Rock and a Hard Place

chapter 11

Libby looked from her aunt to Peter and back, her eyes as big as CDs. “Out with a friend.”

“You thought I wouldn’t know you snuck out, did you? You lied to me, just like I knew you would. First time I let down my guard and you’re off fornicating with some boy.” Shock didn’t begin to describe how Peter felt. This woman was an unbalanced lunatic.

Libby looked to Peter, horror on her face. “I gotta go.”

“Are you sure?” He grabbed her hand and held on tight.

She nodded. Her eyes filed with conflict, she puled away.

“I’l cal you,” he whispered, as Libby hurried out of the Jeep.

“What did he say?” her aunt badgered.

Libby closed the door, and looked back at him. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

Her aunt stalked behind her yeling colorful phrases as Peter watched. He could tel Libby wanted the scene over with.

Aunt Marge paused her screaming long enough to glance back and see he hadn’t left the driveway. She spun toward him.

“What the hel are you waiting for? Get the f*ck off my property!”

Peter threw the Jeep in reverse, puled out and returned the way he came. It took al the strength he had not to turn around and go get her. Dammit. How could he leave Libby here? He needed to find a way to get her out and soon.

Once out of sight, he turned the headlights off and turned the car around so he could watch the house from a distance. A few minutes later he saw an upstairs light go on. He continued to watch the house, including the front door, to make sure Libby’s aunt didn’t notice the Jeep and come back with a gun to shoot him.

He pressed Redial on his phone. A moment later, Libby’s sweet voice filed his ears. “Oh, God, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Her safety was al he cared about.

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” Libby whispered.

But he did worry. “Are you sure it’s safe? Do you want me to come back and get you? I hate that you have to stay with her.”

“I don’t think that would be the best way to go. Let’s plan it out, otherwise we might have the police on our tail.”

“Libby, she’s scary.” He wanted to say she was a psycho freak who shouldn’t be alowed out in public, let alone near kids, but he didn’t want to upset Libby more. She wasn’t given a choice when her dad dumped her with the woman.

“I know. Usualy she’s ultra melow and semi-passed out.

She must have been drinking al night. That’s when she gets mean.”

“God Libby, you can’t stay there. I don’t trust her.” He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration.

“It’l be okay. Where are you?”

“I’m puled over about 100 yards down the road. I can see the light of your bedroom window.”

“I’d ask you to flash your lights, but Lady Paranoia might blow a gasket.”

“Can you stay on the phone for a while?” It was the next best thing to being with her.

“Al night if you want, but you better get started back.

Birthday or not, you don’t need to get in trouble too.”



# # #

A couple days after discovering Libby out with a boy, the sound of tires crunching on gravel again alerted Marge.

Who the hel could that be?

There were no pick-ups scheduled until later. Dammed intruders. She wiped her dusty hands on her faded smock and peeked through a crack in the barn door. Libby’s school counselor stepped out of her car and walked to the front of the farm house.

“Dammit.” What did the nosy bitch want?

Marge opened the barn door and looked back at her unfinished work spread over several tables. The rest would have to wait until she got rid of the woman. She puled the heavy door closed and secured it with a padlock.

She trudged through tal grass to the front of the house.

Morning dew licked at her beat-up boots. As she appeared around the corner, the woman from school, a prissy look painted on her face, knocked on the front door.

“What do you want?” Marge barked.

The woman jumped, almost losing her purse in the process.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Colecting herself, she offered a slender hand. “Hi, I’m Julie Orman, we met last year when . . .”

“I know who you are. What do you want?” Marge glared at the woman in the fancy slacks and heels.

“I wanted to speak to you about Libby.”

“What’d she do now? I doubt she’d dare steal again.” She looked horrified. “No, nothing like that. Actualy it’s more of an opportunity.”

Marge immediately lost interest and turned to dismiss her. “I was working. Cal me later.”

Julie folowed on Marge’s heavy heels. “I’ve been caling for the past week and you never answer my cals or return my messages.”

“Like I said, I have a lot of work to do and don’t have time to chitty chat about the girl.”

“This won’t take more than a few minutes. It’s very important to Libby.” As they came around the edge of the house, Julie carefuly stepped through the damp grass. Marge wanted to return to the barn, but couldn’t with this woman on her tail.

“Do you work in there?” Julie asked indicating the dilapidated barn. “What do you do?”

Marge didn’t care for the woman’s eager look. She clenched her teeth. This woman asked too many questions. She needed to get rid of her and fast, before dealers started showing up.

“I make soap.”

Marge glared at her.

Surprise etched Julie’s face. “How wonderful! Libby never mentioned your business. Where do you sel it? I’d love to buy some.”

Marge grunted in reply, then turned back toward the front of the house, the school woman p-ssy-footing behind her. She went to the front door, puled keys from her saggy denim pocket and unlocked the door. One good shove and it opened. With the woman inside, she’d be too distracted to keep asking about the barn.

She entered, then turned abruptly. “Get on with it, what do want?”

“Oh,” the woman responded, gripping her purse. “Libby doesn’t get a lot of interaction with other students,” Marge pierced her with an angry stare. “She’s at school al day, what do you cal that?”

“Actualy, Libby keeps to herself a lot and she is carrying a very heavy course load with al her honors and AP classes.” Marge watched the woman peer around the entryway and into the cluttered living room and kitchen. Nosy twat.

Libby had recently cleaned up, but piles of trash, dirty dishes and junk already littered the tables and counters. The counselor’s gaze took in everything.

“Get to the point.” Marge puled Julie’s attention back to her.

“Homecoming is next week and Libby needs to attend.” She stood taler and assumed an authoritative air.

“You came al the way out here and interrupted my work, so that kid can go to a dance?” This woman had guts. For the past year, Marge easily kept Libby under her thumb. The last thing she needed was Libby to start going out with friends. A boy bringing her home the other night was bad enough. Outsiders asked questions and the more Libby stayed isolated, the easier it was for Marge to keep her business going.

“Yes, it’s part of her high school experience. Every student should enjoy this rite of passage.”

“I never went to a school dance and it didn’t hurt me a bit.” No one ever invited her.

Like Libby, Marge always had her head in a book and earned top grades. Her younger sister, Susan, Libby’s mother, went everywhere. Susan always moved with a huge passel of friends and had more than a couple of guys sniffing after her. Only one year older, she should have had the fun, but Miss Popularity stole the spotlight. Where Susan was a natural beauty Marge felt awkward and like an odd duck. She never measured up to her younger sister.

Even when she went off to Berkley on a ful scholarship, Susan stole her thunder by getting the lead in the school musical. Their parents paid Susan’s way through colege, while Marge earned hers through hard work and dedication.

How she hated her sister for everything great that fel into her lap! That is until Susan died in the car crash. She should have felt sad. Instead she was happy not to have to hear how perfect her sister’s world was. But now Marge was stuck raising Libby, another slap in the face.

“But Libby has been through a traumatic time. She’s literaly lost her family. She needs as many normal teenage experiences as possible. She doesn’t have a job, she doesn’t have a driver’s license. Al these things are important to a young person’s development.”

“Driving costs money and she’s already a financial drain.

Now you want me to give her money to buy a fancy dress?” Marge crossed her arms, time to shut this woman down.

Julie Orman stepped away and into the kitchen, taking in the flies flitting around old fast food containers. She opened the bare refrigerator, revealing dried up food on plates along side a few bottles of forgotten condiments.

“Don’t worry about a dress, I’l take care of it.” She shut the fridge door.

“You can’t come in here and tel me what to do. I’m her legal guardian. I know how kids her age act. Once you let them loose, there’s no stopping them. She’l end up knocked-up, just like her mother.” Her sister wasn’t actualy pregnant until she was twenty-two and engaged, but the hoity-toity school woman didn’t need to know.

“I’l be chaperoning the dance, so she’l be with me the entire time. I’l pick her up that afternoon and return her home after the dance. You don’t need to do a thing.”

Stubborn bitch, wouldn’t back off.

The two women stood their ground, Marge in her dirty work clothes and Miss Orman in her pressed blouse and slacks. Both refused to look away.

“Has the social worker done a home visit recently?” Julie’s eyes lit in chalenge.

Marge’s blood boiled. These school people thought they could intrude wherever they wanted, al in the name of a child’s welfare. She buckled. “Fine, take her, but I’m not giving her a dime.”

A smirk on her perfect face, Julie stepped to open the front door. “Thank you. Libby wil be in good hands.” Marge folowed. “One more thing. Don’t ever step on my property again.” She slammed the aging door.