Julia charged the slab. Crrrrck! The wood creaked under their combined weight and she didn’t care right then if she fell. All she wanted to do was slap that dirty, toothy grin off Shelly’s mouth. “Don’t you dare talk shit about my brother. I’ll fight you anytime.”
“You dumbasses need to get off. It’s gonna break,” Dave called from the edge.
Hearing that, Shelly bent low, then sprang, tucking her legs like the slab was a trampoline. As soon as she landed, the knothole split an inch on either side:
Crrrck!
“Stop!” Dave shouted, angry as spit. “Seriously, Shelly. You wanna die, go ahead. Don’t take Julia with you.”
By now Ella, Sam, the Markles, and Lainee had arrived. They’d surrounded the sinkhole on every side.
“You shouldn’t do that, Shelly!” Ella called. “Mom says—”
Shelly started laughing, only no sound came out. Her whole body convulsed. Without all that hair, there wasn’t anything to soften her features. Her big eyes looked like they’d receded into their sockets; her cheekbones and jaw jutted, sharp and too defined. She was the thirty-year-old version of herself that had lived a hard, bitter life. She jumped again, high and hard.
Crrrraaakk!
The slab bowed, tearing even more. Julia crouched down. She’d forgotten about her anger. All she wanted was off this damn slab. Please, God. Please, please, please don’t let me fall in. Don’t let the hole get me…
The slab got still. The Rat Pack got quiet. Everything slowed, so the only sound was the angry cicada heat-song.
“Stop,” Julia said, low and loud, even though her throat still hurt. She was in the center, afraid to stand. Worried any movement at all would send them both tumbling down.
“Ask nice,” Shelly answered.
“Crawl off, Julia. Leave her!” Charlie called.
“Stick your hands through!” the Markles heckled like brainless stereo speakers.
“Please, Shelly. I’m asking nice. Stop jumping,” Julia said.
Shelly walked off the slab. It cricked and moaned with every step. “Julia’s a chicken and a loser, but we all knew that when we voted not to hang out with her.”
Still crouched, Julia gathered her courage, trying to decide whether to stand and walk off, or to be smart and crawl.
“My mom’s throwing another barbeque once the hole is closed. To celebrate. Everybody except Julia can come,” Shelly said. “Julia has to admit she’s a lying hypocrite. Then we can all be friends again, and I’ll stop holding it against her, that her family is a buncha sluts and criminals and crazies. So are you gonna say you’re sorry, Julia?”
“I don’t even like barbeques,” Dave said.
“Stick your hand inside!” Michael cried.
“Stick it! Stick it!” Mark added in exactly the same voice.
Julia knew the smart thing to do, what her parents and brother would want her to do: crawl off this stupid slab before it broke open, apologize, and move on with this hot, shitty day.
But it was one thing to avoid her friend-turned-enemy; it was another to buckle under her. She didn’t want Larry to see that. He’d think it made Shelly right, that he didn’t deserve decent treatment. If she apologized, Dave Harrison and Charlie Walsh might still act nice, but they’d think less of her. She wouldn’t be an equal anymore. The rest of these kids weren’t strong personalities. They’d internalize the pecking order, that she could be treated badly without repercussion, that she and Larry were the lowest people on the block.
She’d been on good behavior for a long time. Trying to fit in like her parents wanted even though she had crazy curly hair and her accent was Brooklyn, but not the gentrified kind. Even though her clothes weren’t as nice and she didn’t care as much about school. Even though everybody here had met practically at birth, she’d tried to find a place for herself and for Larry. When that stopped working, she hadn’t gone on the offensive. She’d just taken Larry and hidden out in her house. She’d been cool about it. But this was past her limit. No way she was going to say she was sorry. Not after everything Shelly had said and done. Julia did the only thing she could think to do. The bravest and craziest possible thing. She plunged her fist through the knothole.
“Gee, Shelly. That’s funny. Were you scared? Because it feels just fine to me,” she called as she wiggled her fingers down there, inside the hole.
The Markles hooted. Charlie held Larry by the shoulders so he didn’t follow Julia, which it looked like he was trying to do. Julia reached deeper. Maybe because of her weight on the slab, vibrations rattled the metal rivets, making a high-pitched ringing.
Sound-sensitive Larry covered his ears.
Everybody was watching. Julia plunged her arm in all the way up to her shoulder, her ear against the warm, oil-greasy wood.