Кристин Ханна – Rirefly Lane / Улица Светлячков. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 8)
“Popular just means lots of people think they know you.”
“I’d take that.”
Silence fell between them. Tully finished her cigarette and put it out. They were so different, she and Kate, as full of contrasts as this dark field bathed in moonlight, but it felt so completely easy to talk to her. Tully found herself almost smiling, and on this, the worst night of her life. That was something.
For the next hour, they sat there, talking now and then and sometimes just sitting in silence. They didn’t say anything really important or share any more secrets, they just talked.
Finally, Kate yawned and Tully stood up. “I better book.”
They got up and walked down to the road. At the mailboxes, Kate stopped. “Well. ‘Bye.”
“‘Bye.” Tully stood there a moment, feeling awkward. She wanted to hug Kate, maybe even cling to her and tell her how much this night had been helped by her, but she didn’t dare. She’d learned a thing or two about vulnerability from her mother, and she felt too fragile now to risk humiliation. Turning, she headed down to her house. Once inside, she went straight to the shower. There, with the hot water beating down on her, she thought about what had happened to her tonight – what she’d let happen because she wanted to be cool – and she cried. When she was done and the tears had turned into a hard little knot in her throat, she took the memory of this night and boxed it up. She shelved it in the back alongside memories of the times Cloud had abandoned her and immediately began working on forgetting it was there.
Chapter five
Kate lay awake long after Tully had left. Finally, she threw back the covers and got out of bed.
Downstairs, she found what she needed: a small statue of the Virgin Mary, a votive candle in a red glass holder, a book of matches, and her grandmother’s old rosary beads[47]. Taking everything back up to her room, she created an altar on top of her dresser, and lit the candle.
“Heavenly Father,” she prayed, head bowed and hands clasped, “please watch out for Tully Hart and help her through this hard time. Also, please heal her mother’s cancer. I know You can help them. Amen.” She said a few Hail Marys[48], and then went back to bed.
But all night she tossed and turned, dreaming about the encounter with Tully, wondering what would happen in the morning. Should she talk to Tully today at school, smile at her? Or was she expected to pretend it had never happened? There were rules to popularity, secret codes written in invisible ink that only girls like Tully could read. All Kate knew was that she didn’t want to make a mistake and embarrass herself. She knew that sometimes the popular girls were “secret friends” with nerds; like, they smiled and said hi when they weren’t in school or when their parents were friends. Maybe that was how it would be with her and Tully.
Finally, she quit trying to sleep and got up. Putting on her robe, she went downstairs. In the living room, her dad looked up from the newspaper and smiled. “Top of the mornin’ to you, Katie Scarlett. Come give your old man a hug.”
She plopped into his lap, rested her cheek against the rough wool of his shirt.
He tucked a strand of hair around her ear. She could see how tired he looked; he was working so hard, doing double shifts at Boeing[49] so they could afford their yearly family camping trip. “How’s school going?”
It was the same question he always asked. Once, a long time ago, she’d actually answered, said, “Not so good, Dad,” and then waited for his advice or comfort or something, but no such words had come. He’d heard what he wanted to hear, not what she’d said. Her mom had said it was because he worked so many hours at the plant.
Kate could have been upset by his distraction, but somehow it had made her love him even more. He never yelled at her or told her to pay attention or reminded her that she was responsible for her own happiness. Those were her mother’s words; her dad just quietly went on loving her no matter what.
“Great,” she answered, smiling to reinforce the lie.
“How could it not be?” he said, kissing her temple. “You’re the prettiest girl in town, eh? And your mum named you after one of the great literary heroines of all time.”
“Yeah, Scarlett O’Hara[50] and I have a ton in common.”
“You’ll see,” he said, chuckling. “There’s a fair bit of life still ahead of you, missy.”
She looked at him. “Do you think I’ll be pretty when I grow up?”
“Ah, Katie,” he said. “You’re a rare beauty already.”
She took those words and tucked them in her pocket like worry stones; every now and again as she got ready for school she felt them, turned them around in her fingers.
By the time she was dressed and ready to go, the house was empty. The Mularkey family bus had left the station.
She was so nervous she arrived at the bus stop early. Every minute that passed seemed to last an eternity, but there was still no sign of Tully when the school bus drove up and came to a shuddering stop.
Kate dropped her chin and took a seat in the first row.
All through morning classes, she looked for Tully, but didn’t see her. At lunch she hurried past the crowd of popular kids, who were busy cutting to the front of the food line whenever they felt like it, and sat down at one of the long tables at the very end of the cafeteria. On the other side of the room, kids were laughing and talking and shoving each other; these tables in social Siberia were sadly quiet, though[51]. Kate, like the others seated around her, rarely looked up.
It was a survival skill the unpopular kids learned early: junior high was like the jungles of Vietnam; it was best to crouch low and keep quiet. So intent was she on her lunch that when someone came up to her and said, “Hey,” she practically jumped out of her seat.
Even on this cool May day, she wore a cut-to-there miniskirt, white go-go boots, shiny black panty hose, and a tube top. Several peace-symbol necklaces bounced against her cleavage. Her hair glinted with copper streaks in the light. A huge macramé-knot purse hung against her thigh. “Have you told anyone about last night?”
“No. Of course not.”
“So, we’re friends, right?”
Kate didn’t know which surprised her more: the question or the vulnerability in Tully’s eyes. “We’re friends.”
“Excellent.” Tully pulled a package of Twinkies[52] out of her purse, then sat down beside Kate. “Now let’s talk about makeup. You need help, and I’m not being a bitch. Really. I just know about fashion. It’s a gift. Can I drink your milk? Good. Thanks. Are you gonna eat that banana? I could come to your house after school…”
Kate stood outside the drugstore looking up and down the street for someone who might know her mom. “Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
The answer was slim comfort, actually. In the day they’d officially been friends, Kate had learned one thing about Tully: she was a girl who made Plans.
And today’s plan was to make Kate beautiful.
“Don’t you trust me?”
There it was, the big question. It was like rolling a Yahtzee[53]: once Tully said it, Kate lost the game. She had to trust her new friend. “Of course I do. It’s just that I’m not allowed to wear makeup.”
“Believe me, I’m such an expert your mom will never know. Come on.”
Tully walked boldly through the drugstore, choosing eye shadow and blush colors that were “right” for Kate, and then – amazingly – she paid for everything. When Kate said something, Tully said airily, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
On the way out of the store, Tully bumped her, shoulder to shoulder.
Kate giggled and bumped her back. They made their way through town and followed the river toward home. All the while, they talked about clothes and music and school. Finally, they turned off the old road and went down Tully’s driveway.
“My gran would freak if she saw this place,” Tully said, looking embarrassed. Rhodies[54] the size of hot-air balloons covered the side of the house. “She owns this house, you know.”
“Does she visit you?”
“Nah. It’s easier to wait.”
“For what?”
“My mom to forget about me again.” Tully stepped over a mound of newspapers and around a trio of garbage cans, then opened the door. Inside, the smoke in the room was thick.
Tully’s mom was in the living room, lying on the sofa, with her eyes half opened.
“H-hello, Mrs. Hart,” Kate said. “I’m Kate from next door.”
Mrs. Hart tried to sit up, but obviously she was too weak to manage it. “Hello, girl from nex’ door.”
Tully grabbed Kate’s hand and pulled her through the living room and into her bedroom, then slammed the door shut. She immediately went to her stack of records, pulled out
Kate’s nervousness came swooping back. She knew she’d get in trouble for this, but how would she ever make friends or become popular if she didn’t take a few risks? “I’m ready.”
“Good. Sit down. We’ll do your hair first. It needs some highlights. This is exactly what Maureen McCormick[56] uses.”
Kate looked at Tully in the mirror. “How do you know that?”