The Rules for Disappearing (5 page)

Everyone watches as Dad tries to stuff Teeny in the car. Her

legs are so long they’re making a helicopter motion in the air. One foot clips dad on the side of his head, and he lets out a loud yelp. He finally gets her bottom half inside the wagon but she grabs onto the door. He pries her fingers loose and slams the door shut, leaning against it as Teeny beats on the window. Most people have walked away by now except the group of cheerleaders who cluster together and start whispering like crazy.

Teeny’s in the car crying and Dad’s breathing hard. I stand in front of the cheerleaders, hoping to block some of their view.

“Show’s over. Go find someone else to gawk at.” I hate that they saw Teeny like this.

The whispering stops as every eye turns on me. A dark-haired

cheerleader steps forward. “Excuse me?” She actually made
excuse
me
six syllables.

“You heard me. There’s nothing else to see here.” I may regret this later but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“You’re right,” the dark-haired girl says then looks me up and down. Slowly. “Nothing worth seeing here.”

A few ugly remarks float my way as they get into their car but at least they stopped talking about Teeny.

—S

Class tomorrow should be loads of fun.

—N

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Mom is sprawled on the couch with an empty gin bottle and a box of tissues. There are, like, a million little pieces torn up on the floor.

“Girls, why don’t you go to your room and get started on home-

work. I’ll help Mom clean up this mess.”

As if she’s going to be any help at all. We head down the hall to our room where Teeny throws herself across one bed, covering her face. She’s ignored me since her meltdown.

Stretching back on my bed, I pull out my homework. I haven’t

worried about my grades for the last three placements since my transcript won’t follow me to the next school, so I make sure I know just enough to not look like a dumbass if I’m called on in class.

I think back to my conversation with Dad. The Plan took a

major hit today. I never thought this situation would be permanent.

The way Dad talks—we’re in this for life. But I’m more determined than ever now. No way in hell I’m moving around and living like this forever.

“I don’t have any homework, so can I have my book from the

bag?” Teeny’s hand is out, but she’s still turned away from me. At least she’s talking.

“Sure.” I hand her the book she was working on yesterday. “Do

you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She starts a new puzzle and the concentration on her face is

intense.

S—

“I get scared sometimes, too. We have each other, Teeny. If you N—

need to complain, or yell, or get mad—it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

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She ignores me, completely.

Dad knocks on the door some time later and pokes his head in. “I meant to stop by the grocery store while we were out this afternoon.

I’m going to that pizza shop on the corner. Is pepperoni good?”

I swing my legs off the side of the bed. “I’ll go. It’s just a couple of blocks. You stay with Mom.” I’m so not up for dealing with her when she’s hammered and I would love nothing more than to get

out of this house.

Dad hesitates, runs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep sigh but doesn’t say anything more.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I guess that’s fine.”

“I asked you this earlier—what’s different? You’re acting all

weird and I can tell something’s wrong. Is it a problem for me to go three blocks to the pizza place?”

Dad says, “No. We just need to be really cautious.”

I park my hands on my hips. “Did the suits tell
you
we’re supposed to be extra cautious this time? Because they don’t tell me crap.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Did they tell you we shouldn’t leave the house?”

“No. I’m probably being paranoid. Just go straight there and

back.” Dad hands me ten dollars. The suits give us very little extra money. Whatever I can get for ten bucks will barely feed Teeny and me; much less have anything left over for Mom and him.

I’ll have to add a little of my own money to get us enough food.

I have some extra cash from my last job but it won’t last long at this

—S

rate. I’m going to have to find some work.

—N

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It’s dark out when I leave and really cold. The wind stings my cheeks and the contacts are hurting my eyes.

The pizza place is about three corners up, one street away from the cobblestone street that runs next to Cane River. I walk fast and look behind me often: I guess Dad’s paranoia is rubbing off on me.

By the time I get to the restaurant my hands are frozen and my nose is numb. The warmth and savory smell of pizza pour out of the restaurant when I open the door.

I get to the counter and study the menu written on a huge

chalkboard above the cashier’s head, wrinkling my nose at some of the choices. Swamp pizza? What is that? I read the ingredients: crab, crawfish, jalapenos, shrimp, and andouille sausage. You have got to be kidding me.

“Can I help you?”

The woman behind the counter is older, maybe in her late fif-

ties, and has a head of solid white hair. I check the prices on the normal stuff. “I’ll take a large pepperoni pizza to go.”

“Be ready in about 10 minutes.” She rings me up and then shuf-

fles to the kitchen. There are several people eating in the restaurant, but she seems to be the only person working.

I clear my throat loud enough for her to peek through the small window between the front of the restaurant and the kitchen. “Need something else?”

“A job if you have an opening.” This place would be perfect since it’s in walking distance from the house. Teeny might be able to hang here with me in the afternoon at one of the tables in the corner.

S—

“Ever work in a restaurant before?”

N—

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This is the hard part. I have no résumé and certainly no

references. I’ve had odd jobs since our third placement but that’s the extent of my work history, including the time from my old life. I don’t think playing hostess at mom’s parties count for much.

“Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Meg Jones.”

The woman stops what she’s doing and asks, “You in school?”

“Yes. At Natchitoches.”

“Well, you caught me at the right time. The girl helping me quit this afternoon. Any chance you can start tonight?”

I think about Teeny back at home. Mom’s a wreck but at least

Dad’s there. “Yeah. I need to take that pizza home first, and then I can come right back.”

“Perfect. And just for that—the pizza’s on me. I’ll throw in some breadsticks, too,” the woman says. “Come back here, and I’ll show you around while it’s cooking. You can have a T-shirt, too. I always give the first one away but after that you’re gonna have to pay if you want another one.”

I walk into the kitchen, and the woman introduces herself as

Pearl. She hands me a red T-shirt with the logo of the restaurant on the front. “My son works here during the day so it’ll be you and me in the afternoons and evenings. You work the front register and keep the dining area clean and I make all the food. We’re closed on Sundays. Can you be here after school? We’re open till eight.”

I think about Teeny again. Dad starts his job at the plant

tomorrow and he’ll be working twelve-hour shifts from seven in

—S

—N

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the morning to seven at night. I’ll be lucky if Mom can take care of herself, much less Teeny. And the way Dad is acting, I’d rather she was here with me.

“Pearl, I have a younger sister that kinda depends on me in the afternoons. Is there any way she can hang out here until my dad gets off work at seven?”

Pearl puts her hands on her hips and taps her orthopedic shoe.

“This ain’t no daycare, girlie.”

“She’s no trouble at all. Very quiet. She’ll sit in a booth in the corner and do her homework, promise.”

“Only cause you caught me in a bind. First sign of that girl

messing things up or getting in the way, and she’s out of here.”

“Of course. She’ll be no problem.”

Once my pizza and breadsticks are ready, I run back to the

house and tell Dad and Teeny about my new job.

“What about your school work? And how are you getting

there? Are you walking back and forth?” Dad stops in mid-motion of putting a slice of pizza on a plate for Teeny.

I run to my room so I can make a quick change into the T-shirt Pearl gave me. I don’t answer Dad until I’m back in the kitchen.

“Teeny can hang out with me after school. You can pick her up on your way home from work, and I’ll walk home when my shift ends.”

Dad sits down next to Teeny. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“No, Dad, it’ll be fine.” I point to Mom who is snoring loudly on the couch. “Teeny and I can’t stay here all afternoon with her like this.” It’s true and he knows it.

S—

“I’ll come back to pick you up. I don’t like you walking alone,”

N—

he says.

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“Is there something I should know?”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t answer.

“Then I’ll walk home when my shift is over. No big deal,” I say.

“Straight home,” he adds.

“Sissy, can I go with you tonight?” Teeny’s sad eyes make me

feel like I’m deserting her.

“Tomorrow.” I squeeze her in a quick hug and grab a piece of

pizza as I head out the door. “The name of the restaurant is Pearl’s.

The number’s on the box if something comes up.”

The pizza parlor is packed by the time I make it back. There’s a line at the counter and half of the tables are full. Pearl waves me over the second I step through the door.

“Meg, you’re gonna have to jump right in.”

There is a steady stream of customers for almost an hour. I

don’t know how she would have pulled this off by herself. A few people come in from school. They nod but don’t speak to me other than placing their order. Eventually, things settle down so I can wander around the dining room, picking up trash and refilling napkins. The door dings and I glance up.

It’s him. Ethan. He’s concentrating on his phone, his baseball cap shielding part of his face, so he hasn’t spotted me yet. I spin and try not to run to the back room, hoping that maybe Pearl can take his order. Great, she’s on the phone.

Standing a little taller, I walk to the register. I can do this.

“May I help you?” I hope my voice didn’t come out as stiff as I think it did.

His eyes leave the phone and fly to my face. His mouth opens a

—S

bit, but no words come out. We both stand there for several seconds

—N

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before he glances back at his phone. He texts something then shoves the phone in his pocket. “Large swamp pizza, extra jalapenos.”

It amazes me how many people order this pizza. I thought it

would look better than it sounds. Not even close.

“To go?” Hope rings in my voice.

He smirks. “Dine in,” and he throws some money down on the

counter.

This may be my shortest employment yet. I toss his money in

the drawer and yell his order back to Pearl.

Ethan sits at a table that gives him a direct view of me behind the counter and, as if on cue, my face flames red. I can’t even look at him without blushing. This sucks. I try to stay busy while his pizza cooks, but it’s very unnerving knowing he’s watching me. Pearl calls out when his order is ready.

I drop his pizza on his table and then do the same with his

change. He’s made me nervous and I hate that. When I turn to go, he grabs my wrist, not rough but firm. I’m two seconds from bruis-ing his other cheek when he yells, “Aunt Pearl? Mind if Meg takes a break and helps me with this pizza?”

Aunt Pearl! You have got to be kidding me.

Pearl pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Ethan. Should

have known it was you. Sure, Meg, take a break. Keep my nephew in line,” she cackles and disappears back into the kitchen. I stand there open-mouthed.

I shake my arm free. “I don’t need a break, I just got here.”

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you earlier. Maybe we can start over.”

S—

My brain screams to get out of here, but I can’t. He still has N—

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a smudge of dirt on the side of his chin, and it makes me want to plunk it off. The bruise has turned a really deep purple, but it doesn’t diminish his striking features. “Meg, sit with me for ten minutes.”

He sounds put out.

I plop down in the chair before I can talk myself out of it. He’s smiling at me, dimple digging in the side of his cheek. I smile back before I can stop myself. I’m so pathetic. I can’t make it one day on The Plan.

“Okay, so here I am. You’ve got ten minutes.”

He puts a slice of pizza on a plate and slides it to me, then gets one for himself. “You’re gonna have to eat some of this.”

Extreme hunger couldn’t make me take a bite of that pizza.

He swallows down a huge piece. “Come on, just one bite,” he

says, his southern drawl dragging out his words.