Inferno (11 page)

Shelley shakes her head. “Not a ‘zine. A mural. Something that represents our shared struggles and our combined strength.”

Nicki ignores her. “Sylvie's poems, Jasmine's artwork, Parker's weird conspiracy theories, my...I don't know. I'll write something. We could all write stuff. It could be called, um...”

“Of course I'm in favor of young women finding their voices...” Shelley sticks the capped end of a marker in her mouth and sucks on it thoughtfully; then she shakes her head. “But I wouldn't want some...project...to distract from the therapeutic focus of this group.”

Parker sighs audibly and rolls her eyes. “It'd be good for our self-esteem, Shelley,” she says, straight-faced. “It'd be empowering.”

I start to laugh. “Yes, Shelley. It'd be so
empowering
.”

“Well.” Shelley looks around like she's suspects she's being made fun of. “I'll think about it, okay? But for now...a group mural. Painting. Collage.”

“I am so not into art,” Nicki says sullenly.

“At least we don't have to talk,” I whisper to Parker.

She rolls her eyes. “Want to bet?”

Shelley smiles at Nicki as if she hasn't just totally squashed her creativity. “So not into art,” she echoes, looking meaningfully from one of us to the next as if she is distributing Nicki's words around the group. “Does anyone else share Nicki's feelings? Let's hear from each of you.”

Parker calls me later that night. A lot later. I run for the phone, toothbrush in hand.

Dad steps into the hallway, frowning, and shakes his head at me.

“Can you come round tomorrow?”

I think for a moment. Saturday. “What time?”

“Leo says he could pick you up after dinner. We're going to meet at my place.”

My parents aren't going to be too thrilled with the idea of some skinny, long-haired, older guy picking me up in his beater station wagon. “Umm, I don't know.”

“Come on. You said your mom made you go to that group tonight because she wants you to make friends.” She laughs. “So tell her you made some friends.”

“Maybe.” I bite my lip, thinking. “Okay. But tell Leo he doesn't have to pick me up. I'll figure out a way to get there.”

I spend half the night strategizing and finally decide to take Parker's advice. At breakfast, I tell Mom that I'm going to meet a friend at the mall to catch a movie. A new friend.

“Really? A new friend?” Her eyes are thoughtful.

“From the group,” I say. “You know, the social skills group?”

“Well.” She stares at me. I think she is torn between her suspicions that it is too good to be true and her hopes
that I might not be a complete loner forever. “That's wonderful.”

“Yeah, I guess you were right.” I know this is overkill, but I can't seem to stop. I'm not a good liar. When I'm nervous, I talk too much.

“What movie are you going to see?”

I have no idea what's playing. “Um, some comedy.”

“And your new friend...a girl?”

I nod.

“What's her name?”

At least I can answer one question honestly. “Parker.”

“Parker. That's unusual.” She sips her coffee, still watching me, her face serious. “Emily...”

I tense. “What?”

“Would you like me to try to get an appointment for you with my hairdresser? It's short notice, but maybe she could squeeze you in this afternoon. So you'd look nice for tonight.”

I blow out a short breath of relief. “It's not a date, Mom.”

“Well, obviously not.” She looks horrified, or maybe just startled. Apparently that possibility hasn't occurred to her yet. “But still. If you're going out...”

“No thanks. I think it'd be better to let it grow some more first.”

“Well, you might be right,” she concedes, studying my hair thoughtfully.

Enough about my hair
. “So, do you think I could get a ride to the mall after dinner? The one downtown?”

“Of course, honey. No problem.” She smiles at me. “I'm so glad the group has worked out so well. I had such a good feeling about it.”

“Thanks,” I say. I try not to feel guilty.

I go for a long run; then I spend the rest of the day re-reading
Tess of the D'Urbervilles
and making notes. I'm finding the book infuriating this time around. I want Tess to forget about the guy she's so hung up on and get herself a life. Obviously I can't write that, so instead I'm just writing about how Hardy uses the character of Tess to show his view that we are basically all pawns of fate. Cheery stuff.

Lawson's making us write an outline which counts for ten percent of the course grade. It sucks, because outlines totally don't work for me. Usually I don't figure out exactly what I want to say until I start writing. So I pretty much have to write at least a draft of the paper before I can write the outline. Which means I have to do the whole thing this weekend.

On the other hand, it's not like I have much else to do. At least I'm not thinking about Beth or checking her Facebook profile every hour.

After dinner, Mom drops me off at the mall. I duck inside, wait a couple of minutes and then head back out to walk the few blocks to Parker's place.

The pizza place downstairs is packed. A neon sign flashes
PIZZA PALACE
in lurid green, and the huge sign below reads
We Have 2 for 1 “slices!
” The word
slices
is in quotation marks. Like they're not really slices at all. Pseudo-slices. It reminds me of Shelley with her “start time” and “group process.”

I push the door open and trek up the stairs. The voices and laughter from the pizza place fade. I knock hard on Parker's door and wait. No one answers. I'm about to knock again when the door swings open.

It is obvious from the look on Jamie's face that something is wrong. He stares at me hard, his eyes flat gray and his mouth twisted thin as barbed wire. He swears under his breath, and with a jab of one hand, gestures for me to go into the living room.

Parker is sitting on the gray carpet—they don't have much furniture—with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her face is red and blotchy and her eyes are pink-rimmed and bloodshot.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She shakes her head and glares past me at Jamie. “No. No, I'm not fucking okay.”

“Don't drag your friend into our business.” Jamie walks into the kitchen, takes a beer out of the fridge and cracks it open.

I ignore him and drop to my knees beside Parker. “What's wrong?”

“Oh...Jamie quit his job at the Golden Griddle.” She wipes her nose on the back of her hand like a little kid and
looks up at me, wet-eyed. “So now somehow I'm supposed to pay the rent and buy food and—”

“Shut up, Parker,” Jamie yells from the kitchen doorway.

“You shut up. Asshole.” Parker sniffs a few times and looks like she might start crying again. She turns back to me. “I'd sell my car but I don't think I'd get fifty bucks for it. We're going to end up getting evicted. I just know it. My parents help out but not that much.”

“Why did he quit?” I ask, looking from Parker to Jamie.

“He says he doesn't want to participate in that whole system. You know, money and stuff.” She raises her voice. “He wants to eat though. He wants somewhere to fucking live.”

“Shut up, Parker.” Jamie walks over to us, his face tight and angry.

“What are you going to do, Jamie? Are you going to hit me again? In front of Dante? That'd be real nice.” She spits the words out. “He's just jealous because I have a friend. You don't like me to have friends, do you, Jamie?”

My heart is pounding. I am crouching on the floor beside Parker. Jamie is towering over us. I stand up. At least I'm as tall as him. If he hits Parker, I'll kill him. I will. I imagine the feel of my fist connecting with his face, nose crunching, bone and blood. I shudder, my stomach clenching. I was a scrappy little kid, but I haven't actually hit anyone since fourth grade. “Look,” I say, “maybe we should all just calm down.”
We
. I sound like Shelley.

Jamie snorts. “And maybe you should get your face out of our business.”

There is a knock at the door.

“Leo,” Parker says. She jumps up and runs to the door.

“Hey,” Leo says, stepping inside. The easy grin slips from his face and his forehead creases in concern. “What's wrong? You been crying, Parker?” He reaches a hand out as if he's about to touch her cheek but stops short and lets his hand slowly drop back down to his side. He glances from Parker, to me, to Jamie. When he speaks again, his voice is guarded. “You okay?”

She nods, not quite looking at him. “Fine. I'm fine.”

There's a tense silence. Leo opens his mouth as if he's about to say something; then he closes it again. I wonder what he's thinking. After a minute, he shakes his head and turns toward Jamie. “Well, I was just over at Keenan's place. There's going to be a demo Monday morning, down in front of Central School.”

“A demo? What for?” I ask.

Jamie gives me a scornful look, and I flash one back at him.
Asshole
. “What?” I say. “You don't think I should know what I'm protesting? You might be happy to jump on any excuse to get pissed off, but I actually like to have a reason.”

Parker places a hand on my arm, but Leo just nods. “You know Central, right?”

I nod. It's downtown, a huge old building near the hospital, with a reputation for being a druggie school.

“Well, Keenan's friend Paul goes there, and they just kicked him out for handing out anti-war flyers.”

“Seriously? They kicked him out?”

“Yeah. They called them ‘unauthorized materials', like he was handing out bomb-making kits or something. Hauled him down to the office and basically interrogated him for over an hour. Then they suspended him.”

“Shit.” I think about Parker, handing out flyers at GRSS. “Can they do that?”

“Well, they did it, didn't they? So I guess they can.”

“But what about free speech and all that? Doesn't he have a right to express his opinion?”

Jamie looks at me like he can't believe what a total idiot I am. “Duh. At school? What planet do you live on, Dante?”

He has a point. Mr. Lawson practically sends me down to the office for breathing in class. Free speech is not a big part of my life at GRSS. Still...”Can he go back? I mean, to finish his diploma?”

“Only if he signs some agreement to stop handing out flyers, and he won't do that.”

“Wow. That's awful.”

“So you're in? For the protest, I mean?” Leo looks at me.

“Monday morning? Um, I've got school.”

Parker nudges me. “Oh, come on. You can skip one morning.”

Mr. Lawson's class. On one hand, I'd like nothing better than to miss it. On the other, I obviously would not get away with it. Detentions suck. Besides, I'm supposed to hand in the outline for my paper on Monday.

“Well? We could pick you up at the corner, like last time.” Her eyes are still pink-rimmed, but she's smiling at me, that crazy wide smile that's too big for her face.

I just want to see her again. Maybe I can finish the paper and the outline tomorrow and run it over to the school before classes start. “Okay,” I tell her. “I'll come.”

I hang out with Parker
and the others until eleven; then I sprint back to the mall to pretend that I've just come out of the movie. Mom's car is waiting for me in the parking lot. As soon as I get close, I can see that Dad is with her, and I know something is wrong.

She opens the car door. “Get in.”

“Thanks,” I say. I slide into the backseat and buckle up, not looking at them.

“Where were you?” Mom asks. Her voice is low and calm. Not a good sign.

I decide to bluff. “What do you mean? I was at the movies. You dropped me off, remember?”

Dad turns to look at me, his face creased and worried.

Mom shakes her head. “Don't
lie
to me, Emily. I had to pick up something at the mall myself. I parked the car, and then I saw you come out and walk down the street.”
She drums her fingers on the steering wheel and waits for me to answer.

I can't think of anything to say that won't make things worse.

She raises her voice. “I tried to follow you in the car, but it was a one-way street, and by the time I got around the block, I couldn't see you anymore.”

I bet she's been freaking out all night. “I'm sorry.”

“I thought I could trust you.” Mom's mouth tightens into a thin line. Her eyes are titanium-hard. “I can't believe you lied to me.”

I bite my lip. “I really was with someone I met at the group.”

“So why the charade about the mall?”

“She lives downtown,” I say. “I just went to her place.”

“So why not just ask me to drop you off at her house?”

I sigh. “Because she doesn't live with her parents. She lives in an apartment with her boyfriend, and I didn't think you'd let me go if I told you that.”

Mom looks like she is going to explode. Her face is all red except for two tiny white lines by her nostrils. “Emily. You go on and on about how we should trust your judgment, and then you pull a stunt like this.”

“See? I knew you'd have a problem with it.”

“I have a problem with you lying to me and hanging out with god knows who in some dive of an apartment—”

“You're the one who wanted me to go to that stupid group. You're the one who wanted me to make friends.”

“Don't try to twist this around.”

I run my fingers over the back of my left hand and feel the roughness where my knuckles are still scraped up from climbing the school. “Look, Mom. I was with Parker, a girl from the social skills group. What difference does it make if we were at the mall or at her place?”