then you brought her home, drove Rose's car back to the mall, and rode your bike home? Is that right?”

“That's pretty much it.”

“Why on earth didn't you just use your bus pass to get Lily?”

So then I have to explain that I was already at the mall when Lily called.

“Why were you at the mall?”

“Why not?” I snap back with irritation.

“Aster!”

“Look, I was riding my bike with a friend. We ended up at the mall, which turned out to be a good thing, because I was able to make it to Lily a lot quicker by driving Rose's car than I would've if I'd had to wait for the bus and then transfer and all that.”

“Yes . . . I suppose you're right.” Her voice sounds calmer now. I suspect someone has walked into her office, and she doesn't want to sound unprofessional or out of control.

“So, you're not mad?”

“Just worried. Lily sounded so upset. I'm sure that was a humiliating experience for her.”

I head back to the family room, where Lily is sprawled out on the floor now. She's eating directly from an oversized bag of chips and spilling crumbs all over our ugly brown carpeting. I notice now that the basket of laundry is still where I put it. Unfolded. She probably forgot. “Lily is perfectly fine,” I say in a stiff voice.

Lily looks up at me and grins as if to confirm this.

“I'm sure she's forgotten all about her trauma,” I assure Mom.

“Well, I just don't want you to forget your responsibility in regard to your younger sister, Aster.”

“Don't worry, Mom. I never do.” Although I wish I sometimes could!

“I'll be working late tonight.”

“I know.”
Of course
, I want to add.
What else is new?
But I know that will sound disrespectful. And I know exactly the response it would provoke. Mom would get very grumpy and say something like, “Well,
someone
has to bring in a living around this place. It's not like your good-for-nothing father is sending us any money lately. You know that he's more than two years behind in child support. If your deadbeat dad would just pay up, I wouldn't have to work so many hours, blah, blah, blah . . .” And so I don't go there. Instead, I tell her to have a good afternoon and to stay cool. Not that it should be
a problem since the store has air-conditioning, whereas our house does not.

But here's the honest truth: I think my mom likes working those long hours, and weekends too. I think that work is her way to avoid our
happy home and family life
. Also, I think it's her personal escape hatch—from Lily.

6

I go through the paces of finishing up the laundry, putting things away, and vacuuming Lily's chip mess on the rug. I know I should make her do it, but the last time I tried to get her to vacuum, she sucked up a spoon, which broke the belt, and I had to spend about an hour fixing it. It's just not worth it.

“I'm hungry,” she announces at 5:45. “When's dinner?”

“I don't know,” I say in a grumpy tone. “Mom's working late, and I don't know when Rose is coming—”

“Rose has a date,” Lily informs me. She always loves it when she knows something that someone else doesn't. I think it makes her think she's smarter than she really is.

“How do you know?”

“I heard her talking to her boyfriend on the phone.”

“When?”

“Today. Before she went to work.” Now Lily gets her sly look. “And I heard Rose say ‘I love you too.' ”

“You shouldn't eavesdrop.”

“I told Kellie about it too. I told Kellie that Rose loves her boyfriend.”

“You shouldn't gossip.”

“And you know what Kellie said, Aster?”

“No, I don't know what Kellie said.” I pick up the last plates from the dishwasher, then slam the door too hard.

“Kellie said that when people love each other, they sometimes get married.”

“So?” I put the plates in the cupboard and turn to face Lily. She looks very worried now.

“You think they gonna get married, Aster? You think Rose and Jared will get married?”

“I hope so,” I say.

“Why?” Lily demands. “Why you want Rose to get married, Aster?”

“Because then she'll move away, and I can have my own room.”

“I don't want Rose to go away.” Now Lily looks like she's about to cry, and I feel bad. I know better than to rock her boat. Lily never wants anything to change, not even the sheets on her bed. I'm sure she thinks that life should go on and on just like it is, with the four of us Flynn women living in this cruddy ranch house until we're all old enough to go into a nursing home together.

“Rose isn't going away,” I assure Lily. I force a goofy smile. “She's not old enough to get married.”

“How old you have to be to get married?”

“I don't know. But older than Rose anyway. Don't worry, Lily. I'm sure Rose is going to be around for a long, long time.”

“Oh.” Lily nods, seemingly satisfied. “Aster?”

“Huh?”

“I'm hungry.”

“Fine. I'll fix you some dinner.”

“Okay.”

I open the freezer and look at our current selection of Lean Cuisine. Mom got it for herself, then I told her that it would be good for Lily too. Finally we all decided we liked it okay, and it's lots easier than fixing regular dinners. Especially when it's just Lily and me. “How about turkey?”

“Not turkey.”

“Beef stroganoff?”

“No. Not that either.”

“What then?”

“Lasagna.”

It figures. I had been eyeing the lasagna myself. And there's only one package of it. “Fine,” I tell her. “Lasagna it is. Now you go watch TV, and I'll fix it.”

I take my time in the kitchen. It's nice to have some peace and quiet. As I poke around, I think about Owen. Oh, I know it's hopeless. I know that I had my chance, and now it's over. But I can't help but daydream about what it would be like if Lily hadn't called. Or what it would be like if I was someone else—a normal girl in a normal family with normal friends and a normal life.

This is where my imagination always lets me down. I cannot imagine having a normal life.

Lily and I eat our Lean Cuisine dinners at the breakfast bar. I insist on this to make for easier cleanup. After we're done, I want to do some drawing, but as soon as I get out my sketchbook and charcoals, Lily insists she must draw too. So I get out her tablet and return to what is turning out to be a pretty good-looking oak tree, but she's still complaining. Her tablet and no. 2 pencil aren't good enough. Even when I let her use my good colored pencils, she's still not happy. But there is no way I'm going to let her use my charcoals and good paper. Not only would that be a waste of expensive supplies, but she'd probably get it all over her. Finally I convince Lily that we should both color together in her
Beauty and the Beast
coloring book.

So my art supplies are safely on top of the fridge, and Lily and I are sitting at the breakfast bar coloring. I'm coloring the teapot, making it very psychedelic, and Lily is giving Beauty a makeover that causes her to resemble the Beast. Maybe it'll help their romance.

The landline rings, and I decide to let it go to the machine since it's probably just a dumb telemarketer, and hearing the machine will make them hang up. But suddenly I hear a guy's voice speaking very politely into the answering machine.