Fear and Laundry (18 page)

“Jumped her?”

“I heard she broke Ridley’s nose. But someone else told me she sent her to the hospital.”

“People believe this?” Though I wasn’t terribly surprised word about the fight had gotten around, I was amazed the facts could already have become this distorted.

“I’ve got Western Civ. with Ridley and she wasn’t in class this morning. That’s probably not helping dismiss any rumors.”

I started to insist what I’d reported the night before was true. Melina crossed her slender arms and listened earnestly, but then her eyes drifted from mine to the door. She put a hand on my arm and I stopped talking. My stomach flip-flopped as I turned and watched Eugenia Ridley stride into the room and stop, pushing up the sleeves of her fitted leather jacket. Her mean, dark eyes roved around until they found me. I cursed under my breath, bracing myself against the lunch table for what I guessed would be a quick but thorough beat down.

“I wanna talk to you,” Ridley said when she reached me, “Outside.” Her hair was pulled back. She had a black eye a lot worse than Lia’s and her nose was taped, prompting me to wonder if maybe Lia hadn’t broken it after all.

“C’mon,” I said.

“What?” she barked. Some of Melina’s friends stood up from the table. I hoped they planned to step in and help me but figured they were more likely preparing to run away. A crowd had started to gather, forming a semi-circle around Ridley and me.

“You wanna
take me outside
?” I asked. “You can do better than that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ridley snapped.

“Get away from her.” I turned to see Lia fighting her way through the onlookers to reach us.

Ridley whirled. I half expected her to lunge at Lia and for the rematch to begin right then and there. Instead, she backed up, her hands clenching at her sides.

“H-hey, Lia,” she stammered. “I didn’t think you were here today.”

Lia marched closer. “What’s going on?” she asked, glancing at me to make sure I was alright. Her eye looked better, but was still puffy and purplish.

“Nothing. Veronica and I were just, uh, talking,” said Ridley. I noticed she wouldn’t look Lia in the eye.

“’Bout what?”

Ridley shook her head, her ponytail swaying. There was a look on her face I’d never seen before:  fear. “C’mon. I don’t wanna do this here. In front of everyone.”

“Do what?” Lia’s voice was low, taunting.

Ridley looked at her boots and then up again, still not directly at Lia but at some point over her shoulder. “I just wanted to apologize for everything. I want this to be over with, you know? To put it all behind us.” She looked at me, her mouth twitching into a tiny, hesitant smile. Her remorse and embarrassment were practically palpable and in spite of everything, I felt a little bad for her. But I was too shocked to react.

For a moment, it was quiet in the cafeteria, everyone waiting for Lia’s reaction. I was only slightly surprised to hear her finally say, “Sorry. Don’t think so.”

Ridley’s smile flitted away. “C’mon,” she whispered. “This isn’t easy for me.”

“I care,” said Lia spitefully. “Really.”

“Lia,” I began, but she held her hand up.

“
Put it all behind us
?” she quoted sarcastically at Ridley. “After all the crap you’ve pulled?”

Ridley’s flinty eyes narrowed. She was getting angry, but wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. She pointed at her face. “I’d say we can call it even, can’t you?”

“No.”

“Come on.”

Lia brought her finger to her chin and pretended to think for a few seconds. Then she demanded a published retraction of
Torched
’s disparaging remarks about
The Blank Slate
before she’d even
consider
letting Ridley off the hook.

Ridley paused, contemplating. But apparently her humility had its limits. “Forget it,” she finally said.

Lia’s face contorted. “Why the hell not?”

“Because
The Blank Slate
IS a sophomoric rag,” she spat. “It is. It’s
crap
.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes.” Ridley crossed her arms, regaining confidence by the second.

“Really.”

“YES.”

“If it’s such crap, then why’s Clyde Kameron doing an interview with me?”

Ridley didn’t answer, only looked incredulous. Like most everyone else, she must’ve heard that rumor by now. But apparently she hadn’t believed it. “That’s right,” Lia raised her voice, now addressing everyone within earshot. “Clyde Kameron’s coming back to Carreen.”

“Everyone already knows he’s coming back, you dumbass,” said Ridley. “Because
I
told them. I beat you to that story, remember?”

“Maybe. But you’re not the one running the interview with him. I am.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Ridley pushed past her toward the exit. A teacher filling his plate at the salad bar finally noticed something was going on and started to come over. But Ridley was gone and the group around Lia and me was dispersing. I murmured to Melina that I’d see her later and grabbed Lia’s arm, pulling her toward our usual table.

***

“W
hy would you do that?” I asked Lia. She’d blown our chance to make peace with Ridley. We could’ve moved past the animosity with her for good – and I could’ve gone to the bathroom anxiety-free for the remainder of my senior year – if only Lia hadn’t let her pride get in the way.

“Are you kidding?” Lia looked at me like I was crazy. “Ridley’s sorry now because her nose is still sore. But we can’t trust her. As soon as she heals and the memory of her ass-kicking starts to fade, she’ll be right back to torturing us.”

“Well, I still say it would’ve been worth a shot.” I was annoyed Lia’d turned Ridley’s peace treaty down without even consulting me. “I would’ve accepted her apology,” I added, sulking.

“I’m sure you would have,” said Lia, as though it only proved how pathetic I was. Deeming the matter closed, she changed the subject. She was excited, she said, because Yamir had spoken to her in the hall just now. He’d heard what’d happened at Lynch’s over the weekend and wanted to know if Lia was alright.

“You should’ve seen how
concerned
he looked. It was SO sweet,” she gushed.

“Whatever,” I said.

“What’s your problem?”

I just didn’t get it, I told her for the millionth time. I’d never understood why she always chased after the dullest guys in school.

“They’re not dull,” she countered. “They’re nice.”

“Same difference,” I said, still feeling huffy from before. It made me contrarian.

“Yeah, well I’ve seen what you find interesting,” she snorted. “Pretty shallow, Vee.”

“Thanks.”

Oh sure, the guys I hooked up with could be charismatic, she said. “But you know why those kinds of guys have to be so charming?” She leaned across the table. “To hide the fact there’s nothing going on up here,” she pointed at her temple. “Or to cover up whatever else is wrong with them.” Nice guys like Yamir, she said, had nothing to hide. Or, if they did, were too guileless to pull it off. “You know what you’re getting with a nice guy,” she insisted. “You oughtta try one sometime.”

While we were on the subject of guys, I wanted to tell her what’d happened with Alex and his friends the night before. But just then a couple of sophomore girls came up to the table to congratulate Lia for trouncing Ridley. They’d suffered at the Electric Torch guitarist’s hands before, too, and had no love for her. Could they buy Lia’s lunch? Sit at the table with us? Of course Lia let them.

***

A
fter school, I rode to rehearsal with Lia. We sounded okay. During a break, Lia recounted for the others something she’d already told me in the Dart on the way over: how she and Ridley had been called into Principal Herrera’s office late in the afternoon.

It’d been obvious to the school staff, judging by the bruised faces and rampant rumors, something had happened between the two girls and Herrera wanted to know what it was. Neither Lia nor Ridley had spilled. And since the fight hadn’t happened on school property, there really wasn’t anything the administration could do about it. But Herrera had warned them both they’d be watched closely and had better not cause any “disruptions” at school.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” I told Lia. Penny Aikman hadn’t even looked at me in Spanish that afternoon, just kept her head down all class period. And when I’d spotted the dreadlocked pixie (whose name, I’d been reminded, was Sasha) coming down the hall, she’d looked scared and turned and walked the other way. The Electric Torch threat had seemingly been neutralized. At least for now.

“Nice reputation you’ve established for yourself there, sis,” said Jake reproachfully.

“It’s not
just
because I kicked their asses,” defended Lia. Impressionable Youth’s set, though abridged, had delivered. Even thrown together in a matter of weeks, our songs and performance had bested anything Electric Torch had ever done. At least that was the word going around school. To her credit, Lia did seem prouder of this than of her new status as queen bully.

The kitchen phone rang and Lia went to answer it. It was my mother, so I went in and took the receiver. Did Lia mind taking me by the grocery store before bringing me home, Mom wondered? She was making
arroz con pollo
– chicken and rice – for dinner and was short on tomato sauce. I told her it’d be no problem.

When I hung up and went back into the living room, Lia wasn’t around. Paige and Jake sat together on the couch, though. Paige laughed about something.

I sat in the armchair. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Mom and Dad’s party,” said Jake.

“Elyse hired a DJ,” said Paige. “I think she should’ve hired us instead.”

I laughed in spite of myself, imagining Lia in her custom gown, screaming her lungs out at the Country Lake ballroom in front of the Mlinarichs’ elderly relatives and business associates.

Jake asked if he could count on me to dance with him at the party.

“I can’t,” I said lamely. “I mean, I don’t know how.”

“Well, I do,” said Paige. Her shoes were off and her legs curled up under her. Her breast touched Jake’s bicep as she leaned against him. “I know how to dance,” she purred into his ear.

***

“Y
ou’re a lifesaver, Pumpkin. How much do I owe you?” My mother took the tomato sauce from me and went for her purse. The whole house smelled great:  like garlic and onions and cumin.

“Nothing,” I said. “Mr. Mlinarich let me have it.” John had been on his nightly round at Paper or Plastic when Lia and I came in. He’d seen us in the cashier’s line through the two-way glass of his office window and come out to say hello. When he’d seen I only had a can of tomato sauce in my hand and learned it was for my mother, he’d insisted I just take it. He’d ring it up and square it away later, he said. I should tell my mother he and Elyse said hello, and they were sorry she couldn’t make it to the anniversary party (she had a Drawing class). She should come by the house for dinner some other night. It’d been “too long.”

My mother’s mouth twitched to one side. “I’ve told you not to let him give you things,” she said, but I could tell she was touched. She carried the sauce to the electric can opener and cut it open.

“Speaking of the Mlinarichs,” she said when the can opener’s whirring had died away, “What happened to Jake’s face?”

“Uh,” I’d forgotten she’d seen him that morning. “He got into a fight.” I lifted the lid off a pot on the stove and bent over it. “This smells amazing,” I said, sniffing.

“Well, I assumed
that
. I didn’t think he was the type,” she said, taking the lid from my hand and shooing me away. She dumped the sauce into the pot. “To get into trouble, I mean.”

“He’s not.” I said.
Well, not often,
I added to myself, thinking of his claim to have “had worse.” “He was defending...someone else.” I stopped myself from telling her it’d been Lia, though I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to hide the fact. Lia’d dropped me off at the curb tonight, so my mother hadn’t seen her black eye, but unless it healed miraculously quickly she might see it later. I guessed I’d deal with that if the time came.

“Are you telling me you were there?” Horrified.

“It happened at our show at Lynch’s Saturday,” I said, immediately afraid she’d forbid me to ever set foot there again.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened to your bicycle?” The two little lines etched between her eyebrows deepened.

“No. Not really.
Mom
,” I said, aggravated by the look she was giving me while she stirred the chicken. “You don’t have to worry. You know Lia’s family. They’re not criminals or hoodlums or whatever.”

“I just don’t want you getting mixed up in anything. You’re having enough trouble as it is.”

“Trouble?”

“With your grades,” she elaborated. “With keeping your mind on school.”

I groaned.

She paused to dip a fresh spoon into the pot and sample the sauce. “George says he knows someone,” she continued, tossing the used spoon into the sink and reaching for the salt shaker. “A tutor that helped his son when he was in high school.” George had, Mom told me before, two grown children with his ex-wife.

“C’mon, Mom. You can’t afford a tutor. And I really wish you wouldn’t discuss my personal business with George,” I said coldly.

“Oh, Veronica.”

“Seriously, Mom,” I started to walk away but she called me back. She’d drop the subject, she promised, if I’d help her set the table.

She kept her word, not asking me any more uncomfortable questions until dinner was almost over. Then she asked about Alex. She knew I’d gone out with him again yesterday. Did I plan to keep seeing him?

“Maybe. I dunno,” I said, clearing our plates from the table and carrying them into the kitchen.

She followed me with our empty drinking glasses and caught up with me at the sink. What was wrong with Alex she wanted to know? Had something happened on our date?

“Nothing’s
wrong
with him,” I said, scraping food into the garbage disposal. And I didn’t want to tell her what’d happened. It was embarrassing. And she’d probably just tell me I was being paranoid.