“Right,” she said unconvinced.
“It’s true, Clara,” Evan insisted. “No one pays any attention to her. She’s just mean and hateful. No one cares what she says.”
“She likes you,” Clara said.
Evan thought for a moment. “Well, that’s just too bad because I don’t like her.”
Clara wanted to ask him if he liked her. If that was the reason he kept coming around to talk, to sit with her. If that was the reason he asked her to go get yogurt with him. But she couldn’t. Instead, she climbed into her car and shut the door. She started the ignition, rolled down her window, then looked up at him. He was smiling down at her.
“I’m not giving back your bookmark, Clara,” he said.
She wanted to cry for feeling so frustrated. It was anger at having no control over the way he made her feel. Embarrassment for her poverty. Giddiness for the attention he paid her. It was . . . sexual. She wanted him to say it again. “I’m not giving back your bookmark, Clara.” She felt her heart pumping overtime underneath her breast and feared that he could see it. She had to get out of there, afraid of what she would say or do if she stayed. As though he sensed it, he leaned in, resting his forearms on the car door, inches from her face. She tensed at the closeness.
“Is it all right that I keep your bookmark, Clara?”
He was teasing her, and she knew it. She searched frantically for some witty reply, but she had none. All she could think about was his body hovering over her, his face so near, and she wanted to at once smack him and draw him close to her to kiss him.
“I’m taking care of it,” he went on, tormenting her gently. “It’s right in the middle of my physics book. I just opened my book wide and placed it right in.”
He grinned, knowing what he was doing to her, knowing he was being completely inappropriate, wanting to kiss her right then for the deep red he painted over her soft cheeks.
She couldn’t stand it. “It’s just a stupid bookmark!”
Evan stood up again, and she let out all of the air she didn’t know she was holding.
“It’s not stupid to me,” he said thoughtfully.
What the hell are we talking about? Clara wondered. She didn’t think it was about a bookmark anymore, and she knew it was time to leave.
“I have to go,” she said.
“I know,” Evan replied. He watched as she put the car in drive. “I’ll be seeing you, Clara,” he said as she rolled up her window. He looked on as she drove off grinning at his success in rattling her completely. He wanted to give her something to think about, and he knew she would think about it all night. Good, he thought. It’s about damn time she knows it.
***
“Remember what I said, Bea,” Clara said. She was on edge, looking over herself in the tiny mirror that hung askew above the bathroom sink. There wasn’t a full-length mirror anywhere in the house—she couldn’t check herself altogether, but she knew it didn’t matter. None of her clothes looked fashionable or flattering, but she at least wanted her face and hair to look decent. She rubbed at a spot on her cheek.
“I know, Clara,” Beatrice said. “You told me a million times.”
“I just don’t want you asking for every freaking topping at the bar,” Clara said. “Don’t be greedy and don’t say anything ridiculous.”
“I already know what I’m getting, so just chill out,” Beatrice said.
“How do you know what to get?” Clara asked. “We’ve never been before.”
“Josey told me,” Beatrice said. “I told her we were going this weekend and she told me what kinds of things they have.”
Clara rolled her eyes. “Why did you have to talk to Josey about it? Like it’s a big deal going to a yogurt place.” She started feeling anxious and was afraid the sweat would break out on her hands and under her arms.
“It is a big deal,” Beatrice argued. “We never get to go. Not even when Mom was here and had a job.”
“Well, I have ten dollars that I shouldn’t even be spending today, so don’t go crazy,” Clara said.
“I already told you that I know what I’m getting. Strawberry yogurt with Oreo cookies and Gummie Bears,” Beatrice said.
Clara looked at her sister. “Oreo cookies and Gummie Bears?”
“Yep. Do you have a problem with that?” Beatrice asked. She raised her blond eyebrows at Clara and cocked her head to the side.
“Not at all,” Clara replied smiling. “I think it sounds perfect.”
She took one last look in the mirror then walked out of the bathroom with Beatrice at her heels.
Clara kept an eye out for Evan’s car. She had no idea what he drove, but it made her feel less anxious to be looking out the window for something. She couldn’t sit idle. There was no television to watch. There were no magazines to flip through. There was no computer to play around on. She couldn’t concentrate on a novel. She had nothing to do but to wait and watch for him.
She told Beatrice to be ready the instant she saw a car pull up. She did not want to invite him in. She didn’t want him discovering that they had no electricity. He would ask questions, want to know where her mother was, and then everything she so carefully guarded would become exposed to him—a stranger. She was wary of his intentions. He wanted to get to know her better, and she wanted to know why.
A Volvo pulled up to the house and parked on the street. She was certain it was him. Joy mixed with intense fear erupted in her heart, causing her hands to shake violently by her sides. She held her breath and waited for the knock. She strained to hear the car door close. Then nothing. She pictured him moving up the walkway and hoped he wouldn’t trip over the cracked concrete. She really needed to take a breath. She thought she heard noises on the front steps. She pressed her ear to the front door to listen. She thought she heard his breath at the door . . .