The Opposite Of Tidy (10 page)

“And this.” Tab topped the outfit with the straw cowboy hat Junie had brought back for her from the Calgary Stampede, which was also where she’d bought the boots. It was one of those trips that her dad had taken her on last year, while the breakup was in full swing. He called them “distractions.” Junie called it guilt.

The hat fit perfectly and was on the smallish side for a cowboy hat. It was more like the ones Hollywood stars and rock idols could get away with wearing. It looked great on Tabitha. But on Junie? Junie tipped it up a bit. That was better. She looked good. She actually looked really good.

“But I’d have to wear it to school because we’re going after.”

“Right. That. It’s too much for school.” Tabitha tilted her head, assessing the outfit. “You’ll have to change after last period.”

“Or skip school altogether.” Junie winked at her. “I’ll be too nervous to concentrate anyway.”

“But if you’re ‘sick,’” Tabitha quoted with her fingers, “then your mom won’t let you out of the house to go on a date.”

Junie shrugged. “What do I care?”

“Junie,” Tabitha said with a little whine. “Don’t become
that
girl. Please don’t.”

“What girl?” Junie spun again. She was genuinely surprised how her reflection pleased her. As if having been asked out made her suddenly better-looking. Was that possible?”

“The girl from the screwed up home who was the model student until she descended into badass teenage oblivion, ending up a heroin addict on skid row with a pimp for a boyfriend. You know how it goes.”

“You should be a writer, Tabitha.” Junie took off the hat and shrugged out of the dress. Standing there in her bra and panties, she scowled at Tabitha. “And no. I’m not going to be
that
girl.”

Junie stayed for supper again, and only left for home when Mrs. D. said that her mother would probably like to see the whites of her eyes every now and again, just to know that she was still alive. When Junie opened the door, she heard the theme music for
The Kendra Show
. She glanced at her watch. It was the evening replay of that afternoon’s episode. Junie hung the plastic bag with the dress folded up in it on the knob to the closet.

“Junie?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to come watch this with me?”

Junie couldn’t see her mom for the towers of stuff, so she had to make her way along the dingy trail to get to her. Never, ever, would Wade know about this. Even if they dated
through university and got married and had two point five children and a house with a white picket fence and a station wagon, she would never let him into her mother’s house. It didn’t feel like home, anyway. And hadn’t for a long time.

Her mother held up a waxed cardboard box with a plastic fork sticking out of it. “Pad Thai. Want some?”

Junie shook her head.

“You were at Tabitha’s?”

“Where else?” Junie leaned against a large box containing the Stairmaster exercise machine that had never been set up.

Her mother paused. Set down the takeout. “I was just asking—”

“And I answered!” Junie sighed. She glanced back in the general direction of the door, which hadn’t been visible from the living room for at least five years now. Why was it that she turned into a snarky little bitch when she walked through that front door?

On
The Kendra Show
, a father was weeping, his head in his hands. He’d piled the kids into the minivan one hot, busy weekday morning, dropped the two older ones off at school and then left the baby asleep in the back seat while he took the train to work, mistakenly thinking that the baby had gone with his wife and not with him. He’d forgotten about the baby all day, and when he’d returned to his car that evening, he’d found her dead in her car seat, having died from the heat.

“Why do you watch that stuff?” Junie cringed as a picture of the infant flashed on the screen, chubby cheeks and toothless grin.

“That poor father,” her mother answered. “I’ll bet he dies over and over every single day, reliving his mistake.” Her eyes filled with tears. She lifted the corner of her shirt and wiped them away. Junie caught a glimpse of her mother’s pale, fat belly and turned away. “So, so sad.”

Junie had nothing to say to that. It was sad. A picture of the baby laid out in a tiny coffin took up the whole screen now. Junie wanted to tell her mom about being asked out for the first time. About the dress. About Wade and Stanley Kubrick and the drive out to Chilliwack. But she couldn’t make her mouth open. Instead she mumbled something about having lots of homework and went up to bed, pushing the dead baby out of her mind.

Junie slept in the next morning, waking to the sound of the front doorbell. She leapt out of bed and threw on the same jeans and T-shirt she’d worn the day before and looked out her window to see Tabitha waving from the sidewalk. Junie waved back, and then hurried downstairs. School started in twenty minutes and it was a good fifteen-minute walk from her house.

Junie stopped short on the bottom step. Her mother had gotten out of her chair and let Tabitha in. And in the few seconds they’d been alone down there, something had happened, because her mother looked wounded. And then it hit Junie. Tabitha had told her. About the date. Wade. Stanley Kubrick.

“I just asked her what she thought of the dress,” Tabitha said. “You should’ve told her, Junie.”

Her mother was shaking her head as tears welled up. “No. I get it.”

“Mom.” Junie’s heart sped up. No matter what, no matter anything, she didn’t want to make her mother cry. “I was going to. I forgot.”

“Your first date?” Her mother choked out a tiny, pathetic laugh. “I don’t think so, Junie. A girl’s first date is not something you forget.”

“Okay, so I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.” And she was, even if she didn’t sound like it. “Okay? Just stop crying.”

But it was too late. Her mother was full-on weeping now. Her cheeks splotchy, her eyes puffed up like dumplings. And as quickly as that, Junie went from sympathetic to mad.

“You wonder why I don’t tell you stuff?”

“Junie,” Tabitha warned. “Don’t.”

Junie ignored her. “Because I don’t care what you think! Why would I give a shit about what you think? Your life is a disaster! So why would I want anything from you?”

Her mother held up her hands, as if trying to fend off Junie’s words.

“We’re going to be late, Junie.” Tabitha took Junie’s arm and squeezed hard. And again, in another split second, the anger abandoned her and she just felt plainly and simply horrible.

“Mom. I’m sorry.”

Her mother nodded. “Me too.”

Junie pulled away from Tabitha and hugged her mom, ignoring her rank smell. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I am. I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” her mother said through her tears.

“I’ll wait outside,” Tabitha said.

“No, no. We’re okay. It’s okay.” She pulled away and gave Junie a kiss on the forehead before shoving her gently toward the door. “You girls get off to school or you’ll be late.”

Junie bent to pick up her backpack, and as she straightened, her mother grabbed her in another hug. “I’m so excited for you! Your first date!”

“Did you see the dress?” Tabitha asked.

It was still hanging on the closet door, so Junie pulled it out and held it against her.

Her mother wiped her face and smiled. “It’s very pretty. You’ll look wonderful, Junie.”

Junie and Tabitha got a few blocks away from home before either of them spoke, and then both of them did at the same time, Junie to scold Tabitha for opening her big mouth, and Tabitha to scold Junie for not telling her mom about the date.

“Truce?” Junie offered when they both stopped to take a breath.

“Truce.”

They walked along for another while, quiet again, and then Tabitha stopped walking. “It’s getting worse.”

Junie knew exactly what she was talking about. She kept walking. She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not right now anyway, not while she was still riding the high of being asked out for the first time. But Tabitha caught up to her, and kept talking. “I mean, you’d better
keep my mom out of there, because if she saw the state of your house, I wouldn’t put it past her to call a social worker and report it as some kind of child abuse or neglect, you know. She has to. As a lawyer.”

“I know.”

“I saw a rat,” Tabitha said.

“What?” Junie’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t told Tabitha that she’d been setting out traps. She hadn’t told her of all the dead rats she’d sprung from them, knotted into a plastic bag and dumped into the garbage can in the alley. She hardly wanted to think about it herself, and she most definitely did not want to be talking about it with Tabitha. Certainly not because Tabitha saw one with her very own eyes.

“In the front hall.”

“I’ll get some traps. I’ll take care of it.”

“I saw a trap too, Junie. You didn’t tell me.”

“Do you blame me?”

“No.” Tabitha paused. They were at a light, waiting to cross. When they started walking again, Tabitha said, “It’s the smell, too. It smells like someone took a crap and died in there—”

“Yeah, my mother. She’s as good as dead.”

“We should talk to my mom—”

“No!”

“Junie . . . you can’t live in that house like that. It should be condemned.”

“So? What’s new? Why do you all of a sudden feel compelled to remind me how bad it is?”

“Because it’s gotten a lot worse since your dad left.”

The school lay ahead of them at the end of the block. Junie wanted to break out in a run and leave Tabitha behind her. Instead, she stopped walking and grabbed Tabitha by the arm. “I know. And I’m trying to fix it. And I’m dealing with the rats. So don’t do anything. Don’t tell your mom. Everything will be fine. Don’t tell her. Okay? Promise?”

Tabitha made a face. Junie knew exactly what that meant. Tabitha didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep.

“I don’t want to have to trump you, Tab.”

“You can’t always be doing that!”

“Then just promise you won’t tell your mom. Not right now. Not yet. Maybe sometime. But not right now.”

“I can promise that. I won’t tell my mom . . . yet. And if I decide that I have to, then I’ll tell you first. Okay? No surprises?”

“Thanks. Sorry about the rat. Did it freak you out?”

“Not really,” Tabitha said with a shrug. “I kind of figured they were there.”

“How bad is it that you weren’t surprised to see a rat?” Junie meant it as kind of a joke, but it wasn’t funny. Not at all.

“It’s bad,” Tabitha said, nodding. “Really bad.”

The bell rang for first period, so Junie went one way and Tabitha went the other. Junie’s first class was World Studies. Wade would be there, and she would forget about everything else. Her mother and her stinking, festering mountains of garbage. The rats. All of that would disappear for the hour.

SEVEN