Honeysuckle Love (20 page)

“This is an International Concepts top, you little shit!” she wailed.

“Watch the language in my store,” the manager said, and then turning to Beatrice and Clara he added, “Get out.”

“Gladly,” Beatrice replied. She took Clara’s hand and led her out of the restaurant. Clara was speechless as she got behind the wheel. She sat frozen in her seat.

“The keys, Clara,” Beatrice demanded. Clara handed them over to her automatically.

Beatrice leaned over and started the ignition. It gave an exhausted rumble before the engine turned over. Clara sat immobile.

“Now drive,” Beatrice ordered.

Clara came to and put the car in reverse. She backed away from the restaurant slowly watching the silent fight ensue between Rebecca and the manager. Who would compensate Rebecca for her ruined International Concepts shirt? Clara certainly couldn’t afford to. She instantly thought of the repercussions at school. She could only imagine the horrible things Rebecca would say or do.

Clara drove slowly down the street. She yanked her thoughts away from Rebecca to focus on Beatrice, the memory of her bewildered face, hand clutching the empty cup, eyes wide with the realization that she’d been caught red-handed.

“Bad manners, Bea,” Clara said. “Very bad manners.” And then she burst out laughing. Beatrice did too. They laughed so hard that Clara had to pull off to the side of the road. They laughed until they were certain their sides would rip open. They laughed until the tears stung their eyes and they couldn’t breathe. They each gulped for air greedily, trying to control themselves, bursts of giggles popping out of them intermittently like the sounds of the last kernels exploding in the microwave.

“Is Evan your boyfriend?” Beatrice asked after a time.

“No,” Clara replied wiping her eyes.

“But he likes you, right?”

“I think so.”

“And he’s a nice guy,” Beatrice said.

“You’ve met him. You know he is,” Clara said.

“So why did that girl say that he wasn’t?” Beatrice asked.

“To be mean,” Clara said.

“So people are mean to you, too?”

“Yes, Bea,” Clara said. “People are mean to me, too.”

***

They were twenty minutes into the lecture when Evan handed Clara a folded piece of paper. He kept his eyes glued to the teacher as she opened it and read its contents:

Will you be my girlfriend? Circle one.

Yes

No

Maybe (Please don’t circle this one. I’ve never understood it.)

She grinned from ear to ear, stifling a giggle. She circled her choice and refolded the paper, passing it to Evan when the teacher’s back was turned to the white board. Evan didn’t immediately unfold the paper. Instead, he tore off a small sheet from his notebook and hastily scribbled something. He passed it over to Clara who read to herself:

Am I going to like the answer?

She wrote on the paper and passed it back. Evan smirked as he read her words:

You’ll have to open the paper to find out.

He looked at his potential new girlfriend and grinned. She smiled back, and he thought of something else to write to her. He passed her the note and watched her reaction.

I think you’re the prettiest girl in school.

She blushed fiercely and looked his way. She mouthed the words “thank you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the teacher said hovering over Evan and Clara. He snatched the piece of paper in front of Clara and was about to walk back to the front of the room before noticing the folded paper on Evan’s desk. He snatched that, too, and Evan objected.

“That’s not a note,” he said, but the teacher ignored him and resumed his lecture.

After class Evan grabbed Clara’s hand.

“I guess you’ll just have to tell me what you circled,” he said.

She shook her head. “Maybe Mr. Stevens will give it back to you.”

“Clara,” Evan said exasperated, but she pulled her hand from his and hurried out of the classroom.

He came to her at lunch, a silly grin plastered on his face. He ignored Joshua and Chris, who tried to get his attention. He breezed by Amy, who approached him and tried to start a conversation. He didn’t even see her. His peridot eyes were fastened to Clara’s hazel ones. He set his tray beside hers, crawling onto the bench and sitting so close that their arms touched.

“Hi,” he whispered in her ear, and she shivered.

“Hi,” she replied.

“How are you, Clara?” he asked. He took hold of her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and felt the flutter in his stomach when love is new and fresh and full of promise.

She didn’t reply. She wondered how she would eat her lunch with him holding her hand. She thought that maybe she didn’t really care to eat lunch. That she could fill up on the time she got to spend with him instead.

“Hey man,” Chris said. It was more of a question.

“Hey Chris. What’s up?” Evan asked. He released Clara’s hand and opened his soda.

“Just wondering what you’re doing later,” Chris said. He looked at Clara and gave her an uncertain smile. She smiled back just as uncertainly.

“I’m hanging out with my girlfriend,” Evan replied. He took a long sip of his Coke.

Chris looked dubious. “Okay man. That’s cool.”

“You can hang out for lunch if you want,” Evan said.

“Uhh . . .” Chris turned back to look at the students sitting at his regular table. “Uh, yeah. Okay.” He sat down tentatively across from Evan and Clara. “Sooo . . .”

“I can’t go to the movies Saturday, man,” Evan said. “I’m picking up a shift at work.”

“That’s cool,” Chris replied. He took a large bite out of his sandwich, chewing it as he looked at Clara.

“You a junior?” he asked with his mouth full.

“Yes,” Clara replied.

“Enjoy it,” Chris said. “Not that being a senior isn’t awesome. But man, anybody that tells you they can’t wait to graduate is lying. I’m scared shitless.”

Clara nodded.

“Where are you applying?” Chris asked Evan.

“I’ve already applied. Maryland, Duke, and Georgia Tech,” Evan said.

“You’re such a freakin’ nerd, man,” Chris replied.

Evan laughed. “Yeah, and you’ll be working for me one day.”

Chris chuckled. “I guess.” He looked at Clara again.

“You plannin’ on eating?” he asked eyeing her food.

She nodded and picked up her sandwich.

“Just let me know what you don’t want,” Chris said.

They ate and talked, with Clara listening for most of the conversation. She shared her fries and cookies with Chris. He acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, sharing food with her. She wasn’t sure what to make of Chris, but she decided boys weren’t all that complicated. He didn’t seem to care one bit that Evan was dating her, and the longer he sat at the table eating his food and hers, the more comfortable she became with him. He was nice. She wished girls were nice like him. Why were boys so much nicer than girls? Well, at least on the whole?

***

Evan didn’t spend the afternoon with Clara as he had intended. His father needed him to help with administrative work at his office. His father was an orthodontist, and Clara hoped never to meet him. She was self-conscious about her one crooked tooth and didn’t want Evan’s father to ask why she never had braces. Evan explained that his father was hoping he would go into orthodontics and carry on the family business, but Evan had zero interest in teeth. He preferred engineering. He liked to build things, not straighten them.

Clara walked into her house that afternoon to find Ms. Debbie sitting in the living room with Beatrice.

“Hi, Ms. Debbie,” Clara said, placing her book bag and purse on the floor next to the front door.

“Clara, it’s getting cold, and fast,” Ms. Debbie said urgently.

“We’re doing fine, Ms. Debbie,” Clara responded. “And please stop sending over food. It’s very kind of you, but I have things here to make for dinner.”

“Canned tuna and instant potatoes?! Please!” Ms. Debbie said. “I want you to come stay with me.”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Clara replied patiently. She sunk down in the armchair across from Ms. Debbie.

“I like what we’re doing,” Beatrice offered. “It’s fun. And very green.”

“Green?” Ms. Debbie asked.

“Yeah, like the green movement,” Beatrice explained. “Conservation. That sort of thing.”

Ms. Debbie stared at Beatrice then said, “What the hell are they teaching you in those schools?”

“Ms. Debbie, I promise we’re fine,” Clara said.

“I don’t believe it,” Ms. Debbie replied. “It’s getting cold and I know your bedrooms are cold at night. We made an arrangement, and I don’t see any lights. You know what that tells me? It tells me that you still don’t have electricity. And it’s getting cold.”

“It’s not that cold yet, Ms. Debbie,” Clara said.

“I’m an adult and it’s my responsibility—”

“Ms. Debbie, please stop,” Clara interrupted. How could Clara begin to tell her the obvious? Ms. Debbie had little more than they had. She lived on her measly Social Security check that barely covered her own living expenses. Plus, she was probably giving money to her church when she had no business doing so.
And I’m sure they have no problem taking it
, Clara thought bitterly. She felt instantly ashamed of silently condemning a church that just recently collected food for her and Beatrice, and said a quick prayer for forgiveness. Still, she knew Ms. Debbie could afford only to keep herself. She had no idea where Ms. Debbie found the money for her birthday earrings. She didn’t want to know. But there was no way in hell Clara and Beatrice were going to live with her and run up her electric and water bills.

“Clara, I know what you’re thinking,” Ms. Debbie said. She glanced at Beatrice. “Please do not say it aloud. I am still your elder and deserve respect, and I do have pride.”

Clara averted her eyes. “We’re okay,” she said softly. “I promise. But the minute we’re not, I’ll tell you. I swear I will. You’re very good to us. And we’re very grateful.”

Ms. Debbie stood up. She took a deep, labored breath and waddled to the front door.

“I’m baking you a pie for dessert,” she said, her hand clutching the doorknob. “Beatrice, I expect you over in two hours to pick it up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beatrice said. She couldn’t help but ask. “What kind, Ms. Debbie?”

“Cherry,” Ms. Debbie replied glancing at Clara, and left.

***

“Hi Clara,” Rebecca sneered.

Clara stood in front of the bathroom door about to leave. The door flew open, and Rebecca backed Clara against the far wall, two of her friends in tow.

“Why is it that shit always goes down in the bathrooms at school?” Rebecca asked laughing. She waited for Clara to reply, but Clara stayed silent. “You’ve been running your mouth about that incident at the restaurant, haven’t you?”

Clara shook her head.

“Bullshit. Why did Evan come up to me and tell me to stay away from you?” Rebecca asked.

“I didn’t tell him to do that,” Clara replied.

“Sure you didn’t,” Rebecca scoffed. “You just love being the good little victim, don’t you? Go cry to Evan and he’ll take care of it. You need to grow up and get a backbone.”

“I didn’t run to Evan about anything!” Clara yelled.

Rebecca ignored her. “I bet you two were having a great time laughing about my shirt.”

“No one gives a shit about your stupid shirt,” Clara snapped.

“And there’s your problem, Clara,” Rebecca said, arms folded over her chest. “You should care about my shirt. You should feel guilty for what happened. You should want to pay me back for ruining my expensive shirt. I mean, I know you don’t get it entirely because you’re poor and can’t afford nice, name brand things. But others of us can, and we get really fucking pissed off when a nice shirt gets ruined because of someone else’s little bitch sister.”

Clara felt the rush of rage. “You know I can’t pay you,” she said. “You said yourself I’m poor white trash.”

Rebecca smirked. “True. But you don’t necessarily need to give me cash. I can think of other ways to make you pay up.” She whipped her hand out fast enough to grab Clara’s purse before Clara could stop her.

“Give it back,” Clara demanded. She reached for Rebecca, but Rebecca’s friends rushed to stand between them. “Give it back!” Clara cried more urgently.

Rebecca rifled through the purse until she found Clara’s wallet. She opened it and frowned.

“Three dollars, Clara? Are you fucking kidding me?” and she took the cash, stuffing it in her pocket.

Clara tried to push past the girls, but they kept her pinned against the wall.