Livvie Owen Lived Here (11 page)

It never occurred to me to ask a teacher before, but Mrs. Rhodes was different from most teachers, so I followed her through the classroom as she readied us for lunch.

“What's three BR mean?”

“Come again?” She distributed three lunch boxes to three students without looking. It seemed to be a talent that came natural to teachers.

“The paper says there's a house for rent that's three BR, one point five BA.”

“Three bedroom, one and a half bath, dear.” She helped Robert on with his coat and coaxed Michael to leave all but one of his snake pictures behind, so he had a hand free to eat.

I didn't like the sound of “half bath.” It made me
think of our leaky bathtub in the trailer. Counting in my head, I figured out that any ad about the Sun House would have to start with 4 BR and 1 BA. No halves. I scanned the rental section without luck.

We visited the cafeteria between lunch shifts, so it wasn't busy and full of people. I liked it quiet in the cafeteria because when it was even the littlest bit loud, the walls amplified the sound and it got extra loud and echoey. It hurt my ears some and it made me a little upset, but it really killed Michael. He just could not tolerate it. Peyton, too, seemed to dislike the louder noise, and she got louder when it was loud. Her singsongy sounds became shrieks and she banged her head on the back of her chair.

Our peer helper came with us to lunch. His name was Jamie and he was a junior like Natasha. I liked him better than the peer helper who came during second period. Her name was Kristin and she was giggly and flirty and liked to hang around the most with Bristol and Robert, if she could be bothered to hang around with anyone at all. Mostly she just snuck her hands under the table and sent text messages back and forth with her boyfriend.

Jamie helped us get our trays, except he didn't have to help me or G because we were very careful to get it right. He did have to help Michael or Michael would take all of one food and none of the
next, and then get to his table and get frustrated because he only had one kind of food. Michael was not a planning-ahead sort of guy when it came to practical matters.

Jamie sat next to G and helped her open her milk, which was hard for her. “Hey, G, what's up, girl?” he asked happily, nudging her with his elbow. He and G were buddies. I wished I knew how to be buddies.

Velcro ripped, even though G had been told time and again that talking and eating were not compatible, particularly if you used picture exchange. But then again, Jamie had asked.

G must have said there wasn't much up, because Jamie shook his head. “Not much? But aren't you going to the pep rally Friday?”

G bounced in her seat and giggled. She was girly when it came to things like pep rallies. She liked to watch the cheerleaders and she especially liked to watch the football players.

I rolled my eyes and smiled at them, then let my gaze slide away. I was just about to take a bite of my grilled cheese sandwich when I heard the paper mill whistle, as loud and clear as if the lunch lady had done it. I dropped my sandwich and bumped the table. My spoon clattered to the floor so loud that Peyton shrieked and Michael clapped his hands over
his ears, knocking over his milk with his elbow. Bristol screamed and leapt clear of the spilled milk as it threatened to soak into her warm colors, and her scream inspired an even louder shriek from Peyton. In two instants, the paper mill whistle had demolished the relative quiet of the lunchroom, and all hell had broken loose, courtesy of me.

The noise was so loud, I stood up and backed away. It would help if the whistle would stop blowing, but it blasted away just as merry as ever, although no one else at the table seemed to hear it.

“I have to ask Tash if she heard it!” I yelled, and jumped up from the table as the whistle finally faded. I ran through the cafeteria, ducking around tables and jumping over chairs, bolting down the hallway before anyone could stop me. I knew Natasha's schedule because she showed it to me on the first day of school in case I ever needed to find her. She was worried about high school being a place I could get into trouble and, thinking back on the pandemonium in the cafeteria, I guessed she was right.

This was third period for her because she had already eaten lunch. Blasting through the door, I knocked into a desk right inside the classroom door.

Natasha jumped up from her seat, her face turning red as she glanced around at her openmouthed
friends. “Livvie, what are you doing?” she demanded in horror.

“Did you hear it?” I demanded, grabbing her arm. “Did you?”

“Hear what?”

“The whistle!”

“Livvie, for godsake, not this again!” With a firm arm on my shoulder, she guided me back into the hallway. Over her shoulder, she said to her teacher, “Excuse me just for a minute. My sister—”

“Go ahead,” the teacher said kindly, as though Natasha were someone to be pitied. I was beside myself about the whistle, but I had time to cast the teacher a hateful glance at his attitude.

In the hallway, Natasha ran her hands down my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “You may not,” she said in a shaky voice, “run away from your class to tell me things. And you may not barge into
my
class right in the middle unless it's a life-or-death emergency.”

“It
is
an emergency,” I insisted. “And you never said it had to be the life-or-death kind!”

“Olivia—” Her eyes rolled away from mine, up to the ceiling, and she took a couple of steadying breaths. “Do you know how awful that looks to have your kid sister come running into your classroom screaming?”

“I wasn't screaming. I was asking and you still haven't answered. Did you?”

“Did I
what?
”

“Hear the whistle!”

“Livvie, there
is
no whistle. The whistle stopped blowing ten years ago. I don't know what you're hearing, but that's not what it is.”

“But I
heard
it.”

“You heard something.” She sighed sharp enough to make her hair blow back. “We all wanted the whistle back, Liv. We all wanted Mom and Dad to keep their mill jobs so they could afford to repair the damage at the Sun House. But it doesn't matter how much you want to hear it. It's gone! You're stressed out about a new teacher and you heard something, but you didn't—you didn't hear what you think you did.”

“That's not what I'm stressed out about. I like my new teacher! And you heard it, too, the first time!”

“I was sleeping, Livvie. I was dreaming. That's all. I had a dream.” She ran a hand through her hair, much like I did when I was nervous. “Maybe you're just not one of those people who needs to be asleep to have a dream.”

I yanked my arm away from her, suddenly suspicious, and began to rock and hum.

“Livvie, you're making things up. You're crazy,” I
ventured, knowing this was what Natasha meant to say.

“You're not, you're not crazy, you're just . . . you.” She tugged my hands out of my hair. “Stop doing that. Go to class, Livvie. Come on, I'll walk you. I want to make sure you don't run off along the way.” Her voice was tired and sounded a lot like Simon's. She took my hand as though I were small.

“Livvie, you didn't hear anything,” I said as she walked me toward the cafeteria. I began to hum again, fervently, loud enough I couldn't hear her sighing, except I could sense it, anyway. “You didn't hear anything, so stop hearing things.”

Halfway to the lunchroom, we met Mrs. Rhodes and G jogging along the hallway.

“Oh, thank god,” Mrs. Rhodes said with a dramatic hand to her forehead. “I really didn't want to lose one on my very first day. Olivia Owen! What were you thinking?”

Velcro ripped, but G's question was along the same lines, only less nice.

“I needed to talk to my sister, only it didn't help.”

“Olivia,
want
and
need
are two very different things,” Mrs. Rhodes said sternly. “There is never anything that you
need
to do that is more important than being safe, and is running off safe?”

When I didn't answer right away, Natasha nudged me.

“No,” I muttered. Then, “Be polite, Livvie. You're already in trouble.” And a little louder, “No, ma'am.”

“That's better,” Mrs. Rhodes said briskly. “Well, now. That's twice today you've bolted away from a perfectly good plate of food. I'm starting to think that I make you lose your appetite.”

“She usually doesn't have one,” Natasha offered. “I wouldn't blame yourself.”

“And you must be the famous Natasha,” Mrs. Rhodes said, changing gears with no obvious warning signs. “You are a popular topic of conversation with Miss Olivia.”

“Maybe a little too popular,” Natasha muttered. “I'm sorry. I told her once that if she ever needed me . . . and now she thinks she can come find me if the slightest little thing goes wrong. Like I know how to fix it.” Natasha bit her lip in frustration, ruffling my hair so I knew she didn't hate me.

I hummed harder for a minute as tears filled my eyes. “Livvie, say you're sorry,” I whispered, but I wasn't quite sure how.

Natasha must have heard me, anyway, because she gave me a hug, loose and long. Then waved and walked back toward her class, drawing a shaky
breath as she went and running her hands through her hair.

“She's mad,” I said softly as she walked out of sight.

“I think,” Mrs. Rhodes said softly, “that you might have frightened your sister. And remember what we said about fear.”

I didn't remember, but I nodded, anyway.

We headed back for the cafeteria, where Jamie was helping my classmates clean up their trays and wipe down the tables. Michael was standing several feet away, frowning.

“You put milk on my snake,” he accused as I approached.

“Nuh-uh, Livvie wasn't even here, I wasn't even here.”

“You made it spill.” He glared at the shrinking puddle and the rag in Jamie's hand.

I felt worry. “Is your snake ruined?”

“It lived, no thanks to you. Snake pictures are paper and when paper gets wet, it bends and it gets easier to tear, so you could have killed my snake easy, and then I would have only had one hundred forty-seven pictures of snakes instead of one hundred forty-eight, and I wouldn't have a single ratsnake. You suck!”

The term “ratsnake” made me shiver, and Michael's anger made my eyes feel wet. Jamie patted my shoulder as he passed to usher Michael and the others out of the lunchroom.

The bell rang as I sat down and I automatically stood up again.

“No, sit, sit,” Mrs. Rhodes insisted, and she sat next to me, G on her other side. “The three of us are going to be late to gym today. We have some eating to do! Mr. Raldy and Jamie are perfectly capable of taking the class to P.E.”

It made me nervous to stay in the lunchroom after the bell, especially when it started to fill up with loud people. I ate fast and threw the rest away.

Velcro ripped as I finished. The cartoon face was smiling, the hand in the universal symbol for “OK.”

“You're not mad?” I asked G.

Her next words were along the lines of “Never at Livvie.”

I smiled. That wasn't true, but she was sweet for saying it. I hugged her tight for the second time that day, and we headed off to gym hand in hand. Mrs. Rhodes walked behind us, humming to herself. She was the only person I'd met other than me who hummed in public.

Natasha didn't wait for me outside after school that day. It was Simon who picked us up today, still
wearing his blue Walmart shirt with the smiley face on the pocket.

“Hey there,” he said as I climbed into the car. “How was school?”

“I'm not crazy, right?” I said by way of answer, and Simon closed his eyes for half a second and rubbed his stubble.

“That good, huh?” he asked with a sigh.

Lanie had taken the front seat this time, but she cast me a half-apologetic smile. I piled in behind her, dragging my full book bag behind me. I had spent an extra lot of time today pasting real estate ads into my notebook after gym.

“Where's Natasha?” Simon asked, surveying the crowd for her.

“She's over there,” Lanie said before I could, and I spun quickly and saw that she was right. Natasha had been watching me from the corner the entire time.

My stomach suddenly felt very sick and upset. Natasha had waited to make sure I was safe, I thought, but she hadn't wanted to talk to me.

“I made her mad today,” I said, and began to hum.

“Oh my god, please don't start humming,” Lanie said from the front seat. “Remember we're in a peace agreement and this is one of those nice things you have to do for me.”

“I feel like I'm going to blow,” I said faintly. “I have to do something and humming is mild. That's what Miss Mandy always said.” I worked my hands into my hair again.

“Yeah, it was so mild it chased her out of town,” Lanie muttered, and I hummed louder.

“Seriously, don't start that,” Simon said. “I mean it, Livvie.” He drove a little faster. “Let's just get ourselves home with no fighting and no humming and no hair-pulling, okay?”

I pressed my hands against my head instead and began tightening my joints as hard as I could, one after another. After a minute I noticed Lanie watching me in the mirror.

“What are you saying?” she asked when we made eye contact.

I hadn't realized I was talking, or rather, mouthing silent words into the car.

“Sometimes scared looks the same as mad,” I said faintly. “That's what Mrs. Rhodes said. I just remembered.” My eyes strayed to Simon.

“Who's Mrs. Rhodes?”

“My new sub.”

“Gawd, you guys scared off another one?” Lanie bounced on her seat. “That's, like, a record. I think I'm impressed.”