Still sunk into her sleeping bag, Mary smiled to herself and listened. From her spot on the floor, she called, “You sound like Mom.” She sat up and looked through the doorway at her sister, whose head was bobbing with the music as she pulled a jug of milk from the refrigerator. “She used to go nuts whenever Carole King came on.”
Hannah, for her part, continued on. Like a virgin. Ooo-ooo-oo-oooo, like a virgin.
Mary pulled her jacket off and tossed it. Then she again noticed the position of the sun. “What time is it?”
Hannah’s singing stopped only long enough for her to answer. “I think it’s like four.” She poured the milk into a bowl of cereal.
Mary eyed her purse, which sat slumped by the doorway to the bedroom. “Want to see what I got from work?”
“Okay,” Hannah replied, padding across the floor. She stopped at the doorway to the bedroom, tilting the bowl back into her mouth, swallowing down both Toasty-Os and milk.
Mary nodded toward her purse. “Hand me my bag,” she said.
Hannah picked it up, noting its weight, and tossed it over. It landed with an awkward thump. Mary reached inside. After pawing through it for a moment, she pulled out a spoon.
“Here,” she said, extending it to Hannah.
Hannah immediately sunk it into her cereal. “Awesome.”
“I’ve got four whole sets.” Then Mary dumped the contents on the floor by her sleeping bag and out spilled shampoo bottles, sugar packets, and tiny jam jars. Out came miniature soaps, cashews from the mini bar, and even a guest-room phone.
Hannah immediately reached for a jam jar and read the label. “These are really fancy,” she said, intimidated, if one could be, by preserved fruit.
“I know. They’ve got good stuff at Sea Cliff. We’re moving on up, Bunny.”
Hannah set the jam jar back down. “You’re not going to get in trouble for taking it, are you?” she asked. She wouldn’t want to invite trouble. She wouldn’t want to leave.
“No,” replied Mary. “It’s totally fine. They would never even know.” But what Mary knew, what Mary had always known, is that when you stay still, leg in a trap, trouble can find you.
Twenty-seven
1989
The girls flew, their hair waving behind them, their faces turned to the sun. “You’ll probably have to ride to school some days,” Mary called to Hannah, who rode behind her. The Chase girls were on their bikes. Their colorful, shiny, fantastic bikes, with spokes that glistened and wheels that hummed. On hers, Mary felt the joy of the kinetic, the profound relief of movement as she watched the sidewalk disappear beneath her.
“Isn’t there a bus?”
“Yeah, but the bus sucks,” replied Mary. She slowed to let Hannah pass her. “It’s all kids picking at their whiteheads and sucking on their egg-salad sandwiches.”
Mary remembered the boy who’d taught Hannah how to ride a bike. He worked as a mechanic, and he played in a band. He took Hannah to the parking lot of a chemical factory and put her on his sister’s old ten-speed, running behind her and holding on to the seat until she was doing it on her own. Later that night, he double-pierced Mary’s ear with a sewing needle, then slipped his grandmother’s ruby stud into the hole. Mary felt a trickle of blood run from her lobe down to her neck. Without hesitation, he licked it clean, sliding his tongue up from her collarbone, then wrapping his mouth gently around her tender and swollen earlobe. Three days later, the Chase girls were gone. They didn’t leave a note. And for years, the taste of Mary’s blood would come to the boy unbidden, and he’d feel his mouth go wet; he’d feel an ache in his groin. And he’d remember the taste of Mary Chase.
The girls rounded a corner, and athletic fields came into view behind a massive brick structure contained inside a chain-link fence. Hannah gripped the hand brakes and her bike slowed. “Is that it?” she asked, her face alert and cautious. It was bigger than she had imagined.
Mary squinted as she assessed it. “That’s it,” she said.
Hannah stopped and let a foot drop to the ground for balance, and Mary did the same. “Do you think these tests are gonna be hard?”
“Probably not,” replied Mary. Then she pressed her foot against the pedal and felt her bike respond by quickly gliding down over the concrete of the sidewalk. “They just want to make sure you know what you’re supposed to know.”
Mary let the bike gain speed as the hill sloped down toward the school, then she made a smooth turn into the parking lot. Mary stopped in front of a metal bike stand. Beside her, Hannah’s bike screeched to a halt, and she wobbled off. She was nervous, Mary could tell.
Mary swung her leg over, dismounted, and looked at Hannah. “You should pretend like something’s wrong with you,” she said. “When someone introduces themselves, you should just hug them. You should act like some total freak who just hugs everyone.”
Hannah chuckled—it was a nervous, jittery thing. “Do you think there are going to be other people?” Hannah asked, her eyes hopeful. “Taking this test?”
“Probably not, Bunny. School started a couple of weeks ago here.”
Hannah walked close to Mary as they entered the school, which was like any number of schools. Its cinder-block halls were painted a slick yellow and were lined with a series of handmade posters and trophy cases. The students were in class so the building seemed empty save for the windowed office with a view of the entrance. Mary pushed through the door. An older woman was seated at a desk behind a raised counter. She looked up as the Chase girls entered. “May I help you?” she asked.
Mary walked up to the counter and leaned against it. “This is Hannah Chase,” said Mary, nodding toward her sister behind her. “She’s here for a placement test.”
A phone receiver was lifted, and soon Hannah was greeted by a small friendly-looking woman with an ever-present smile who was all arm rubs and encouragement. “You’re just going to take some quickie tests for us, okay?”
Hannah looked at Mary, then looked at the woman and nodded.
“Good luck, Bunny,” called Mary, as the woman led Hannah to the testing room. Hannah looked back at her, and Mary mimed a hug. Hannah turned, the smile just visible on her face.
Mary waited as Hannah took her tests, her head resting against the wall behind her, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She felt her eyes drift shut. She had slept for only a couple of hours after her shift before they had to leave for the school.
“It’s going to be a little while,” the woman at the desk said. Her hair was wiry gray and gathered up on the crown of her head in a bun.
“That’s fine,” replied Mary, still staring at the ceiling. “I’ll wait.”
A few more minutes passed. “Are you the mom?” the secretary asked.
Mary looked at her. “Excuse me?”