PROLOGUE
Continuation: persistence, maintenance, permanence.
The act of continuing.
To continue.
Yes, well, we seem to have a problem with that, don't we?
One may continue with one's actions, habits, life, if one's actions, habits, life remain in a state that advocates their continuity; that is, if everything remains the same and all aspects of action, habit, and life are present in the everyday.
Never again.
Sunshine, laughter, being swept up in strong loving arms to spin exuberantly above the grass; playing catch and tag and basketball accompanied by the velveted voice and capable hands and sure knowledge of this idolized man. Learning from him: fractions and algebra, boxing and swimming, things you don't say around your mother (rendered slightly less dangerous in Spanish and French), what it is to be kind and why we are the way we are and why the snow falls and the flowers die and the ice melts and spring wakes up the baby leaves in their buds on the trees; how to shoot a three-pointer and change a tire and check the oil and what we do when we leave for work every day; don't forget to buckle up honey and don't stay out too late and watch for the cops in that speed trap I showed you and we'll get your books tomorrow and have fun and I love you.
And blessedness, and being charmed, and always having a place to run to even if you don't want to be seen running; broad, strong shoulders to cry on; gentle hands to wipe away your tears, the calloused fists ready at your defense no matter what.
Never again.
The ringing of the phone in the dead of the night; a cry from the heart as your mother learns what she never wanted to know, and tears and sympathy and pity (pity pity I hate you and your pity). Funeral-baked meats and lemon bars; the smell of Grandma's house and the settling of papers and the rich reddish color of a handsome wooden box being lowered into the ground. A single white rose-how many times she would shudder, seeing that perfect alabaster bud drift down to tap onto the lid of the only thing that remained of her father, seeing the rose disappear under flakes of dirt and clods of broken grass and finally the whole thing blurring and swimming and vanishing into the silvery mist of tears. Arms around her, offering comfort and sympathy and pity (don't pity me I don't need your pity I hate your pity) smothering her and clamping her down with their kindness and care until it was all she could do not to run screaming to find him, to join with this beloved man who had created and shaped her world and left it so cold.
Persistence, maintenance, permanence.
CHAPTER 1
".And so we see that the addition of force, shown by this vector A in the negative-y direction, alters the momentum of object 1, sending it.."
H'm. Maybe a sunburst. Or a shooting star. Yeah, that would look nice: a shooting star arcing up across her neck, right under her earlobe. But that was all nerve endings there, and it would hurt like a bitch. And good luck trying to get Mom to pay for it. She'd nearly lost it when Rhi'd come home with a third hoop in her earlobes; a tattoo was way out there on the "not-a- chance-in-hell" scale.
Rhi ran a hand through her long black hair and twiddled the pen between her thumb and forefinger, noting appreciatively the subtle segue between her physics notes and the not-so-possible designs for her not-going-to-happen tattoo. Object 1 (of mass m1) had been on a collision course with Object 2 (of mass 2xm1) until Object 1 had become a flaming comet and Object 2 had transformed into a tightly cowering turtle, albeit unrealistically bigger than the aforementioned flaming comet. Although given the fact that thousands of particles of space dust were colliding with the earth every day, and no one really noticed since so much of it burned up in the atmosphere, it could be possible for a turtle to be bigger than a comet..
This was so stupid. The class was stupid, the teacher was stupid, and the subject matter was stupid. She'd taken physics at her old school-AP Physics*, in fact, and taken the AP test, and gotten a 4 (a 4! One out of her whole class, a 4!) , so she'd be able to skip introductory physics in college, but as for now.stupid IB school, wouldn't accept her AP credits, so she had to sit through basic again.
Gods bless whoever had invented changing bells. Rhiannon Abernathy gathered her rather artistic notes and book and shouldering her bag, joined the milling herds of students in the halls of her new school, on the way to her last class of the day. Phy Ed wasn't such a bad way to end a day of classes, especially when it was late spring and getting warm, and the class was meeting in the swimming pool every day to splash around and generally goof off. At least, everyone else did. Everyone else joined in the semi- flirting games of Chicken and Marco Polo; Rhi swam laps. Had she and Mom come to this town earlier in the year she'd have been eligible for the girls' swim team, but as it was the season was over before they'd even had need to look for a new high school for Rhiannon, and so the lanky swimmer laced her way through the water, up and down the 25 meters again and again until the bell rang.
The other girls in the locker room hushed when Rhi stepped into the showers, conspicuous in her silence and her one-piece racing suit. She didn't need to look at them to know that April and her friends were staring at her, half-glaring and half-curious; April herself would be running an interior monologue about how she disliked Rhi and her taciturnity, her self- contained poise and easy grace in that long, lean form that had almost been made for the pool. Of course, April wouldn't use words like 'taciturnity' or 'poise'; Rhi's mom had always maintained that blonde was not just a hair color, it was a state of intelligence, and the bleached April had both bases well covered. More likely she was muttering things like 'queer' and 'bitch' and 'lezbo' to her groupies under her breath.
Bubblegum clutch-pig, Rhi thought contemptuously, as the water slid eagerly up around her hips as if to welcome her back. April and her friends entered the pool much more ceremoniously, with shrieks and complaints about the temperature and the stupidity of swimming and oh, I don't want to get my new two-piece wet yet and don't splash my hair!
Rhi didn't know how or why she'd excited April Hanson's enmity, nor did she care. All she knew was that the two of them had disliked each other since Rhi's first day at this new school. They were, not ironically, almost polar opposites: small, curvaceous April with her carefully-maintained roots and French manicure and well-guarded circle of followers; tall, narrow, muscled Rhiannon with her long, careless black hair and lack of fashion sense and seemingly chronic loneliness. Rhi had certainly never said anything to her out of the ordinary, and April had never gone out of her way to be cruel; but the dislike one had for the other was plain.
Some strange whim owed to the Imp of the Perverse had somehow endeared Rhi to April's boyfriend Matt, though, despite what Rhi thought of as plain signs that she desired nothing more than to be left alone. After getting his first A ever on a Spanish project with Rhi as his partner, Matt had evidently found some odd comfort in the quiet girl's company and had sat with her at lunch daily (April had a different schedule) and next to her in class since then (April didn't see a foreign language as worth her while and had dropped French after the first required semester).
Deep, easy breaths; long, sure pulls through the water, kick in and turn and tuck and push off the wall for another lap. Swimming was a great contemplative exercise: repetitive motion that allowed for free thinking while still looking good. Unfortunately, swimming made her think (as most things did) of the man who'd taught her to move through the water with such ease, and his painful absence. The fact that her face was in the water didn't stop a sob from catching in her throat as she tried to maintain her exhalation; eyes kept dry by Swedish racing goggles suddenly burned with tears. Partly out of frustration but more out of shame she made for the side of the pool and clung to the gutter there, praying the rush of recycling water would mask the deep, hiccoughing breaths she sucked in as quietly as possible.
"Everything all right, Miss Abernathy?" the grating voice of the phys ed teacher boomed out across the tiled arena and Rhi furiously scrubbed at her leaky nose, thankful that chlorine and grief had the same red-rimming effect on the eyes.
"Yes sir, just breathed with the wrong pipe," she rasped as loud as she could. Some of the class laughed.
"Remember that the air is on the other side of the water, Miss Abernathy," the coach shouted back with amusement. "I don't have to teach y'all CPR till next week and I don't want to have to give a preview or anything!"
Unkind giggles ground against Rhi's ears and against her better judgment, she turned to glance at April's enclave. The blonde lounged at the side of the pool with her friends, staring at Rhi with smug written all over artfully made-up faces. In that moment she didn't regret or mourn the fact that her father was dead; she utterly hated it, and she hated him for being gone.
CHAPTER 2
The high school bus was invented by some poor soul's parents who decided that he needed a lesson in humility. Even those who sat at the very rear of the great lumbering yellow gas-belcher were mortified by its presence in their lives, their dependence on this Twinkie-shaped apparition that trundled fartingly up the road to admit them to its embarrassed ranks. For freshmen it was a necessity until the greatly-anticipated Sixteenth Birthday, when everyone held fast to dreams of owning their own transportation; for sophomores it was a temporary means until enough money had been saved or given or earned for gas, or insurance, or Your Own Car itself. For juniors, a pressing reminder that they were rapidly losing ground in the uphill battle to be cool. For the rare seniors who didn't have or couldn't get a ride, it was only another reminder that they were in some way, shape or form repugnant to their peers who had cars, or to the people able to give them the means to get their own.
For Rhiannon, this year a junior, it was simply another seventeen minutes of idiots that she had to suffer before reaching the quiet, not-quite- comfortable sanctuary that was hers and her mom's new home. She couldn't afford a car and she knew it, but she didn't much care; other than going to and from school where would she drive in this new, smaller place? So she sat in one of the middle seats and stared out the window, letting her mind wander where it would-so long as it stayed away from her father. She'd had enough of him for one day.
A hand flashing up to pound on her window drew a surprised squeak from her. Looking down at the curb, she saw April's boyfriend Matt Green waving to her. She rolled down her window at his request. "Want a ride home, Rhi?" he asked, flashing a friendly grin that crinkled the corners of his kind brown eyes.
"Thanks, but I don't think April would like that, unless you tied me to the roof or something." The lack of love lost between the two girls wasn't anyone's deepest secret.
"Ah, forget about it. She's staying after for some meeting. Shotgun's yours if you want it."
To her utmost surprise, Rhi found herself squeezing out of the plastic seat and jumping out of the bus. What was she doing? She didn't need April's all- girl goon squad hunting her down to beat her to death in a dark alley some night for messing around with her boyfriend. Not that she'd ever go out for any reason, and therefore the dark alley bit kind of became a moot point, but still..
"Relax, Rhi!" Matt clapped a friendly hand on her shoulder. "It's just a ride home. I'm not gonna ransom you for gas money or anything." He led her through the maze of students and mismatched cars that was the student parking lot to one of the last spaces in the farthest row, where sat a bright red Jeep with vanity plates that read LKMA NOHDS.
" 'Look Ma, No Hands'?" Rhi guessed as Matt struggled to fish his keys from his left pocket with his right hand, juggling his myriad of books and notebooks. He flashed her another infectious grin.
"You got it. It's the way I passed my driver's test." "No handed?" "Well, yeah." "Oh." Suddenly riding home with Matt didn't sound like the safest plan anyone had ever suggested. Nevertheless, when Matt slid in on his side and swung the door open for her, she climbed into the Jeep.
"April talks about you a lot, you know," Matt remarked suddenly as they pulled out of the lot. "It absolutely burns her that you're not falling all over yourself to be her friend."
"Why would I want to?" Rhi asked coldly. Then she bit her tongue: this was, after all, April's boyfriend she was talking to. Badmouthing her might not be the best thing to do while Matt was driving.
"See, that's what I asked her. And she got all mad and blew up at me- again." The rueful tone he adopted surprised Rhi. "She flies off the handle at every little thing, especially lately. I think the looming prospect of Prom is starting to get to her."
"Prom?"
"Yeah, Prom. You know, that thing where everyone gets dressed up, pays way too much for a crappy dinner, then tries to dance, smile and act normal without screwing up their heavily expensive clothes? April is determined to be the first girl to be Prom Queen two years in a row, and you wanna know what her reasoning is? 'Because I deserve it.' Never mind that there's other girls who should be given the chance, and never mind that I don't want to be on her campaign trail for the next month, and never mind that she treats everyone like crap including me so why are we all voting for her?"
He exhaled sharply, thumping the steering wheel as the light down the block turned yellow. "I never make this damn light," he muttered.
"You sound a little-um-upset by this whole Prom thing."
He smiled at her a little tiredly. "It's just that-if she wins, hey, great, I'm glad for her. But then I have to stand up there with her, and dance with her afterwards, and smile and hold her scepter while she's shaking hands, and be the perfect mute gentleman while she and the King officiate or whatever it is they do. And you know who the big candidate for King is, don't you?"
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say it's not you."
"Nope. It's Adam Jonson."
It took a moment of mental scramble before she recognized the name: he was the typical all-star, handsome quarterback of the football team. If memory served, he also wasn't the sharpest quill on the porcupine.
"What's so bad about Adam Jonson?"
"Nothing, not counting the fact that he tries to get down April's pants every chance he gets, whether I'm looking or not. If he's elected King and April's Queen.."
"I don't think a little dance and waving at their adoring fans is gonna spawn a frantic session of wild animal sex there on the dance floor," Rhi pointed out.
"No, probably not. But it doesn't help that he's the one she whips out when I'm not making her happy-which is all too often these days." He sighed, not needing to look at her puzzled face to see her confusion. "She's real fond of telling me that she could be just as happy with Adam, happier in fact- since he'll buy her what she wants and treat her like a real woman and agree with her and blah blah blah."
"So tell her to go ahead, go off and be happy with him." The words were out of her mouth before she'd fully considered saying them.
"You know, I really should, shouldn't I." Again his response took her completely by surprise. "Maybe I will."
"This isn't the way to my house," she said timidly after a minute.
"Nope," he agreed as they swung around a corner, "it's the way to mine. You can spare an hour or two to hang out, can't you? Pretend I need help with my Spanish."
"I thought you said you weren't going to kidnap me for gas money."
"No, I said I wouldn't ransom you-I never said anything about kidnapping. Besides, neither of us have anything to do" he glanced sidelong at her, "right?"
"Right." She agreed.
Mom was waiting at the dinner table when she got home.
"I thought," she said, before Rhi could even say hello, "that we agreed that if you were going somewhere after school you'd call me at the office and tell me where you were." Her tone was completely calm and conversational, but Rhi could hear the ice running just below the surface.
"I'm sorry, Mom, Matt gave me a ride home and then he needed help with his Spanish-"
"And in the course of the intervening four hours you forgot about your compulsive worrier of a mother. I see."
There was almost nothing worse than her mother's quiet anger. Rhi had often wondered if anyone else in the world could make a person feel like the lowest being on earth with simple inflection of the voice. Mom being mad and Dad being mad were two completely different things: Dad had a propensity to bellow and get quite red in the face, giving you something to feel indignant and perhaps unjustly accused about, drudging up your own anger to mask your guilt. But Mom gave you nothing to rail against, just used her own icy temper to needle through your pride and prick forth a glut of shame for making her angry in the first place.
Rhi slunk into the hall to drop her bag near the stairs, stomach growling as she sniffed the aroma of her mother's lasagna. Returning to the dinner table, she slid into her seat, not looking at her mother.
For a moment they ate in silence, then Ms. Abernathy sighed. "I'm sorry, Rhi, I was just so worried about you. I don't know any of your friends here and I don't know how well you know your way around. I have no idea of where to find you. You have to understand that that's just not something I can deal with right now." She coughed delicately. "You understand, don't you, honey?"
"Yeah, Mom. And I really am sorry. I just didn't think."
A hand reached out to smooth her hair. "It's all right, sweetie. Just call next time, please?" She returned to her lasagna. "Tell me about.what did you say his name is?"
"Matt. And don't get your hopes up, Mom, there's nothing to tell. He's just a guy from school."
"What did you two do for four hours?"
"We just went over to his house. He wanted help with his Spanish, and then we went to that ice cream stand over by school-it's only about two blocks from his house." As soon as she said it, Rhi could tell Ms. Abernathy was making a mental map of possible locations for Matt's house. It was something she did whenever a new place of any kind was brought up, something Dad had loved about her. 'My Columbus', he'd called her. Rhi, sadly, had not inherited her mother's ability to mentally map out a town; she was as hopeless with directions as anyone could be.
"Well, I'm glad you've finally started making friends, honey," Mom said. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"Well, I thought we'd jet out to the French Riviera before class, grab some breakfast, then at lunch spin out to Tavern on the Green in New York.."
Mom laughed and Rhi said, "One ride home doesn't mean I'm a social butterfly again, Mom."
"I know, honey. I was just wondering, since I have an estate sale to cover for work tomorrow night and I didn't know if you were going to be out or not. It's fine if you are-just call me after school."
"I don't think I will be."
Ms. Abernathy's expression drooped a little. "Fast food okay for dinner, then?"
"Perfect."
Later, as she lay in bed listening to the rainfall outside, Rhi thought she heard the faint jangle of the phone somewhere in the house. She was about to dismiss the sound when Mom knocked on the door.
"Rhi, it's Matt Green. Is he the young man from this afternoon?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Mom." Taking the proffered cordless, Rhi re-shut the door and sat on the bed. "Hello?" she said curiously.
"So you've been talking about me."
"A little, yeah. What's up?"
Matt's sigh into the phone sounded like a bad recording of an explosion. "Man, I thought I should warn you: April isn't happy that we hung out today."
"Oh?" Rhi put as much nonchalance into her voice as she could.
"Yeah. She assumed I was going to be available to ferry her around after her meeting with the principle, and I guess she called while we were getting ice cream this afternoon. When I got back from dropping you off, she called again. Man, I have never heard anyone swear like that. I didn't know April knew words that big."
Rhi wiggled uncomfortably on the bedspread. "I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't think I'd get you in trouble."
"Hey, don't be. It wasn't you chewing my ear off." He paused. "She threatened to dump me again. I almost took her up on it."
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. I guess I figured, it's so close to the end of the year, why end now? I mean, she'll be better once Prom's over and all this is done with and she's back working at the Sun Shoppe with all those lifeguards to drool over her."
"Why do you put up with her, Matt? I mean, I don't think she's getting a lot out of your relationship and it's obvious you're not either."
"Yeah, but you know, we've been together for three years, Rhi. And I mean, when she's not mad at me, or someone else, she's kinda nice to be around. And when she's actually in a good mood it's. in my best interest to be around her."
"I see."
"Yeah. So that's why."
"You're with her, cuz when she's not berating you or beating you around or making you her chauffer, the sex is good?"
There was a sound on the other end; Rhi couldn't tell if it was a cough, a laugh, or a sigh. "Basically, yeah."
For some reason this caused Rhi's stomach to turn.
"But here's the thing," Matt barged on, as if he'd suddenly decided to begin running again after declaring his withdrawal from a race. "She threatens to dump me, and occasionally does, at least three times a year. I used to think she did it just to give people something to talk about, but now I think she means it every time. And I wonder, why doesn't she stick with it? I mean, she always tells me she'll take me back if I do this or that or whatever, and I do, and then we're going out again and it's the same deal."
"What if you didn't agree to her terms next time?"
"You mean, just say 'no thanks, see ya later April, it's been fun'?"
"Yeah. I mean, has it been that much fun for you? You don't have to take that from her, Matt. You're smart and a nice enough guy, and I'm sure there's plenty of chicks at school who'd go out with you." The words were out of her mouth before she realized she'd said them.
She could almost hear him smile on the other end. "There pro'ly are, aren't there?" Then he sighed. "Well, I'll let her drag me along for a while longer. I don't think she'll let it live past Prom. Maybe she'll shoot it to the ground before then."
"Yes, but whoever would you go with then?" Rhi teased in a sugary bubblegum voice.
"Well, I don't recall hearing that you had a date."
Rhi covered her shock and momentary panic with a wry laugh. "If April hears that, she'll never let you go. Keep it in your hat as a scare tactic."
Matt laughed in return. "I will, don't worry."
Later, against her better judgment, Rhiannon would mull over those three lines of dialogue as she changed for bed. She couldn't fathom anyone at this new school having the slightest interest in her. Back home she and her boyfriend Dan had been dating for a year and a half before her father's accident; they'd even begun discussing what to do about their relationship after high school. It had probably been just as well that Rhi had been forced to move; Dan was all for the two of them going to the same college near their old neighborhood and being together the rest of their lives, while Rhi was beginning to feel the first pangs of wanderlust and avidly seeking materials from out-of-state universities. What wonderful irony that she'd been plopped here, in the middle of upper-middle-class suburban hell, and would give pretty much anything to be living in her old neighborhood again. It was times like these that she missed Dan, and Mia and Annie and all her friends back home the most.
But not as much as she missed her father.
He'd never been comfortable with the idea of Rhi dating; her mother had called it "Daddy's Little Girl" Syndrome. Any time Dan was around, her father had stood his tallest and squared his shoulders as broad as they'd go, as if to remind the young man that he was the one who'd taught Rhi how to box and swim and defend herself against the likes of him.
Perhaps it was this line of thinking that drew him into her dreams that night. Although her mother had done a brief stint on the therapist's couch after her husband's death, Rhi had refused counseling, preferring to handle the nightmares and sudden attacks of weeping on her own. Tonight, however, as she sat bolt upright in bed, huddled shaking and sweating around a lump of ice in her middle, she felt as though a turn in the shrink's office might do some good. Nightmares like that shouldn't come to anyone, even if they'd lost their father.
Rhi had been standing at the door to a church in a wedding dress, handfasted with a faceless young man in a tuxedo. Her father had barged through their joined hands, seizing her wrists and dragging her with him as he stormed through the church, ripping apart decorations and guests alike, screaming "It can't happen if I can't watch!" in a child's high, panicked voice. Force of habit made Rhi bite into her pillow to stifle her screams, lest she wake her mother. She'd had nightmares about her father ever since his death. They never got any better and she had no control over any of them, and she could never return to sleep after one. Rhi curled around a pillow, shivering in the warm night, until finally the alarm at her bedside shrilled for her to get up for school.
Mercifully April left Rhi alone the next day-or rather, she didn't talk to her or come near her. If looks could kill, however, Rhi would have probably died a hundred deaths too horrid to mention. The sleep-deprived Rhiannon didn't notice. Her wakeful night had left her sore and tired, as though she'd been in a fight with a Mack truck, and lost. Matt, noticing her taciturnity and failing in his several attempts to get her to talk, woundedly let her sit alone at lunch and ate with some of his other friends. Rhi was sorry he felt guilty over her current state of mind but lacked the impetus to try and mend his feelings. The greatest blessing of her day came when the final bell screamed and she could go home.
It seemed the release from class was a release for whatever social rules governed the world of April and her bubblegum clutch-pigs. As Rhi trudged out towards the waiting refuge of her bus, she heard someone behind her say her name. Wearily she turned just outside of the doors, books hugged to her skinny chest, and was instantly circled by April and her bleached posse.
"I realize you're new here, and things might have been different where you come from," April began, manicured hands on hips. Rhi leaned against the comfort of the brick wall behind her, all too aware of her weariness and the sore fact that she was severely outnumbered. "But you know that Matt is my boyfriend. And you know that you can't have him. And you must know that I'm not going to let you take him from me." The shorter blonde took two steps closer to Rhi, obviously meaning to be threatening. To Rhi it only emphasized the fact that she was six inches taller than April. "So I'm going to say this one time only: stay away from my boyfriend. Understand?"
Weariness slid into frustration and became anger quicker than Rhi could register the change. Straightening, she glared down at April with all the indignation and contempt she could muster. "Look, kiddo," she said, voice dropping to the whiskey depths of her throat, "I don't give a flying fuck what or who in this school you consider to be yours. In fact, I don't give a flying fuck about you, or any of your all-girl goon squad here. I have had a long day and I don't have time or patience to suffer idiots." Rudely she pushed past April and through the stunned circle of clones.
"I'm not done with you!" April hurried after her a ways, snatching at Rhi's bag and yanking her back a step. Rhi turned, fists clenching, but she didn't hit her.
"Let's get one thing straight: I don't like you-"
"And I don't care." Rhi mounted the steps of the bus as the driver turned the ignition and slammed the doors shut against the blue clouds of diesel rising from the other buses. April walked along the body of the bus, matching Rhi's progress as she found a seat. As she sat, Rhi could dimly hear the blonde's indignant curses over the roar of many engines revving up. Just as the bus pulled out, Rhi gave a sardonic little wave to the red- faced girl outside her window and flipped her the finger.
Her routine as soon as she reached home couldn't have been planned or rehearsed more smoothly: dropping her bag in the front hall, double- checking the lock on the doors, she then took the stairs two at a time to her room, digging out a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt and the long rolls of cotton bands kept in her sock drawer. Then it was down the stairs to the basement, where under one of the bare lightbulbs stood her punching bag and a few old gym mats.
Dad had taught her how to box when third-grade bullies began teasing Rhi about her explosive growth spurts; Mom had given this supremely apt gift for her thirteenth birthday, along with two sets of the cotton wraps she wound tightly around her wrists and knuckles. She ignored the gloves hanging from a nail on the wall; Rhi preferred going bare-knuckled against the bag-it seemed to bleed off more tension than the padded gloves. She'd split the skin on the backs of her fingers every day the week after Dad's accident. The callouses and scars that remained were tender enough to goad her anger, and soon Rhi was pouring sweat as she rained furious hooks and jabs at the helpless canvas.
It took almost an hour for Rhiannon to exhaust her fury, and when she finally trudged back up the stairs, arms and hands burning, there was nothing on her mind but the need for deep draughts of water and a cool shower. From kitchen to bathroom to bedroom to kitchen for another drink, she passed the answering machine a total of three times before noticing the message light blinking furiously.
The first two messages were for Ms. Abernathy: social offers from her friend Carol at the collector's antiques agency they worked for, and the other from a man named Andrew whom Rhi had never heard her Mom mention. The third and fourth messages were from Matt. "Hey, Rhi, it's Matt Green." A pause. "Listen, I heard about what happened today with April, and I'm really sorry. Um, why don't you give me a call back sometime this afternoon. It's about three now, and my number is.I think you have it, but here it is anyways-"
Rhi hit "delete" before Matt could rattle off his phone number. The last thing she needed to do was give April more cause to bother her about staying away from her boyfriend.
The fourth message weakened her resolve. "Hi, Rhi, it's me again. I called about an hour ago, but I guess you're, uh, busy or out or something.." Matt's voice was excited but forlorn, apparently at the thought of her doing something fun without him. She heard him take a deep breath. "Look, I don't know if you're gonna want to call me, so I'll tell you now: April and I broke up, and I'm making it for good this time. What she did to you today was completely un called for, and you didn't deserve that kind of ambush. So-I'm kinda sans date for Prom, and I, uh, I'd like to ask you to go with me, if that's ok." There followed a kind of strangled laugh. "Call me back, or don't, and I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok? Bye."
The burning in her fatigued arms and shoulders leadened itself until Rhi felt like she was made of stone. The machine beeped once, twice, pleading with her to hit either "save" or "delete" and decide the message's fate. Her mind was blank for the barest second before it began to spin madly, tossing random ideas up like popcorn in Ms. Abernathy's old-fashioned air popper. How---why---what the hell did he think---how dare he---April's gonna---fuck April, what am I---
Call him back? Not likely. For some reason Rhi felt more insulted than she'd ever been in her life. A rebound date? Her? At Prom? Not bloody fucking likely. The machine beeped pathetically, and Rhi jammed one bruised finger on the "delete" button without a second thought.
She'd calmed down quite a bit by the time Ms. Abernathy came home, bearing a greasy bag full of fries and burgers dripping with cheese and special sauce. She and Rhi sat at the table, chewing in contented silence for a while, before Mom broached the topic of The Day.
"So how was school, honey?" Ms. Abernathy didn't have to look at Rhi's hands to know she'd been hitting the bag pretty hard, nor did she have to ask her daughter about the mood to do so.
"Eh," Rhi replied around a mouthful of burger. *AP= Advanced Placement. A college credit system in place in thousands of high schools around the country whereby students can earn collegiate credit by earning a score of 3,4, or 5 on the AP test in the subject of their choice. AP credits are incompatible with the more obscure and less-accepted International Baccalaureate (IB) credits offered by other, perhaps less exacting, high schools.
Continuation: persistence, maintenance, permanence.
The act of continuing.
To continue.
Yes, well, we seem to have a problem with that, don't we?
One may continue with one's actions, habits, life, if one's actions, habits, life remain in a state that advocates their continuity; that is, if everything remains the same and all aspects of action, habit, and life are present in the everyday.
Never again.
Sunshine, laughter, being swept up in strong loving arms to spin exuberantly above the grass; playing catch and tag and basketball accompanied by the velveted voice and capable hands and sure knowledge of this idolized man. Learning from him: fractions and algebra, boxing and swimming, things you don't say around your mother (rendered slightly less dangerous in Spanish and French), what it is to be kind and why we are the way we are and why the snow falls and the flowers die and the ice melts and spring wakes up the baby leaves in their buds on the trees; how to shoot a three-pointer and change a tire and check the oil and what we do when we leave for work every day; don't forget to buckle up honey and don't stay out too late and watch for the cops in that speed trap I showed you and we'll get your books tomorrow and have fun and I love you.
And blessedness, and being charmed, and always having a place to run to even if you don't want to be seen running; broad, strong shoulders to cry on; gentle hands to wipe away your tears, the calloused fists ready at your defense no matter what.
Never again.
The ringing of the phone in the dead of the night; a cry from the heart as your mother learns what she never wanted to know, and tears and sympathy and pity (pity pity I hate you and your pity). Funeral-baked meats and lemon bars; the smell of Grandma's house and the settling of papers and the rich reddish color of a handsome wooden box being lowered into the ground. A single white rose-how many times she would shudder, seeing that perfect alabaster bud drift down to tap onto the lid of the only thing that remained of her father, seeing the rose disappear under flakes of dirt and clods of broken grass and finally the whole thing blurring and swimming and vanishing into the silvery mist of tears. Arms around her, offering comfort and sympathy and pity (don't pity me I don't need your pity I hate your pity) smothering her and clamping her down with their kindness and care until it was all she could do not to run screaming to find him, to join with this beloved man who had created and shaped her world and left it so cold.
Persistence, maintenance, permanence.
CHAPTER 1
".And so we see that the addition of force, shown by this vector A in the negative-y direction, alters the momentum of object 1, sending it.."
H'm. Maybe a sunburst. Or a shooting star. Yeah, that would look nice: a shooting star arcing up across her neck, right under her earlobe. But that was all nerve endings there, and it would hurt like a bitch. And good luck trying to get Mom to pay for it. She'd nearly lost it when Rhi'd come home with a third hoop in her earlobes; a tattoo was way out there on the "not-a- chance-in-hell" scale.
Rhi ran a hand through her long black hair and twiddled the pen between her thumb and forefinger, noting appreciatively the subtle segue between her physics notes and the not-so-possible designs for her not-going-to-happen tattoo. Object 1 (of mass m1) had been on a collision course with Object 2 (of mass 2xm1) until Object 1 had become a flaming comet and Object 2 had transformed into a tightly cowering turtle, albeit unrealistically bigger than the aforementioned flaming comet. Although given the fact that thousands of particles of space dust were colliding with the earth every day, and no one really noticed since so much of it burned up in the atmosphere, it could be possible for a turtle to be bigger than a comet..
This was so stupid. The class was stupid, the teacher was stupid, and the subject matter was stupid. She'd taken physics at her old school-AP Physics*, in fact, and taken the AP test, and gotten a 4 (a 4! One out of her whole class, a 4!) , so she'd be able to skip introductory physics in college, but as for now.stupid IB school, wouldn't accept her AP credits, so she had to sit through basic again.
Gods bless whoever had invented changing bells. Rhiannon Abernathy gathered her rather artistic notes and book and shouldering her bag, joined the milling herds of students in the halls of her new school, on the way to her last class of the day. Phy Ed wasn't such a bad way to end a day of classes, especially when it was late spring and getting warm, and the class was meeting in the swimming pool every day to splash around and generally goof off. At least, everyone else did. Everyone else joined in the semi- flirting games of Chicken and Marco Polo; Rhi swam laps. Had she and Mom come to this town earlier in the year she'd have been eligible for the girls' swim team, but as it was the season was over before they'd even had need to look for a new high school for Rhiannon, and so the lanky swimmer laced her way through the water, up and down the 25 meters again and again until the bell rang.
The other girls in the locker room hushed when Rhi stepped into the showers, conspicuous in her silence and her one-piece racing suit. She didn't need to look at them to know that April and her friends were staring at her, half-glaring and half-curious; April herself would be running an interior monologue about how she disliked Rhi and her taciturnity, her self- contained poise and easy grace in that long, lean form that had almost been made for the pool. Of course, April wouldn't use words like 'taciturnity' or 'poise'; Rhi's mom had always maintained that blonde was not just a hair color, it was a state of intelligence, and the bleached April had both bases well covered. More likely she was muttering things like 'queer' and 'bitch' and 'lezbo' to her groupies under her breath.
Bubblegum clutch-pig, Rhi thought contemptuously, as the water slid eagerly up around her hips as if to welcome her back. April and her friends entered the pool much more ceremoniously, with shrieks and complaints about the temperature and the stupidity of swimming and oh, I don't want to get my new two-piece wet yet and don't splash my hair!
Rhi didn't know how or why she'd excited April Hanson's enmity, nor did she care. All she knew was that the two of them had disliked each other since Rhi's first day at this new school. They were, not ironically, almost polar opposites: small, curvaceous April with her carefully-maintained roots and French manicure and well-guarded circle of followers; tall, narrow, muscled Rhiannon with her long, careless black hair and lack of fashion sense and seemingly chronic loneliness. Rhi had certainly never said anything to her out of the ordinary, and April had never gone out of her way to be cruel; but the dislike one had for the other was plain.
Some strange whim owed to the Imp of the Perverse had somehow endeared Rhi to April's boyfriend Matt, though, despite what Rhi thought of as plain signs that she desired nothing more than to be left alone. After getting his first A ever on a Spanish project with Rhi as his partner, Matt had evidently found some odd comfort in the quiet girl's company and had sat with her at lunch daily (April had a different schedule) and next to her in class since then (April didn't see a foreign language as worth her while and had dropped French after the first required semester).
Deep, easy breaths; long, sure pulls through the water, kick in and turn and tuck and push off the wall for another lap. Swimming was a great contemplative exercise: repetitive motion that allowed for free thinking while still looking good. Unfortunately, swimming made her think (as most things did) of the man who'd taught her to move through the water with such ease, and his painful absence. The fact that her face was in the water didn't stop a sob from catching in her throat as she tried to maintain her exhalation; eyes kept dry by Swedish racing goggles suddenly burned with tears. Partly out of frustration but more out of shame she made for the side of the pool and clung to the gutter there, praying the rush of recycling water would mask the deep, hiccoughing breaths she sucked in as quietly as possible.
"Everything all right, Miss Abernathy?" the grating voice of the phys ed teacher boomed out across the tiled arena and Rhi furiously scrubbed at her leaky nose, thankful that chlorine and grief had the same red-rimming effect on the eyes.
"Yes sir, just breathed with the wrong pipe," she rasped as loud as she could. Some of the class laughed.
"Remember that the air is on the other side of the water, Miss Abernathy," the coach shouted back with amusement. "I don't have to teach y'all CPR till next week and I don't want to have to give a preview or anything!"
Unkind giggles ground against Rhi's ears and against her better judgment, she turned to glance at April's enclave. The blonde lounged at the side of the pool with her friends, staring at Rhi with smug written all over artfully made-up faces. In that moment she didn't regret or mourn the fact that her father was dead; she utterly hated it, and she hated him for being gone.
CHAPTER 2
The high school bus was invented by some poor soul's parents who decided that he needed a lesson in humility. Even those who sat at the very rear of the great lumbering yellow gas-belcher were mortified by its presence in their lives, their dependence on this Twinkie-shaped apparition that trundled fartingly up the road to admit them to its embarrassed ranks. For freshmen it was a necessity until the greatly-anticipated Sixteenth Birthday, when everyone held fast to dreams of owning their own transportation; for sophomores it was a temporary means until enough money had been saved or given or earned for gas, or insurance, or Your Own Car itself. For juniors, a pressing reminder that they were rapidly losing ground in the uphill battle to be cool. For the rare seniors who didn't have or couldn't get a ride, it was only another reminder that they were in some way, shape or form repugnant to their peers who had cars, or to the people able to give them the means to get their own.
For Rhiannon, this year a junior, it was simply another seventeen minutes of idiots that she had to suffer before reaching the quiet, not-quite- comfortable sanctuary that was hers and her mom's new home. She couldn't afford a car and she knew it, but she didn't much care; other than going to and from school where would she drive in this new, smaller place? So she sat in one of the middle seats and stared out the window, letting her mind wander where it would-so long as it stayed away from her father. She'd had enough of him for one day.
A hand flashing up to pound on her window drew a surprised squeak from her. Looking down at the curb, she saw April's boyfriend Matt Green waving to her. She rolled down her window at his request. "Want a ride home, Rhi?" he asked, flashing a friendly grin that crinkled the corners of his kind brown eyes.
"Thanks, but I don't think April would like that, unless you tied me to the roof or something." The lack of love lost between the two girls wasn't anyone's deepest secret.
"Ah, forget about it. She's staying after for some meeting. Shotgun's yours if you want it."
To her utmost surprise, Rhi found herself squeezing out of the plastic seat and jumping out of the bus. What was she doing? She didn't need April's all- girl goon squad hunting her down to beat her to death in a dark alley some night for messing around with her boyfriend. Not that she'd ever go out for any reason, and therefore the dark alley bit kind of became a moot point, but still..
"Relax, Rhi!" Matt clapped a friendly hand on her shoulder. "It's just a ride home. I'm not gonna ransom you for gas money or anything." He led her through the maze of students and mismatched cars that was the student parking lot to one of the last spaces in the farthest row, where sat a bright red Jeep with vanity plates that read LKMA NOHDS.
" 'Look Ma, No Hands'?" Rhi guessed as Matt struggled to fish his keys from his left pocket with his right hand, juggling his myriad of books and notebooks. He flashed her another infectious grin.
"You got it. It's the way I passed my driver's test." "No handed?" "Well, yeah." "Oh." Suddenly riding home with Matt didn't sound like the safest plan anyone had ever suggested. Nevertheless, when Matt slid in on his side and swung the door open for her, she climbed into the Jeep.
"April talks about you a lot, you know," Matt remarked suddenly as they pulled out of the lot. "It absolutely burns her that you're not falling all over yourself to be her friend."
"Why would I want to?" Rhi asked coldly. Then she bit her tongue: this was, after all, April's boyfriend she was talking to. Badmouthing her might not be the best thing to do while Matt was driving.
"See, that's what I asked her. And she got all mad and blew up at me- again." The rueful tone he adopted surprised Rhi. "She flies off the handle at every little thing, especially lately. I think the looming prospect of Prom is starting to get to her."
"Prom?"
"Yeah, Prom. You know, that thing where everyone gets dressed up, pays way too much for a crappy dinner, then tries to dance, smile and act normal without screwing up their heavily expensive clothes? April is determined to be the first girl to be Prom Queen two years in a row, and you wanna know what her reasoning is? 'Because I deserve it.' Never mind that there's other girls who should be given the chance, and never mind that I don't want to be on her campaign trail for the next month, and never mind that she treats everyone like crap including me so why are we all voting for her?"
He exhaled sharply, thumping the steering wheel as the light down the block turned yellow. "I never make this damn light," he muttered.
"You sound a little-um-upset by this whole Prom thing."
He smiled at her a little tiredly. "It's just that-if she wins, hey, great, I'm glad for her. But then I have to stand up there with her, and dance with her afterwards, and smile and hold her scepter while she's shaking hands, and be the perfect mute gentleman while she and the King officiate or whatever it is they do. And you know who the big candidate for King is, don't you?"
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say it's not you."
"Nope. It's Adam Jonson."
It took a moment of mental scramble before she recognized the name: he was the typical all-star, handsome quarterback of the football team. If memory served, he also wasn't the sharpest quill on the porcupine.
"What's so bad about Adam Jonson?"
"Nothing, not counting the fact that he tries to get down April's pants every chance he gets, whether I'm looking or not. If he's elected King and April's Queen.."
"I don't think a little dance and waving at their adoring fans is gonna spawn a frantic session of wild animal sex there on the dance floor," Rhi pointed out.
"No, probably not. But it doesn't help that he's the one she whips out when I'm not making her happy-which is all too often these days." He sighed, not needing to look at her puzzled face to see her confusion. "She's real fond of telling me that she could be just as happy with Adam, happier in fact- since he'll buy her what she wants and treat her like a real woman and agree with her and blah blah blah."
"So tell her to go ahead, go off and be happy with him." The words were out of her mouth before she'd fully considered saying them.
"You know, I really should, shouldn't I." Again his response took her completely by surprise. "Maybe I will."
"This isn't the way to my house," she said timidly after a minute.
"Nope," he agreed as they swung around a corner, "it's the way to mine. You can spare an hour or two to hang out, can't you? Pretend I need help with my Spanish."
"I thought you said you weren't going to kidnap me for gas money."
"No, I said I wouldn't ransom you-I never said anything about kidnapping. Besides, neither of us have anything to do" he glanced sidelong at her, "right?"
"Right." She agreed.
Mom was waiting at the dinner table when she got home.
"I thought," she said, before Rhi could even say hello, "that we agreed that if you were going somewhere after school you'd call me at the office and tell me where you were." Her tone was completely calm and conversational, but Rhi could hear the ice running just below the surface.
"I'm sorry, Mom, Matt gave me a ride home and then he needed help with his Spanish-"
"And in the course of the intervening four hours you forgot about your compulsive worrier of a mother. I see."
There was almost nothing worse than her mother's quiet anger. Rhi had often wondered if anyone else in the world could make a person feel like the lowest being on earth with simple inflection of the voice. Mom being mad and Dad being mad were two completely different things: Dad had a propensity to bellow and get quite red in the face, giving you something to feel indignant and perhaps unjustly accused about, drudging up your own anger to mask your guilt. But Mom gave you nothing to rail against, just used her own icy temper to needle through your pride and prick forth a glut of shame for making her angry in the first place.
Rhi slunk into the hall to drop her bag near the stairs, stomach growling as she sniffed the aroma of her mother's lasagna. Returning to the dinner table, she slid into her seat, not looking at her mother.
For a moment they ate in silence, then Ms. Abernathy sighed. "I'm sorry, Rhi, I was just so worried about you. I don't know any of your friends here and I don't know how well you know your way around. I have no idea of where to find you. You have to understand that that's just not something I can deal with right now." She coughed delicately. "You understand, don't you, honey?"
"Yeah, Mom. And I really am sorry. I just didn't think."
A hand reached out to smooth her hair. "It's all right, sweetie. Just call next time, please?" She returned to her lasagna. "Tell me about.what did you say his name is?"
"Matt. And don't get your hopes up, Mom, there's nothing to tell. He's just a guy from school."
"What did you two do for four hours?"
"We just went over to his house. He wanted help with his Spanish, and then we went to that ice cream stand over by school-it's only about two blocks from his house." As soon as she said it, Rhi could tell Ms. Abernathy was making a mental map of possible locations for Matt's house. It was something she did whenever a new place of any kind was brought up, something Dad had loved about her. 'My Columbus', he'd called her. Rhi, sadly, had not inherited her mother's ability to mentally map out a town; she was as hopeless with directions as anyone could be.
"Well, I'm glad you've finally started making friends, honey," Mom said. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"Well, I thought we'd jet out to the French Riviera before class, grab some breakfast, then at lunch spin out to Tavern on the Green in New York.."
Mom laughed and Rhi said, "One ride home doesn't mean I'm a social butterfly again, Mom."
"I know, honey. I was just wondering, since I have an estate sale to cover for work tomorrow night and I didn't know if you were going to be out or not. It's fine if you are-just call me after school."
"I don't think I will be."
Ms. Abernathy's expression drooped a little. "Fast food okay for dinner, then?"
"Perfect."
Later, as she lay in bed listening to the rainfall outside, Rhi thought she heard the faint jangle of the phone somewhere in the house. She was about to dismiss the sound when Mom knocked on the door.
"Rhi, it's Matt Green. Is he the young man from this afternoon?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Mom." Taking the proffered cordless, Rhi re-shut the door and sat on the bed. "Hello?" she said curiously.
"So you've been talking about me."
"A little, yeah. What's up?"
Matt's sigh into the phone sounded like a bad recording of an explosion. "Man, I thought I should warn you: April isn't happy that we hung out today."
"Oh?" Rhi put as much nonchalance into her voice as she could.
"Yeah. She assumed I was going to be available to ferry her around after her meeting with the principle, and I guess she called while we were getting ice cream this afternoon. When I got back from dropping you off, she called again. Man, I have never heard anyone swear like that. I didn't know April knew words that big."
Rhi wiggled uncomfortably on the bedspread. "I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't think I'd get you in trouble."
"Hey, don't be. It wasn't you chewing my ear off." He paused. "She threatened to dump me again. I almost took her up on it."
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. I guess I figured, it's so close to the end of the year, why end now? I mean, she'll be better once Prom's over and all this is done with and she's back working at the Sun Shoppe with all those lifeguards to drool over her."
"Why do you put up with her, Matt? I mean, I don't think she's getting a lot out of your relationship and it's obvious you're not either."
"Yeah, but you know, we've been together for three years, Rhi. And I mean, when she's not mad at me, or someone else, she's kinda nice to be around. And when she's actually in a good mood it's. in my best interest to be around her."
"I see."
"Yeah. So that's why."
"You're with her, cuz when she's not berating you or beating you around or making you her chauffer, the sex is good?"
There was a sound on the other end; Rhi couldn't tell if it was a cough, a laugh, or a sigh. "Basically, yeah."
For some reason this caused Rhi's stomach to turn.
"But here's the thing," Matt barged on, as if he'd suddenly decided to begin running again after declaring his withdrawal from a race. "She threatens to dump me, and occasionally does, at least three times a year. I used to think she did it just to give people something to talk about, but now I think she means it every time. And I wonder, why doesn't she stick with it? I mean, she always tells me she'll take me back if I do this or that or whatever, and I do, and then we're going out again and it's the same deal."
"What if you didn't agree to her terms next time?"
"You mean, just say 'no thanks, see ya later April, it's been fun'?"
"Yeah. I mean, has it been that much fun for you? You don't have to take that from her, Matt. You're smart and a nice enough guy, and I'm sure there's plenty of chicks at school who'd go out with you." The words were out of her mouth before she realized she'd said them.
She could almost hear him smile on the other end. "There pro'ly are, aren't there?" Then he sighed. "Well, I'll let her drag me along for a while longer. I don't think she'll let it live past Prom. Maybe she'll shoot it to the ground before then."
"Yes, but whoever would you go with then?" Rhi teased in a sugary bubblegum voice.
"Well, I don't recall hearing that you had a date."
Rhi covered her shock and momentary panic with a wry laugh. "If April hears that, she'll never let you go. Keep it in your hat as a scare tactic."
Matt laughed in return. "I will, don't worry."
Later, against her better judgment, Rhiannon would mull over those three lines of dialogue as she changed for bed. She couldn't fathom anyone at this new school having the slightest interest in her. Back home she and her boyfriend Dan had been dating for a year and a half before her father's accident; they'd even begun discussing what to do about their relationship after high school. It had probably been just as well that Rhi had been forced to move; Dan was all for the two of them going to the same college near their old neighborhood and being together the rest of their lives, while Rhi was beginning to feel the first pangs of wanderlust and avidly seeking materials from out-of-state universities. What wonderful irony that she'd been plopped here, in the middle of upper-middle-class suburban hell, and would give pretty much anything to be living in her old neighborhood again. It was times like these that she missed Dan, and Mia and Annie and all her friends back home the most.
But not as much as she missed her father.
He'd never been comfortable with the idea of Rhi dating; her mother had called it "Daddy's Little Girl" Syndrome. Any time Dan was around, her father had stood his tallest and squared his shoulders as broad as they'd go, as if to remind the young man that he was the one who'd taught Rhi how to box and swim and defend herself against the likes of him.
Perhaps it was this line of thinking that drew him into her dreams that night. Although her mother had done a brief stint on the therapist's couch after her husband's death, Rhi had refused counseling, preferring to handle the nightmares and sudden attacks of weeping on her own. Tonight, however, as she sat bolt upright in bed, huddled shaking and sweating around a lump of ice in her middle, she felt as though a turn in the shrink's office might do some good. Nightmares like that shouldn't come to anyone, even if they'd lost their father.
Rhi had been standing at the door to a church in a wedding dress, handfasted with a faceless young man in a tuxedo. Her father had barged through their joined hands, seizing her wrists and dragging her with him as he stormed through the church, ripping apart decorations and guests alike, screaming "It can't happen if I can't watch!" in a child's high, panicked voice. Force of habit made Rhi bite into her pillow to stifle her screams, lest she wake her mother. She'd had nightmares about her father ever since his death. They never got any better and she had no control over any of them, and she could never return to sleep after one. Rhi curled around a pillow, shivering in the warm night, until finally the alarm at her bedside shrilled for her to get up for school.
Mercifully April left Rhi alone the next day-or rather, she didn't talk to her or come near her. If looks could kill, however, Rhi would have probably died a hundred deaths too horrid to mention. The sleep-deprived Rhiannon didn't notice. Her wakeful night had left her sore and tired, as though she'd been in a fight with a Mack truck, and lost. Matt, noticing her taciturnity and failing in his several attempts to get her to talk, woundedly let her sit alone at lunch and ate with some of his other friends. Rhi was sorry he felt guilty over her current state of mind but lacked the impetus to try and mend his feelings. The greatest blessing of her day came when the final bell screamed and she could go home.
It seemed the release from class was a release for whatever social rules governed the world of April and her bubblegum clutch-pigs. As Rhi trudged out towards the waiting refuge of her bus, she heard someone behind her say her name. Wearily she turned just outside of the doors, books hugged to her skinny chest, and was instantly circled by April and her bleached posse.
"I realize you're new here, and things might have been different where you come from," April began, manicured hands on hips. Rhi leaned against the comfort of the brick wall behind her, all too aware of her weariness and the sore fact that she was severely outnumbered. "But you know that Matt is my boyfriend. And you know that you can't have him. And you must know that I'm not going to let you take him from me." The shorter blonde took two steps closer to Rhi, obviously meaning to be threatening. To Rhi it only emphasized the fact that she was six inches taller than April. "So I'm going to say this one time only: stay away from my boyfriend. Understand?"
Weariness slid into frustration and became anger quicker than Rhi could register the change. Straightening, she glared down at April with all the indignation and contempt she could muster. "Look, kiddo," she said, voice dropping to the whiskey depths of her throat, "I don't give a flying fuck what or who in this school you consider to be yours. In fact, I don't give a flying fuck about you, or any of your all-girl goon squad here. I have had a long day and I don't have time or patience to suffer idiots." Rudely she pushed past April and through the stunned circle of clones.
"I'm not done with you!" April hurried after her a ways, snatching at Rhi's bag and yanking her back a step. Rhi turned, fists clenching, but she didn't hit her.
"Let's get one thing straight: I don't like you-"
"And I don't care." Rhi mounted the steps of the bus as the driver turned the ignition and slammed the doors shut against the blue clouds of diesel rising from the other buses. April walked along the body of the bus, matching Rhi's progress as she found a seat. As she sat, Rhi could dimly hear the blonde's indignant curses over the roar of many engines revving up. Just as the bus pulled out, Rhi gave a sardonic little wave to the red- faced girl outside her window and flipped her the finger.
Her routine as soon as she reached home couldn't have been planned or rehearsed more smoothly: dropping her bag in the front hall, double- checking the lock on the doors, she then took the stairs two at a time to her room, digging out a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt and the long rolls of cotton bands kept in her sock drawer. Then it was down the stairs to the basement, where under one of the bare lightbulbs stood her punching bag and a few old gym mats.
Dad had taught her how to box when third-grade bullies began teasing Rhi about her explosive growth spurts; Mom had given this supremely apt gift for her thirteenth birthday, along with two sets of the cotton wraps she wound tightly around her wrists and knuckles. She ignored the gloves hanging from a nail on the wall; Rhi preferred going bare-knuckled against the bag-it seemed to bleed off more tension than the padded gloves. She'd split the skin on the backs of her fingers every day the week after Dad's accident. The callouses and scars that remained were tender enough to goad her anger, and soon Rhi was pouring sweat as she rained furious hooks and jabs at the helpless canvas.
It took almost an hour for Rhiannon to exhaust her fury, and when she finally trudged back up the stairs, arms and hands burning, there was nothing on her mind but the need for deep draughts of water and a cool shower. From kitchen to bathroom to bedroom to kitchen for another drink, she passed the answering machine a total of three times before noticing the message light blinking furiously.
The first two messages were for Ms. Abernathy: social offers from her friend Carol at the collector's antiques agency they worked for, and the other from a man named Andrew whom Rhi had never heard her Mom mention. The third and fourth messages were from Matt. "Hey, Rhi, it's Matt Green." A pause. "Listen, I heard about what happened today with April, and I'm really sorry. Um, why don't you give me a call back sometime this afternoon. It's about three now, and my number is.I think you have it, but here it is anyways-"
Rhi hit "delete" before Matt could rattle off his phone number. The last thing she needed to do was give April more cause to bother her about staying away from her boyfriend.
The fourth message weakened her resolve. "Hi, Rhi, it's me again. I called about an hour ago, but I guess you're, uh, busy or out or something.." Matt's voice was excited but forlorn, apparently at the thought of her doing something fun without him. She heard him take a deep breath. "Look, I don't know if you're gonna want to call me, so I'll tell you now: April and I broke up, and I'm making it for good this time. What she did to you today was completely un called for, and you didn't deserve that kind of ambush. So-I'm kinda sans date for Prom, and I, uh, I'd like to ask you to go with me, if that's ok." There followed a kind of strangled laugh. "Call me back, or don't, and I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok? Bye."
The burning in her fatigued arms and shoulders leadened itself until Rhi felt like she was made of stone. The machine beeped once, twice, pleading with her to hit either "save" or "delete" and decide the message's fate. Her mind was blank for the barest second before it began to spin madly, tossing random ideas up like popcorn in Ms. Abernathy's old-fashioned air popper. How---why---what the hell did he think---how dare he---April's gonna---fuck April, what am I---
Call him back? Not likely. For some reason Rhi felt more insulted than she'd ever been in her life. A rebound date? Her? At Prom? Not bloody fucking likely. The machine beeped pathetically, and Rhi jammed one bruised finger on the "delete" button without a second thought.
She'd calmed down quite a bit by the time Ms. Abernathy came home, bearing a greasy bag full of fries and burgers dripping with cheese and special sauce. She and Rhi sat at the table, chewing in contented silence for a while, before Mom broached the topic of The Day.
"So how was school, honey?" Ms. Abernathy didn't have to look at Rhi's hands to know she'd been hitting the bag pretty hard, nor did she have to ask her daughter about the mood to do so.
"Eh," Rhi replied around a mouthful of burger. *AP= Advanced Placement. A college credit system in place in thousands of high schools around the country whereby students can earn collegiate credit by earning a score of 3,4, or 5 on the AP test in the subject of their choice. AP credits are incompatible with the more obscure and less-accepted International Baccalaureate (IB) credits offered by other, perhaps less exacting, high schools.