“No.” She opens her mouth again and I say, “Drop it,” in a tone that actually seems to get through to her.
Bob wants me to go to the hospital, but when I say no, he settles for Mrs. Wardwell calling Mom at work. The conversation’s pretty short. “She’ll meet you at the house,” Mrs. Wardwell says, then watches us go. I think of Jesse, but I don’t look at him.
We pass Shea on 15. He’s taken his shirt off and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, like he wants to feel the sun on his back.
NINETEEN
THE GIRLS HELP me wash up. Warm pink water trickles into the sink. Terry cloth slides over my face. The soft white smell of Ivory takes me back to baths with Mags when we were little, Mom sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to dig the potatoes out of our ears.
When I’m clean, I see that my nose is swollen clear up to a lopsided egg on my forehead that’s already turning purple, and my eyes have an owlish look that probably means they’ll be black in the morning. Sexy as hell. Nell takes a breath, looking at me, her face pale and stricken in the mirror.
The door opens and we hear Mom set her purse on the counter, the chink of her keys dropping into the little Pyrex bowl with a pattern of red hens on it. She comes to the doorway and looks at me, then at my tank top, lying on the floor with a rusty stripe of dried blood down the front. Mags picks it up and shuts it away in the washing machine, like she can block the memory.
Mom breathes out slowly, then steps back. “Better get some ice on your face, bring down the swelling.” Her calmness helps me feel more normal, too. I follow her out to the kitchen table, where she hands me a bag of frozen peas and puts the kettle on.
Mags comes in, gripping the back of a chair. “She might have a concussion.”
“Come on, I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. She’s not fine, and we should be on the phone to the cops right now, getting Shea Gaines’s ass hauled in.” She stares at Mom’s back. “Aren’t you even going to ask what happened?”
“When your sister’s had a second to catch her breath, yeah. And I’ll be asking her, not you, so back off.” Mom drops the whistling kettle onto a cold burner and reaches for two mugs. “One busybody in this family is enough, thank you very much.” Mags bangs the legs of the chair down and heads for the porch. “Margaret, don’t you slam that door.”
The door slams. Nell watches me from the hallway, wavering, like she’s afraid of what will happen next if she takes her eyes off me. “Go on home, Nellie,” Mom says, pouring hot water over bags of Red Rose.
After a second, Nell goes, shutting the door carefully. Mom adds sugar and brings us both aspirin. She pops hers. “Headache?” I say.
She nods. “You, too, I’m guessing.”
I snort, which hurts. The cold of the peas and the steam from my mug coat my face in clammy dew. I sip tea, waiting.
“How’d you get hurt?”
“I told a guy off. He didn’t like it.”
“Derek Gaines’s kid?”
“Maybe. I dunno his dad’s name.” I think she’s going to call Shea’s dad, maybe right after we’re done here.
“Is it over?” The way she asks it surprises me. It’s woman-to-woman, not mother-to-kid. “I need to know if you’re gonna be safe now.”
I sit there in the kitchen where I’ve eaten meals, done homework, scrubbed countertops, and learned to bake, hoping I’ve got the guts to cross this next bridge. Finally, I shake my head. I just don’t know.
“You feel dizzy or sick to your stomach since it happened?” I say no. “Want to go to the doctor?” No chance. She sits back in her chair, clearing her throat. Her gaze flits to the pack of smokes to her right, then away, like she’s putting off having one. “Next week, you’re gonna be a senior. When you turn eighteen, there won’t be much I can do about your choices. Libby thinks something needs to be done about you. Your sister told me she’s worried, too.” I look up sharply. “Don’t get mad at her. You’re lucky to have Mags. She was born a mama bear and she’s always gonna be there for you, whether you want her or not. I guess what I want to know is what you think we should do about you.”
I know it’s a big deal, her talking to me like this, like a grown-up. It scares me, too, though, being handed the wheel when I’m not sure if I’m ready to take it. I owe her more than a shrug, but as usual, when I really need words, they won’t come.
Mom waits, then presses her fingertip against a few crumbs, brushing them into a paper napkin. “You’re like me when I was your age, you know that. Sometimes I can’t believe how much.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. You and me would’ve been tight. Ramming the roads Friday nights, seeing how many shots we could take before somebody stopped us. Your grandparents and Libby liked to blame all that on your dad, but it was me. Grampie and Gramma tried to make me act right. They pushed, so I pushed back harder. Guess I always figured it’d be the same with you, so I didn’t push at all.”
“Probably smart.”
She half smiles. “But it seems like the way we’re going now isn’t working, either.” She looks at my bruised face. “I barely survived being young. When I think of some of the stuff I did, stuff I tried . . . it’s scary to think of you in my place. And sometimes it’s hard to know when things stop being fun and turn into a habit.” She hesitates. “You come talk to me about it, if you ever need to.”
I don’t tell her not to worry, or that I’ll change, here and now. Neither of us would believe it. As she stands and dashes the last of her tea into the sink, I say, “Was Libby as sweet and innocent growing up as she says?”
“Not really.”
“Huh. Figures, the way she keeps Nell on a leash.” I shrug. “Maybe if Nell’s dad had stayed, Libby would’ve had a husband to nag, so Nell could take a whiz without asking per—”
“Nell’s her whole life.” Mom’s look is sharp, and I drop my smirk. “And nothing would’ve been better if her dad had stuck around. He let Libby chase after him for a commitment for almost two years, and then dropped her as soon as something better came along.” Mom stops, her shoulders bunched. I don’t say, But I thought they were engaged, because I’m pretty sure she just let a family secret slip. “Don’t you ever throw any of that in her face.”
“Okay.” I take a breath and set my peas on the table, feeling my nose. It’s numb.
A sneaker scrapes outside and I turn to see Nell step up to the screen door.