Watch Me Disappear (2 page)

I shake my head.

“Good. And if you really were, don’t tell anyone,” she says. “So, like, what do you do at school?”

“Study,” I say.

“No, like, sports or drama or something? We do drama. Maura does costumes and makeup, and Katherine and I act.”

Before I can respond Maura interrupts. “Didn’t my mom tell you it was a pool party? You should’ve worn your bathing suit. She said you did swim team.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m not much of a swimmer,” I say.

“But you told her you swam at your old school,” Maura insists.

“My dad made me,” I say.

“We don’t swim either,” Jessica says. “The water turns my hair green, but at least we can work on our tans out here. Aren’t you worried you’ll get funny tan lines?”

I’m thankful that Jessica appears to be genuinely interested in having a conversation, but I also suspect she isn’t too bright and that she has probably missed all the cues from the others to shut up. “I don’t really sunbathe,” I say. “Actually I was just wishing I’d thought to put on sunscreen before I came over.”

“And you being from California!” Jessica says, her eyes searching me for proof.

“We have sunscreen. Jess, be a doll and go ask my mom,” Maura says.

“You’re from California?” Tina asks dubiously.

“Most recently from North Carolina. We left California when I was in middle school.”

“Oh. North Carolina,” she says, like somehow that clears up everything.

“I was in California once,” Katherine chimes in. “We went to San Diego. My mom wouldn’t let us go to Tijuana, though.”

“Tijuana’s pretty dirty. You didn’t miss much,” I say.

“It’s supposed to be really fun.” Katherine’s voice takes on a defensive edge.

“I know, but I’m just saying, San Diego is really nice but Tijuana isn’t.”

“Well I would have liked to see for myself. Maybe I would’ve liked it.”

I’m not trying to be stubborn about it and see no need to continue the conversation. Katherine clearly finds me objectionable, so I drop it. I’m glad when Jessica returns. She hands me a bottle of Waterbabies SPF 50 and shrugs. “That was all Mrs. Morgan could find,” she says, but I’m just grateful she came back with real sun block and not some kind of tanning oil SPF 4. Jessica plops back down onto the lounge chair. “So anyway, I really want to know about California,” she says. Apparently she did not forget where she’d left off in our conversation when Maura sent her on her little errand.

“You missed it, Jess. She hasn’t lived in California since middle school,” Tina says. Katherine just rolls her eyes.

“Oh! Well it’s not like middle school was that long ago. She probably still remembers some stuff. I’ve always wanted to go to California. I’m going to go there for college if my parents let me,” Jessica says, turning to me.

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Well, you know, what’s it like?”

“When did you say the guys are getting here?” Katherine asks Maura before I can answer Jessica.

“After Jim’s baseball game.”

“I hope that’s soon. Can I have that nail polish? I want to do my toes.”

Maura hands it to her and turns back to me. “I want to hear about California, too.”

“To see the sunset over the ocean. That would be amazing,” Jessica says. She is about the cheesiest person I’ve ever met, but in a sweet way.

“It’s a big state, you know. I lived in Southern California, so I can’t tell you much about San Francisco or anything, but it’s pretty nice where I lived. Warm all the time, if you like that. People are pretty nice. I mean, everyone’s trying to get famous, but still people are mostly nice.” I try to give the safest answer I can, nothing controversial. I don’t bother with cynicism, since I am sure at least one-third of my audience—the third that actually wants to talk to me—won’t get it. No need to mention that I prefer to live in places where the four seasons are different from one another, that I like open green spaces, or that I despise all the phonies who’ll do anything to get on TV.

“Ooh, did you ever see celebrities?” Jessica wants to know.

“Yeah, a few times, but not up close. I never met any.”

“Oh.”

“You have to remember, I was pretty young. I was never hanging out on Sunset Boulevard or anything.”

Jessica nods. I’m sure she is thinking how if she moves to California she’ll know where to hang out to spot celebs.

“So that’s it?” Maura says. “It’s warm and people are nice?” Maura isn’t impressed and I am sort of glad. I don’t think I would like myself much if there was anything I could say that would impress Maura.

I notice that my parents have installed themselves at the umbrella table and are not talking to anyone. Mom probably refuses to let dad leave her side. “It’s been great to meet all of you, but I think I’ll just go see how my parents are doing,” I say.

“No, you should stay,” Jessica says. “Don’t you want to meet the guys?”

“Maybe some other time. My mom gets really shy and I’m afraid she thinks she has to stay if I stay.”

“Well you should come out with us sometime. We can show you around,” Jessica offers.

I just smile and try to walk away as gracefully as possible, hoping that the backs of my legs aren’t horribly covered in stripes from the sticky lawn chair.

*          *          *

“Did you notice how they were dressed?” I ask my mom later when she suggests I try to make friends with Maura.

“Well, it was a pool party of a sort.”

“They don’t want to be my friends. They were totally fake, and some of them couldn’t even fake friendliness.”

“They’re probably intimidated by you.”

“Right.”
They
were intimidated by
me
. Four skinny beauty queens. For one thing, they have safety in numbers. Maybe one of them alone might be intimidated by the thought that I am somehow more sophisticated than them because my family moved around (and because I lived in California, which is apparently their Mecca), but four against one, why should they be intimidated? They can’t possibly be worried I’d steal their boyfriends. To them I am a weirdo with a few pounds to lose. And my mother’s desire for me to make friends with them is infuriating and absurd. She wants me to be the perfect, straight-A student
and
to be pretty and popular, but she doesn’t trust me to be either of those things without her firm hand guiding me. She has no clue what a walking contradiction she is. “What did you think of the adult crowd?” I ask, changing the subject.

“They seemed nice,” Mom says, not looking up from the box she’s unpacking.

“Did you talk to any of them?”

That makes her look up. “We were introduced to just about everyone there. They seemed very nice.” She bends back over the box for a moment and then pauses again. “Are you going to help me or are you going to just sit there?”

I had been planning on just sitting there. “I have to go do summer reading,” I say, excusing myself.

*          *          *

I know eavesdropping isn’t nice, but is it eavesdropping if you are sitting in your own backyard, minding your own business, and someone else talks so loud that you cannot help but hear? The fact is, my new neighborhood is a ghost town from nine to five, with one little exception: Our cul-de-sac, or more specifically, the Morgans’ pool deck. Apparently, Maura is used to being able to gab all day without anyone overhearing. All the adults are at work and all the kids are either at camp somewhere or are hiding in the air-conditioning playing video games. And I guess it doesn’t occur to her that I might be on the deck in the middle of the day; it’s not like we have a pool to sit by. But as it happens, I like being outside, and while the house is a mess of boxes and clutter, the deck is clean and calm. If I go out there to do my summer reading, my mom leaves me alone and even applauds my studious efforts. So while I sit as quiet as a librarian, book in hand, Maura gabs away at the top of her lungs, and once Maura gets started, she’s hard to ignore. Earlier today I overheard her half of a conversation that went something like this:

“She’s not going to be around this weekend… Nope. One of her pageants… You should come over… Uh-huh, I’m babysitting my brother… My parents won’t be home until like two A.M…. Hardly. I can’t, like, have a party with Billy in the next room…Just you and me…Play Monopoly!” She laughed. “I’m sure I can keep you entertained… OK, I’ll be waiting for you.”

It’s pretty much what I expect of a girl like Maura, obviously luring some boy over while she’s supposed to be watching her brother. She’d been off the phone only a minute when it rang again.

“Hey,” she answered. “I know. I was on the other line… Shit, I have to babysit… My brother. I can’t get out of it… Yeah, you should see if she wants to go… She seems like a real party animal.” Maura laughed. “No seriously, though, she can probably drink you under the table.” More laughter. I wondered if they were talking about me. I knew they could have been talking about anyone, and I also knew that girls like them probably find plenty of people to ridicule, but still, I couldn’t help but wonder. “And what’s up with Jess? Why do we even hang out with that moron? Did you see the way she was hanging all over John? Talk about obvious… I know, right?... Well, I can’t go, and Katherine’s got some pageant, so it looks like you’re stuck with her… Oh, please, everyone knows she does pageants… She tells people herself! You can’t tell one person and expect that no one else’ll find out… Hold on, I got a beep.

“Hey… Yeah, she’s on the other line… Yeah, I heard about the party… Nope… Lemme call you back later.

“Tina?... Yeah, it was Jess… Listen, I gotta go. I’m supposed to drive Billy to karate… I know, right?... Good luck with Matt… Yeah, call me if you need to… okay. Bye!”

I heard a little shuffling from the other side of the fence, the slider opened and shut, and quiet returned to the neighborhood.

I feel a little bad for listening to her conversations, but then again, it isn’t like Maura is acting secretive. It is hilarious to think of Katherine doing a pageant smile and wave. She wasn’t too smiley at the party. I do feel bad for Jessica, though, knowing her so-called friends talk about her like that. But then again, at least she has friends.

Chapter 2

I’m not surprised when Mrs. Morgan knocks on the door on Friday afternoon to ask if I can babysit. I listened to Maura’s entire plot unfold the day before. The plan went something like this: Friday morning Maura told her mother that Tina’s boyfriend just broke up with her, so Maura needed to go be a good friend and cheer Tina up. Maura then helpfully suggested they ask their nice new neighbor to watch Billy.

As Mrs. Morgan stands at the door explaining the pitiful situation, I am tempted to say no just to make Maura’s life more difficult. But then again, my curiosity is high; I want to get inside the house and see what Queen Maura’s life is like. Anyway, my mother doesn’t give me a chance to say no.

“Lizzie loves kids!” she says, coming up behind me at the door. “She’s a great babysitter!”

This is an embellishment. Children too young to speak in utterances that at least resemble sentences make me nervous, but I do have a fair amount of practice as a babysitter thanks to my dad, who is always encouraging his colleagues to call me whenever they need a sitter. He sees this as a win-win-win proposition: It saves me the embarrassment of another Friday or Saturday night at home; it keeps me in spending money so he doesn’t have to; and his colleagues have someone to babysit when they want a night out. The money is good. Most people come home and round up whatever hourly figure they promised me before they left.

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Morgan says, clasping her hands in front of her chest. She has a way of addressing me that makes me feel like some sort of munchkin in the presence of Glenda the Good Witch. “And what’s your usual rate?”

I pause. I hate it when they expect me to name the price.

“Don’t be silly,” my mother jumps in. “This is a favor between neighbors.” She gives me a knowing nod and smile.

“No, no, no—we’ll insist on paying Lizzie for her time,” Mrs. Morgan says. “I’ll talk to Maura and see what the going rate is these days among her friends. We rely on her so much that we never have to call a sitter anymore.” She smiles at me again. “OK, then! Tomorrow at six thirty.”

*          *          *

When I arrive, Mrs. Morgan explains that Billy was at soccer camp all day, so he will probably fall asleep early. I look across the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen and living room. Billy sits on an ottoman in the center of the floor in front of a huge TV. He doesn’t take his eyes off the video game he’s playing. I wonder if he even knows I’m here.

“You can make him this macaroni and cheese for supper,” Mrs. Morgan says, setting out a box and a saucepan. “Aside from using the stove and remembering to brush his teeth, he’s pretty self-sufficient. He’s old enough to entertain himself.”

I nod, half listening. I’m thinking about what I saw an hour ago. I was in the living room when I heard a car screech to a halt outside. When I looked out the window, I saw a red Volkswagen bug in front of the Morgans’ house. The driver beeped a couple times, and then Maura trotted down the driveway and gestured to the girl in the passenger seat who got out and moved to the backseat so Maura could ride shotgun. Then the little car peeled out, music blaring.

“Well, if you’re all set, I’ll be heading out,” Mrs. Morgan says.

“Sure. All set,” I answer.

Mrs. Morgan’s prediction that Billy will conk out early is accurate. He practically falls asleep in his dinner. By eight o’clock I have the house to myself. I sit in a recliner in the family room and try to read but I can’t concentrate. Looking around the room, I can’t help but think the décor is odd. The house, like my own, is a newer home built in the colonial style, but the Morgans have stylish, modern furniture and decorations inside. The couch, love seat, and recliner in the living room are all black leather, the smell of which is starting to get to me. The coffee table has a metal base and glass top, and the lamps in the room are all sleek and modern with shiny stainless steel bases. Everything is black, gray, or beige, colors that carry through the whole first floor and the hallway upstairs. When Mrs. Morgan gave me the tour, I noticed a few odd abstract sculptures on end tables or in corners. Not at all what you’d expect to find inside a plain green colonial with tidy tan shutters. The rooms look like a page from the IKEA catalog, but not as logically coordinated.