It's Just a Jump to the Left (4 page)

“Leta?”

Leta turned around to see Miss Shelton standing behind her with some of her friends.

“Hi, Miss Shelton.”

“Amy, please!” her student teacher laughed. “Hey y’all, this is one of my students, Leta. Are you here for
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
?”

“Yeah, I come every—well,
most
every Friday,” Leta said.

Miss Shelton’s eyes widened, and Leta enjoyed feeling like she was part of the secret club. “Cool. Are you here by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Leta admitted.

“Why don’t you come sit with us? We’ll save you a seat,” Miss Shelton said.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Who is that?” It was Tom. He was talking to her. Tom. Talking. To her.

“She’s my teacher, um, a friend,” Leta answered.

“Huh,” Tom said, watching Miss Shelton head for Theater 2. He turned back to Leta with a smile. “Sprite, right?”

“Yeah.” Leta grinned. He knew her drink!

“Maybe later I’ll come find you guys. Save me a seat.”

“Sure,” Leta said, and it was like she’d swallowed the sun.

This was only the second time Miss Shelton and her friends had seen the movie, and Leta enjoyed playing
Rocky Horror
tour guide, showing them when to throw things, prompting them on comebacks. She didn’t even care that Jennifer stood up in
front of her seat to dance. Miss Shelton laughed at all the right parts and even some that Leta didn’t understand. When Leta
sang along to “Sweet Transvestite,” Miss Shelton high-fived her, and Leta couldn’t wait to tell Agnes about it. Maybe Agnes
would be jealous of her new friendship with Miss Shelton, who was super pretty and cool and in college.

Toward the end of the movie, during the floor show, Tom slid in next to Leta, taking the empty seat she’d dutifully saved
for him with her jacket.

“Are those guys in makeup?” Tom whispered, and Leta felt it deep in her belly.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, relishing the nearness of his perfect ear.

“Huh. This is a weird movie, man.”

Leta stared at him. “You mean you’ve never seen it before?”

“Huh-uh. Not my thing.”

“Oh, my god, it’s like the best movie ever. Nothing’s as good as Rocky,” Leta said.

“I know one or two things,” Tom said and winked. “You want anything from the concession stand?”

Leta shook her head, and Tom reached in front of her to tap Miss Shelton on the arm. “You want anything? Coffee, tea, me?”

Miss Shelton laughed, and a woman with crimped hair and a maid’s outfit shushed them. Tom made a face, and even though Leta
didn’t want the lady to be mad at her, she giggled anyway.

When the movie had ended, and they were huddled in the harsh glare of the theater lobby, Miss Shelton put her arm around Leta.
“That beat hell out of Texas history, huh?”

“Yeah,” Leta said, but her eyes were on Tom.

“I gotta close down the place,” he said. “But, hey, let’s do the Time Warp again.”

“Sure. Okay.” Leta was still grinning. “See you next Friday for sure!”

“Yeah. See you then. You, too,” Tom said to Miss Shelton.

At the Popcorn on Wednesday, Cawley and Leta put the finishing touches on the set for
Our Town
. In the week since their kiss, Leta had managed to avoid him—taking a different hallway to classes, carrying all her books
so as to skip her locker, ducking into the girls’ bathroom when necessary. But now they were at the Popcorn together, and
Leta was determined to keep things strictly professional.

“Could you hand me those?” Leta pointed to a wad of tissue-paper flowers the size of a tricycle.

“Jennifer Pomhultz told Scotty West’s brother that she’s going to dance with the regulars at
Rocky Horror
this weekend,” Cawley said, holding the flowers in place.

“So?”

“So? We gotta show up and take her down.” We. He was already making them into a couple. “I’ve got it all figured out. My grandmother
can drive me over around nine o’clock, and drop us off at the Pizza Hut. Then we could just walk over to the Cineplex from
there later.”

“They’re pretty strict about IDs,” Leta said, letting the staple gun rip.

“But they let you in. Just tell ’em I’m your cousin or something. Your kissing cousin,” he joked.

Leta’s face went hot. It had been a mistake to kiss Cawley. She couldn’t be seen with him, not now that she had a shot with
Tom. “Actually, I-I may not be able to go this weekend. I think my dad is coming. And, you know, we’re doing, like, family
stuff.”

“Yeah, but the show’s not till midnight.”

“Sorry.”

“But Jennifer Pomhultz is trying to take your spot as Columbia! You have to go!”

“You’re not the boss of me, Cawley!”

Leta’s finger slipped on the staple gun, nearly catching Cawley’s thumb, and Leta thought of the gun going off, the bullet
shattering her brother’s temple.

“Stupid!” she hissed, and she wasn’t sure who or what she meant by it.

That night, Leta’s dad called. His flat tones echoed over the phone, all the way from Connecticut, which sounded like a state
you had to put together yourself from a kit. “Hey, kiddo, how’s eighth grade treating you?”

“Okay,” Leta said.

“How’s Agnes? Is she behaving?”

“I guess. You know Aggie.”

Her dad laughed. “Well, Stevie sounds good.” There was a pause. “Your mom getting on okay?”

Leta flicked a glance toward her mother, who was stirring anger into the pot of noodles on the stove. “Yeah.”

“Good, good. Good.”

Leta wanted to ask her dad when he was coming home. She wanted to know if he missed them, or if they were faint as the ghostly
images on a negative. She wanted something she couldn’t name and she hoped he’d know what it was.

“Well, take care of yourself, kiddo. Lemme have another crack at your mom, there, okay?”

“Sure.” Leta handed off the receiver, ducking under the cord.

Her mother’s voice dropped to a wounded whisper. “I just don’t think I can do this anymore, Dean, I really don’t.”

When her mother had gone to sleep, Leta took the picture of Columbia she’d torn from a movie magazine and taped it to her
bathroom mirror. From under the sink, she took out a box of red dye, coating her head and setting the egg timer for thirty
minutes. Once she’d washed it out, she chopped at her lank strands, going shorter and shorter until her hair was just below
her ears. It didn’t hang exactly even, but it wasn’t too bad. The dye was darker than she’d imagined—a deep auburn. It made
her eyes greener and her skin more sallow. But most importantly, it made her seem older. Leta pulled on her winter cap so
that her mother wouldn’t see the new hair before
Rocky Horror
. After tomorrow, it didn’t matter if she was grounded.

In the hushed dark of the kitchen, Leta swilled antacid straight from the bottle, wiping the gluey liquid from her mouth with
the back of her hand. She tested the locks and checked the thermostat before opening the door to Stevie’s room a crack. He
was sleeping. In the corner, the TV was all static, and the screen was as white as the surface of the moon.

SUPERHEROES

For the first time in nearly two months, Agnes and Leta were together on a Friday night, but they wouldn’t be together for
long.

“You little shits better not get into trouble,” Diana said. “If I get grounded because of you, you’re both dead.”

“If I get in trouble, you get in bigger trouble,” Agnes said.

“Don’t make me kill you,” Diana said. She flipped them the bird before driving off.

The girls waited in the parking lot. From here, they could see the cars cruising the strip, making the endless loop from the
Pizza Hut at the south end to the Sonic at the north.

Agnes ruffled Leta’s short red bob. “Your hair looks amazing.”

“Thanks. You look pretty. You’ve got protection, right?”

Leta and Agnes had seen films in their sex ed class about how easy it was to get pregnant, even if it was your first time.
To Leta, watching the films seemed like trying to imagine living in a foreign country.

Agnes unzipped the pocket inside her purse to show Leta the small foil pouch. “All taken care of.”

A minute later, Roger rode up on his motorcycle. He nodded to Leta. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Leta answered. That was usually the extent of their conversations.

Agnes got on the back of the bike and put her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his back. It was funny how
some people just seemed to fit.

“Don’t let Jennifer Pomhultz take your spot!” Agnes shouted. “And good luck with you-know-who!”

For a few minutes after Agnes left, Leta sat on the car hood, searching for Tom’s Camaro.

“Hey, I thought you couldn’t make it tonight!” Cawley called, startling her.

“I… it was sort of last minute,” Leta stammered.

“Cool! We can sit together.” Cawley slid in next to her on the car hood and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Um, I’m sort of meeting some friends here.”

“Okay, so we can
all
sit together.” He nuzzled her neck, and Leta flinched. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just not—people might see us, you know?” Leta said, swallowing hard.

“What, are you embarrassed to be seen with me or something?” Cawley asked.

“I didn’t say that!”

“So what is it?” Cawley looked her in the eyes then, and she knew he wouldn’t go until she gave him the truth.

“I’m waiting for a guy,” Leta said at last.

Cawley shoved his hands in his pockets. “You could’ve just told me you didn’t want me to come.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you to come, I just…” She stopped and pressed the backs of her hands to her eyes. She was making
a mess of things. Why was it that the one person she wasn’t sure about was the only person who was sure about her? “I just
wanted to go out with somebody else, okay? I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I? I mean, it’s still a free country and everything.”

“Yeah. Free country.” Cawley slid off the car hood and walked away from her, toward College Drive.

“I’ll see you at the Popcorn,” Leta added. It was a stupid thing to say. In response, Cawley kicked a trash can hard and it
spun, nearly toppling over.

“Dammit, Janet,” Leta said to no one but the cars.

In the litter-strewn field behind the Cineplex, Leta finally found Tom in a tight huddle of older kids. She approached the
pack cautiously, trying not to attract too much attention, waiting for them to notice her. When no one did, she cleared her
throat.

Tom’s head popped up. He squinted at her.

“It’s me, Leta,” she said, patting at her new hair.

“Oh. Right. Hey, Lisa,” Tom said.

“Leta,” she corrected softly.

“Wanna party? Hey, make room for Lisa,” Tom instructed and Leta was ushered into the fold. A joint came her way, and she passed
it to the pimply ticket-taking guy on her left.

“I can’t. I have an ulcer,” she offered by way of explanation.

“Don’t old men get that?” he asked, taking a hit.

“Some people just produce more stomach acid?” Leta said and immediately wished she hadn’t. “Anyway, it’s okay. I took my medicine.”

“How come you’re all dressed up like that?” one of the girls asked.

“For the movie. I’m Columbia.”

One of the guys snickered. “You’re Columbian? Can we smoke you?”

They all laughed then, and Leta didn’t understand why, but she wished Agnes were here and they were sitting in the warm movie
theater throwing toast and singing like before.

“Hey, Leta!”

Leta turned to see Miss Shelton wobbling over on platform sandals. Her boobs quivered like unset gelatin. Everyone stared.

“Hi, Miss Shel—Amy.”

Miss Shelton gave Leta a little hug, like an older sister, and Leta was overcome by happiness. It would be okay. Everything
would be okay. “I didn’t know you liked to party.”

“There’s a lot people don’t know about me,” Leta said, hoping it made her sound mysterious, a spy working undercover whom
everyone took to be a dork but whose hands were actually lethal weapons.

“That was the last joint, but if you want to get high, I’ve got some primo weed in my car,” Tom said.