When I awake in the morning, I'm momentarily confused as to where I am. I open my eyes, sleepily, and lift my head from the pillow. I turn my head and see Wes asleep beside me, lying on his stomach, face turned away from me. Of course. I'm at Wes' apartment. I yawn and rub my eyes, trying to awaken properly. I check the alarm clock on the nightstand. It's eight o' clock. Something heavy pounces on my back, startling me. I crane my neck around and see Darth Vader, the demon cat, staring at me with her creepy red-orange eyes. She begins kneading my back, first gently, then digs her claws in, deep and hard.
"Ow!" I hiss and swipe at her. She hops off and moves onto Wes' back. She curls up and continues staring at me. I hate that cat. I wonder how I can get rid of her. If I left the patio door open, would she run away? Last night, I heard her scratching at the bedroom door around one a.m. Wes got up and let her in, then she spent the rest of the night sleeping between us, pushing against my shoulder and side with her feet. I seriously believe she was trying to shove me out of the bed.
I roll out of bed and go into the bathroom. I splash cool water on my face, then begin brushing my teeth. While doing that, I search for a clean towel, finally finding one in the hall closet. I pull aside the shower curtain and turn on the water, then rinse out my mouth and lift my nightgown over my head, allowing it to fall in a heap on the floor. I step beneath the warm spray, letting it soak my hair and slide down my body. I hear Wes moving around in his bedroom.
The bathroom door opens. I poke my head out from behind the curtain. "I'll hurry," I tell Wes.
"No, hurry," Wes replies. He lifts his white t-shirt over his head. "I'm coming in with you."
"You are not!" I protest and slide the curtain closed again.
Wes steps into the shower anyway.
"There isn't enough room," I inform him.
"There's plenty of room," Wes argues. "I'll wash your hair for you," he offers, taking his Paul Mitchell shampoo off the shelf. He squeezes some onto his palm, then begins massaging it into my scalp. I tilt my head back and close my eyes. It feels very nice, I must admit. I rinse out my hair, then Wes works the conditioner in with his fingers.
"You should have been a shampoo boy," I tell him.
Wes laughs. "Hey, if this teaching thing doesn't work out, maybe that's my second calling. My mother would be thrilled."
"Please don't mention your mother while we're in the shower together."
"Oh. Sorry," Wes replies. He takes a bar of light blue soap off the shelf. It smells strong and sharp and clean. Not at all like the perfumed soaps I use at home. Wes begins lathering my body, his hands working tenderly into my skin. "You need to stay over more often," Wes says and kisses my neck.
"I intend to," I say and lift my face, so the spray hits it dead on.
Wes is dressed and ready long before I am. While I stand at the bathroom sink, brushing out my wet hair, Wes goes into the kitchen to make breakfast. I don't recall the last time anyone made breakfast for me. I suspect it was probably Watson or Elizabeth. Maybe that wasn't so long ago, but it feels very far in the past.
"Do you have a hair dryer?" I call to Wes.
"Under the sink!"
I plug in the hair dryer and tilt my head to the side, the hot air hitting my cool head. I watch Wes bustle around the kitchen, the cat weaving in and out around his legs. I smile. This is how I want every day to be.
Wes makes me pancakes. He doesn't even burn them, which he says should really impress me. Considering that I can't not burn a pancake, it does. We sit across from each other at the card table and begin eating. I can't stop smiling.
"You look very happy," Wes observes.
"I am. You make me happy."
Wes grins.
I take a large bite of pancake and chew slowly. When I swallow, I sip my orange juice and ask, "When are you getting a real table?"
"I've always said I would never give my mother the satisfaction," Wes answers, still grinning. "Everything about this apartment kills her. The card table most of all. But maybe I should get a real table. We can pick it out together."
I nod. "Yes, there's a fantastic furniture store in Mercer. My mom furnished our entire house from there, practically."
"We can go after breakfast," Wes suggests.
I glance at my watch. It's nearly ten o' clock. I'm torn. I love these little domestic moments and shopping for furniture together would only make the feeling so much stronger. But there are other things still weighing at the back of my mind. "Well…" I begin, hesitantly. "I should go home and check on Maria. I don't want her hanging around Kristy's house all day, not when the family is in crisis. And I need to call my other friend and make sure she's all right." Last night, I told Wes some of what went on during my evening, at Kristy's and then later at my own house with Lindsey. He seems to appreciate this side of me, a side that doesn't keep everything a mystery.
Wes appears disappointed. "That's all right," he says. "I have a lot of papers to grade, actually. But don't forget, we're having dinner with my parents."
"I haven't forgotten," I assure him. I manage a smile, pretending to look forward to the evening. "I'll come over this afternoon when I finish everything I need to do. We can go furniture shopping tomorrow. Maybe I'll stay over again."
"That would be nice," Wes says with a smile.
We finish breakfast and wash the dishes together. Wes stands behind me at the sink, arms around me, and nibbles my ear. He slips his hands underneath my sweater and rests his hands on my stomach. They're very warm. I close my eyes and lean back into him. This is the best morning I've had in a long, long time.
When it's time for me to leave, Wes walks me to the door. We stand in the doorway awhile, kissing and saying goodbye. When he finally lets me go, I button my coat and begin down the walkway, hands deep in my coat pockets. Across the courtyard, I see that Lauren girl on her balcony railing, legs stretched out in front of her. She's wearing colorful polka dot pajamas with bright yellow slippers on her feet. She's eating a bowl of cereal. I know she sees me, even though she doesn't acknowledge my presence in any way.
At home, I pull into my parking spot beside Dad's BMW. Most of the lights are on when I enter the house. Dad's trotting down the stairs dressed in his golf clothes, as I'm on my way up. We stop in the middle of the stairs and regard each other.
Dad points a finger at me. "Have you been out all night?" he asks me.
"I spent the night at my boyfriend's," I reply.
"Oh. Okay. I'm meeting Phil and Cal for a round of golf. I'll see you later," Dad says and continues down the stairs, completely unruffled by what I said. He turns around at the bottom of the stairs and points his finger at me again. "Hey, be safe," he says. "Remember I said that."
"Thanks, Dad," I mutter and resume the climb up the staircase.
When I reach the landing, I'm surprised to hear Maria's voice coming from her bedroom. I pause in the open doorway. Maria's sitting on her bed, fully dressed, propped against some pillows, talking on the phone.
"Who are you talking to?" I ask.
"Just a minute please," Maria says, politely, to the other person on the line. She covers the mouthpiece. "I'm talking to Mrs. Bryar," she informs me, coolly.
I arch an eyebrow. She's on the phone with Mrs. Bryar?
Maria flicks her wrist at me, a gesture to leave. I spin around and slowly walk away. Maria returns to her conversation. I hear her say, "Shannon just got home. I think she spent the night with her boyfriend last night…No, I wasn't alone. I was at David Michael Thomas'…"
I halt in the center of the hallway and grit my teeth. It's all I can do to not bound back into Maria's bedroom and rip the phone from her hand. Then beat her senseless with it. What is she doing, airing our business all over Stoneybrook? I take a deep breath and continue into my bedroom. There are no messages on the answering machine. I remove my coat and lay it on the bed, then drag the phone from my desk over to the bed, where I sit down. I dial Kristy's phone number. I reach a busy signal. I hang up and dial Lindsey's number. Her grandmother answers after five rings.
"May I speak to Lindsey?" I ask. "This is Shannon."
There's a short silence. "I'm sorry, Shannon," Dr. Dupree replies. "Lindsey's still asleep."
"Should I call back later?"
"No…no…" Dr. Dupree says with hesitation. "She'll be asleep for awhile. You'll see her at school on Monday. You may speak to her then."
I furrow my brow. On Monday? Lindsey can't possibly sleep for two days straight. "I can't speak to her before then? Maybe this afternoon? Or tomorrow?"
"No. I'm sorry. That isn't possible."
This is bizarre. "Um…okay. Tell Lindsey I hope she…feels better. Goodbye, Dr. Dupree."
"Goodbye, Shannon."
I stare at the receiver for a moment, perplexed, listening to the dial tone I try Kristy again, but the line's still busy. I return the phone to its place on the desk and cross the hall to Maria's room. She's off the phone with Mrs. Bryar, after telling her who knows what, and is now reading the entertainment section of the newspaper.
"What were you talking to Mrs. Bryar about?"
Maria shrugs.
"You must have been talking about something."
"I called to tell her about Sam running away."
"What else did you tell her?"
"Nothing."
I watch her for a moment. Maria turns a page. She's freezing me out.
"What's going on over there?" I ask. "At Kristy's? Is she okay?"
Maria shrugs again. "I guess. David Michael Thomas is so upset about his brother. I didn't tell him what Sam did with Tiffany. I would never tell him that."
Well, that's a relief at least. As long as she doesn't tell anyone else either. I come into the room and perch awkwardly on the edge of Maria's dresser, my heels digging into the carpet. I watch Maria a little longer. "Come on," I finally say. "Get your coat. We're going out."
Maria raises her eyes. She looks slightly interested, but masks her interest quickly. "Where are we going?" she wants to know.
"Shopping. It's already December second. Don't you have to do some Christmas shopping? We'll go over to Bellair's, then grab lunch wherever you like. Won't that be fun?"
Maria stares at me, frowning. Finally, she heaves a sigh and swings her legs off the bed. "All right, but I'm going under protest," she says.
"That's fine," I reply and return to my bedroom for my coat and purse. Maria's waiting in the hallway when I come back out. She already has her jacket and gloves on. I notice she's dressing like Kristy again in jeans and a red turtleneck, her curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. It hurts, wondering if Maria wishes Kristy were her sister instead of me. I shouldn't be surprised. Maria would replace our entire family if she could. In fact, she's already searching for our replacements.
It's eleven o' clock when we pull into the Bellair's parking lot. It's fairly crowded already. Maria doesn't walk with me. She walks two steps in front of me. We're not really together. I follow her wherever she leads. We check out the cosmetic counters and buy a mascara and eyeliner set for Tiffany. Then Maria insists on buying cologne for David Michael. Cologne for an eleven year old. I roll my eyes, but write the check anyway. Afterward, we ride the escalator to the Young Sophisticates section on the second floor. A lot of the clothes are rather picked over, but I find a striped sweater in about twenty different colors for Kristy. I think it's sort of ugly, which is why I know Kristy will adore it. Maria tries on a pile of clothes, even though we're supposed to be buying Christmas gifts, not new clothes for Maria. I buy her a pair of jeans though.
In the accessories department, Maria picks out bangle bracelets for her friends at school, then it's up the escalator to the third floor. Maria and I browse through the books for a while and then look around at the toys, even though Maria's much too old for toys. On the way back to the escalator, we pass the day care center and I see Stacey McGill twirling around in a circle with a group of little boys and girls. Maria and I step on the escalator and ride down to the ground floor. As we step off, I realize that Maria and I managed an entire shopping trip with an absolute absence of conversation.
It's depressing.
"Where would you like to eat?" I ask Maria, as we toss our shopping bags into the backseat. It's nearly one and I'm actually not very hungry.
"Burger Town," Maria replies.
"Burger Town?" I repeat, wrinkling my nose. That's the second worse place to eat after Pizza Express, as far as I'm concerned. It's such a hang out for middle school kids.
"Yes. Burger Town," Maria confirms.
"It's your choice," I sigh and turn the key in the ignition.
For a Saturday, Burger Town isn't very crowded. I suppose most kids won't show up until the evening. As soon as we walk through the doors I spot Meg Jardin at a corner table with that hideous boy, Price Irving. She's seated on his lap, feeding him French fries. It's repulsive. I haven't spoken to Meg in such a long time, haven't really given her too much thought. It's funny, after we were close friends for so many years. I never pictured her in Burger Town. She looks out of place in an ice blue turtleneck sweater and ruffled white skirt, her black hair perfectly in place. Price is dressed like a fool again in a red Hawaiian-print shirt underneath a navy blazer. Why are they still dating? I thought Mrs. Jardin put a stop to this after hearing about our disastrous triple date.
"Shanny, can we sit down please?" Maria whines.
"Yes, of course," I reply, tearing my gaze from Meg and Price. I steer Maria in the opposite direction.
"Shannon!" a voice calls out.
At first, my stomach sinks, thinking it's Meg. But I realize the voice comes from the direction Maria and I are headed. I turn my head slightly to the right and spy Mary Anne Spier seated at a large booth by the front window with Pete Black, her not-boyfriend, and a brunette I've never seen before. Mary Anne has an arm in the air, waving.
I wish Maria had chosen somewhere else to eat. I'm embarrassed by what Mary Anne knows and has seen. But she's calling and waving to me, so I have no choice but to go over.
"How's Tiffany?" she asks as soon as I reach her table.
"She's living with her boyfriend now," Maria answers, promptly.
Horrified, I manage a high, fake laugh. "She's not living with her boyfriend," I tell Mary Anne. "Did you hear about Sam?" I ask to change the subject.
Mary Anne nods. "Yeah. I'm sorry for Kristy," she says. "Do you want to sit with us? There's plenty of room. Oh, this is Katie Shea," Mary Anne says, nodding toward the brunette. "And you know Pete, of course. This is Shannon Kilbourne and her little sister, Maria. Shannon and I were in the Baby-Sitters Club together in eighth grade."
Katie snorts, earning her a sharp look from Mary Anne.
"Hello," I say and everyone echoes the same. Pete's staring at me again. He has an arm around Mary Anne's shoulders. This is some odd relationship they have going on.
"Sit down," Mary Anne says again. "Katie, slide over."
"No, it's okay – " I begin.
"Sure," Maria says, sliding into the booth beside Katie.
I try not to appear cross. I wanted to have a talk with Maria. I hoped we would work a few things out. Instead, Maria prefers the company of complete strangers to mine. I smile, politely, and slide in next to Maria. Maria opens a menu. Mary Anne and her friends already have their lunches, which are half-eaten. When Maria announces she's ready, I wave over the waitress. Maria orders a Fiesta Burger, which sounds positively sickening, and I order onion rings and a diet soda. I have to save my appetite for dinner with Wes' parents.
We make polite chit chat while Mary Anne and her friends finish their lunches. Katie mostly remains quiet. She doesn't act very friendly. Katie does make a couple snide remarks about the BSC though. I ignore her and continue telling Mary Anne about Maria's and my shopping trip.
"I saw Stacey at the day care there," I say.
Katie groans. "Please don't bring her up," she pleads.
Mary Anne scowls at Katie, then turns to me. "Yes, I work at the Kid Center, too. Last night was my first shift of the season. I plan to put in a request to no longer share shifts with Stacey. She's impossible and I can't work with her. She always has to be in charge. We always have to do what she wants to do and – "
"Let's not talk about Stacey right now," Pete interrupts her.
Mary Anne begins picking at the remainder of her bleu-cheeseburger. "Fine," she says, tightly.
"So, did you visit Santa while at Bellair's?" Pete asks Maria.
Mary Anne nudges him in the ribs. "Pete, she's twelve years old."
"I already know what I'm getting for Christmas," Maria tells him, completely unfazed. "Mom gave me some catalogues a few weeks ago and I circled everything I wanted."
I wish Maria would just not talk at all. Why must she say such things to strangers? She has no sense of family secrecy. Thankfully, our food arrives. Maria's burger is more nauseating than I imagined. Guacamole, chili, and cheese oozing out the sides. I refuse to look at her while she eats. Instead, I look over Pete's shoulder at Meg and Price. Meg's now holding his soda while he sips it through a straw.
"What do you guys know about that Price Irving kid?" I ask.
Mary Anne, Pete, and Katie all turn around to stare at Meg and Price.
"I know he's a jerk," Mary Anne says when she turns around again. "And he lies."
"Last summer, I saw Julie Stern punch him in the face. It was fantastic!" Katie cries. It's the first time she's seemed interested in any topic since I sat down.
"Who hasn't punched Price Irving in the face?" Pete asks. "That's basically his number one pastime – getting beat up." Pete starts to laugh and elbows Mary Anne in the side. "Mary Anne, did you tell her what we did to him last week?"
Mary Anne shakes her head.
"Okay, this is awesome," Pete tells me. "So, Ross, Paul, and I lure him into the locker room with this girl's bra – "
"You had some girl's bra?" I cut in.
"Please don't ask," Katie says with an eye-roll.
"Yeah, so we had this bra and we told him we'd sell it to him. So, we get him in the locker room and jump him and steal all his clothes. Then, we duct tape him to the wall upside down, wearing the bra." Pete laughs, loudly.
"You duct taped him to a wall?" I ask, incredulously.
"I was standing guard outside the locker room," Mary Anne says, popping a soggy French fry into her mouth.
"Isn't that awesome?" Pete exclaims.
"I think it's pretty cool," replies Maria.
Katie rolls her eyes again. "He was duct taped to the wall for five minutes, Pete," she reminds him and turns to me. "One of the phys ed teachers found him. The whole thing was kind of lame."
"It wasn't!" Pete protests.
I sigh and bite into an onion ring. High school boys can be so immature. Pete and Katie argue awhile longer, then switch to comparing lists of all the people who have purposely physically injured Price Irving. The list ranges from a bunch of kids I've never heard of to Erica Blumberg to Mary Anne's stepsister, Dawn Schafer. As thrilling as the conversation is, I excuse myself to use the restroom.
I'm standing at the sink washing my hands when the door opens and Meg walks in. We both freeze – me in my soap lathering and Meg in the doorway. After a moment's hesitation Meg thrusts her nose in the air and strolls over to the sink next to mine and leans forward, examining her face in the mirror.
"Since when are you allowed to eat at Burger Town?" I can't help asking.
Meg removes a tube of ruby red lipstick from her purse and leans back toward the mirror again. "My mother doesn't know I'm here," she answers, crabbily.
"Why are you still dating that jerk?" I demand. "I thought your mom forbid you to see him because of his ill-breeding."
"Price isn't a jerk. He's very sweet to me when other people aren't around," Meg retorts, capping her lipstick. "And he smoothed that whole unfortunate evening over with my mother. He was simply intimidated by those other boys. They're always bullying him. He wanted to impress them, that's all. Besides, that word he said? It was that girl's own fault."
"Right," I reply, sarcastically, shaking off my wet hands, then pull out a paper towel. "Price is a real diamond in the rough."
Meg nods. "Yes, he is," she agrees, making me wonder if she's totally missed my sarcasm or simply chosen to ignore it. Meg flips on the faucet and pushes up her sleeves, then sticks her hands underneath the water.
"Dear Lord, Meg!" I cry, staring down at her hands. "What happened to your wrists?"
Meg glances down at them. Deep red marks encircle both wrists. "That's nothing," Meg says, calmly. "My mother has me on this new diet regime. She's such a cow."
I stare at her wrists a moment longer. Mrs. Jardin is a freak.
Meg pulls up the neck of her sweater. "See you on Monday, Shan," she says and leaves the restroom.
When I return to the table, Mary Anne's friend, Katie, has left. I've hardly touched my onion rings and wait patiently for Maria to finish her mess of a burger. Pete keeps staring at me, like I'm some specimen in a museum, then looks quickly away as soon as I catch his eye. It's unsettling. I don't like thinking of what he's thinking about me. I glance at my watch. I'd like to leave soon.
Mary Anne glances at her watch, too. "My shift starts soon," she announces. "I have to work for, like, six hours with – oh, sorry, I won't say her name, Pete," Mary Anne says a bit grouchily. She returns to her normal voice to say to me, "Tonight, I have an overnight job at the Marshalls. You remember them, right?"
"Sure. Nina and Eleanor. You still baby-sit?"
Mary Anne shrugs. "Almost exclusively for the Marshalls. I sit for them a lot." Mary Anne drops her voice to a whisper. "Mr. and Mrs. Marshall are having marital difficulties. Nina told me. She's afraid they're going to get a divorce."
"That's too bad."
Mary Anne nods, then frowns. "I wish my dad and stepmom would get a divorce. Sharon's decided she doesn't like me anymore. Again. I'm not Dawn." Mary Anne's frown deepens a moment, then she nudges Pete. "I have to go to work. Drive me."
Pete and Mary Anne slide out of the booth. Pete tosses some money onto the table. We say goodbye, then Mary Anne and Pete leave the restaurant, holding hands. As they walk away, Pete whispers something in Mary Anne's ear and she elbows him hard in the side. I suspect he made a comment about me.
"Why can't you date someone like him?" Maria demands, crossly.
"You don't understand," I tell her and glance at our check. I set the exact amount plus tip on the table. "Come on. Let's go."
Maria doesn't say anything during the drive home. She digs through all the shopping bags, studying her purchases. She ignores me. I wonder how long this treatment will continue. But then, Maria did come out with me. Maybe that's something.
Once we're home, I race up to my bedroom and begin peeling off my clothes. Since Mrs. Ellenburg wore a pantsuit when I met her, I decide it's all right for me to wear pants today. I select a pair of black slacks and Anna's sweater and black heels. I turn slowly in front of the mirror. I hope I don't look too casual. I switch to a nicer purse, then head downstairs. Maria's in the living room watching television with Astrid.
"I'm going out," I inform her.
Maria grunts in reply.
"How do I look?"
"You look fine," Maria says. She doesn't even glance at me.
"Don't go over and bother the Thomas-Brewers, okay? They're having a family crisis. Maybe you could play with Linny and Hannie though. Just please, Maria, don't run your mouth off about our personal family business."
"Okay, okay."
"I'll call you later."
"Okay."
I stand by the couch another moment in case she has more to say. She keeps her focus on the television. So, I leave. Maybe I won't come home tonight. How would Maria like that? I bet she wouldn't care. She'd probably prefer me to stay away.
I slip my favorite Great Blue Whales tape in the deck as I drive away from McLelland. It raises my spirits considerably. I remind myself that not everything in my life is currently awful. I have Wes. We've been very happy the last few days. And Kristy and I are reconciling. We'll be friends again soon. And Lindsey's still my friend, even if she might be insane. And I guess Mary Anne's kind of my friend, too. She's pretty strange though.
I push aside all the bad things in my life. I don't consider them. I bury them deep. I've had a great morning and a mostly okay afternoon. And I'll enjoy my evening with the Ellenburgs. I won't let Mrs. Ellenburg intimidate me or twist me into saying anything I don't intend for her to know. Everything will run smooth and fine.
I check my make-up in the rearview mirror, then hop out of the car. It's quite blustery out. I hurry up the walkway to Wes' front door. I knock lightly and wait. I don't wait long. Wes opens the door very quickly.
"Hi, Wes!" I greet him.
"Hello, Shannon," he replies, stiffly.
I look behind him and on the end of the couch sits Elizabeth Brewer.