Prayers and Lies (30 page)

The boy glared again at Reana, then nodded.

“As for you, young lady.” The principal turned now to Reana Mae. “I appreciate that you were upset, but I cannot condone fighting. You will spend detention in study hall, writing me an essay on the value of keeping your temper.”

With that, we were dismissed.

Reana Mae arrived home from school at five. She spoke to no one, stomping up the stairs to our bedroom.

“What’s up with her?” Tracy was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework. She smirked at me.

“You know darn well what’s wrong!” I shouted. Mother appeared in the doorway.

“Bethany,” she said sharply. “What are you yelling about?”

“Someone wrote a nasty thing about Reana in the boy’s bathroom at school,” I said, staring hard at Tracy. “They said she was an easy lay, and she likes it rough.”

Mother’s face blanched. “Is Reana okay?”

I shook my head, still staring at Tracy. “Two boys were grabbing at her at lunch, and she hit one of them and got detention.

“You did it!” I shouted at Tracy. “You wrote that because you’re mad about my dress.”

“I did not!” Tracy’s eyes widened. “I would
never
write on the bathroom wall. And I certainly wouldn’t put our phone number there!”

Mother looked from Tracy to me. “Someone wrote our phone number on the bathroom wall?”

“It was her, Mother! I know it was. How else did she know about the phone number?”

Mother looked hard at Tracy then, but she only looked back with her eyes wide.

“I heard about it,” she said. “Everyone at school knows about it. God, Mother, I would never write our phone number in the bathroom! It just makes all of us look like cheap hillbillies.”

Mother turned to me and said, “I know you’re upset, Bethany. But I don’t think Tracy would do something like that.”

She turned toward the stairway. “I need to talk with Reana Mae,” she said.

Behind her, Tracy smiled at me, her hazel eyes sparkling.

After dinner that night, Reana Mae followed Tracy down the stairs to her basement bedroom. I trailed behind.

At the bottom of the steps, Reana suddenly shoved Tracy into the wall.

“I know it was you,” she hissed. “You can deny it all you want, but I know. And you’re going to pay, Tracy Janelle Wylie. Just you wait, you’ll pay.”

Tracy smirked at her, her hazel eyes sparkling mean.

“Oh yeah?” she drawled. “Who’s going to make me pay? You?” She laughed then, a nasty laugh. “What the hell can
you
do to
me
, you little tramp? You’re nothing but trash!”

Before she could finish the word, Reana’s hand shot out. Gripping Tracy by the throat, she pushed hard against the wall. Tracy’s eyes widened. She grabbed at Reana’s arm, trying to pull away. But Reana Mae would not let go. She leaned her entire weight against Tracy, squeezing Tracy’s throat. She didn’t say a word.

“Reana!” I grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back. “Let go!”

Tracy’s face reddened as she scratched at Reana’s arm.

“Stop, Reana!” I was afraid she would kill Tracy. I’d never seen anyone so angry before. “Stop, please.”

Still Reana Mae didn’t move. She didn’t turn her head to look at me, or even acknowledge my presence. She stared straight into Tracy’s face.

Finally, I grabbed her blond hair and yanked her head back.

Abruptly, she released Tracy’s throat from her choke hold, turned to glare at me, and stormed up the stairs.

Tracy slumped against the wall, heaving great gulps of air.

“She’s crazy,” she finally whispered. “She’s fucking nuts.”

“Just leave her alone, Tracy,” I pleaded. “Please, just let her be.”

She glared at me, then disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

I was shaking so that I had to sit down on the stairs. I knew Reana Mae had a lot of anger inside, but I’d never seen her in such a fury. Should I tell Mother? What would she do?

No, I decided. I was probably overreacting. Reana Mae was mad and hurt, that was all. And now she’d blown up, and she’d be okay again.

I walked unsteadily up the stairs and onto the back porch. There I sat on the glider for a long time, wondering again at how Tracy could be so mean. And how Reana could be so violent. And why, oh why, God, was the world so hard?

25
Dancing on the Volcano

B
rian arrived at our house carrying a white rose corsage. He shook Daddy’s hand and explained exactly where he would be taking me for dinner. Then he assured Daddy that I would be home before midnight.

Mother snapped photos as Brian pinned the corsage to my dress, then as I fumbled about, trying hard to pin a boutonniere to his lapel. My hands shook so that Mother finally put down the camera and pinned the flower herself.

Tracy and Mark had already gone, but Reana Mae stood in the doorway, waving as we drove away. I felt like a fairy princess, whisked away in a dark green Pacer.

We joined another couple from the newspaper staff for dinner at a nearby steakhouse. Scared to death I’d drop something on my gown, I pushed the food around my plate, listening while the others chatted. Every once in a while, I glanced toward the large mirror on the opposite wall, just to reassure myself it really was me sitting there with Brian Hutson, having dinner in a restaurant.

The school gym had been transformed by a sea of crepe paper and ribbons. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, spinning lights onto the crowd below. We sat at a table with a group of friends, watching as one couple after another glided out to the dance floor. Finally, Brian asked if I wanted to dance. And, again, all I could manage was “Okay.”

I had never danced with a boy before, except for years before at cotillion … and I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be doing the foxtrot. But Reana and I had practiced in our room all week. I hoped I wouldn’t step on Brian’s feet or trip on my gown. As we walked to the dance floor, I felt my cheeks burning. Surely everyone in the room must be staring to see me, Bethany Wylie, walking out to dance with Brian Hutson.

Then, he put his arms around my waist and I wrapped mine around his shoulders, and we joined the mass of slowly swaying couples, our feet shuffling as we circled around and around. This wasn’t so hard, after all. I felt myself relaxing, leaning slightly into Brian’s chest. It felt like magic.

We danced several slow numbers to Gordon Lightfoot, Barbra Streisand, and Jim Croce. Then, abruptly, the music changed. Couples pried themselves apart and started jostling and bumping and flailing about. Brian and I stood uncertainly for a minute, then he took my hand and we walked back toward our table. Nearly giddy with relief that I would not have to fast-dance, I didn’t hear at first the high-pitched giggles and squeals coming from a table nearby.

Brian stopped short of our table and turned to see what the commotion was about. His hand tightened around mine as I turned and saw Tracy flouncing along behind us, making lewd gestures in our direction. When she saw we had stopped, she collapsed against a table, laughing shrilly … hysterically.

I stared in horror as she began dancing around Brian and me, her hips gyrating wildly, her arms flung out, her steps unsteady.

“See my li’l sister?” she cried out. “See the li’l Jeshabelle? She’s a fucking whore … just like her twin. The trash-can twins, that’s what they are … the fucking trash-can twins.”

Behind her, Mark stood grinning, glassy-eyed, staring vacantly as Tracy spun around more and more unsteadily.

“They’re drunk, or stoned,” Brian said, putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close. “Just ignore her.”

But I couldn’t ignore her … my sister. Her auburn curls tumbled madly around her red-cheeked face, her eyes sparkled brighter than I’d ever seen them, her Kewpie-doll mouth was open in a horrible grimace. I couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away, couldn’t take my eyes off her as she spun dizzily around, shrieking, “Whore! Whore! Whore!”

Then abruptly, she staggered to a stop, lurched forward, and vomited down the front of her pale green dress.

Mr. Landon, the freshman counselor, came running, took Tracy by the arm, and dragged her toward the bathrooms. The room was silent for an instant. And then everyone began talking at once.

Brian pulled me away from where we’d been standing, back toward the table where our friends sat in embarrassed silence. I picked up my purse and the shawl Mother had loaned me, and we walked to the car, staring ahead without a word.

Once inside the Pacer, however, I collapsed against the dashboard, allowing the tears I’d been fighting to stream down my face. It didn’t matter; Brian was never going to ask me out again. Not after this.

We sat in the parking lot while I cried. Brian handed me tissue after tissue, but he never spoke.

Finally, I straightened up, looked into his kind face, and stammered, “I’m so sorry! She gets crazy sometimes, but she never does it in public. Usually it’s just at home, when she’s mad. And she just … she does crazy things, you know? Crazy things. She screams and throws things. She breaks stuff. Once she even cut up one of my mother’s dresses. I don’t know why she does it. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. But she’s never been crazy in public before. I’m so sorry.”

The words tumbled out, the most I’d ever spoken to him. I knew I was babbling, and I knew I shouldn’t tell him about Tracy, but I couldn’t help myself. Once my mouth opened, it all came out—my confusion, my fear, and my fury all tumbled together in a nonstop stream until I had finished. I had told him everything. And when I was done and there was nothing else to say, I simply sat with my hands folded in my lap and waited for him to tell me he never wanted to see me or talk to me again.

Instead, Brian leaned forward, took both my hands in his, and kissed me full on the mouth. Not a quick kiss like the one in the newspaper office. Now he gave me a long, slow, openmouthed kiss that left me catching vainly at my breath.

Then he smiled at me and said, very softly, “Look, you don’t have anything to apologize for. So your sister’s crazy. It’s not like I didn’t already know that. Hell, Bethany, everyone knows that. She’s nuts … and your cousin slept with her uncle. And your dad looked at me tonight like he might just kill me…. And my brother is a druggie, and probably you’ll hate my parents, because they’re snobs.”

He smiled again. I must have been staring stupidly.

“But you, Bethany, are sweet and pretty and smart,” he said, still smiling. “And I hope you’ll go out with me again.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

“Only maybe next time we’ll go someplace where Tracy’s not.”

Then he drove me home, because I knew Mother and Daddy would be worried. I was sure Mr. Landon had already called them about Tracy.

What must Mother be thinking?

She was waiting on the front porch steps, absently scratching Bo’s neck. When she saw the car pulling in, she ran down the walkway toward me.

“Are you okay?”

She grabbed me in a fierce hug.

“Are you okay?” she repeated, pulling back to look at my face.

I nodded, glancing toward Brian, embarrassed.

Mother extended her hand to him. “I’m very sorry your evening was spoiled,” she said. “I hope you’ll forgive Tracy. She has … well, I mean, she is …”

“That’s all right, Mrs. Wylie.”

He turned and smiled at me. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” I smiled back.

Then he got in the car and pulled away. Mother and I walked to the house, settling down on the front steps together. Her face was pinched and pale, her mascara smudged dark under her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Bethy,” she said. “And on your first date.”

I sat quietly, not knowing what to say.

“I just don’t understand what possessed her.”

“I think she’d been drinking, Mother,” I said. “Both her and Mark looked like they had. Brian said so, too.”

“I’m sorry she ruined your first dance.”

I sighed and leaned into her shoulder.

“But we had fun before Tracy went crazy,” I said, smiling at the dark.

“I’m glad, honey,” Mother said. Then, “Why don’t you go on inside and take that dress off before it gets dirty.”

“You coming?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to wait till your father gets back with Tracy.”

So I left her sitting on the steps in the dark … waiting for her drunken, crazy daughter to come back home.

Reana Mae grabbed my hand as soon as I walked through the door. “What happened?” she asked, dragging me up the stairs. “Someone called and said Uncle Jimmy had to come get Tracy ’cause she got sick!”

I told her what had happened while I changed into my pajamas, lovingly draping my beautiful gown across the bed.

“I can’t believe her!” Reana exclaimed when I told her what Tracy had done. “I cannot fucking believe her! Poor Aunt Helen like to died when that call came. And Uncle Jimmy tore outta here like Lucifer hisself was chasin’ him.”

She paced across the floor, then spat out, “Tracy don’t even care what she does to them, does she? … And Lord God Almighty, Bethany, I bet you wanted to die, too, watchin’ her act like that.”

“Well,” I whispered, “I guess she came out the worst in it, ’cause she threw up all over herself and everyone saw it. And then Mr. Landon came and got her, and I don’t even know what Daddy’s gonna do to her.”

“Well, she deserves it, whatever it is.”

Reana Mae shook her head.

“What do you reckon is wrong with her? I mean, she ain’t stupid, and she’s real pretty, and she’s got herself this nice house. And Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Helen love her fit to gift wrap. Why can’t she just be happy?”

She threw a pillow across the room.

“Why’s she gotta be so damn mean?”

I shook my head, staring at my reflection in the dresser mirror, wondering if I could possibly be the same person I’d been this morning. Why, I didn’t even look the same, did I? Now that Brian Hutson had kissed me like he did … and said he’d call me. Surely, I was changed through and through.

“Well, you don’t seem too shook up over it,” Reana Mae said, watching me closely. “You all right?”