Sliding On The Edge (11 page)

“
Never had any complaints
before.”

“
Right.”

“
Now that you’ve got my
attention, what do you want?” I work at sounding nicer than before,
but it doesn’t happen.

“
Nothing. See you next
Sunday.” He walks down the hall and steps into a classroom before I
realize I have my mouth open to say something.

“
Hell with you.” I twist the
combination on my locker, grab my English book, and slam the tinny
door.
Get to English and forget Sunday
Boy.

I can write an essay on the bazillion
reasons I hate guys, but do I have the time to waste? I edge into
my seat and lean back. My goal today is to count the ceiling tiles,
a simple multiplication problem, but Mrs. Heady is not her usual
five minutes late, so I pull myself up and prepare to plow my way
through another of her essays.

She starts the class, and then patrols
the aisles. When she walks down my aisle, she hands me a hall
pass.

“
You can take care of this
at the end of class today.”

The Troll shoots me one of her
ferret-looks, but I stare her down. She has no idea who she’s
dealing with yet, but if she keeps it up I’m going to show
her.

“
Please come to the
Principal’s office after English today. R. Green.”

Now what? I haven’t done
anything.

The Troll is craning her neck to see
what’s on the paper. I shoot her a killer look, and she bends over
her paper so far her nose almost touches it. I fold the pass and
stick it into my notebook.

My essay is lame. I’m too busy
thinking about why Mr. Roly-Poly Principal Green wants me in his
office.

I’ve been clean since I came here.
Mostly because there isn’t much choice. This place squeaks—no
grime, no crime.

At the break, I dump my books in my
locker and walk into Mr. Green’s office as though there’s nothing
unusual in my visit—as if I do it everyday. But right away I wish
for unusual, because awful is what greets me.

Mr. Green, looking like a funeral
director, closes the door and pulls out a chair for me. I sit down
like that chair has electrical wires attached.

“
Shawna, I’m going to show
you something, and then I’m going to ask you a difficult question.”
Mr. Green shoves a piece of crumpled paper across the table. “Is
this yours?”

The picture of Monster’s face stares
up at me. I lean back in my chair, cross my arms, and
wait.

“
Your grandmother has told
me how you came to Sweet River and a little about your life
before.”

Kay doesn’t know anything
about my life. She doesn’t know anything about me at all, so what’s
this crap he’s spewing?

“
How do you feel about being
here?”

I shrug. “It’s okay.”

“
What does that mean,
exactly?” Mr. Green is pulling out his principal language.
Principals sound a lot like cops when they’re mining for
information.

What does it mean? I don’t
know what it means. It means okay. I get food. I sleep in a bedroom
with a door and in a real bed. Everybody that comes to Kay’s is
somebody she’s known since the earth formed. I haven’t seen a cop
in a month. I work my butt off, but I’m getting used to it. I have
a dog, sort of, and sheep and horses. You know, it’s
okay.

Aloud I say, “It’s
regular.”

He nods. “And are you happy, living
with your grandmother?”

Oh, this is way bad. Am I happy? Happy
is not in my dictionary. I don’t feel too edgy at Kay’s. I get
along with Kenny Fargo okay now, and that Sunday Boy . . . what is
his name anyway? I’m getting used to horses and Buster’s flea
epidemics. I don’t even mind those sheep, now that their fur or
hair or whatever they have is starting to grow back. Aloud I say,
“Yes.” At the same time I make two fists and jam my hands onto my
lap to keep them steady.

Tell him what he wants to
hear, Shawna.

Is that Monster? At
school? Damn!

“
I’m concerned about a
couple of things,” Mr. Green drowns out Monster. “When I look at
your face you don’t seem to be listening. Are you somewhere
else?”

That is one stupid question. I’m in
your office, sitting in an electric chair across from a nosey fat
man. I’ve got Monster skulking around here someplace, and you want
me to answer something that’s totally obvious.

Aloud I say, “I guess I’m just
surprised by your questions. Maybe that’s why I look the way I do.”
I wish I could see how I look right now. Where’s Tuan’s mirror when
you need it? I shift in my seat and tuck my hands under my butt.
That helps.

“
Well, then about this
drawing. Tell me about it.” He pushes my picture of Monster across
the desk.

No. It’s nobody’s
business.

You tell him,
Shawna
. Monster’s still lurking.

“
Sorry about that. I had an
argument with this guy just before class and I was really upset.
That’s a picture of him.”

Oh, Shawna, you are
good
, Monster croons.

“
So when Mrs. Heady noticed
you were in a dark mood, it was about this argument?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Dark moods can be
scary.”

This is going nowhere. I’m
not talking about my moods. They’re mine, and they’re private. Mrs.
Nose-in-My-Business Heady can butt out, and so can you, Mr.
Principal.

“
Sorry she’s worried. I’ll
try to leave the moods outside class. Everything’s fine with me,
really. I guess I just have to get used to a new school and a new
way of doing things.”

Does he buy that?
Yes.
He looks like bricks fell off his
head. He’s smiling at me, and that tight muscle near his right eye
isn’t twitching now. I’d finally said something to get him off my
case.

“
Thank you for being so open
with me. Just remember you can always come in and talk whenever you
need someone to listen. I’m a good listener, Shawna.” Mr. Green
stands.

I crush Monster’s face between my
hands. He slinks away.

Chapter 21

Kay

Kay tightened her clenched hands
around the steering wheel of the old truck, waiting for Shawna to
walk out the front door of the school. Had Robby asked the
questions they’d agreed on? How had Shawna answered
them?

Kay leaned back in the seat
and tried to imagine the meeting in the principal’s office. How
Shawna’s dark eyes would shift away before every response. How her
voice would sound when she’d answer her usual, “It’s okay.” How
she’d shrug her shoulders and, for that matter, her whole
being.
The girl didn’t care about
anything. And how could someone only sixteen years old not care
about something? Her whole life lay in front of her!

When Robby asked how she
felt about living here, Kay could hear Shawna’s mind
churning:
I hate that ranch. I might as
well be on Mars. I hate living with an old man and an old woman,
cleaning up after horses everyday except Sunday. And let me tell
you how fun Sundays are around that place.

The next question made Kay’s knuckles
ache, she gripped the wheel so hard.

“
And are you happy, living
with your grandmother?”

Shawna might shrug again or say yes,
but she’d think: My grandmother’s a cranky old witch who’s on my
case from sun up ‘till I hit the sack. What’s to be happy
about?

That’s what Shawna’s shrug—what her
yes really meant. And she wasn’t too far wrong. Kay knew she was
cranky, but she didn’t know any other way to be. She’d grown into
who she was over the years, and now, when she looked back to find
how she’d gotten to this place in her life, she’d forgotten most of
the journey, and she couldn’t remember how she used to be. She
could only remember the beginning. The day Peter stood in the
doorway, suitcase in hand, face set in that expression he wore when
he wanted to cry but refused. He was hurting and she was dying, but
neither of them had the energy or the desire to reach out to the
other.

He was leaving.

She was staying.

Their son was dead and their marriage
had died along with him. End of one story. Beginning of another:
her journey to cranky old witch.

Where did Shawna live all
day, all night? Robby Green knew from only two conversations with
her that she often was someplace other than the present. And Shawna
was never surprised by anything. Angry, yes. In fact, while Kay
thought about the exchange that was going on that very moment
between Shawna and Robby, she realized the only emotion Shawna had
ever expressed in front of her was anger.
At least that was something,
she
thought.
At least one ball she hit came
back. Shawna never shrugged when she was angry.

How would Shawna handle the issue of
her dark moods? She’d come up with some reasonable explanation for
them. She was good at lying, but Kay was good at hearing lies and
seeing through them for what they were. Too many years around Kenny
Fargo and horses had done that for her, she guessed. There was no
time or patience for lies as far as any of those wonderful
creatures were concerned.

Robby Green hadn’t had the privilege
of attending the Kenny Fargo School of Life, so Shawna would be
able to lead him right where she wanted him.

At least Robby had given Kay some
options. He could refer her to others who were more qualified to
deal with Shawna’s problems than he was. The district had a
psychologist he could bring in. There were several psychologists
and therapists in Sacramento he could recommend. There was a teen
crisis hotline, and he would give Kay that number. But she’d have
to make the final decision about which way to go.

He’d insisted she leave the room while
he talked to Shawna, but she’d refused. “I don’t care about good
counseling techniques, Robby,” she’d said, “I’m staying right here.
You do your job. I’ll do mine.”

“
Kay, you have to trust me
on this one. I promise to share anything I think you need to know
to help your granddaughter, but she won’t talk freely in front of
both of us.”

She’d let him talk her into leaving.
Another mistake?

At the sound of the truck door
opening, Kay sat up. Shawna, her jaw clenched, climbed into the
passenger seat and slammed the door.

“
How did it go with the
principal?”

“
It didn’t.”

“
What do you mean?”
Maybe she hadn’t talked to him. Why not? Robby
said he’d see her right after her English period.
“You didn’t talk to him?”

Shawna looked out the passenger window
as if Kay hadn’t spoken to her.

For heaven sakes at least
answer me
. “You’re upset. Can I
help?”

“
No.” Shawna’s voice was as
empty as the expression she turned on Kay.

Please open up to
me
. Please let me in. Kay wanted to say it,
but instead she turned the key in the ignition and shifted into
low.

Chapter 22

Shawna

After Robby Green’s pathetic
counseling session I feel like a dishrag someone’s wrung out. I
climb into Kay’s truck, and when I look at my reflection in her
rearview mirror, I’m surprised I’m not in a twist.

“
How did it go with the
principal?”

Well how in the hell does
she think it went? Mr. Mush Mouth yammered at me. I smiled and
tried to give him the answers he wanted. Monster showed up to lend
a hand. Thank you very much
. “It
didn’t.”

“
You didn’t talk to
him?”

I talked at him. He talked
at me. I wish she’d stop interrogating me. I’ve had it with people
nosing into my life.

“
You’re upset. Can I
help?”

Help me with what, Grandma? Just what
is it you think you can help me with? “No.”

Kay looks away, then back with her
seat-belt stare. She starts the truck and pulls out of the parking
lot without another word. Interrogation over.

After she passes the turnoff to the
ranch she says, “I have an errand before we go home. I didn’t get
to Max’s Rural Supply today.”

Her icebreakers would not stand up at
parties. I shrug and guess she sees me out of the corner of her eye
because her knuckles whiten on the steering wheel.

Rural Supply is the ranchers’
supermarket. There’s hay, and oats, and horse blankets in all sizes
and colors. While Kay puts together her order, I roam the aisles
and read the labels. Something to do, at least, while I’m stuck
here. When I get to the vitamin section, it occurs to me that Drunk
Floyd’s black horse might benefit from a vitamin boost. Kenny gives
Kay’s horses vitamins all the time, so I search the shelves for a
bottle that looks familiar, like what Kenny keeps in his leather
bag.

And there it is. Very big and . . .
and almost my week’s allowance. There’s no way I’m spending that
kind of money to buy horse vitamins.