Black Tuesday (10 page)

Her dad maneuvered the Prius through Friday rush hour. Larry. Larry? Uh-oh.
Larry
. As in fairy. She concentrated on the brake lights of the car ahead of them and didn't say anything, hoping he'd take the hint and drop the topic.

Jayne scraped the edge of the card Val had given her along her skirt, thinking back to her parting words.

“We still don't know if there's going to be a civil case.” Val had said. “We usually hear about one after the judge comes back with a verdict. Especially a verdict that isn't liked. Think O.J., Robert Blake. They got off but the families of the deceased were still able to nail them.”

Jayne knew Val wasn't too good with censoring her thoughts. But O.J.? Robert Blake?

She was just a misdemeanor-er. Whatever that meant.

Val pulled Jayne aside when they got to the parking garage and her dad was already in the car. “If you ever need me, babe, I'm a phone call, e-mail, or fax away. You're going to have it pretty rough these next couple of months. Good kids like you usually do.”

In a lower voice, she'd added, “Your dad seems pretty approachable, but he seems like he's in la-la land. Typical parent response after an accident like this. Give him time to pull it together, okay?”

Val didn't bring up Gen as someone to talk to.

“I think seeing him will help, Jaynie.” Her dad's voice brought her out of her thoughts. What was he talking about? Oh, yeah. Larry the Fairy. “Plus, he'll help with those fifty hours of counseling the judge wants.” He pulled into the left lane. “Talking to a family friend might be easier than talking to some stranger.”

Jayne tightened her arms over her chest, warding off the chill she was starting to feel from the air conditioner blasting on her. She didn't want to share
anything
with Larry. Feelings or astrological signs or who needs to be kicked off
American Idol
.

“It's okay, kiddo. You don't have to answer now. I just wanted to put Larry out there again.” He briefly touched her leg with the back of his fingers. “If you want, me and your mom can go with you to see Larry. We can have a family therapy session of sorts.”

“No!” Jayne didn't even know she was going to say the word before it was blurted out.

The Thompkins family talking about Jayne's biggest mistake with Larry as an audience member? Her dad might as well have suggested stripping naked in front of Jenna and Lori and letting them circle her fat with permanent marker and writing “Killer” on her forehead.

It was almost the same thing.

13

THE OLD STUCCO BUILDING looked like it had once been a church. Seeing it, Jayne wondered why such a big building was necessary for talking to a bunch of kids about how to juggle a baby and classes.

“Are you sure this is where you're supposed to be, Jayne?” Her dad leaned against the steering wheel, looking around the deserted parking lot. “I would've thought there'd be more cars.”

“Everyone's parked in the back.” Jayne put her water bottle in her bag as she opened the door. “Maria told me to park back there if I had a car.”

If this Maria chick had half a brain, she would've known Jayne couldn't drive and that she was coming to this godforsaken place because some idiot DMV person let her get behind the wheel in the first place.

She got out and looked around. They were in an older part of Paradise Valley, where horse trails ran alongside the concrete sidewalks. A hitching post stood next to the bus stop.

“You have everything?”

“Yep.” She kept the sigh she wanted to expel to herself. In the week since the judge had sentenced her, her dad had been like a friggin' puppy. Everywhere she turned, he'd been there, wanting to give her hugs and long, sad stares.

Classic Dad. He almost made up for the other parental unit.

“Money?”

Jayne nodded. She wanted to get the day started. The sooner she signed in, the sooner the next four hours would be over. Then she could go back to her room and the pj's she'd left on top of her bed.

“Just so you know, I'm aware of the surprise party tonight.”

Jayne looked at her watch. She had two minutes to get in there and report for her first day of penance. “What surprise party?”

“It's okay, honey.” He chuckled. “Ellie caved and told me last week.” At her blank stare, he added, “About the surprise party your mother planned for my forty-fifth?”

That's right.

The subject of the conversation she'd had with her mom right before she crashed. She'd never ended up calling Grams about the party. Her mom must've talked Ellie into playing the middleman.

Jayne wondered briefly if her mom had given Ellie the duty on the same day as the accident. Or if she'd waited until the next day.

“Anyway, I'll be here at around five-thirty so we can go out to Sun City to pick up Grams and take her to the ‘quiet dinner' your mom has planned.” He air-quoted his words, and Jayne tried to muster a smile. It was hard to get excited over a birthday when it was hard enough just to get out of bed.

She waved good-bye and slammed the door shut. Jayne started dragging herself up the sidewalk, one foot in front of the other, when her dad called out, “You're sure you're good?”

Good? That was an overstatement. Surviving, yeah. She turned around and gave a tired little smile. “I'm fine, Dad. Go home. Go pull those weeds you're always complaining about.”

Inside the black double doors, a front desk took up a third of the reception area. A pixielike girl with short, spiky black hair sat behind it. “You here for abstinence counseling?”

As the girl turned to look at the clock behind her, Jayne saw a Chinese symbol tattooed on the back of her neck in red ink.

“Go on back. You've got five minutes till they start.”

“No thanks.” Jayne cleared her throat and tightened her hold on the strap of her bag. “I mean, I'm not here for that. I'm here to see Maria? About starting today?”

The girl looked her up and down as if she was taking the measure of her. “I would've pegged you as a save-yourself-for-marriage sort. The ponytail and the clothes fooled me.”

They walked through a large room, about the size of Palm Desert High's library. Cubicles partitioned the room, and one side was taken up with a mishmash of what looked like third-hand furniture: a plaid couch, a couple of vinyl beanbag chairs, a klatch of straight-backed chairs in gray nubby material.

Tattoo Girl also had tribal tattoos inked in rings around her right upper arm and left calf. Jayne became mesmerized by the one on her calf as they walked the mile to the back of the building. She wondered if that tattoo had hurt the most. Or how Tattoo Girl would hide it once she got a real job and was a slave to pantyhose and skirts.

Also, what kind of parent would let their seventeen-, eighteen-year-old kid get a tattoo? If Jayne ever got a tattoo, her mom would hurt her more than any needle would.

At the back of the building, they stopped at an office with a window that let everyone look inside and whoever was inside keep an eye on the outside. A brunette in her thirties was talking on the phone while she painted her big toenail a chromelike blue. She wiped at the corner of a toe with her thumb. Jayne wondered what she was going to do with the paint smear that was now on her skin. She got her answer when the woman wiped it under her desk.

“I'm definitely on the same page you are, Ken. Remember, we wrote the book together. But I have to stand firm on this. As a nonprofit, I have to watch our pennies. And everything for that night has already been paid for. Nonrefundable paid.”

She tilted her head to the side, saw the girls in the doorway, and motioned them in. Tattoo Girl made herself comfortable on the tapestry love seat and picked up a crumpled magazine. Since she took up the entire length of the sofa, Jayne had no other option than to maneuver herself awkwardly onto a denim beanbag in the corner.

“Great, Ken. I knew we could come to a solution together. Yeah, send me an e-mail confirming everything. Bye.” She hung up and screwed down the cap of the nail polish. “Ryan, remind me again why I do this job?”

“Because the pay keeps you in that bling bling you like so much.” The girl on the couch didn't look up from her
News-week
.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for the reality check.” The woman turned to Jayne and scooted forward on the wheeled chair with the heels of her feet. Feet that were bare and had black soles from what looked to be the less-than-clean industrial carpet. “You must be Jayne. I'm Maria.”

Jayne pushed herself up to shake her extended hand. She let go when her stomach muscles couldn't hold her in the weird scrunched-over position any longer.

“I hear we have you for a year. Is that right?”

Jayne nodded numbly. A year. It sounded so permanent.

“Great. Ryan, show her where to put her bag and where the lunchroom and bathrooms are. Then bring her back to me and we'll get you up to speed on your daily duties, okay?” Maria's brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she directed this last part at Jayne. She picked up the nail polish. “Plus, that should give me enough time to do the other foot.”

Ryan showed Jayne the lockers where she could lock up her stuff. Rather, she half-lifted an arm in the direction of the lockers and sighed, “Your crap goes there.”

Jayne pulled out a sweatshirt before she put the bag in the locker and turned the key. “Is it always this cold in here?”

“Right as rain, princess.”

Princess? She didn't deserve that. She had on Old Navy jeans. Rhinestone flip-flops. A gold Bulova watch.

“I'm not a princess.” Hearing herself say the words, even she wasn't convinced.

“Is Harvard paying for itself, then?”

Jayne looked down again. She was holding a crimson sweatshirt, the Harvard crest in full view. She didn't know why she'd brought it. She didn't really want to think about it.

“This was a gift.” From her mother, with the words “Make me proud” attached. “It doesn't mean anything.”

Her voice cracked saying the words.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. The unpierced one. The smaller girl didn't say anything else as she finished up the tour filled with lots of pointing. Point left: break room. Point in two of the four corners of the building: restrooms. There were about twenty people filling up half of the cubicles, most in their late teens.

“Is Maria the only adult here?” Jayne stared at the back of her guide. Her skirt looked like it was Goodwill and had a tear running almost to her butt. It worked, though. It went with her black Doc Martens, black tights, and spiked dog collar.

Ryan let out something that sounded like a snort. “Define ‘adult.'”

“Can legally drink. Has a lower insurance rate than the rest of us.”

“Within the confines of those definitions, yeah, sure.”

“Hey sunshine!” A guy with a “Saguaro High Basketball” shirt sat on one of the chairs in the sitting area Jayne had passed earlier. A girl with a short blonde shag sat next to him crunching through a bag of Doritos.

“I'm not in the mood, dipwad.” Ryan stopped. “I assume you went out of the way to say hi because you're wanting me to introduce our new meat?”

Ryan kicked the boy's legs out of the way and started picking up some empty soda cans littering the coffee tables. “Darian Green. Meadow Haraway. This is . . . what's your name again, princess?”

“Jayne Thompkins.” Jayne wanted to say,
It's Jayne Thompkins, Goth Girl Loser
. But she didn't.

That didn't stop the words from burning in her throat, though.

“So, Miss Jayne Thompkins, why are you here?” Darian crunched into an orange chip as he leaned behind Meadow. The girl seemed to be staring a little too hard at Jayne. Like she was trying to place her from somewhere. “College résumé?”

“Something like that.” She crossed her arms and shivered. It really was cold in here. She'd have to bring another sweatshirt next time. Just not her Harvard one. “How about you guys?”

“Got caught selling my brother's Ritalin for recreational purposes.” Meadow fiddled with the clasp on her silver link bracelet, a shiny silver heart dangling from it. “I've got another three months to work it off.”

Jayne didn't know what to say to that.
Sorry you're a drug dealer
didn't seem right. Instead, she smiled and nodded in consolation.

“Don't judge us based on Meadow's lack of judgment here.” Darian smiled. He looked like a guy who was used to getting people to like him. “Me? I'm in your boat. Gotta pump up my résumé in case that basketball scholarship doesn't come through.”

Jayne saw Meadow raise her eyebrows as she kept searching through the chip bag. Ryan started to cough, but it was more theatrical than real.

Darian wasn't telling the truth. She got it. She stole a glance at Darian again. He was cute in a tall jock sort of way. What'd he do, get caught with alcohol in his locker, or a joint?

“Hey, princess, Maria's waiting for you.” Ryan materialized by her elbow, the armful of cans gone. Jayne felt her cheeks grow warm when she heard that stupid nickname again.

Was she blushing? Wow. She was embarrassed about the nickname. And since she didn't care what Meadow thought, she must've been caring about what Darian thought.

Never in her life had she cared what a boy thought. Well, a
boy
boy. Tom didn't count.

Darian's voice followed her as she walked away. “If you get bored, my screen name is IHeartBB. It's totally gay, but Meadow picked it out.”