The Good, the Bad & the Beagle (17 page)

“Athena. Come,” Sarah-Lisa said. Athena stood between Veronica and Sarah-Lisa. Then she followed Sarah-Lisa down the hall like a good little doggie.

Far Enough

Ms. Padgett handed out progress reports at the end of the day. Veronica’s came with a letter, which she doubted was talking about her wonderful contributions to class. Her parents weren’t idiots—they had to know things weren’t going well. But she wasn’t looking forward to the discussion her parents were likely to engage her in after reading the letter. She came home and put the letter and the report under the flour jar on the kitchen counter. Maybe no one would see it.

“What is this?” asked her father, holding up the letter. When you wanted him to notice things he saw nothing. But now, of course, his eyes were radar.

Veronica was trying to think of ways to stall the inevitable. She didn’t want to watch her parents’ faces express disappointment.

The buzzer from the intercom rang and saved her. There was a mad rush to set the table. Veronica and her father gathered plates and silverware while Marion Morgan dug in her purse frantically for her wallet. Everyone was so distracted Veronica actually thought she might get away without answering the original question.

“What the hell is this?” Marvin Morgan asked again.

Veronica felt a headache coming. Why didn’t he just open the envelope already?

“Burritos,” his wife declared. She took the envelope out of his hand.

“Burritos, oh boy!” he said. “Which one is mine?”

“They’re all the same, veggie. It’s meatless Monday in the Morgan house. Pass the pico de gallo, please, and the sour cream.”

“Marion?”

“Marvin?”

“It’s Friday.”

“That is true, dear heart, but I forgot on Monday.” Her mother opened the envelope.

Veronica winced. Her mother read it slowly and handed it to her father. “We expected your grades to take a bit of a beating,” her mother said. “But this business with Melody, that is not good. That is not something only limited to you. You took advantage of that girl and it seems like something that needs discussing.”

“I didn’t take advantage of her. She handed in work with my name on it, but I never asked her to,” Veronica said.

“This is yummy, by the way,” Marvin said, devouring his burrito.

“Marvin.”

“What?”

“Please. Let Veronica talk.”

Veronica didn’t want to reenter the fishbowl of her parents’ concern. She thought they were going to let Dr. Snope do his work and leave her alone. How did she feel about disappointing Ms. Padgett and basically lying about doing work on a project she had not done work on? She felt distinctly not good about it. But how could she have chosen schoolwork over spending time with Cadbury every second while she still had the chance? She still missed him and no matter what she tried to fill herself with—Scrabble games with Mary or cuddling with her mom—everything just trickled out and she was empty all over again.

“I am grieving,” Veronica finally said because it was true and because she hoped it would end the discussion. “And,” she added, “I agree with Daddy, this burrito is good.”

“That’s my girl!” her father said. There was nothing like discussing food to get the whole Morgan family off on a tangent. Veronica could probably murder someone but they would still enjoy talking about a new place to get take-out.

“It’s that new place on Ninety-Ninth,” her mother added. “The fish tacos are supposed to be good too.”

“Maybe we can have those on Monday. Fish doesn’t have meat in it,” Marvin said.

Whatever hope Veronica had of changing the subject, or at least the dynamic in the room, disappeared because Marion Morgan looked at her husband like a child who had done something wrong. “I’m just saying,” he added sheepishly. Meanwhile, the child who was supposed to speak said nothing.

“Honey,” her mother said, “you are grieving. And you are doing a beautiful job, but Daddy, Dr. Snope, and apparently Ms. Padgett, and I, for that matter, feel that you have perhaps retreated as far as is healthy. Right, Marvin?”

“Yes,” Marvin replied.

“Would you care to elaborate?” his wife asked.

“No. I think you are doing a wonderful job. Pass the guacawhosie, please.”

“Veronica, maybe it’s time to make some steps toward rejoining your life.”

Veronica woke up every day. She went to school. She was doing what was required. What more could they ask of her?

“You were starting to make friends. Friends can help you. It’s not good to wallow. You were invited to that Valentine’s party. Right?”

“Yes,” Veronica said.

“We think you should go.”

“You told me to take my time!” Veronica said, genuinely dismayed.

“Marvin,” Marion Morgan pleaded.

“Yes,” Marvin said.

“Help me.”

My poor mother,
Veronica thought.

“Your mother thinks you should go to the Sarah-Lisa party,” her father said.

“So do you,” her mother added.

“So do I…”

“So does Ms. Padgett. Sweetheart, it has been many weeks since we lost Cadbury.”

“Would you like to finish, darling?” Marvin Morgan said pointedly. “You asked me to take over but you continue to interrupt. Perhaps you would be most comfortable if I stopped talking.”

Marion Morgan put her burrito down and excused herself from the table. Discussions between her parents devolving into arguments were becoming commonplace. Marvin Morgan appeared to be caught between the urge to follow his wife and the instinct to stay with his daughter.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “We love you. And we want you to find some kind of balance between your mourning and the life that is very much right in front of you. Ms. Padgett feels it is important for you to accept the gestures of friendship the girls in your community are making. We want you to go to that girl’s party.”

“Honey, just try,” her mother said from the hall. “If it truly is unbearable we won’t stay long. But I think it is time to begin the process of normalization. Just act as if. Sometimes if you can’t do it, you fake it and eventually your feelings and your actions catch up with each other.”

“But—” Veronica started to explain. She didn’t bother to finish though because the discussion was clearly over.

Black and White

Marion Morgan was Veronica’s escort to the party at Sarah-Lisa’s. That had to be a little better than Marvin coming too and eating too many appetizers and speaking too loudly. But Veronica still dreaded getting out of the elevator. Sarah-Lisa lived in the kind of apartment that had its own elevator. When the door opened, she and her mother were already inside the Carver apartment.

“Take a look at this, would you!” Mrs. Morgan exclaimed. “Isn’t this something? We are just in the foyer, and it is already unbelievable!”

Veronica stood next to her mother, feeling like a line drawing someone had taken an eraser to. She was smudgy, unsure, undefined.

A maid dressed in a black uniform with a white apron scurried over. She took their coats and directed them to the living room at the end of a long hall. Everything everywhere was white: the walls, the floors, most of the furniture. If Mrs. Carver hadn’t come barreling down the hall toward them, Veronica thought they would have most likely gotten lost, the way people with snow blindness become hopelessly disoriented amid miles and miles of snow.

“Welcome!” Mrs. Carver said. “Come in. Come in!” Veronica assumed Mrs. Carver was mixing them up with some other guests because there was no reason for her to be happy to see them or, for that matter, to even know who they were.

“I am so glad you could join us,” Sarah-Lisa’s mother said, ushering them into a big room filled with more white furniture and unfamiliar people. “You are the mysterious new girl we’ve all been dying to meet. Sarah-Lisa had a wonderful time trick-or-treating with you and then you just disappeared. Went right off the radar.”

She seemed genuine and nice. Maybe Sarah-Lisa was adopted. That would explain a lot of things.

A waiter came by with a tray of champagne and another brought skewers of something grilled and arranged on giant leaves.

“All the girls are waiting for you in Sarah-Lisa’s lair. I would have thought they would be gathered around the chocolate, but it just goes to show you what I know,” Sarah-Lisa’s mother said, munching a skewer. “Why don’t you go find them and let me chat with your mother.”

Mrs. Carver was wearing a white dress that looked like a toga. It was held up on one shoulder by a gigantic brooch in the shape of a kite. Usually larger-than-life people made Veronica uncomfortable, but there was something appealing about Mrs. Carver.

“I just love what you’ve done with the space, Mrs. Carver,” Veronica’s mother said. Veronica chewed quietly on a mystery kabob.

“Please. Call me Peggy,” Sarah-Lisa’s mother said. “Mrs. Carver is my mother-in-law!” She howled at her own joke and Veronica thought the pictures might fall off the walls. “That is so cliché, I know,” Peggy said, “but it is honestly how I
feel
. I don’t ever want to be Mrs. Carver. I will forever be Peggy Lehman. I never change my name. Not any of the times I get married. Do you change yours? Not that I think there is anything wrong with it.”

There was a black-and-white photograph behind Mrs. Lehman-Carver (whatever her name was) of a girl, about Veronica’s age, playing naked in the woods. The photograph was compelling, like Mrs. Lehman-Carver, even though Veronica didn’t exactly like it.

“I did change my name,” Veronica’s mother said. She helped herself to a glass of champagne. “I’m a professional woman but I love having my magazine subscriptions refer to me as Mrs. Marvin Morgan.”

“Ohhhh. It’s almost kitschy. I love it!” Sarah-Lisa’s mother said, laughing.

Veronica’s mother could go anywhere and have something to say. Was it a skill or a personality disorder? Veronica wondered.

Another waiter, carrying a block of ice with oysters artfully nestled in little crevices atop it, stopped next to Mrs. Morgan. Veronica could smell the briny sea and she had to turn away as her mother sucked one of the jiggly things out of its shell deep into her mouth.

“Go,” her mother whispered in her ear as their host said hello to another guest. “The sooner you say hello to the girls, the sooner we can leave.” Veronica decided this was probably the only good advice she had gotten from her mother in a while. She detached herself from her mother’s arm while Sarah-Lisa’s mother explained, “We had to buy apartments on different floors just to get the ceiling height right. I can’t bear low ceilings! Can you?”

Veronica climbed the white stairs in her black dress. The Carver house was supernaturally clean, carpets and all. They must have a team of cleaning specialists working around the clock, seven days a week. Veronica felt like a walking stain.

At the top of the stairs, she opened a door revealing a second living room with a big TV, and three couches, and a bar. No one was there so she kept going. The next door she walked through led to a bedroom. In the middle of a king-size bed, a terrier of some kind rested on a poufy dog pillow. It might have been a Jack Russell. The animal stirred and looked up at Veronica, yawning and stretching before going back to sleep. She was about to go pat the dog when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re here,” Athena said. “There was a lot of discussion about you. I thought you’d come, but no one else did. Come on, we’re in Peggy’s closet.”

Veronica abandoned the sweet dog and followed Athena. Athena had that power still. “Sarah-Lisa will be so surprised you’re here. I can’t imagine what you must think, being here for the first time. This house is like a hundred times bigger than anyone else’s house. Isn’t it?”

“How many living rooms do they have?” Veronica asked.

“According to her family, the room downstairs is the only living room. The one up here is the theater. Look, they even have a popcorn maker. It was so fun when we watched
Grease
. Remember? Oh right, you weren’t here.”

Sarah-Lisa’s mother’s closet was so big it was quite possible they had joined several apartments to make it, as well. Mrs. Lehman-Carver had about two hundred fifty pairs of shoes, at least two hundred pairs of boots, dozens of hats and coats, and hundreds of sweaters, all arranged by color. The girls were busy trying things on and admiring themselves in the mirror.

“Look who I found,” Athena said, holding Veronica’s hand and pulling her inside.

If Athena stayed with her, being at the party wouldn’t be so bad. It might even be fun.

“Hi, Veronica,” Melody said. It was nice to see Melody outside of school, in a different context. Maybe tonight could repair what had gone wrong.

Veronica looked around and saw Sylvie. It must be true that everyone was invited if both she and Sylvie were there. Coco Weitzner was wincing in a particularly painful-looking pair of high heels and smiling in the mirror.

“Do these look good with this dress?” Coco asked. Veronica thought they did and almost said so, but she was so happy being under Athena’s care and didn’t want to draw attention to it. Sarah-Lisa might notice and take Athena back.

“Who wants to go first?” Sarah-Lisa said.

“Do we have to play Truth or Dare?” Melody said.

“Yeah, Melody, we do. We always play Truth or Dare,” Becky said.

“It’s true. And I dare us not to,” Sylvie said. Everyone looked at her like she was crazy.

“Yes, Melody, we always do. But if you’re scared of a dare just tell the truth. No biggie,” Athena said. She turned and winked at Veronica. Veronica loved this vantage point, standing safely holding hands with Athena. It was like being on top of a mountain where the air was better. She never wanted to come down.

“Okay. Here we go,” Sarah-Lisa said. “Melody. Truth or dare?”

“Well, it depends.”

“On what the dare is? That’s not fair,” Auden Georges said.

“Okay. Truth?” Melody said in her Melody sort of way.

“Is that a question, Melody? Or a statement?” Sarah-Lisa asked.

“A statement?” Melody said.

“Okay. Truth. Melody Jenkins: Have you ever seen a boy naked?”