But then, what was the problem? Why all this attitude?
It had taken all her courage to approach Rhea on the Fourth of July. She’d felt like a beggar with that half-eaten bag of Ruffles, crashing a party right in front of her own house. Was it an accident that we weren’t invited? she’d asked straight-out.
Of course! I’m so sorry! she’d honestly expected Rhea to answer. We forgot and used an old chat chain! Then they’d laugh and catch up like old times, because suburban college professors aren’t supposed to be petty. They don’t invent problems and instigate pointless fights. They’re bigger than that, aren’t they?
No accident, Rhea’d said. Then she’d grinned this stark, toothy grin, and Gertie’d been totally gutted. It had hurt to see that kind of grin, because she’d known what it meant. She’d seen it before, on her crazy stepmom, Cheerie, who’d kept Prozac in the Vegas-era Elvis sugar jar, and she’d seen it on fellow pageant contestants, right before they Vaselined somebody’s wig, and she’d seen it on the handsy judges whom Cheerie had liked so much. Hunters grinned like that.
Instead of letting her walk away, Gertie could have followed Rhea that day. Challenged her. But in all her time dealing with hunters, she’d learned a very serious golden rule: never confront. It doesn’t make them stop. It just whets their appetite, like blood in the water.
No accident.
Gertie hadn’t wanted to believe that Rhea was a hunter. Even after Rhea’d walked away, Gertie’d tried hard to pretend that they were still great friends. Rhea was distracted, or playing a joke, or heck, had a brain tumor.
When the sinkhole opened, she’d figured it would put the entire neighborhood on a reset. A real and serious thing had happened, rendering everything before it inconsequential. Rhea couldn’t still be mad after something like that! Probably, she hadn’t been mad to begin with. Gertie was just paranoid. You see enough bad guys in your life, and you start to imagine them. You forget that the world is mostly good.
That’s the story she’d told herself, anyway.
But, watching Shelly Schroeder spew vitriol at Julia on that trampoline, the truth came hurtling back. Rhea hadn’t been making a joke, and she hadn’t been confused. She’d been intentionally cruel on the Fourth of July. She’d turned on Gertie, even though they’d shared and confided so much. And now, her daughter Shelly, the leader of the neighborhood Rat Pack, was being cruel to Julia on purpose. Why was this happening? Gertie didn’t know. All she knew was that she felt bad. And something deeper than bad: She felt scared. Full-on panic.
Stuck in her seat belt, Gertie noticed then that all the kids were looking at her. Julia and Larry and the Rat Pack, and even Shelly from up high. They seemed somber. Overwhelmed by their own emotions the way all kids get overwhelmed when their thoughts are too big for their bodies. I’m the grown-up here. I should say something, she thought. But she didn’t have the words. Had never had the words in moments of confrontation like this. And so, feeling frightened and awful and heartsick, avoiding Julia’s eyes, Gertie punched the gas.
* * *
Gertie’s car pulled out. Julia watched it go. Just like that time with the Parliament Lights, her mom had offered her up like a sacrifice. A shield to take the blame. And now the kids knew that no one had her back. They could do anything they wanted.
The Rat Pack’s eyes were on her, boring through. She didn’t know why they’d started hating her. Only that Shelly had spearheaded it. Shelly, who’d been her best friend since practically day one. They used to prank Dave Harrison, pretending to be sexy Russian hookers. He figured it out, but let them keep doing it because it was so funny. Especially Shelly’s spelling: Chello! I want the rubles for the intercourse!? Jes? They used to stay up nights, talking about God and death and their dreams. Shelly wanted to be a doctor with a practice on Boylston Street, wherever that was. Julia didn’t know her dream yet. Regarding sex, Shelly wanted to wait until college. Julia thought it was okay to do before, but she didn’t know how it would work, because she hadn’t had her period yet and didn’t know how anybody was supposed to find a vagina amidst all that skin down there. Out of boredom one day, they’d discovered that it felt super good to straddle the arms of soft chairs. They also both liked sugar and lemon on their pancakes, not syrup.