Now you will see what boredom is really like! exclaimed her teacher, who was right behind her.
This time the children really did laugh. Maggie tried to turn around again, but Miss Behring was still there. The teacher held her head with flat patty-cake hands at either temple. Maggie’s stomach boiled. She had told LaRose that when someone made her stomach boil she always got them. Miss Behring took her hands away from Maggie’s head and began a lesson on fractions. Maggie stood there, thinking. After a time, she asked.
Please, Miss Behring, can I go to the bathroom?
You went at recess, said Miss Behring, and smoothly continued with ? + 4/8.
Maggie jiggled.
Miss Behring, Miss Behring! I need to go anyway.
No, Miss Behring said.
Maggie allowed the lesson to continue. But silently she plucked a paper cup from the stack next to the watercooler. She waited.
Miss Behring, please, she said at last. Her voice was strained. I had to go so bad I peed in a cup.
What?
Maggie turned around and held out the cup of apple juice.
May I please empty this?
Miss Behring shut her mouth. Her eyes darted around like trapped flies. She pointed at the door. Then she sat down at her desk staring at some papers.
Maggie carefully bore the brimming cup down the aisle, every eye in the classroom on her. Miss Behring put her head in her hands. Maggie turned and made sure her teacher wasn’t watching. She grinned at her classmates. Then she drained the cup, and slammed out the door. She paused outside a moment to enjoy the shrieking gabble and Miss Behring’s storm of useless threats. When she came back, she sat down as though nothing had happened. Miss Behring didn’t send her back to the corner. She seemed to be making notes. Maggie had been hoping she would cry.
Making people cry was one of Maggie’s specialties, so she would have enjoyed her teacher’s distress. As for herself, she could luxuriate in tears, she could almost command them into her eyes. She was training herself.
ONE SUNDAY WHEN Nola was at Mass, it occurred to Peter that he might go over to Landreaux’s house. He took Maggie along. It wasn’t that he missed LaRose. It was the friendship—it was all he had. His brother down in Florida was someone to visit maybe, someday. Landreaux and Emmaline’s family were his closest people.
What are we doing? asked Maggie as they drove up.
Just visiting, he said.
Landreaux had already come to the door, and they went in.
LaRose was sitting on top of Coochy pretend-punching. He looked up in surprise. Peter looked down in surprise. LaRose never roughhoused or fake-punched at their home.
Is it time? LaRose asked.
No, said Peter, I’m not coming to get you. Me and Maggie were just rattling around at home, so we thought we’d visit you guys.
Hey! Landreaux’s big face went wider and his soft smile came out. He shook Peter’s hand, whirling with apprehension, but maybe pleasure. I just made coffee.
They sat down at the kitchen table, and Maggie went straight to Snow and Josette’s bedroom. She could smell the nail polish.
Maggie! C’mere. Snow was painting each of her nails with a white undercoat and painting black spirals alternating with black checkerboards. Josette was applying a set of stick-on nails with toxic glue. She sat waiting for them to dry, moving only her face, blinking and rolling her eyes to the music plugged into her head.
Can you do mine?
What you want, Maggie?
Purple? And white skulls on them.
Geez, I can’t make skulls. Snow laughed. Something easy. She took from her plastic case a tiny jar of purple polish and shook it, rattling the bead. Maggie loved the sound of that.
Maybe just dots?
I can do that.
They became absorbed in the intricacy of the undercoats, the first color, clear coat, second color, clear top coat. They held their breaths as Snow filed and then painted Maggie’s fingernails. While each coat dried Snow and Maggie talked.
How come you guys are visiting? You never visit.
I think my dad was lonesome. Mom’s at Mass.
It’s good, better that you guys came over. We used to play! Makes it less weird, huh?
Yeah, I mean, sometimes I think . . . Maggie frowned, then brightened. There could be a whole revenge plot going between our families. But now I don’t think there ever will.
Snow was startled.
’Cause why . . . ’cause we guys all love LaRose?
Huh-huh. Me and him, we stabbed ourselves to be brother and sister.
Holeee, what?
With pencils. To give a blue dot. Maggie pulled her sweater down.
Can I see? Oooo. Look, Josette. Right on her arm. LaRose and Maggie tattooed themselves to be a family.
LaRose got stabbed by a kid at school. I took care of the kid. Then I stabbed myself so we could be engaged, at first. But I didn’t know what engagement meant.
Yeah, gross. He’s your brother, so . . .
Keep your fingers still now, said Snow. Put them back on the newspaper.