The Dollhouse

Chapter 41

"You didn't tell me you have a boyfriend," gushed Joyce, struggling not to raise her voice.

There was no bothering asking how she knew. We were the epitome of unspoken connection.

So then I had to go through the rigmarole of introductions. There was a few warm hellos mixed with slight confusion; where did this random girl from Seattle suddenly spring from? On the telephone yesterday, I had only just had enough time to explain our plan in a series of paranoid whispers.

They looked close and shadowy, mosquitoes dancing above. It made me remember how badly I wanted to be in their little bubble - Joyce cleared her throat, and rocked on her heels. 

"How have you been holding up?" I asked Nick.

"It's been... difficult." He shrugged, dropping his gaze. "Mom's been finding it tough to keep the house together, so Jamie and I spent three hours doing laundry the other night. There's a big scorch mark on Joseph's work shirt, but he didn't give us shit, which was refreshing. I don't know, really. We've just been keeping occupied. But it's hard, pretending."

Meanwhile, Joyce was pretending very hard not to notice that Betsy was observing her. She had the joint between her teeth, taking a generous drag.

We sat down in the bad lighting. No one cared where we slipped away, but Arabella was probably relieved I'd steered Joyce out of her circle of party-goers.

Maybe she could even fit in here now she was more conventionally attractive.

"You know that thing tomorrow," Sam announced, giving me the side-eye. "I couldn't get the car. I'm sorry, but there's no way I can borrow it. My uncle wanted to use it to transport wheat for the Haverbrook Harvest."

He couldn't reveal the secret in front of present company, but I had asked to loan his family car to drive to the motel Rudy had booked. We had been tenacious with out plans, and I wanted Sherri far away as possible from town. He had been our last hope of having a vehicle.

Joyce had been half-listening.

"What do you need a car for? Can't you just borrow your stepmother's?"

"None of them have a license, there's no way," Betsy coughed. She was super stoned. "Don't you think you're being dramatic? Just tell the cops about the -"

Sam interrupted very abruptly. "Whatever, this is a waste of time to talk about. We can discuss it later. It's going to be a full moon tomorrow night, did you know? Think about how bright the streets are going to be. Perfect weather for the perfect time of year."

"Perfect," I echoed.

Nick had been inching his hand closer to mine in the dark. The warm contact of it was rough, but I liked the feel of his hand on mine.

With the famous moon nearly in its final house, the glow of it was waxy and white against the clear sky. That was the loveliest thing about living in the countryside. The milky way was not fogged by the pollution of city smoke, and the stars twinkled through as clear constellations. I tried to bring this up to reel my friend into the conversation, but it just started Betsy off on a rant about compatible horoscopes.

Nick had noticed our new acquaintance had been speaking very little. It was one of his most attractive qualities. If only everyone knew how to talk to anyone.

He turned to face her. "So what about you? You went to school together, right?"

"Yes," Joyce flustered. "That was, until Lydia left me in the lurch!"

"Well, I'm sure it was very sudden for you too," Nick said, trying to steer away the topic. He didn't want me to be upset talking about my mother, and he had picked up her blindness for discomfort. "So what's been happening since?"

Joyce had finally found her audience. She was still nervous around male company, and when she nervous she had the worst case of verbal diarrhea.

"Oh, I found myself all alone and it was dreadfully dull, and the boys in the class were always so mean to us... but for some reason it got better when Lydia left. I always thought you were the pretty one - and you know what people say, if they tease you, they probably like you. My Grandmama bought we a purity ring for my fifteenth and then our whole family got into this massive argument about how I'm not somebody's property. My mother can be very liberal - my daddy calls her a troublemaker. So that's probably why they sent us away for a bit."

"That was a useless school," I snorted.

"You wouldn't believe how everyone had a field days with the rumors. It was a conspiracy! Maurice Pulvey kept cornering me in the shower block and asking if you'd contracted some terminal illness. She reckoned you got polio! And I couldn't even say yes or no, and I did write and ask. Then there was a crazy one - shame me for even saying it - that you got raped or something -" she gave a ridiculous laugh.

I stopped listening.

It was happening again. That tight, crushing feeling in my chest.

While I excused myself to get another glass of wine, I thought it was now a good thing that I couldn't drive.

Because if Marcus walked in front of the car, I wasn't sure if I would hit the brake.