"One. Two. Three-"
"I'll be down in a minute!" I said, giving it one last try.
"Four. Five. Six," Brian continued on as though I hadn't spoken.
"Seven. Eight." Brian interrupted his counting to say warningly, "Harlie, if I have to go down and find that spare key,
things are gonna go south real quick, just so you know. Nine-"
As quickly as I could, I brushed my hair down and pulled it to the left side, fastening it with a hair tye.
"Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thir-"
In the midst of Brian's number 13 I unlocked the door, and pulled it open.
"-teen," Brian finished. He leaned against the doorway.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing's going on, except I'm trying to have a little privacy!" I said, deciding to try a defensive tactic. "Which is impossible around here,
with a hundred people pounding on the door!"
"Privacy, huh?"
"Yes, privacy!"
"You said you were in the bathtub."
"What?" I blinked at him.
"You just told me you were in the bathtub. You weren't."
"Well, I was getting dressed."
"Huh." He reached out and ran a thumb over my chin. "Good grief, Harlie, how much makeup do you have on?"
"Just because I like to ride and be outside, and don't mind getting dirty, doesn't mean I don't want to wear makeup once
in awhile, Brian." I said, trying for an indignant tone.
"Okay."
It seemed to me that his attention was focused on the left side of my face, and I said, "So, what's for supper?"
"So now you're hungry?"
"Always hungry for your cooking," I said, and went past him to go downstairs.
7
When I walked into the kitchen, Evan and Ford were already at the table, heaping their plates with food, and buttering rolls.
I started to slip into my chair when Crane turned from where he stood by the stove, spooning up a bowl of green beans.
"Hey, you," he said, and crooked a finger at me. "Come here, little miss."
When I came over to where he was, he said, "What's the rule when you're going to be late getting home?"
"To call. I'm sorry, Crane," I said.
"Where were you?"
"That's what I want to know, too," Ford spoke up. "I waited for you. That's twice today I had to."
"I had a test to finish."
"What test?" Crane asked.
"Um, history," I said, grasping at the first thing that came to mind.
"I thought that was yesterday."
"It was," I said, and went to sit down. "I didn't get it done."
I poured a glass of milk, and looked across the table to see Ford frowning at me. I could tell he knew I
was lying about the test. Knowing Ford like I do, I knew he wouldn't have left school without checking all over
for me. He knew I hadn't been in Mrs. Murrilo's room. I shook my head at him just a little bit, imploring him
not to say anything.
He gave me a disgusted look, and rolled his eyes, before he started buttering another roll.
"How come you're wearing your hair like that?" Evan asked.
I ignored him, and focused on eating the best I could. I shifted in my chair, trying to find a position where my back didn't hurt.
With only five of us at the table, things were quieter than usual, though the four of them kept up a steady conversation, which I made no effort to participate in.
I pushed the food around my plate, wishing it was time to go to bed. I had no appetite at all.
At one point I glanced across the table to see Evan looking at me like he was amused about something.
"What?!" I snapped.
"New way of wearing your hair, huh?" he said.
"You know, Evan, the way you keep asking about it, you must be thinking of growing yours long so you can wear it like this, too," I said sarcastically.
I'd meant to rile him, but Evan just laughed, and went back to eating.
"How come you're wearing all that makeup?" Ford asked.
Before I could snap at Ford, Brian spoke up.
"Now, Ford," he said slowly, "Just because Harlie likes to ride and rope, and doesn't mind being outside, getting dirty, that's no reason she might not want to wear makeup once in awhile." He stopped from his repeating of my words almost verbatim, and looked at me. "Isn't that right, Har?"
Funny man.
"Right," I said.
I was lost in my own thoughts, and so I was surprised when I heard chairs being scooted back. They were all done eating. I looked at my plate, practically as full as it'd been at the beginning of the meal. I got up, too, and set my plate on the cabinet, hoping Brian or Crane would neither one notice.
"You've got dish duty," Evan reminded me.
"I know that, Evan."
"I'm just saying. You owe me for last week, too."
"I know!" I yelled. "Shut up already!"
"Hey," Crane said. He said it quietly, and that's all he said, but I looked at him, and I didn't say any more.
I started stacking the dishes and running hot water in the sink. The phone rang and Brian went to answer it. When it was just Crane and I left in the kitchen, he started drying dishes as I washed.
He flicked me on the rear with his towel.
"How come you're so wired up tonight?" he asked.
"I'm not. It's just Evan-"
"Yeah, you are. And it's not just about Evan. What's up?"
I shrugged. "Time of the month, I guess," I said, hoping that would shut him down.
If I'd even hinted at that subject with any of the other six males in the house, they would have dropped the conversation like a hot potato and left me in peace. But Crane is made of sturdier stuff.
He laughed. LAUGHED. "Wasn't that the excuse for your lousy mood last week, too?" he said, grinning.
"Comedian," I said.
Crane reached out to push my hair back, but I pulled away, so he wouldn't see my cheek.
I washed a couple more plates, and then I looked up at Crane. My back hurt so badly I wanted to cry, and I wished that I COULD talk to Crane about everything.
Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist, so quick and hard that he wasn't expecting it, and he had to catch himself, to keep from bumping into the counter.
He rubbed my back. "What's wrong, Harlie?" he asked, so kindly I had to blink back tears.
"Nothing," I said, against his middle.
"Seems like something to me."
When I didn't answer, he tried to tip my face up.
"Look at me."
I pulled away from his hand.
"I just want a hug. That's all."
"Well, okay," he said, and hugged me. "But you know what? I just might be able to help, if you tell me what's wrong."
I might have told Crane then, in a moment of weakness, in the quiet of the kitchen, when he was being so kind. But right then, Brian came in, saying Adam was on the phone, and that he and Hannah wanted to talk to me and Crane.
"It's nothing," I said, and went to the living room really quickly.
When Ford handed me the phone and I said hello, Adam's strong voice came across.
"Hey, sugar, how are you?"
"I'm fine, how are you?"
"Doing alright, meeting a lot of nice people."
"That's good."
"Brian put too much salt in the spaghetti again?"
Adam code for wanting to know why I didn't eat much supper. So, Brian had noticed.
I turned towards Brian.
"No, it was great," I said, looking right at Brian. "I think it was actually the best spaghetti he's ever made. He should enter it in a cooking contest."
Brian rolled his eyes and I knew he got my sarcasm, even if Adam didn't.
"So what else is new with you?" Adam asked.
"Evan's being a big pain."
"Most likely he is, but he'd say the same about you," Adam said, and laughed. "Here's Hannah."
"Hi, sweetie!"
"Hi, Hannah!"
"Are you doing alright?"
"Yes. Are you having fun so far?"
"Lots of fun. Guthrie says hi."
"Tell him hi back. What's he doing?"
"Playing games with some kids he met at the arcade here."
"That's cool." Conscious of Brian still within listening distance, I said, "I used some of your makeup."
"Oh, good," Hannah said, sounding happy I was taking time to be "girly". She sounded so pleased I felt a twinge of guilt.
"Here's Crane," I told her, abruptly, and handed the phone off to him.
I went back to finish the dishes, glad Crane didn't come back in. When I came thru the living room, they were all sprawled over the couches and chairs.
Brian was lying down on the couch and he pointed to the spot beside his feet.
"Want to sit down?" he offered.
"I've got homework," I said. "Besides," I couldn't resist adding, "you said I had to go to bed early, so I'll get up better, remember?"
Brian gave me a look, half serious, half amused.
"Well, that's right, isn't it?" he said. "I guess you'd better head up then, huh?"
"I guess so," I said, and started up the stairs. I just wanted to crawl into my bed.
"Night, peanut," Crane told me.
"Night," I said.
When I got upstairs, I went in my room and changed into my softest pajamas. I went down the hall to the bathroom, and washed all that makeup off my face with Noxema. I came out of the bathroom, not worried about anybody else being upstairs. I was running a finger over the worst scratch on my arm, looking down at it, and I ran straight into something solid. Something hard. Brian.
He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.
"Oh, my gosh, Bri! You scared me!" I reached instinctively to pull my hair back in front.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's okay. Goodnight." I made to move around him, but Brian halted me with a hand around my wrist.
I would have resisted, but I knew there was no use in that, since he'd obviously been waiting there for me to come out.
Besides, I was tired. All this subterfuge is harder than it seems.
Brian lifted my chin, looking at my cheek, and then took hold of my arms, first one, then the other, scrutinizing them.
"Those are some pretty nasty scratches," he said. "You went to a lot of trouble to hide them."
I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.
"I'll get the first aid kit," he said, and headed down the stairs. I sighed, and went to wait in my room.
"Get ready to be grilled like a cheese sandwich," I muttered to myself.
When Brian came back up, he didn't say anything. He just motioned for me to sit down on the bed, and then he cleaned my cheek and used iodine on my arms, and then wrapped a piece of gauze around the worst part.
"Anywhere else?" he asked.
I had no intention of telling him about my back, so I shook my head.
Brian put everything back into the first aid kit, and put his hands on his hips, looking at me grimly.
"Alright," he said. "Start talking."
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