“Smile.” Blanche taps her foot. “Come on, Bonn.”
Buck—or should I say, Buck the Court Jester—leans closer and whispers to me, “Let’s just get this over with. I feel ridiculous too.”
I force a grin, showing too much teeth. Blanche rolls her eyes and snaps a photo. “Thanks,” she says sarcastically. “Okay, now one of me and Buck.”
He groans, and I catch the camera she shoves at me, knowing one picture really means ten. Poor Buck is a human prop while Blanche poses with him, on him. I take the photos, glancing at the clock in Buck’s apartment. The bonfire started over an hour ago.
Over the past few weeks, when I’m not at Doc’s, I’ve been at home, washing, scrubbing, trying to get the house as spotless as possible before my ma’s surgery. Where I’m not at is school—excused ’cause of my special circumstances—while Buster, Billie, and I take shifts caring for our ma, not letting her out of her favorite chair, so she can get her strength up. Blanche brings me my schoolwork so I don’t get behind. I’ve done enough damage to my love life; losing that hold on my teaching dreams would be too much to bear.
It’s bad enough I spend my days exhausted, stretched too thin, but also hoping that Roy didn’t simply toss my doodle aside. I’m endlessly questioning our passion, if our love is anything like my parents’: long-lasting and enduring.
It’s that thought that led me to doing something bold, something permanent, to show Roy my commitment.
A few days ago, Blanche skipped behind me, giddy with excitement, yapping ’bout how this was exactly the “bigger” she meant before.
The initial prick of the needle felt like nothin’ more than a cat’s scratch. From there, a bee sting, a careless swipe of my razor. Then it worsened: a hot needle being dragged over my tender skin, again and again.
Blanche held my hand and tapped my cheek whenever my eyes began to roll back in my head.
But I’ve done it.
Roy’s name will forever be inked on the delicate flesh of my inner thigh, a spot only he will see.
If he forgives me today—and frankly, I’m worried. I stopped going to school, just like that, and Roy hasn’t come knocking. I kept thinkin’ I’ll look up and see his tall frame taking up my bedroom doorway. But no, nothin’. And I told Blanche to leave him be; didn’t think her pestering him would win me any points.
“Ready!” Blanche wipes her lipstick from Buck’s face. “Bonn?”
I moan again.
“There you go,” Blanche teases. “That sounded sort of pirate-like.”
I look down at my black-and-white dress, the red scarf tied ’round my waist. “Nifty,” I say sarcastically.
A few minutes later, the football field comes into view, and I hesitantly get out and shut Big Bertha’s door. A huge bonfire blazes beyond the field’s end zone. A bunch of my classmates dance ’round it, skipping and shouting our school fight song in tune with the marching band.
I scan for Roy but, from this distance, the costumes and setting sun make it hard to distinguish who is who. “So how do I do this? What am I supposed to do? Do I—”
“Go and talk to him,” Blanche offers, and starts down the path toward the stadium, hand in hand with Buck.
“That’s your master plan?” I ask.
“My master plan is constantly evolving. But, he’s bound to forgive you, eventually. He bought you a house, which he’s paying on every month. It’d be in his best interest to patch things up so he ain’t out all that money.”
I frown. “Good rationale, Blanche. Very romantic.”
She shrugs. “If it were me, I’d have slapped ya and been done with ya. But Roy didn’t do that. Is that rationale any better?”
Buck chuckles and pulls a flask from beneath his vest. He takes a swig, passes it to Blanche. “Baby, where’re these violent tendencies coming from?”
She smiles, midsip.
“Let’s see if we can get through the night without any fights,” Buck says, pointing to his stomach. “I’m not at the top of my game right now.”
“Still hurts?” I ask him.
“Yeah, a knife wound will do that to ya.” But then he smiles. “Man, I don’t think I’ve been in a fight in years. Clyde and I threw some punches this one time over the stupidest thing.” He pauses, thinking. “These two fellas said Mickey Walker should’ve won this boxing match. But we thought Harry Greb won it fair and square. I’ll tell ya what … Clyde may be small, but he’s mighty.”
I picture Clyde in the alley, an image I’m ashamed to admit slips into my head now and again.
“Well,” Blanche says, “there will be no brawls tonight. Just good, clean fun, and hopefully some make-up necking between Blanche and her Roy Toy behind the bleachers.”
“Yes.” I curtly nod, Clyde Champion Barrow now a distant thought, ’cause he needs to be. I already allowed one man to distract me.
Blanche says, “Okay, let’s mingle. Bonn, act like you’re having oodles of fun. Roy will notice that. Guaranteed.”
“But I don’t want him to think that I don’t think what I did was wrong.”
“You’re overthinking,” she says simply.
Buck nods. “It’ll probably work.”
Blanche looks pleased. “Come on.” She nuzzles under Buck’s arm ’til she’s wearing him like a scarf. I cross my arms. I want there to be no confusion ’bout who Buck’s girl is.
We’re not even two steps onto the field when people start noticing Blanche.
There’s squealing, excitement, and, to my surprise, one of our classmates leans in close and whispers, “Do you still work at that secret bar?”
I gasp, yet Blanche whirls her tail. “I guess that cat’s out of the bag.”
Our classmate Shirley Johnson laughs, then grows more serious. “You have to get me in. Some of us tried to go the other day, but we got turned away.”
“Sorry, it ain’t up to me.” Blanche shrugs casually. Though, inside, I know she loves the attention, ’specially with Buck’s arm possessively draped ’round her.
Shirley pouts, but turns to me. “And you, Bonnelyn … People are sayin’ you went into hiding after your showdown with Roy on the street. Either that, or you ran off and joined the circus. Is that why you ain’t coming to school no more?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I say.
“Sheesh,” Buck says, drawing the attention to him. “Y’all are brutal. Leave Bonnelyn alone.” He passes me his flask. Shirley’s wide eyes follow the movement.
I take a long swig and decide that Shirley ain’t worth any more of my time. “Let’s dance.”
I grab Blanche’s hand. She latches on to Buck, dragging him along with us.
“Toodles, Shirley!” she calls as we skip away. Blanche playfully elbows me in the side. “Are you keeping stuff from me again, Bonn? How dare you not tell me you joined the circus? I know you like being onstage, but that’s a bit severe.”