The Truth About Fragile Things Page 6

  I met her gaze, saw an old sorrow rising to the surface.

  “It’s hard,” I answered.

  Mom nodded and said quietly, “I’ll talk to Dad about it. I think it might be a good thing.”

  “Can I go rafting?” Lauren asked.

  “No,” Mom and I answered together.

  “But,” I offered in consolation, “I’ll buy you some marshmallow fluff.”

  “I cannot be bought,” Lauren argued.

  I didn’t move my eyes from hers and at last she huffed and threw her hands out. “I want two marshmallow fluffs and a key lime pie. On demand, whenever I request it.”

  Mom laughed while I took the deal. And then I had to go back to the store because apparently, after you eat hot Rice Krispie Treats you need a cold slice of key lime pie to wash it down.

  When my dad came into my room that night I was already wrapped in my favorite blanket, marking a script for auditions.

  “Hard at work?” he asked, sitting down next to me.

  “Almost done,” I told him. I drew the highlighter across the last line and dropped it into my lap.

  “Do you think you’ll get a good part?” My dad secretly wanted to be an actor all his life. He loves my plays more than I do. Almost.

  “I hope so. I think so.” I swung my hair back and leaned against my headboard.

  “I’m sure so,” he said. He looked around my room and his eyes settled back on me after studying the lamp on my dresser for longer than necessary. “Mom told me about Charlotte Exby.”

  I nodded and could see my nervousness mirrored in his eyes.

  “I think it’s a really good idea,” he said.

  “You do?” I leaned forward and my script slid to the floor and scattered.

  Dad reached down and gathered the papers together before setting them on my nightstand. “I do. So much so that your mom and I talked and we had a thought. We want to fund it. I mean—if it’s huge and expensive like going to Uruguay we’ll need to figure something out, but if it’s reasonable, we want to pay for it.”

  “Really?” I wrapped my slim hand around his calloused thumb.

  “Can you tell me more about the list?” he asked.

  “I can show it to you. Charlotte made me a copy.” I crossed the room to my backpack. After I handed it to him I crawled back on the bed, poised over his shoulder as he read.

  “Where could you go river rafting?” was his first question.

  I told him Phillip knew a good spot in Southeast Missouri on the Current River where we could practice. “But he says Colorado is best.”

  “And the diamond earrings? Why is that one crossed off?”

  I rested my chin on his shoulder, felt it dig in next to his collarbone. “Because she got married and her new husband happened to give her some.”

  When dad said “Hm” it growled in his chest and vibrated against my jaw.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “Does that count?” His face was set in concentration and for the first time in my life I knew exactly where I got that expression. My worry comes from my mother. My tendency to analyze everything is definitely from my father.

  “Now you’re thinking like us.” I watched his lips copy mine, turned up in a secret smile. “We concluded he wanted his wife to have diamond earrings and she has them. So I guess it counts.”

  “Well, that certainly takes care of a more expensive one.” He hummed again with unspoken thoughts. “What about skinny dipping?”

  “Well, Charlotte can do that one. I’m not.”

  He squinted and waited, testing me. When I didn’t flinch he relaxed. “Better not,” he murmured good-naturedly. “But you can tell Charlotte that we are happy to help with this—minus the skinny dipping. My hands are clean of that one. When you come to one that costs something, let me know.” A faint, dark shadow of his heavy beard ran along his cheek. I studied the sharp hairs that refused to wait for his next shave before they reappeared.

  “Thank you,” I said. Then I squinted and held back a smile. “Why did you think of Uruguay?”

  “What? When did I think of Uruguay?”

  “When you said you couldn’t pay for us to go to Uruguay.”

  He rubbed his lips together and pulled out some Chapstick. He’d kept a tube of it in his front shirt pocket since the first time my chubby hand explored his shirt. “I was just saying a random place.”

  “I know. But do you always think of Uruguay first?”

  He smoothed the Chapstick over his lips and offered it to me. He knows we both dry out like salamanders. “I don’t think of random places often,” he said, dropping it back into his pocket when I shook my head. “Why? Was that wrong?”

  “No. I just usually say Indonesia when I have to pull up a random spot.”

  He nodded like he was examining a news article. “Interesting choice. A little pedestrian, but not terrible.”

  “Way more imaginative than Uruguay,” I countered.

  He gave me one of his best grins and patted my foot. “I’d be so bored without you.” His eyes turned soft, narrowed, sad. I could still feel the tiny kiss he left on the top of my head five minutes later.

  CHAPTER 10

  Phil found Charlotte and me in the drama hall after school as we were hashing through last minute plans. I motioned him to go away but it was as effective as shooing away a mosquito.

  “Decorations are done,” I told Charlotte, trying not to acknowledge the intruder. “I’ll finish the cake tonight. I will be at the shelter in the park at one o’clock to set up. What did you get him?”

  “I’m touched,” Phillip said as he threw his arm around my neck. “You didn’t need to get me anything. Did you make a cherry cake? You know I love them.”

  “You attract annoying people, Megan.” Charlotte’s eyebrows arched.

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.” Phil gave her a snide grin.

  “That’s great. I just love our camaraderie, but both of you shut up.” I gave them each a pointed look. “What present did you get, Charlotte?”

  “I found a new bike jersey, but it’s too expensive. They cost almost a hundred dollars.” She pushed her tennis shoe in a circle on the floor. “He said he needed a tape measure.”

  I looked down at my list. Everything was crossed off except for the present. “The party is tomorrow. The present was your one job. You can’t get him a tape measure.”

  Phil laughed until he saw my expression. “Money isn’t a problem,” I assured her.

  “Well, my money tree is having a bad crop this year. Glad yours is doing well,” she snarled.

  I pulled in a long breath and blew it through my nose. “I just meant that you don’t have to pay for it, you just need to pick it out.”

  Her light eyes jumped to mine, two golden question marks.

  “I can cover it.” I would have explained that it was from my dad but I doubted she would love knowing I’d told my entire family.

  Charlotte studied the ground, her face flushed pink. When I realized she couldn’t decide on any words I stopped waiting. “So where do we go to get the jersey?”

  “Bike World on Foster,” she mumbled to her shoes.

  “I have to pick my sister up from school today, but I could take you after that,” I offered.

  “I can take her,” Phil spoke up.

  She spit out a strange, strangled sound. “No thanks,” she sputtered.

  “We can run lines in the car,” Phil said. “You need to know them for next week.”

  “I know them,” she insisted, leaning away.

  “It is hard being the only adult,” I sighed. “Both of you get in my car—Charlotte in the front—I can’t believe you were both going to yell shotgun. We’re not four. We’ll get Lauren and go to Bike World. Got it?”

  Charlotte opened her mouth in protest and I hissed out two words. “I’m paying.”

  We trudged out of the school in a straggling line of misery. Except for Phil. He whistled the Star Wars
theme all the way to Lauren’s school. At least it saved us from talking.

  Lauren’s face lit with excitement when she saw the full car. She threw open the back door and was greeted with Phil’s attempt at a smoldering smile. Must have worked because she squeaked and sat down. “Hell-o,” she said slowly, more as a question. “We have a crowd today.”

  I didn’t pull away from the curb so I could take a minute for introductions. “Lauren, this is Charlotte Exby.”

  Charlotte gave her a wary look, but I’ve never seen anyone manage to treat Lauren coldly. Lauren’s bright smile showed off her slightly bulging canine teeth that make her look something like a cute vampire bat. You wouldn’t think that would be so charming, but on her it is.

  “I’ve been wanting to meet you so bad!” Lauren gushed. “Megan didn’t even tell me how pretty you are. Your dad is like our hero!”

  Silence fell as soon as her words were spent. I looked down to the steering wheel, dreading Charlotte’s reaction.

  “Hi,” she answered reluctantly from the seat next to me.

  Phil pulled one of Lauren’s ears and said, “You are so dang cute. Why didn’t your sister get any of that?”

  I turned a scalding look to the backseat.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “When you say it like that,” Phil said to me, “it sounds like you really mean—”

  “You know exactly how I mean it.”

  “Megan, you know I think you’re hot. You’re not all roly-poly cute like a puppy.”

  “You think I look like a puppy? A fat puppy?” Lauren squealed.

  Phil held up his hands in surrender. “Shutting up.”

  “Thank you!” came three unison replies.

  The sound of the wheels careening over the patched road filled the silent car.

  “Can I turn on the radio?” Charlotte asked.

  “By all means.” I shifted my eyes sideways, watched her fingers fumble over the stations.

  “Not country,” Phil insisted.

  “Not rap,” I added.

  He kicked my seat and made Lauren laugh in spite of her attempt at a grudge. She can’t stay mad for three minutes, even when someone calls her a fat puppy. The radio jumped from voice to static to voice until the speakers released a long trill from a violin. Classical.

  Everyone stopped speaking and I caught Lauren and Phil shrug at each other in the rear view mirror.

  “Okay then,” I said quietly, but the dark vibrations of the cellos covered my words. I snuck one glance at Charlotte, who sat expressionless, eyes settled on the horizon, ignoring all of us.

  “Where are we going?” Lauren whispered from the backseat as if afraid of interrupting the musical performance.

  “Bike World,” Phil stage whispered back.

  “Why?” Lauren asked.

  “Sh!” Charlotte hissed from the front seat. The three of us promptly gave up on conversation. The spell didn’t break until I parked in front of the store and killed the engine along with the music. Nobody opened a door. Lauren looked to me for directions.

  “Charlotte?” I asked softly. “Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, please,” she barked. “Drop the therapist thing. Let’s go get the stupid shirt.”

  I clamped my teeth together and followed her out of the car. “I told you,” I murmured to Lauren as she got out behind me.

  Her eyes scanned Charlotte’s back. “But seriously pretty hair.”

  “Always on the bright side, Monkey?” Phil asked her.

  “First dog, now monkey? Megan says you’re an idiot,” Lauren tried to be fierce.

  Phil laughed and opened the door for her. “If I tell you how pretty you really are Megan would accuse me—”

  “Of being disgusting. She’s twelve.” I yanked the door from his hand and held it open by myself.

  “Is it a special time of the month for you three?” Phil asked.

  Charlotte growled, I smacked his arm and Lauren slumped down into a chair by the front door and just sighed, “Yes.”

  “Lauren!” I gaped. “Don’t discuss things like that.”

  “What? It is,” she whispered just as an employee approached us.

  “What can I help you with today?” the middle-aged man asked with a wary smile.

  “We’re here for a gift,” I told him.

  “A bike jersey,” Charlotte clarified. “That one.” She pointed at a yellow jersey covered in names and logos.

  “Nice choice. Do you know the size?” the man asked.

  Charlotte’s jaw stiffened and she wiped her hand against her mouth. “I guess not.”

  “Do you know his suit size?” the man took the jersey down from the rack.

  “No. Medium? I don’t know,” Charlotte’s worried eyes looked to me.

  “Who’s it for?” the salesman asked.

  “Her stepdad,” Phil answered. I should have warned him that Charlotte doesn’t call him that. She glared at him with more feeling than usual.

  “Do you know his height?” the salesman pressed.

  Charlotte glanced at the salesman again. “Not as tall as you. Not as tall as him.” She pointed to Phillip. “Like medium.”

  “Is he thin or husky?” the man asked.

  “Well he can’t be too husky because he spends all his time biking, right?” Charlotte’s voice sharpened and the man lowered his eyebrows.

  “How about medium?” I quickly suggested. “If it’s the wrong size can he exchange it?”

  We all agreed on that and I rushed to the cash register before Charlotte could make a new enemy. I paid with my emergency credit card and the total came to almost ninety dollars.

  “Expensive hobby,” I commented to the man as he rang me up.

  He flashed a teasing smile. “I hope so. Come back any time.” I noticed he said it only to me, as if acknowledging me as the chaperon of our little pack. We piled back into the car and I laid the package on Charlotte’s lap, expecting a thank you. She said nothing. Tight-lipped, I started the car. The classical station was on commercial so I flipped the radio off. Phillip grinned from the backseat. The more impossible Charlotte got the more fun he had. He was in heaven. I pulled onto the road in silence and almost jumped when Lauren spoke from the backseat.

  “You’re welcome,” she pronounced clear and slow.

  Charlotte turned her head, looked down her nose at my little sister. “What?”

  “I figured you wanted to say thank you but were in too bad of a mood to spit the words out, so I wanted you to know that you’re welcome. That’s all.” Lauren flashed a smile and her ponytail swung behind her tilted head.

  Charlotte faced forward again. After a moment she flipped the radio back on and a fast waltz filled the car. I am the only one who saw the secret smile she wrestled back into a firm, straight line.

  “Will you wrap it pretty?” I asked Charlotte when I got to her driveway.

  “Huh?” she asked as she gathered up her backpack from the floorboards.

  “Do you have good paper?” I pointed to the bag with the jersey inside.

  Phillip laughed from the backseat and Charlotte looked to him for clarification.

  “Megan really likes it when you throw gifts in a wrinkled bag with used tissue paper,” he said. “She’s serious about recycling.”

  Lauren snickered and I tried to ignore both of them.

  “I could wrap it for you,” I offered. “I like to…wrap.”

  Phil found that indescribably funny and his hysterics actually made Charlotte smile. She pulled the bag closer to her. “I can wrap it,” she said as she opened the door.

  “Okay.” I pictured my mother’s ribbons at home and a crisp, white shirt box. “But if you…”

  Charlotte stepped out. “I’ve got it. See you tomorrow at the park.”

  “She’s got it,” I repeated as her door slammed. “Would you two kindly shut up?” I hollered over my shoulder.

  “You like to rap?” Phil said, wiping his eye with Lauren’s c
oat sleeve. “I’ve gotta see this. When’s the next show?”

  Instead of fighting back with words I played country music all the way back to Phillip’s car and I played it loud.

  Like always, he and Lauren held reality at bay for me. But at two o’clock that morning, when I lay awake alone, I imagined the napkins and plates and streamers, pictured myself taping the balloons to the timbers of the shelter. I tried to hold off the image that was harder. The one where a woman coasted up to me on her bike. In my imagination she took off her helmet and stared at me in confusion, the reflection of the sun on her diamond earrings blinding me. Every time I tried to sleep the prism of light flashed and woke me before my dreams could start.

  CHAPTER 11

  I was dragging a picnic table to one corner of the shelter to staple some crepe paper when Phillip grabbed me from behind in a hug.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, wiggling out of his embrace.

  “Came to help.” He put a package down on the table and jumped up on top. “Hand me the streamer.”

  I hesitated. “I already have a plan.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I won’t mess up your plan. Hand me the paper and tell me what to do.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be here,” I said as I obeyed. I’d already refused offers of help from my mother and Lauren. I was so nervous about Melissa that I insisted on work and silence. Phillip threatened both.

  “She’s growing on me, that kid. She’s totally crazy, but she’s growing on me. I wanted to help.” He looked the structure over as I processed how much it bothered me that he didn’t even have to say Charlotte’s name. It was a given that if he said “she” I would know who he meant. “Where am I taking this?” he asked.

  “To the middle rafter and then the opposite corner.” I climbed up on the table to help him twist and drape while he did the stapling. We worked in relative quiet for almost half an hour. That’s probably because after we finished the streamers we started blowing up balloons so there was no air for speaking. I was tying a yellow balloon and he was standing on the table taping them to the top of the wooden posts when he started swinging his butt back and forth.

  “Hey Megan, look.” He gyrated his hips, pumped his hands in the air.