Bombshells (33 page)

“Yeah. That one. We saw it at the drive-in.”

“We thought you were asleep.”

“I slept some, but I remember seeing the part about the man eating all the bread.”

“You don’t need to worry. Kevin won’t eat all of our bread. And even if he did, we’d go buy some more.”

“Why couldn’t those people buy some more bread?”

“Because if they left their hiding place, the bad guys would get them and take them away.”

“Like hide and seek?”

“Sort of. Only it wasn’t a game.”

I think about this. “Now our house is kind of like that place where they hid, isn’t it? We’re all crowded together and we can hear all the noises people make at night.”

I feel Mellie move. “I guess so. Kind of.”

“I don’t like it, Mellie.”

She wraps me up in her arms. “I don’t like it, either, Birdie. But it won’t be like this for long. We just have to wait.”

“Okay. I’ll wait. I’ll try to be good. I’ll try not to be afraid.”

“Me, too, Birdie. Me, too.”

Saturday, October 27, 1962

MELANIE

Kevin is at his old friend Dan’s house. I didn’t expect them to hit it off again. Dan has changed even more than Kevin, and in the opposite direction. Where Kevin has grown taller and looks almost cool, Dan is still short, fat, and goofy. But Dan is also really smart, almost a genius. At least I won’t have to worry about entertaining Kevin for the afternoon.

Once again, Brooke is sprawled on the sofa. A stack of records are on the record player. She has a new magazine.

“Where’s Mama?” I ask.

Without looking at me, Brooke says, “They all went to Mrs. Schultz’s house. Mom wanted to see her.”

“Oh.” I pour a glass of milk. A bag of cookies lay on the counter top, so I grab few. “What’re you reading?”

“Nothin’.” Brooke licks her finger and flips a page. She sighs, and it sounds like the very definition of boredom.

I dip the cookie in my milk and stick the whole thing in my mouth. Mama would yell at me for that if she were at home, but she isn’t. Brooke doesn’t even notice. She’s buried behind her magazine.

Suddenly, Brooke throws the magazine down on the floor and sits up. “I’m going out of my mind, I’m so bored. How can you stand it around here?”

Swallowing the cookie, I choke out, “I’ve always got plenty to do.”

“Well, you’re a dopey kid.”

“I am not.”

“Maybe we should play a little True Confessions and see just how dopey you really are, sweet little Melanie.” Brooke narrows her eyes, and I feel like a bug under a microscope.

What’s with Steph and Brooke? What do they want from me?

“Okay. Here’s the first True Confession. You have to confess and name names. If you haven’t done the thing, you lose and have to take a dare. Okay?”

“What’s the dare?”

Brooke’s grin turns evil. “You smoke a cigarette with me.”

I look at my shoes, calculating my odds. What kind of things will she come up with for this silly game? How badly do I want to fit in?

Strangely enough, I want to fit in with Brooke. She’s spoiled and shallow, but so pretty with her flipped blonde hair and glamorous cat-eyed glasses that make her look older. And I really want to talk like her. The lisp sounds so, I don’t know, pouty. No, sexy. I think her lisp sounds sexy. I figure boys think so, too. I bet Robert likes that soft whispery sound. Yeah, I want to play Brooke’s game, and I want to belong. “Okay. I’ll play.”

Brooke grins. “Have you ever seen a penis?”

“Of course, I’ve seen a penis.”

“When?” Her voice echoes with doubt.

“Gosh, Brooke, I have a baby brother. Did you forget?”

“You can’t count a baby’s wiener.”

“You didn’t say how old or how big. You only said
a penis
. I’ve seen
a penis
. I win.”

“I still say you cheated. At best, that one’s a draw. But you can have your turn now. What you got?”

I thought for a minute. “Have you ever French kissed?”

“Please, Mellie, I’m seventeen. Of course, I have. With Robert Taylor before we moved to Cuba, and that was only the first time. You’ve got to do better than that. How about you? Have you ever even been kissed at all?”

I just sit there, her words roaring in my head. How could his kiss with me have meant something if he’d French kissed Brooke? The milk I just drank churns in my belly and I feel my face turning red. I have to tell her something, but I’m not about to tell her that I kissed Robert, too.

I shake my head.

“Well, that was a short game. I just happen to have some cigarettes right here.” Brooke pulls a crumpled pack of Pall Malls from her purse and hands one to me.

I roll the cigarette between my fingers. All I can think about, all I can picture in my mind, is Robert kissing Brooke.

“Here, I’ll light it for you. Put it in your mouth.” When I do, Brooke leans forward with a match and lights the cigarette. The heat so close to my face is surprising, and I move the cigarette away immediately.

“You have to draw on it to keep it lit. Like this.” Brooke takes it away from me, and sucks in a deep draw, then blows a long, thin stream of smoke above her head. “Don’t you think it’s sexy? I love the way it looks in the movies.” She holds the cigarette between her first two fingers, watching the curl of smoke drift upward, then hands it back to me.

I bring the cigarette to my lips and take a big puff. It feels like fire burning down my throat and through my lungs. I choke and cough.

Brooke laughs. “That’s the worst. Take another puff. You’ll like it better.”

I try again. At least this time I don’t cough so much. Clearing my throat, I whisper, “What’s that noise? Turn off the records.” I hand the cigarette to Brooke.

“I don’t hear anything.” Brooke switches off the record player and strolls back to the sofa, puffing away on the cigarette like a small, elegant steam engine.

Birdie’s voice rings through the window.

“Oh, my gosh. Mama.” I jump up, grab the cigarette from Brooke, and run for the kitchen. I toss the cigarette into the garbage can.

Brooke is behind me. “Wait. Water. Run water over it.”

But it’s too late. The cigarette catches fire to the paper napkins and tissues the trashcan. Smoke is already billowing up from the top of the can.

Panic grips me. “It’s going to catch the house on fire.”

The front door opens and Birdie charges inside. “Pee-yoo, what’s burning?”

Mama dashes in with DC in her arms. “What is it? Did I leave something burning on the stove again?”

She screeches to a halt beside the trashcan just as I douse it with a glass of water. The smoke stops, but the smell grows worse.

Mama looks from me to Brooke. When she brings her gaze back to me, I can tell she knows what’s been going on. Her expression cracks with disappointment then glues itself back together with anger. The anger slowly grows.

But she doesn’t yell. “Melanie, I can’t believe you’d do this. What a foolish thing to do. You put the whole household in danger with your recklessness.”

Her voice gets louder. “I’ve always trusted you. I always thought you knew right from wrong, and I never doubted for a minute that you wouldn’t choose the right thing.”

Now she’s yelling. “But I was wrong, wasn’t I? I can’t trust you at all. I leave you alone for an hour and what happens? You practically burn the house down. Smoking! You know how I feel about women smoking.”

Mama’s face breaks a little more. I don’t know how much more I can stand. Mrs. Mayfield, Brooke, and Birdie are all standing there, watching Mama yell at me.

I feel so ashamed and stupid. Why did I ever let Brooke talk me into doing something so dumb?

“The worst thing is, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again, Mellie.” She sighs and turns around. With her back to me, she says, “You’ll have to earn my trust.”

Mama walks out of the kitchen.

The next sound I hear is the door to her bedroom closing. She never closes her bedroom door during the day.

I want to cry. I want to run after Mama and grab onto her skirt like a two year old.

But even more, I want to hit Brooke. I want to smack her right in her stupid face. I want knock her stupid glasses off and give her a black eye. It’s all her fault. I wouldn’t have ever smoked a cigarette, but I wanted to try being like her, to try growing up a little.

Mrs. Mayfield interrupts my furious thoughts. “Melanie, I can’t believe you’d do such a thing to your mother at a time like this. She’s going through so much with the baby. You should be more considerate. Wash out the trashcan and clean up the kitchen. Brooke and I will go to the Italian restaurant and bring back pizza and spaghetti for everyone for dinner tonight.”

Brooke rolls her eyes at me behind her cat-eye glasses and follows her mother out the door.

Birdie stares at me for a minute, then she leaves me alone with the smoky mess in the kitchen. I don’t know where to start to make things right again.

NORAH

For the first time since Myra and the kids arrived, I’m thinking Clay was probably right. Having so many people in the house is just too much. Too much for the girls. Too much for me.

I never thought that Melanie would do something so disappointing. Sneaking cigarettes right in the house. Brooke must have encouraged her. My Melanie just wouldn’t go behind my back like that. But, I can’t blame Brooke. After all, only Melanie admitted she was smoking.

What should I do now? I lay on my bed, trying to rest for a bit while DC naps. My mind just won’t slow down. On the one hand, sneaking a cigarette isn’t that awful. There are so many worse things she could have done. She could have gotten into the liquor. She could steal. Yes, so many other bad things she could have done.

My problem is how to handle her punishment. I can’t just let this slide, as much as I want to. No, I need to make sure she learns her lesson. We make rules for a reason: to protect our children. I have to enforce those rules if I want to keep her safe.

Of course, I saw the worry and hurt in her eyes when I said I wouldn’t be able to trust her anymore. Maybe that will be enough punishment. I just don’t know.

I turn onto my side, burying my face in my pillow. I wish Clay wasn’t working Saturdays, even if we do need the money. I need him more than I used to. I just don’t know how to handle things anymore.

Monday, October 29, 1962

MELANIE

I have the house to myself for a change.

Mrs. Mayfield and Mama took Birdie and DC to the grocery store. Flossie didn’t come to clean today because her foot’s still hurt. Kevin’s at Marvin’s house, and Brooke has gone out to have milkshakes with one of her old girlfriends.

I can do whatever I want without having to worry about anyone else. I put on a stack of records and have a Coke. Stretching out on the couch, I open my English book to the story I have to read for homework. Steph complained all the way home today about having to read so many pages tonight, but I’m looking forward to it. I like stories by Jack London.

Kevin comes in.

I look at him over the top of my book, trying not to look as surprised and disappointed as I feel. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” He just stands there by the front door with that almost-bully look on his face.

“I thought you were at Marvin’s.” I put my Coke bottle on the floor and turn a page in my book. Maybe if I keep reading, he’ll go away.

Kevin flops on the green chair next to the sofa. “Yeah, I was.”

The records switch and Bobby Vinton begins singing “Roses are Red, Violets Are Blue.” I glance at Kevin. His brows are knit together in a frown.

I’m not going to let his sour mood ruin my afternoon. Maybe I can get rid of him. “Do you want a Coke? There’s more in the fridge. You can take it with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He looks around. “Where is everybody?”

“They’ve gone to get trick-or-treat candy.”

“Even Brooke?”

“Yep. Well, she’s with her friend, Susan.”

“Oh.” He sits there, staring at me for a few minutes. “I think I’ll have that Coke.”

“They’re nice and cold.” I hear him moving around in the kitchen, but go back to my reading, hoping he’ll take the hint and hit the road.

“So, you told Stephanie I kissed you, huh?”

I jerk my head up.

Damn, damn, damn.

Anger and embarrassment rush in my veins like flames of a forest fire. I swallow. I’ll try to bluff my way out of this. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snaps.

I stare at him for a few seconds. I can’t believe Steph’s big mouth. With friends like her, who needs enemies?

I don’t know what to say. Kevin sounds pretty serious, like he’s mad about it. Am I too awful to kiss? Don’t guys like to be talked about? Don’t they want everyone to know how many girls they’ve kissed? I keep up my bluff, pretending I’m not bothered. I shrug. “So?”