A Girl by Any Other Name (47 page)

face. “No. I mean which one won’t make me fatter?”

My mouth dropped open. So did Momma’s. Where had my little sister gotten it into her head she

was fat? I wanted to punch whoever’d had a hand in that. Had Mona Simms said something to her?

One of the girls at school?

Before I could ask, Sylvie took Mandy into her arms and embraced her. “You are not fat. You

are beautiful. Do not let anyone tell you differently because they are fibbing. Do you understand? You

are perfect.”

“Yes.”

“You can eat any candy you want. Just eat a piece or two a day. That’s all. ’Kay?”

“Okay, Sylvie.” Mandy took the pieces Sylvie offered her.

“C’mon, I’ll push you on the swings.” I grasped Mandy’s hand before she could say anything

else. I knew she would come willingly because she always begged me to push her on the swings.

That was just what I did. I propelled Mandy on the swings for forty-eight minutes, during which

time I learned more about Barbie and Ken’s life than I ever wished to know. It was then that my mom

came around to the backyard with Sylvie towing behind her.

“I’m taking Sylvie shopping, Cal,” she announced. “Watch Mandy.”

“What?”

“You heard me, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I grumbled.

* * * *

That night I lay in bed, wondering what else Sylvie had needed to buy. Surprisingly, I wasn’t too

upset about missing the game, although Nate had called to tell me about the more heroic plays to make

me jealous. My thoughts kept drifting to Sylvie. I hadn’t seen her when my mom had got back, and I

felt a crazy need to talk to her.

I quietly snuck out my window and made my way over to her house. I would be in a heap of

trouble if I got caught, but my dad was a heavy sleeper and my momma wore ear plugs due to his

snoring. I tapped on the screen, expecting Sylvie to freak out or give me the bird, but she opened the

window, smiling brightly.

“Can I come in?”

“’Kay.”

I looked through the window into her brightly lit room. I’d never been in there before. It was a

more girly version of my room with pale pink walls and floral crap everywhere. I was surprised

because Sylvie had never seemed especially girly to me. I’d expected her room to be dressed in black

and gray. “Is your dad home?”

“He’s always home, but he’s asleep.”

I thought she was confusing sleep with being passed out, but I didn’t correct her. I lifted my foot

over the window frame and entered, trying not to snag her frilly drapes.

My eyes stopped moving when I looked at her—really looked at her. I had to blink a few times

to make sure I was in the right place. Her face was free of makeup, and she was wearing a set of

pajama shorts and a tank top that had tiny yellow polka dots on them. Her hair came down to her

waist in spiraling curls, falling against her flawless olive skin. She was beautiful. Of course, some

part of me already knew that, but I still had to do a double-take seeing her like this.

“What did you buy?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

She sat on her bed. “Want to see?”

I sat next to her. “Well, I asked, didn’t I?” She put the two shopping bags on the bed and

proceeded to take out a few bras and other undergarments. “You’re showing me your underwear?

You’re such a weirdo.”

She shrugged. “You asked, Cal.” She threw a bra at my head. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t bite.”

“Shit, I hope not,” I replied, snatching it off my head. Part of me wanted to study the foreign

garment, but I didn’t want her to know that I’d never seen a bra up close. It kinda looked like two tiny

inverted pyramids, but it was utilitarian in design. Boring white with no signs of femininity. I rubbed

the cotton material between my fingers. “This is plain. I thought you’d get something fancier.”

“It doesn’t need to be fancy. It just needs to hold my boobs up,” she replied, readying to seize it

out of my hand. I jumped off the bed and slingshot it across the room before she could.

“Damn it, Cal! You’re going to stretch it out.”

“Well, something should,” I said, cracking up at my own joke.

She started giggling too. I walked over to retrieve it and stopped, noticing the almanac on her

desk. I started scrolling through the pages. There were several cities circled in different-colored

markers and notes written on the margins with little facts about each state. Things like Braden,

Arkansas had the lowest cost of living or Eau Claire, Wisconsin was the safest city.

“What’s this? Are you trying to get extra credit in geography?”

“No, it’s just research.”

“Research on what?”

“On where I want to live.”

“You’re moving?” I felt an intense anxiety course through me with the idea, but I had no idea

why.

“Not now, but you know… When I’m older.”

She lay down on her bed. I stared at her, unsure if I should leave, but then she slid over and

patted the vacant area next to her. I stretched out down on my back, leaving the most space I could

between us, and crossed my arms under my head.

“If you could live anywhere, where would you go?” she asked.

“Prairie Marsh, Texas,” I replied.

“Seriously? I’m talking anywhere.”

“And I’m answering your question. I love it here.”

“Why here?”

“Where else can you pet the cow one day and eat it the next? Where can you feel as comfortable

in cowboy boots as you do in Doc Martens or Chuck Taylors? Where can you spend the whole day

watching or talking or playing football?”

She shifted to her side, leaning her head against her hand, staring down at me. “What about

college?”

“Oh sure, I’ll go to college. Probably Baylor or Texas A & M. I mean I have to if I want to play

football for the Cowboys, but then I’ll probably come back here when I’m retired. This is home.”

“It must be nice to belong.”

“You’d fit in better if you didn’t dress or act so weird.”

“But I am weird.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, grinning like a fool. She grabbed the pillow and flung

it at my head. “Why’d you do that when I can’t fight back? You know I’m not allowed to hit girls.”

“First you make fun of my bra and then you agree I’m weird.”

“You said you’re weird.”

“You didn’t have to agree.”

“And I wasn’t making fun of your bra. I just thought you’d get something pretty…like you.”

She sat up, staring at me intensely as her dark eyes got wider. “You think I’m pretty?”

I cringed, realizing how stupid I sounded. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Cal, can I try something?”

I shrugged. “I guess it depends on what—”

Before I could finish her mouth was on me. It was a quick, chaste kiss and totally unexpected.

Her breath was warm and sweet like the spring wind. The blood pumped faster in my veins as it

made its way to my lower extremities. She lowered her face toward me again, but I couldn’t take any

more. I jolted off the bed, landing right on my ass. Luckily, her thick rug protected my butt from any

lasting injury.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I spat out, sitting up.

“What? You didn’t like it?”

I wiped my mouth. “You don’t just kiss a guy like that. Besides, if I wanted to kiss you I would

have kissed you. It’s my job to make the first move.”

“You didn’t want to kiss me?” The hurt was unmistakable in her voice.

“It’s not that. It’s just…that I wasn’t ready for it, that’s all.”

“Well, do you want to kiss me back now?” She was lying on her back where I couldn’t see her,

but I could hear her rapid breaths, or perhaps they were mine.

“Uh, no. I’m gonna hold off for a while.”

“Am I a bad kisser?”

“You’re not the best, but it’s okay ’cause it was your first time. You’ll get better.”

She peered her head over the side of the bed, staring at me as I lay sprawled on the floor. “How

many girls have you kissed?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Lots.”

“Like who?” she demanded.

I tapped my fingers on my chest and smiled with measured cockiness. “Wendy Watson for one.

Now that girl’s a good kisser.”

“Ew, she wears a ton of lip gloss.” It was an ironic statement coming from a girl who caked her

face with white powder, but even at twelve, I knew better than to say that.

“Yeah and her lips taste like the sweet cherries at Durbin Farms.”

“So, you’d rather kiss her than me?”

Shit.

“I didn’t say that. It’s just I can’t kiss you right now. You ruined the moment and you’d be

expecting it.” I almost wanted to pat myself on the back for pulling that one out. The truth was I really

wanted to kiss her, but I was too scared to admit it.

“So, you’re going to surprise me?”

“Yeah, I am. When I kiss you, it’s going to be the best kiss you’ve ever had.”

She laughed. “Cal, I’ve only had one kiss. Just now. I think you were there.”

“Shut up, smartass. I’m saying it’s going to be the best kiss you will ever have in your entire life.

No other kiss will even compare to it.” I was really talking out of my ass on this one, but I was on a

roll of bullshit that just wouldn’t quit.

“So when will I get this kiss?”

“Jesus, Sylvie, have some patience. All good things come to those who wait.”

“’Kay,” she sighed.

I picked up a baseball that was wedged in her nightstand. I knew it was from one of my Little

League games, but I was surprised she had it. I started throwing it in the air, looking for something to

occupy me from the conversation.

“Are you leaving?” she asked after a while.

“Do you want me to?”

“No. Can you stay for a while?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” There was something heartbreaking in that. It was apparent she was

suffering. I just had no idea why.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Funny, smartass. I’m being serious.”

“Well, spit it out then.”

“Does your daddy ever hurt you? You know, like more than a punishment?” It was something I’d

wanted to ask since I’d heard the rumor, but I’d never had the courage to.

She turned so she was on her stomach, leaning down toward me. Her hair brushed across my

face, forming a tent between us. It was soft and silky like feathers raining down on me. I thought she

was going to kiss me again. She flicked her fingers against my forehead instead. “No, Cal Tanner. He

does not. He loves me very much.”

I winced, rubbing the area. “Okay, geez, I get it. I was just wondering because he’s different than

other dads.” I wasn’t just referring to his alcohol problem, but there was something off about the way

he treated her. It pissed me off.

She sat back up on her bed, taking a deep breath. I wished I’d kept my big mouth shut. “I remind

him of my mother. I look like her. I guess I should stop wearing her clothes. He probably thinks he’s

seeing a ghost…or maybe a raven.”

“You wear your momma’s clothes?” That explained a lot when it came to her wardrobe choices.

“Yeah, it’s all I have left of her. He’s just sad that she died.”

“How did she die, Sylvie?”

“She got cancer. I don’t have anything else to say on it.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to go so you can get to sleep?”

“Will you stay with me until I do? I sometimes have nightmares.”

“Sure, but I’ll stay on the floor, okay?”

“I promise I won’t kiss you again.”

“I’m not taking any chances, girl.” I chuckled, trying to lighten her mood.

“Whatever.” She threw me a pillow and one of her blankets.

She turned off her lamp and we lay there in the dark silence for a while.

“Cal,” she whispered, right before I dozed off. “I’m sorry you missed the game for me.”

“You can make it up to me.”

“How will I do that?”

“Don’t move.”

* * * *

The next day, I came home after several exhausting games of football to find Sylvie helping my

momma in the kitchen.

“What’s going on?”

“Sylvie’s joining us for dinner.”

“Oh.” This was surprising. Sylvie would come over and play with Mandy, but despite the

constant invitations to Mr Cranston to join us for supper, he always declined. I guessed my mother

should have just asked Sylvie by herself. It wasn’t like he would have cared.

“Go take a shower, Cal. You smell like a gym locker,” Momma said, pinching her nose.

She was right. I reeked something awful, even I could smell it.

When I came back down, the table was set and my dad was home. “Hi, gorgeous, whatcha

cooking for me?” It was his usual greeting to my mother, followed by a big hug and kiss. Gross.

“Meatloaf,” she replied, smacking his hand away. “Let’s eat.”

“Daddy!” Mandy squealed, bounding out of her room like a tornado.

“Hey, princess,” my daddy said, scooping her up in his arms. He spun her around until her

giggles turned into shrieks.

He suddenly stopped in mid-turn, noticing Sylvie. “Hello, Sylvie.”

“Good evening, Mr Tanner.”

“You’re joining us for supper?”

“Isn’t that obvious, John?” my mother interjected.

“I suppose it is. Happy to have you.” I could tell my daddy was not happy. He regarded Sylvie