Blue Moon (12 page)

Belinda wanted to ask what “come” meant, but Emma had already gone to the other end of the bed. Emma stretched, then lay on her back. Her eyes closed, her hand traveled down her body to the spot she had shown Belinda. Her hand stayed still, but her finger seemed to move. Belinda tried to locate the place Emma had told her to touch. Now, with Emma not watching, Belinda definitely found it.

“Uh,” she gasped before she could help herself. She glanced over, to see if Emma was looking.

Emma had one eye open, smiling, her finger still going. “Uh,” Emma said back, teasing. Then Emma licked her finger and turned her head away again. With her other hand she plucked at one breast, then the other.

Just watching Emma while she touched herself made Belinda feel so hot and sexy, she didn’t know if she could stand it. She didn’t know if Emma would mind that she was watching, but Belinda couldn’t turn away. She licked her middle finger, and the salty taste made her even crazier. She played with the spot. There it was. There. There. She felt like she was in danger. She was standing on a cliff. The bottom was going to fall out. She was going to crash. She stopped.

Something was happening to Emma. Emma’s back was arched and her thighs were shaking. “Oh,” Emma moaned. “Uh.” Her legs shook, her hips wiggled around, and she pinched her bark-brown nipple over and over.

“Did you come?” Emma asked in a funny voice, without looking.

“I don’t think so,” Belinda said.

“Keep touching yourself,” Emma said, still lying back.

Belinda licked her finger again. She reached down. The first touch, she felt a jolt. Her clitoris was sore. She started to pull her hand back, but Emma’s hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Make it more slippery,” Emma said. She held out a pot of lip gloss and dipped Belinda’s finger in it. Now Emma was watching, but Belinda didn’t care. She rubbed the glossy pink goo into the hard little bump. She closed her eyes, to block out Emma.

“Here’s a sure way,” Emma said. Belinda was going to open her eyes, but suddenly she felt something hot and wet on her left nipple.

It was Emma’s mouth. Emma sucked and nibbled, flicking it with her tongue. Belinda watched, her own finger still going, she had to tell Emma to stop, but she couldn’t. Belinda was on fire between her legs and in her nipples. She wanted to slow down, even stop, because she wanted the feeling to go on forever.

Forever. There. There. But it didn’t go on forever. Something wilder than Belinda had ever imagined swept over her, knocked her down, so that she saw stars behind her closed eyes and thought she might be blind when she opened them.

She wasn’t blind. There was Emma, laughing, the first thing she saw.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Emma asked.

Josie sat on the front step with her mother. They were watching for her father’s truck. Tomorrow he’d be leaving on a fishing trip, so tonight he’d be home early for dinner. Josie and her mother were playing a game, counting all the blue cars that drove by. Every time you saw one, you had to say,
“Blue car.”

Josie leaned on her mother’s leg, watching the street. “Blue” was one of her favorite words. It was easy to say. Josie could say anything in front of her mother, and it didn’t matter if she made mistakes. The same with T.J. But some words she would say to her father or Belinda, and they’d frown or look everywhere except at her face, and Josie would know they thought she was stupid.

“Blue car,”
Josie said, squeezing her mother’s knee. Belinda and T.J. were somewhere with their friends; Josie wished her father would get home before they did. She had more fun playing with him when they weren’t around. He always paid lots of attention to her then.

Her mother tapped Josie, so that she would look up. “Let’s start counting them,” her mother said. Josie held up four fingers on her left hand: she’d been counting all along. It made her laugh, and her mother gave her a big hug.

Josie’s shoulder rested against her mother’s side, and suddenly she felt her mother talking. She looked at her mother’s face, to hear what she was saying.

“Here comes Sean.”

“Oh,” Josie said, disappointed. Instead of her father, Sean was walking down the sidewalk.

If Sean weren’t fat, he would look scary. Josie knew he was her cousin and that he would never hurt her, but he had four earrings in one ear and black polish on his fingernails. His jeans had the knees ripped out, like T.J.’s. He usually wore sunglasses, even in the house. But he had a friendly plumpness that made the other things seem silly.

He came down the front walk. He said, “Hi, Josie. Hi, Aunt Cass,” but then he started talking too fast for Josie to understand.

“T.J. is at the beach,” her mother said.

Sean nodded. He was about to walk away, but suddenly he stopped short. Josie looked from him to her mother, who was standing up.

“Can you watch her while I answer the phone?”

“Okay,” Sean said.

Josie watched the screen door slam shut behind her mother. She looked up at Sean. She felt a little afraid, but he was smiling. She smiled back. She looked at the living-room window and saw her mother standing there, watching Sean and Josie while she talked on the telephone.

Sean said something and pointed down the street. Josie followed his gaze. About three driveways away, some kids had made a ramp, and they were flying off it on skateboards. Sean started walking toward them. Josie didn’t want to go, but she knew Sean was supposed to be watching her. She followed behind.

The kids were big. Older than Josie, but not as old as Sean. Josie didn’t like them. She knew they would be mean if she had to talk to them. T.J. said they were jerks, babies. She looked down, watching for ants on the sidewalk.

They stopped what they were doing to talk to Sean. They stood back, listening to what he was saying. Josie moved closer to him. She could see they thought he was cool. T.J. never talked to them, so they seemed surprised when Sean did.

Sean wanted to try the ramp. He got on the skateboard. He looked too big and wobbly to stay on right, like a human Weeble.

He pushed off with his foot, but before he even hit the ramp, he tipped forward. He tried to get his balance. His arms flapped, and he fell. His sunglasses flew off and smashed on the sidewalk.

He jumped up almost before he hit the ground. His face was red. The other kids were laughing. One of them swung his arms, imitating Sean falling. Josie couldn’t understand all the words, but she knew the kids were making fun of Sean. Someone kicked his sunglasses into the gutter.

Then they started pointing at Josie.

She stepped closer to her cousin, just behind his leg. She didn’t think they would hit her; she just didn’t want to see them saying mean things. They pointed at the sign in the street, laughing. Now Sean was laughing, too.

Josie felt relieved, but still nervous. They weren’t making fun of her. They were laughing at the big yellow sign that said “Drive Slowly, Children Playing.” Josie laughed too. She didn’t think it was funny, but she liked fooling around with the big kids. The more she laughed, the more everyone else did.

One of the girls leaned down so Josie could see her mouth. She had braces on her teeth and beautiful bead earrings. She was smiling; Josie watched her mouth, but the girl was making funny noises that Josie couldn’t understand. Josie kept smiling, but suddenly the noises gave her a bad feeling. She felt scared, like something terrible was going to happen.

Then another girl leaned down. She had curly blond hair like Barbie. “Why are you laughing?” she asked.

“At the sign,” Josie said.

“It’s
your
sign,” the girl said.

“No, it’s not,” Josie said. She didn’t understand. Suddenly she felt even more scared. She looked toward her house. She didn’t see her mother. The girl was laughing, but Josie knew it wasn’t happy laughing. All of a sudden she knew they were making fun of her.

“It says ‘Drive Slow, Deaf Kid,’” the girl said. “That’s you.”

Josie glanced wildly at Sean. He had a sorry look on his face; Josie knew the girl was telling the truth. Josie felt her lower lip pushing forward, and tears spilled out of her eyes.

Sean pushed the girl, and she pushed him back. “Fat kid, fat kid,” the girl said.

Josie started to walk, then run, toward her house. Sean caught up to her. She didn’t want to look at him. He touched her shoulder at first, then held it tight, to make her stop. She kept her head down; she didn’t want him to see her crying. But Sean crouched down low, so she had to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Josie,” he said. “I didn’t mean it.”

Right now she hated Sean. She wanted to tell him, but she was afraid he’d make fun of her, too. From now on, no matter how nice he pretended to be, she would know how he really felt. She wanted to punch him in the nose.

She was walking fast toward her house when she saw her father’s truck turn into the driveway. Her mother stepped outside to meet him. Josie couldn’t hold her feet down; she ran as fast as she could.

Her parents stood there, saying hello to each other, not even seeing Josie. As she ran, she saw her mother turn slowly, see her, and say something to her father. Both her parents were smiling. They thought she was happy, excited to see them; Josie didn’t want them smiling. She wanted them to know how mean Sean, and the kids, had been to her; her feelings were a furious, wordless tangle. A sob tore out of her throat.

Now her parents frowned. They stepped forward together, but Josie was past seeing. She ran blindly, her arms held open. She flew straight at her parents and hit one of them with full force. She wasn’t sure which one caught her, and she didn’t care.

“If he weren’t my nephew …” Cass said.

“It’s not his fault,” Billy said. “He’s a teenager. He’s fat, and he wants to be popular. He’s a teenager.”

“He made fun of Josie just like those other creeps.”

“He said he was sorry. You could see how bad he felt about it.”

Cass didn’t reply. They were sitting outside, drinking iced tea, listening to the crickets. All three kids were supposedly in bed, but Billy heard different rock beats coming from both Belinda’s and T.J.’s windows.

“You going to hold it against Sean his entire life? Remember the
time T.J. poured ketchup all over Emma at her birthday party?”

“I’ll get over it,” Cass said. “Anyway, Sean’s not the point.”

“Do you know what actually happened?” Billy asked. Sean at the scene was so flustered, so apologetic, they hadn’t been able to get much out of him.

“He told Bonnie some kids down the street were laughing at the sign and making fun of the way Josie talks.”

“Nice kids.”

“I’d love to know exactly who was there. Joyce Barnard was the only one I saw for sure. I feel like calling John and Rachel.”

“What good would that do? Kids are mean to each other. It’s one big, endless chain reaction. Joyce’ll get hers.”

“She has braces,” Cass said.

“So, call her ‘tinsel teeth’ next time you see her.”

Cass actually seemed to be mulling that over.

“You can’t shield Josie from every little thing,” Billy said. “You always let T.J. and Belinda handle their own scrapes.”

“It’s different with Josie.”

“I know it is. Kids are going to pick on her. That’s why she has to be tough.”

“You make it sound easy.”

Billy knew it wasn’t easy. Seeing Josie so upset today, crying so hard you couldn’t understand a word she said, had made him crazy. She kept trying to talk, her tears making the words broad and shapeless.

“What?” Billy had asked, making her try again. Then again. Cass, realizing Josie was past reasoning with, had signaled him to be quiet. Billy had pretended to understand Josie’s babbling while patting her head, kissing her damp cheeks, rocking her in his arms. Figuring out how to deal with this daughter of his bewildered him.

When he didn’t talk to Josie, Cass would give him hell. Now she was upset because he’d tried to make Josie talk at the wrong time. Billy knew he did a good job with the other two kids, but it seemed he did nothing right with Josie. Tomorrow he’d leave for a short summer fishing run, and he was actually looking forward to getting away. He glanced at Cass; she had a far-off look in her eyes.

“Whose?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Whose blood are you after? You look like you want revenge.”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

He waited for her to go on, but she didn’t. She stared at the sky. She always used to watch for shooting stars. They could lie on their backs for hours at a time, counting meteors and making out. He moved closer to Cass; it almost surprised him when she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m scared,” she said in a low voice.

“Why?” he asked.

“That we can’t protect her enough.”

“We can’t protect any of them enough,” Billy said. He knew what Cass was going to say, and he waited.

“But Josie’s different.”

Billy couldn’t talk her out of that. He wished he could talk Cass herself out of being different from how she used to be. Out of losing herself along the way.

T.J. prowled his parents’ bedroom when no one was home. He opened their drawers and stared at what was in them. He pawed through his father’s sock drawer, his mother’s underwear drawer. He looked through the desk where they kept the bills. He checked under the mattress on his mother’s side of the bed, then his father’s.

He walked along the upstairs hall, looking at all the pictures. Nearly every inch of wall space upstairs was covered with framed photographs of the family. His great-grandparents in old-fashioned outfits on Easton’s Beach; Gram in her wedding dress; his mother in her wedding dress; his father (with a mustache back then) holding two gigantic lobsters toward the camera; Aunt Bonnie in her wedding dress; everyone’s first communion, school, and baby pictures; Belinda holding Josie right after Josie was born and not looking very happy about it; T.J. sledding down the golf-course hill, his mouth wide open in a shout. He stared at that picture for a long time, trying to read his own lips or remember what he was yelling.

They didn’t have an attic. They stored their winter coats and special-occasion tablecloths in trunks and big cardboard boxes printed to look like wood grain; his mother would shove them into
the crawl space over Belinda’s and Josie’s bedrooms. T.J. hoisted himself up. Wasps swarmed in and out of a small louver at the north end. The roof slanted just above his head. Beads of amber sap glittered along the two-by-fours that formed the eaves. Sweat dripped down T.J.’s back as he went through the boxes.