Chapter Two: Mountains & Masens
Papa always said he would swat our bottoms ten minutes past Sunday.
Well, it's Saturday night, and by the sound of his voice one of us is going to be skipping a day.
Papa made sure he wasn't sinning on God's day any more than he had to the rest of the week.
AJ steps on my yellow rubber boots, the kind I wear even when it isn't raining, and scrambles past me to get outside first.
She reckons if she's at the scene of the crime before me and Jessie, she's innocent.
She probably did it, whatever "it" is. She's already tore up half of the house with her antics. Throwing balls through windows, crushing Ma's good vases, overflowing the washer trying to make an indoor swimming pool — AJ is a magnet for trouble. Tomboy, she calls herself. But she knows better than to let Papa hear her say that.
"Move it, Bella Rain!"
I scoff. She knows I despise that name. Ma said all babies are pretty when they come out; that God sent 'em floating down from Heaven just to give adults something to smile about. She told me that I was so beautiful, all the cotton just a' bloomed when I was born.
I believe her, too. That's why she and Papa named me that. AnnaBella Rain Cotton Swan.
But everybody in Forks County just calls me Cotton.
"Girls!" Papa yells out again, but Ma screams back at him.
"Just yank it out, Charlie!"
"Dammit, Renee, I'm trying!"
I grab Jessie's hand to see what the commotion is all about. My youngest sister thinks she's a baby, but she's just snot-nosed and chubby. We all look alike—Jessie Beth, Alice Jo, and I—all with dark hair and big brown eyes. Except AJ has a mole on her upper lip. I think Ma drew it on there when AJ was born and now it just won't come off.
The front screen door slams behind me and Jessie, bouncing back three times before closing.
Ma and Papa are trying to pull on something from the shrub just below the front porch, but it's not budging.
"What's going on?" I ask.
AJ points, watching our parents tug as sweat drips from Papa's brow. "Papa's rifle is stuck in the bush."
"How'd it get there?"
Papa quits jerking on the handle of the rifle and wipes his forehead with his flannel sleeve. "I'll tell you how it got here, Cotton. Those Masens from up the road done been over here again. I found my overalls in the shed hanging from a rope, a gallon of my honey knocked over, and somebody just returned my gator boat this morning. Now this. I'm sick of their shit, Ree. I'm going over there first thing in the morning."
Ma swats Papa on his chest. "You hush, Charlie. You can't blame them boys for everything. They're good folks. 'Sides, we got church in the morning."
I frown, trying to figure out who they're talking about. "The Masens?"
"The Masens?" Jessie mocks everything I say, no matter what it is. You'd think the flat lands were large enough to echo my voice to a mountain and back, but no, Ma and Papa had to go and have Jessie just so I could hear myself twice.
"Bunch of roughnecks that moved from across the state," Papa answers, pointing yonder and to nowhere in particular. "They bought that patch of land up the road. Carlisle, I gave him a job on the boat with Billy and Jacob to help out. That wife of his, Esme, is all right I reckon, but his three boys ain't nothing but trouble. Billy done already told me he saw them lurking up past the bridge on Woodberry last week."
"They're about your ages, girls. One's 16," Ma adds, directing it towards me like I care. I don't, but I listen anyways. "The middle one's about 14, and then they have a youngin' a few years above Jessie and one on the way. Don't listen to your father. They're good folks. I'll introduce y'all before service."
"That's if they go, damn hooligans." Papa kicks the bush one last time, nearly knocking a lantern off the porch.
AJ giggles at Papa's cursing and Ma shoots her a dirty look. "You stop that right now, Alice Jo Summer. You know your papa loves that gun."
AJ straightens up immediately and wipes the grin from her face. Anytime Ma calls you by your full name, she means business. She swats a mosquito that sucks the blood from her bare arms and apologizes. "Sorry, Ma."
"You girls go get ready for bed. I don't want none of y'all falling asleep like you did last Sunday. Reverend Weber almost gave you a lashing right on the pew."
We nod and scamper back into the house.
I'm glad Papa didn't swat our bottoms, but I wonder if he'll do it to those boys tomorrow.
I reckon the good Lord will forgive him, even on a Sunday.
.
.
.
Papa was right.
The Masens are a bunch of hooligans. They arrive thirty minutes late, right when Rose Charlotte is belting out "At the Cross." She's singing it too, her blonde hair swaying back and forth as we clap along in unison. Ma carries on, shouting and lifting her hands up high.
Jessie stands on the pew, praising baby Jesus with her storybook Bible in one hand and a naked Barbie doll in the other.
I feel an arm push against me with no "excuse me" or "pardon me" or anything. Just a whispered, "scoot over," and the next thing I know, all of my family is shuffling down. Ma points and smiles, mouthing, "That's them. The Masens."
I roll my eyes at her gesture. I figured that since we know everybody else.
She gives a small wave to the lady with a swollen belly, but I'm too busy deciding if I should hit the boy who's being rude to me.
It ain't right to strike someone, especially in God's house. We Baptists have a thing about following the Lord, but maybe He'll forgive me quicker if I ask beforehand.
The Masen family stands there, not singing or anything, and they look as awkward as I feel. They are filthy, like they ain't have the decency to clean up before church. Every one of 'em has the same green eyes, but it's the one closest to me I can't stop staring at.
His tan shirt is unbuttoned, his hair's all over the place and his trousers have dirt caked all over them. He smells awfully ripe, like he's allergic to water. He's the tallest and Ma said the oldest was 16, but he's got fuzz all over his jaw like a grown man. And his nose is a little crooked. I bet the doctor yanked him out of his Ma too hard.
I don't get to say anything about him squishing me 'cause Rose Charlotte finishes singing with the choir and Reverend Weber takes the pulpit. He condemns liars, thieves, whores, adulterers, and people who drive too slow before he even opens his Bible. I stole a slice of pie last night, so I ask for forgiveness. The rest of the sermon ain't for me so this is my cue to fall asleep. Snuggling in my seat, I close my eyes hoping the Reverend doesn't preach too long today.
I'm not even dreaming yet when a calloused finger digs into my hip.
"Wake up," the voice hisses.
I glance over and I can see the one next to me a little clearer now that we're at the same height.
"Shh," I whisper back. "Don't tell me what to do."
Beneath all the grime, he smirks. "I can and I will. Now wake up before your mama sees you."
"She don't care," I fib, sitting up straighter and pulling down the hem of my lace dress. He stares a little too long at the bare skin above my knees and his eyes travel in places no boys should be looking.
The Masen boy licks his lips and I wonder if i should make a fuss and tell Ma.
I better not. I don't want her thinking I'm acting fast.
He chuckles just as Reverend Weber heads our way, preaching up a storm down the aisle.
"Liar," he breathes, blowing hot air into my ear. "You're so full of shit your eyes are brown."