If You Only Knew (8 page)

“I’m handling this.” His voice was quiet and sharp. “Lift your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Colette asked.

Daddy spread his arms. “Did you think I would forget?”

“Come on, Arnie,” Mom said. “We agreed.”

“Lorna? Do
not
undermine me.”

Colette’s fingers pinched the bottom hem of her T-shirt. Stay still, I tried to ESP to her—Mom will get Daddy to leave you alone, if you shut up and let her handle this. But Colette narrowed her eyes and said, “I will
not
lift my shirt for you.”

“Now!” Daddy yelled. “Do you hear me?”

I felt Devin grab my hand. I squeezed back and prayed for mental telepathy.

“I hear you fine,” Colette told Daddy in her too-calm voice. “But you have no right—”

“I have no right? I have NO RIGHT?”

“That’s what I said. I guess you can hear me, too.”

“Don’t you be fresh to me,” Daddy growled. His huge bread-kneading hands were clenching and unclenching. It occurred to me he could punch her.
Please
, I prayed.
Please, don’t
.

Colette’s cheek muscles flexed but she didn’t answer him back. We all waited and hoped.

“Apologize to your father, Colette,” Mom suggested. “Now.”

“No!” Colette spun to face Mom. “He has no right to—”

“To discipline my own child?” Daddy kicked the step.

Colette flinched, but then yelled, “I’m not a child!”

“Am I supposed to ignore it when my daughter comes into my house with her body mutilated?”

“I am not mutilated,” she screamed. “I like how I look!”

“You look like a whore!” Daddy yelled.

Colette blinked twice and started to cry, which I could tell really infuriated her because she sucked in her bottom lip and bit it. She didn’t wipe the tears away. She stood still and stared hard at Daddy, who was staring just as hard back at her.

“I hate you, too,” she said softly.

Daddy covered his face with his hands. He breathed in, then out, very loud, and then stayed there, hidden in his own palms for a while. I wondered if he was praying.

When he finally dropped his hands, they were shaking. “Sweetheart . . .” he said, reaching for Colette, toward a big round tear that was tracking down her cheek.

She swatted his hand away with a fierce slap. Elvis growled.

“Colette,” Mom warned. “Now, let’s all . . .”

Colette didn’t look away from Daddy’s eyes. She spoke very slowly. “You have no right to touch me. Ever again.”

She sniffed once, then cocked her head to the side and lifted the bottom of her shirt a tiny bit, so the little gold hoop showed. I couldn’t believe it.

Colette turned quick and sprinted up the steps.

Daddy chased her, snarling, “I’ll tear that thing out!”

As Colette made the turn around Mom at the landing, Daddy lunged for her, but he got tangled in Elvis and fell. Devin and I were holding on tight to each other, praying for him not to have a heart attack and for Colette to get away.

Daddy pushed himself back onto his feet and charged again up toward Colette, but Mom stepped down to stand in his way and screamed, “Stop it! Enough!”

Colette’s door slammed. Daddy punched the wall.

“What were you planning to do, Arnie?” Mom demanded. “Really! Rip it off her? And then what?”

Daddy mumbled, “Come on, Elvis.” Together they slunk down the steps and disappeared into the kitchen. The back door slamming was like an echo of Colette’s.

twelve

I
leaned against the door of Bay
and Colette’s room, my wet hair dripping over my shoulders, and waited for Colette to answer. Devin was in the shower, and everybody else was downstairs already, eating breakfast.

Colette turned around slowly and I saw she was sort of smiling. “Sure,” she said. She pulled a brown T-shirt out of her drawer and held it toward me. “Brown is your color.”

I hesitated for a minute. “I have Barbies that would be tight on,” I protested.

Colette threw the shirt down on her bed. “Don’t wear it, then.” She whipped off her nightshirt and reached back into the drawer to pull out a blue-and-white shirt for herself. As she tugged it over her head, I had a chance to check out the hoop through her belly button. The skin around it still looked pretty angry.

I picked up the brown shirt. “I’ll try it.”

On my way out, I heard her say, “Zoe?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s your body,” she said. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“OK. You all right?” I couldn’t look at her while I asked.

“Sure,” Colette answered. “I blow off anything he says. So what if he hates me?”

“Well, if you need, or, I’m sure he doesn’t really, don’t worry,” I stuttered, backing into mine and Devin’s room. I heard Colette kick her dresser. I guess I wasn’t too helpful.

While I hooked my bra and used Devin’s deodorant, I thought about last night’s dream. It was gym class, and gorgeous Mr. Brock put me on the boys’ team despite all my protests until I pulled up my sweatshirt and screamed, “Look at these, would you? I’m a girl! I want to be on the girls’ team!” Usually I don’t remember my dreams but this one was pretty extreme.

I pulled on some white shorts, then sat down on my bed next to Colette’s T-shirt to put on my socks and sneakers. I took a deep breath and thought,
If I ever want to try to be a different kind of girl, this is my chance to change. Enough of being one of the guys, buddies with everybody, never draw attention to myself because I’m just a jolly old team player. I have to do this.

That made me smile. Please, it’s just a shirt. Plus it’s brown, with a little daisy on it in front. Sometimes lately I make such a big deal of nothing. Probably nobody would notice anything different from how I usually dress. It wasn’t a glittery pink leotard or anything like I thought I was a beautiful star.

“Hey,” said Devin when I reached past her to grab an English muffin off the dining room table. “Nice boobs.”

I stopped. “Do they show too much?”

Anne Marie, Bay, and Devin studied my chest. “They sure show,” said Bay.

“Why not?” decided Anne Marie. “Why should you wear stuff six sizes too big all your life?”

“Well,” Devin said, “the boys will love it. Hey, Tommy!”

I looked away. Devin always seems to know my secret thoughts. CJ is lucky to have her own room so nobody can get inside her head.

We grabbed our lunches. “I hope I don’t sweat,” I said, checking my underarms. “There’s no place to hide in here.”

We were on our way out the back door, and Mom had already said, “Don’t forget your lunch,” when Colette joined us.

“Daddy didn’t come home,” Anne Marie said at the corner.

“Good,” said Colette. They all piled onto their bus.

When my bus finally came, I sat down next to Gabriela, my nice but boring cousin. Tommy and Jonas stormed on just as we were pulling out. They’re lucky the bus driver is friends with their mother, or she wouldn’t have waited for them. She’s nasty. They slid into the seat ahead of me and Gabriela.

I tapped Jonas on the head. “You do the French?” Anne Marie had helped me with it in our frightened, quiet house after the fight, because Bay couldn’t concentrate on vocabulary and Anne Marie would rather work than deal.

“You’re talking to us again?” Jonas turned around and I guess noticed what I was wearing because he said, “Whoa.”

Tommy turned around to see, too. I crossed my arms over my chest but his eyes had widened already. They faced front again. I sank down into my seat and whispered to Gabriela, “Do I look like a—I mean, gross or slutty or something?”

She shook her head. “You look pretty,” she said.

“Thank you.” She’s so nice.

“If I had a bust,” she said too loudly, “I’d show it, too.”

I crossed my arms tighter.

None of my friends said anything as I climbed up onto the wall. I was tempted to curl into myself and hide, but what Colette said about not having to apologize kept echoing in my head and forcing my arms down. It was hard. I felt so noticeable.

After the second bell, I walked through the corridor toward our lockers, with CJ, Morgan, and Olivia. I could hear the boys behind us saying, “Do it, do it.” I felt a touch on my back, and before I could turn around to ask, “What?” my bra strap snapped.

“Ow,” I said.

“Ignore them,” CJ whispered, linking her arm around mine.

“OK.” I ducked my head and felt my face getting hot.

Another touch, another sting. “Ow!”

CJ yanked me forward before I could turn around.

“Puerile jerks,” Olivia whispered.

I don’t know what that means, so I shrugged noncommittally.

“If you say anything,” Morgan whispered, “you’ll just encourage them.”

We were almost at the lockers.
If somebody pestered me over anything but my chest,
I thought,
I would knock him down and make him stop. Why is this different?

As soon as I felt the next touch on my back, I spun around and found myself eye to eye with Tommy Levit, whose hand was reaching toward me. His smirk was the same one I had found irresistible, yesterday. I almost punched him in it. But then I realized, this is exactly the problem with me; I’m so unladylike. The whole point, honestly, was to show Tommy I’m a girl. I tried to imagine what each of my sisters would do in this situation.

I stood as strong as I could and gave Tommy a nasty look.

Then I turned and walked toward the lockers, feeling proud of myself. My sisters, I think, would have given dirty looks like that. When Anne Marie glares, or Morgan, I die. Good for me.

Two steps later, I felt his hand on my back again.

I whirled around, pointed right in his face, and said, “If you touch me again, I’ll rip off your thing and staple it to your head.”

He stopped grinning. They all did. That whole pack of boys turned pale. It was great. I walked as confidently as I could to my locker and tried to open it, but my hands were shaking too much. I gripped the lock and closed my eyes.

“Yes,” said Olivia. She bent over to use her key in her lock. When she stood up, her huge smile showed all her crowded teeth. “You tell ’em, Zoe.”

“Yeah?” I asked her.

“Wow,” CJ agreed. “Where’d you get that expression?”

I shrugged. “He looked surprised, huh?”

Morgan nodded. “It was pretty graphic.”

“He won’t be bugging you again,” Olivia slammed her locker. “Score one for girl power.”

She held up her delicate little hand. I high-fived it.

“How’d it go last night?” CJ asked. “With your dad?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Morgan looked at me with sympathy.

Not what I felt like discussing. “A comedy,” I said, dismissing the subject with my hand like it was a bug. I wanted to get back to what a great job I’d done putting Tommy in his place. It wasn’t what my sisters would’ve done, except maybe Colette, but obviously Tommy wasn’t going to like me anyway, so, tough. “You don’t think I was too harsh?”

“Well,” Morgan said.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She raised her eyebrows at CJ.

CJ jammed her lock closed and turned her back to Morgan. She leaned toward me and whispered, “Don’t listen to people who lie.”

Morgan backed away.

I nodded and stood up straight, like CJ, determined not to be one of those tall girls who folds herself into a parenthesis. I don’t lie. Well, not too much. I try not to. I try to be a really good friend, unlike some people. I held up my head. Nothing to apologize for.

thirteen

M
organ was kneeling on the
bench, her lunch bag still unopened. “It was a little harsh, is all I’m saying.”

“He deserved it,” Olivia argued.

“But you know how boys are,” said Morgan, blowing her bangs. “They were just kidding around. You have to have a sense of humor.”

I took a bite of my sandwich and asked CJ, “What do you think?” I was psyched she was on my side, not Morgan’s, this time.

CJ shrugged. “I guess he deserved it. You want me to put your hair in a bun? I think it would look pretty.”

“OK.” I tucked my limp hair behind my ear. It’s really time for me to get a style, I guess. CJ stood up behind me. I crouched down a little so she could reach my head.

She tugged my hair away from my face and twisted. “Hand me two pens?” she asked.

I handed her both Bics out of my pocket and CJ stuck them through my hair. It hurt for a second but then it was OK. I took a bite of my sandwich while she looked over her work on my head.

“Pretty,” she said.

I touched the bun. It was holding, maybe even elegantly. My neck felt naked. Across the cafeteria I could see the boys surrounding Tommy, staring at us. I tried to sit up straight.

“He deserved it but what?” I asked CJ.

“Nothing,” CJ said, bending from her waist to pick up the napkin I had dropped. “The only thing is, you don’t want the boys to think you’re, you know, coarse.”

“No,” I agreed. I took the napkin from her and shoved it in my lunch bag.

“It looks pretty,” CJ said. “Don’t you think?”

I turned toward Morgan and Olivia. “Pretty,” Olivia said.

“I think Tommy’s upset,” Morgan said, passing me her bag of Chee-tos. “You really humiliated him.”

“Really?” I took a handful. “By saying to stop?”

“His ‘thing’? And you were pointing at him, which is pretty rude.” Morgan took a Chee-to, then offered some to Olivia.

“No thanks.”

“CJ?”

“Can’t. Ballet starts Saturday.”

Morgan held the bag toward me again.

I shrugged and helped myself. “But don’t you think he was asking for it?”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I knew anything. I mean, it’s not like I revealed something personal, like, you’re afraid of thunder! “It was just a crack,” I explained. “It was just, like,
cut it out!
Tommy definitely knew that.”

“Definitely?” Morgan asked. She looked over at the boys.

“We’re buddies,” I said. “We always rag on each other. I mean, I didn’t take it personally that he was flicking my bra strap.”