The Girl Is Murder (21 page)

Something snapped in my head.

Bruises. Tom had had bruises that made him disappear the previous spring, that were still vivid when he came home a week later. Tom also wore the zoot. Was it farfetched to think he’d been beaten up one night after an evening on the town and decided to lay low until the bruises faded?

“How’s everything?” asked Suze.

“Better,” I said. “How was babysitting?”

She rolled her eyes and took a bite of sandwich. It looked like peanut butter. Just plain peanut butter. “Fraughty. The brat’s lucky she lived through the night. Ma was happy, though. You thought any more about what I said?”

She was talking about the rumors about Mama. “Yeah. I’m not going to let it bother me. Until someone confirms it, it’s not worth paying it any mind.”

“Don’t let it get you down, baby girl.” Her bruises had also faded since Saturday, but they were still there. I wondered what it was like to live in a family that used fists instead of words to make their points. As stupid as it sounds, I almost envied her. At least she knew where she stood moment to moment. There was something so uncomplicated about basing the status of your relationship with someone on whether or not they were angry enough to hit you.

Lunch passed quickly in their company. Benny never talked directly to me, but his thigh periodically made contact with mine, and after the third time it happened, I was pretty sure it wasn’t an accident. Nobody talked about the run-in with the servicemen. Instead, they recounted our evening at the Savoy and how the rest of their weekends had been dreary exercises in making money and not getting yelled at by parents and bosses.

I contributed very little beyond my tale of getting in trouble for coming home late. They were fascinated that it was the first time it had ever happened to me.

“No one told you that you had a curfew?” asked Dino.

“Nope.”

“Doesn’t seem right that you got in trouble then. How do you know you’re breaking a rule when no one told you there was a rule to begin with?”

“That’s what I told him,” I said. “And he actually saw the logic. I think we reached a truce.”

“Him?” asked Suze. “I thought it was your aunt.”

“She’s the one who caught me, but my uncle’s the one who lectured me.” I was amazed I could think so fast on my feet.

“So you’re out of the doghouse?” asked Rhona.

“Not really. He smelled your booze on my breath, so …”

Rhona shook her head. “You’ve got to learn to cover that up. Peppermints work great. And chewing gum.”

“If you can get it,” said Maria. “I hear they’re going to start rationing gum and most everything else.”

“Disappointing high school boozers everywhere,” quipped Benny.

“Don’t worry,” said Rhona. “I’ll come up with something else. You could always kill the smell with a ciggie.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Trust me, that would only make them yell louder.”

The bell signaled the end of lunch, and we all got up to throw away our trash and say our farewells. As I disentangled myself from the table, I felt a hand grab mine and gently squeeze. Warmth rippled through me and I met Benny’s eyes for the first time.

“How long are you in the doghouse for?” he asked.

“I don’t know. A week, I guess?”

“At least it’s not forever, right?” He gave me a wink, released his grip, and with long, even strides walked away.

Should I follow him? I didn’t think so. He didn’t look back, anyway.

As the rest of the group dispersed, I fell into step with Dino, hoping his empathizing about my getting in trouble gave us enough of a connection that I could talk to him. There were things I needed to know. Things I didn’t feel comfortable asking Benny.

“You all right by the way?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

“You mean after Friday? Yeah. It’s no big thing.”

“Maybe not to you, but I couldn’t believe they’d do something like that. I mean, here they are enlisting to protect our country, and they pick a fight with one of the very people they’ve pledged to protect.”

He looked at me like I’d just laid an egg in the middle of the hall. “Huh. Never thought of it that way.”

“Does it happen a lot?” I asked.

He shrugged. “More than I’d like.”

“Maria said it happened to Tom, too.”

“Sure, we’ve all taken our licks. It’s about the zoot, not about being brown.”

“Did any of you ever fight back?”

“We’re not chicken.”

“I’m not saying you are,” I said. “I’m just curious ’cause it seems like if you fought back, someone would make a big deal about how that proves you’re unpatriotic. I mean, you can’t hit a soldier, right?”

Another look of amazement. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, yeah. It’s really unfair. They’ve got our backs against the wall.”

“So none of you ever fought back?”

“I took a swing a time or two. But it’s just easier if you go limp and let them do whatever they’re going to do. Makes them mad. They want you to fight back so it’ll last longer, especially if there’s an audience.”

“You mean the other soldiers?”

“Sure, them and the skirts. Fools thought Rhona, Maria, and Suze would be impressed if they put us in our places.”

“What about Benny and Tommy? Do they fight back, too?”

“Benny usually plays possum until it passes. He’s no fool. Tom learned the hard way not to stand up for himself. The one time he did, he ended up with two cracked ribs and a busted schnozzle. He was out of school for a week.”

“Last spring?”

“How’d you know?”

“Rhona mentioned something about it.” So I was right. The life had gotten pummeled out of him and he hadn’t wanted anyone to see the damage he took. If it had happened once before, it could’ve happened again. And maybe this time he wasn’t smart enough to lie there and take it.

“I better trilly,” said Dino. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” I said. “See you.”

I ROLLED what Dino had told me around my head throughout the afternoon, barely paying attention during American History and Geography. There was one detail that had stuck in my head—Dino said that the servicemen liked to have an audience, especially a female one. They may not have been able to impress Suze, Maria, and Rhona by humiliating their friends, but that didn’t mean it didn’t work for other women. Like Grace and her friend Josephine.

What if Grace had been there the night this happened? It would certainly give Tom reason to lay low. It was one thing to fight back and lose, but it was another thing to fight back and lose in front of the girl you were hoping to win back. He might’ve been so humiliated that he took off then and there.

But would Grace have just let him run off without checking to make sure he was all right?

Probably. Especially if she was desperate to get rid of him.

I needed to see Grace. Not at my house, but in her own element at Chapin, where she didn’t know she was being watched. I wanted to see how much she’d really changed since I’d left. I wanted to know why she hadn’t told me about Tom.

And despite my promise to Pop to stay on the Lower East Side, I was going to do it that afternoon.

CHAPTER

15

THERE WAS NO TELLING how quickly Grace would leave Chapin after school, so rather than waiting until the end of the day to go uptown, I decided to skip typing class.

I’d never skipped before and I had no idea what would happen when I did. Would they send a truant officer after me? Call Pop and report the absence? I couldn’t take any chances, and so just before the period started, I sought out Pearl and asked for her help.

“I need to leave school,” I told her.

“Now?” I nodded. She didn’t ask why or where I was going. I think she was so thrilled that I was talking to her that she didn’t dare risk rocking the boat.

“Can you snag the attendance records for my typing class and make sure no one knows I’m playing hooky?”

“Sure. Absolutely.”

A twinge of guilt passed through me, but I didn’t have time to analyze it.

“Thanks,” I said.

“What are friends for?”

It was surprisingly easy to walk off campus. I called the house from a pay phone plastered with a sign that warned me to keep my calls brief so our enlisted men could use the lines. Mrs. Mrozenski answered on the third ring, her voice so out of breath that I had to imagine she had been upstairs when she first heard the call.

“Hi, it’s Iris,” I said.

“Everything is okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I had a quick break between classes and wanted to ask if you’d tell Pop that I have to stay after school.”

“You have a meeting maybe?” It was like she was feeding me a ready-made excuse because she didn’t think my vague reason would be sufficient for Pop.

“Yeah, a meeting.” I felt terrible about the lie. Pop and I were supposed to be honest with each other. But the pull was too strong. I needed to see Grace.

“Dinner will be at six,” said Mrs. Mrozenski. “You will be back then?”

“Absolutely.”

I took a train uptown, feeling like I was breaking a thousand laws along the way. What if Pop—or someone he knew—saw me? That would be it—no more second chances, no hope of one day working by his side, nothing to help me pass my time but school and Pearl.

My travel companions only made me feel worse. Enlisted men in uniforms so new you could still see the pinholes from the tags they’d removed rode the subway with the wide-eyed gaze of tourists. I thought of the men we’d encountered on Friday night and wondered if these boys shared similar thoughts about zoot suits and patriotism. But then they looked at me with such sad expressions in their eyes, like I reminded them of their sister or the girl they’d left behind, and I felt ashamed for thinking they were capable of doing anything wrong.

I got off at 86th and Lexington and walked the familiar streets, taking in the fall smells of the privileged part of the city. As I arrived at Chapin, the doors burst open and the first of the girls piled out of the main building. They weren’t headed home. Chapin didn’t end with its last class. Now was the time for the various sports and clubs the girls participated in to kick off their meetings and practices. In groups of twos and threes, the identically clad girls headed for Drama, Dance, Orchestra, Yearbook, Student Government, Newspaper, or the dozens of other activities they could sign up for. If I were still there, who knew what I’d be doing?

It didn’t matter, I told myself. I was gone now. There would be no opportunity to excel at playing the handbells or writing poetry for the literary magazine.

Girls continued streaming out of the building, Grace among them. In her company was someone I didn’t recognize. She had a mane of bright red hair that looked like it would frizz out if it wasn’t tamed into the victory rolls she currently wore. This had to be Josephine.

Neither of them wore their uniform. Clad in street clothes, their faces made up with a heavy hand, their saddle shoes exchanged for pumps, they obviously weren’t headed to a club meeting, rehearsal, or lacrosse match. They exited the gates and I counted to twenty and followed after them, keeping enough distance that I’d have time to react and hide just in case they suddenly turned around.

Josephine’s voice was low and musical, though she made no effort to keep it quiet. “How about if we try the Wall?” she said to Grace. She meant Horn & Hardart, the automat we used to frequent after school.

Grace bowed her head in supplication. She seemed to be fighting to keep pace with her friend. “There weren’t that many last time—”

“Last time we went too early.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try.”

A group of sailors approached from the opposite direction. Josephine slowed her pace, forcing Grace to do the same. I responded accordingly, ducking to the right so I didn’t walk into anyone.

“How’s my hair?” asked Josephine.

“Good,” said Grace.

“Lipstick?” She bared her teeth, momentarily looking like a wolf.

Grace scraped at one of her own incisors to indicate where Josephine should devote her attention. “You got a little lip cream there.”

“The tall one’s cute, don’t you think?” As she asked the question, she waved at the sailors, fluttering her fingers like some movie coquette.

“He’s zazz all right,” said Grace.

“Where are you headed to, girls?” asked the sailor Josephine had just described as cute.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said back.

“I don’t suppose you have time to show some boys from out of town where they can get a good cheap meal.”

“Depends on how cheap you want it,” said Josephine. “Girls like us have standards.”

The boys stopped, bringing Josephine and Grace to a standstill. The crowd parted around them, me included, and continued on its way. I put a scarf over my hair and pulled up the collar of my jacket, hoping it would hide my face. I walked ten steps, then doubled back, pausing at a newsstand where I pretended to be absorbed by that day’s headlines.

“What do you say, fellows?” said the tall sailor. “Would a little company make you willing to stretch your budgets?”

“How old are you?” asked one of his friends, a short boy with a nose like a beak.

Now it was Grace’s turn to pipe up. She shifted her body, sticking out her chest while arching her back. “How old do you think we are?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I’m guessing you two are still in high school.”

“Then you’d be guessing wrong,” said Jo.

He cocked his head toward Grace. “That so?”

“Would I lie to you?” said Grace.

“No, I don’t think you would.”

A wind blew past, bringing with it the first hint of the approaching winter. Even though Josephine was wearing a coat, she shivered and rubbed her hands together like we’d just been hit by an arctic blast.

“You cold?” asked the tall sailor.

“Freezing. Mind if I put my hand in your pocket?” She fluttered her lashes like she was a Southern belle.

He pulled his peacoat from his body. “You go right ahead.” She slid her hands into the navy wool jacket, keeping enough of a distance from the boy that her behavior didn’t seem overtly improper. “So where are we taking you two for dinner?” asked the sailor.