A Girl by Any Other Name (10 page)

Strike one.

“In the hallway, you told me you were all good with cars. Surely you’d remember, especially

one that you worked on for over an hour.”

“It was an older car. One they don’t make anymore,” Roy stammered. I had to hand it to him. He

was quick on his feet, but my mind could run faster than his any day.

“I see. How about a color? Do y’all remember the color?”

“What if it was multi-colored?” the kid in the back asked. I smiled, amused by his reasoning. If it

was multi-colored then multiple answers would be correct.

“I don’t know how many elderly women drive rainbow-colored cruisers, but then again I wasn’t

there.” I gestured to all of them. “Y’all were. If that’s the case, then tell me each and every color.”

“It was—”

“Not out loud. On your paper.”

Their pens poised in mid-air, followed by aggravated sighs of frustration.

Strike two.

“Care to venture a guess, gentlemen? Or can we finish this little exercise?”

Roy crumpled his paper, not hiding his animosity at being called out. I knew from his grades that

missing this test was an auto fail for him.

I cleared my throat, gathering my materials. “I hope you all learned a valuable lesson today.”

“What? Not to lie?” Roy asked, the pretense of politeness gone from his voice.

“I was thinking more along the lines of…don’t be late to my class,” I said through clenched

teeth.

Strike three. You’re out.

They all stood, no doubt doubly pissed they had just spent the last hour cramming for a test they

would never take and aggravated about a class they would have to retake. I didn’t tell them the lesson

I was really trying to teach them. They might not remember Wolfe, Homer or Poe after my class, but

they sure as hell would remember this: Southern was not synonymous with stupid.

Chapter Seven

Excerpt from
Raven Girl

Age 14

I was on a total high from my awesome day and it was just going to get better. There was a

bonfire tonight at the big lake, with promises of girls in bikinis and guys throwing around a football. I

was excited for it, but sad too because I didn’t think Sylvie would come. She never came to anything.

I decided to go find her before I left. I hadn’t talked to her all day. I knew she’d be by the lake fishing.

I sat next to her on the dock. She wore a yellow dress today with white flowers on it. Her hair

was loose, which was rare. The wind picked up and it snapped strands across her face, carrying her

sweet scent in my direction. She had my old fishing pole out in the water, swinging her legs.

“Hey, girl.” It was my usual greeting.

“Hiya, Tex.” I wasn’t sure when she’d started calling me Tex, but it had stuck. Truthfully, I

really liked it.

“Catch anything?”

“Nope, not yet.” We sat for a while staring at the water that was still casting a reflection of the

hot Texas sun overhead. It acted as a mirror and I loved that because it allowed me to look at her

reflection without making it obvious. She turned and smiled brightly at me. “Congratulations on

making the football team. I hear they’re going to start you. That’s pretty rare for a freshman, isn’t it?”

I knew I was smiling way too cocky for my own good, but I couldn’t help it. Pride was a sin and

I was guilty as hell. “No freshman has ever been starting quarterback in the history of Prairie Marsh

football.”

“Wow. Well, it’s good you’re not conceited or anything,” she said, bumping my shoulder.

“Just stating a fact. Do you wanna go to the bonfire tonight?” I asked, bumping her right back.

She looked away from me to a point on the horizon. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t. Besides, you’ll be too busy with that circle of girls who flock around you to

pay any attention to me.” She didn’t say it like she was jealous, which kind of pissed me off even

more. Talking to her was as easy as breathing sometimes, but other times it was as difficult as pulling

out nails with my teeth.

“I promise to hang out with you all night and no one else.”

“I don’t want to go,” she said sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously.”

“Spill it, Texas. I don’t have all day.”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” I asked sincerely.

She stared at me for a moment as if she didn’t comprehend what I was saying. “That’s the

stupidest thing you’ve ever said, and you’ve said some pretty dumb stuff. Why would I be

embarrassed? You’re the most popular boy in school.”

“Then why do you act like you don’t know me? I wave to you in the halls and you just look

away. I know we didn’t hang out in junior high, but we’re in high school now.” Some part of me

hadn’t wanted to associate with Sylvie in school before. I’d thought she did it to protect my reputation

and it had made me feel guilty because I’d let her. I didn’t care about that now. Her company was

worth any risk to my social standing. But despite all my efforts to engage her in conversation or

introduce her to my friends, she remained a loner.

“I’m just in a learning mode at school.”

I let out the cynical laugh that was becoming more common as I grew up. “That’s bullshit and

you know it. By the way, where the hell do you eat lunch? I look for you in the lunchroom everyday

and you’re never there.”

“Mrs Peters lets me eat in the art room.”

“Why would you want to eat by yourself? You should be eating with me.”

She shrugged and pulled her line in. “I can sketch when I’m in there. I’m getting pretty good at

it.”

This was news to me. Every time I thought I knew this girl, she threw me for a loop. “Can I see

them?”

“No,” she said, starting to put our lures back into the tackle box. It was my equipment, but I kept

it in her garage since I rarely went fishing without her anymore. Besides, she liked to go by herself, so

I just figured this way she could.

“Why not?”

“It’s all locked up in the art room anyway,” she said, holding up a dismissive hand.

I leaned back on my elbows. “Well, maybe I’ll take art as an elective and then you’ll have no

choice.”

She laughed. “Don’t you dare, Cal.”

“Who’s going to stop me?”

“Me,” she replied, pushing her face against mine in some threatening pose. It made me laugh. I

shoved her away easily.

“Will you at least come to my games?”

“Why would you want me there?”

I thought about it for a second, not sure why it meant so much to me, but it did. “For luck,” I

finally said.

“’Kay, but I don’t think I’m very lucky, Tex.”

“It’s okay. I’m a great quarterback. I only need a little luck anyway.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Like I said, you’re conceited.”

“It’s good I have you to remind me I’m not so great.”

“Why would you say that, Cal?”

“Well, if I was so great, you wouldn’t act like I didn’t exist when other people are around. That

shit hurts, Sylvie.”

She placed her small hand on my chest. “Stop fronting, Tex. All the girls swoon over you, like

you’re the reincarnation of Elvis or something. You know you’re six foot, blond-haired, blue-eyed

perfection.”

I sat up, doing my best to hide my cocky grin, but it was difficult. I wasn’t sure how Sylvie felt

about me or us beside that we were friends. She’d kissed me that time, but we’d never done anything

else. “You think I’m perfection? Tell me more.”

“And conceited.” She sighed.

“By the way, my eyes are gray, just so you know.”

“Sometimes they look gray, but there are times when they look blue to me.”

“Maybe you should get your eyes checked out.”

“Very funny,” she replied, patting my chest.

I clasped her hand and pulled her down so she was on top of me. I curled my legs around hers

and spun us so I was on top of her. She stared up at me with surprise, but not fear or distaste. I

pressed my lips into hers with such force that she squeaked underneath me, but then she ran her

fingers through my hair, urging me closer. Her lips were softer than I remembered…and I’d spent

many hours imagining them. My hands trailed though her silky hair while I spent my sweet time

concentrating on her luscious mouth.

Finally, she gently nudged me away. I moved off her and lay on my back next to her, taking her

hand in mine. We were both breathing heavily.

“Wow,” she panted.

“Yeah,” I replied, incapable of forming any additional syllables.

“You were right.”

“About what?” I asked, caressing her hand with mine.

“It was worth the wait, even though it’s been two years.”

I laughed. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

She sat up on her elbow, peering down at me. “Cal, don’t ever do that again.”

“What? Are you smoking crack, girl? You just told me you liked it.”

“I did, but next time, I won’t be able to stop you…so don’t, ’kay?”

I sighed in frustration, banging my head on the dock and releasing her hand. “Girls are so fucking

weird.”

She sat up suddenly, staring through the forest opening. “Did you hear that?”

Of course I did. It was the wild beating of my heart fighting against her crushing words. “What?”

“It’s cars. Lots of them. And it’s coming from the direction of our houses.”

She was right. I heard them grow louder and mingle together. I looked through the dense opening

and could just make out the lights of a police cruiser. Something was wrong. “Let’s go check it out,” I

said, standing up. A sudden queasy feeling lodged in the pit of my stomach. I grabbed the tackle box.

She took the fishing pole. I reached for her hand and we ran through the woods.

The tightness in my chest increased exponentially the closer we got. By the time I opened the

door, I felt like my body had been run through in a vice grip. My dad’s best friend, Deputy Sheriff

Kent Smalley, stood inside the living room of my house embracing my mother, while Theresa Callor,

another officer, was hugging Mandy.

I squeezed Sylvie’s hand so tight it probably hurt, but she didn’t say anything. “What’s going

on?” I asked.

“Oh, Cal,” my momma said in a choked wail I’d never heard before.

Deputy Smalley approached me. His usual jovial face was pale and humorless. “I need to talk

you, son.” He stared over at Sylvie. “You should run along home. This is family business.”

“She stays. What’s going on?” I asked again.

“Cal, this is family business,” he repeated. Sylvie tried to release my hand, but I gripped it too

hard for her to let go. Whatever was happening, I instinctively knew I needed her with me.

“She
is
,” I said sharply.

He sighed, but nodded. He placed his hand on my shoulder, lowering his voice. “Cal, I’m so

sorry to have to tell you this, but your father was out patrolling. He stumbled upon a man trying to lure

a little girl into his car.”

The blood rushed into my head, and I felt like my legs might give out. “No,” I said, to make him

stop talking. He didn’t.

“He had a gun. He shot your father.”

“So, he’s at the hospital?” I asked, laying desperate hope on that question.

“He never made it to the hospital.”

Deputy Smalley said some more stuff about the little girl being safe, but I only heard every other

word. I wanted to believe this was a cruel joke, but I knew it wasn’t. I felt it in my gut. My father was

dead. The man who had taught me how to properly throw a football, to ride a bike, swing a bat and

treat a lady. He was gone.

“Cal, you have to be strong for your sister and mother. You’re the man of the house now,”

Deputy Smalley said.

I nodded, willing myself not to cry. My mother and Mandy were bawling their eyes out, and the

last thing I wanted to do was add to it. At some point, I must have released Sylvie’s hand because I

picked up Mandy and sat with her on the couch.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I murmured, although I had no idea if it was.

“No, it’s not, Cal!” she screamed, beating my chest. I let her. She needed to.

“Calm down, Mandy.”

“I don’t want you. I want my daddy. I want my daddy. Stop trying to act like my daddy. Daddy!”

It was Sylvie who pulled her off me. My mother was crying so much I don’t even know if she

noticed. Sylvie bent down and whispered into Mandy’s ears. I had no idea what she said, but Sylvie

seemed to calm her like I couldn’t. She walked my sister into her room. It was better that way. Mandy

didn’t need to hear the gruesome details or see our momma like this.

I lost track of them after that. I held my mother’s hands as people passed in and out of our house

like they owned it. They hugged us, kissed us and brought over casseroles. They talked about how my

father was a hero and the legacy he was leaving. How there was a state-wide manhunt for the meth-

head who’d shot him. Why didn’t my dad have a normal job like a garbage man or plumber? I didn’t

give a fuck about legacies or honor. I just wanted my father back.

Nate and a slew of my other friends came and went. I thought they were nervous and didn’t know