Raven (8 page)

The overtime was just as exciting as the game, each team scoring until the last thirty seconds, when Jimmy had an opportunity to score and delayed it as long as possible. The crowd held its collective breath as the bail sailed through the air and threaded through the basket to give our school the victory. The team carried Jimmy off the court, the school's hero.
"And you're going to be with him at the party!" Paula Gordon moaned.
"I have no idea why," I said.
She exchanged a funny look with Jennifer, both covering their smiles with their hands.
Afterward, the boys joined us to watch the varsity game, but it wasn't as exciting, and during the halftime, Jimmy suggested we just leave and go to the party.
"We'll get a head start," he said.
We piled into two cars and headed for Missy Taylor's house. The weather had turned bad, and there was a constant drizzle, but rather than put a damper on our excitement, it made everyone squeal and scream as we rushed to get into the automobiles. When we arrived at the house, I discovered both her parents were at their bar and restaurant, so Jennifer's first lie was immediately evident. It was a nice house, bigger than Uncle Reuben and Aunt Clara's. Missy was an only child, and there were four bedrooms as well as a basement party room with a bar and a jukebox.
The music started immediately, and Brad got behind the bar and began to pour beer and vodka. I didn't want to drink anything, but everyone was drinking, even Jennifer, who claimed she was used to drinking vodka.
"I drink it at home and then put water in the bottle so my father won't know," she said. I actually believed her, but it wasn't long before she began to feel sick and had to go to the bathroom to throw up.
"She drank it too fast," Jimmy said. "That's the trick, drinking slowly. You're doing all right. You know how to handle yourself. I see."
I had only sipped half a glass of beer. My mother would roar with laughter, I thought.
"Come on," Jimmy said, taking my hand. "Let's leave these losers behind."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see," he said. He led me up the stairway to the bedroom.
"We can't just walk through her house like this, can we?" I asked.
"Sure, Missy knows. It's all right," he said. "We've had parties here before. It's a great party house, because her parents don't keep track of what we drink, and they're always out."
Missy Taylor can't have much of a family, either, I thought. I was beginning to wonder if any of the kids at school were really better off than me.
Jimmy did seem to know exactly where to go. He led me to one of the guest bedrooms. As soon as we passed through the door, he kicked it closed and embraced me. It was the most wonderful kiss I had ever experienced, long, wet, and so hard it made the back of my neck ache. As he kissed me, he brought his hands up the sides of my body to my shoulders and then kissed my neck.
"You're delicious," he said. "Just as I imagined you would be."
"I'm not something to eat," I said, trying to laugh. I was getting very nervous. I liked him, wanted him to kiss me, but he was moving so fast he made my heart pound. His hands were on my breasts, and his fingers were manipulating the buttons of my blouse. As he did that, he walked us toward the bed, and before I knew it, we were sitting on it. He brought his lips to my chest and began to work on my bra.
"Wait," I said.
"For what?"
"I don't want to do this so fast. We can get in trouble," I told him.
He looked at me with a frozen smile on his lips. "Don't worry. We won't. I have what we need. You expected I would, didn't you?"
"What? No," I said.
"What do you mean, no? You agreed to come here with me. What did you think we'd be doing, having popcorn and watching television? You know what's happening, and I know about you. Jennifer's told everyone."
"What?" I pushed him back. "What did she tell everyone?"
"Hey, what's going on? This isn't brain surgery. We're just having a good time. You've had them before."
"Not like this," I said, standing. "I don't know what Jennifer has told everyone, but I'm not what you think."
"Come on," he said. "I don't kiss and tell." He reached for my hand, and I stepped back.
"Neither do I," I said. "I'm nobody's one-night stand," I added, repeating something Mama had once told one of her lovers. As it turned out, she was often a one-night stand.
"I thought you were cooler than the girls here," he said. "Why do you think I asked you out on the night of the biggest game? Come on," he said, reaching for me again. "Don't I deserve some reward?"
"No," I said. "You deserve a kick between the legs, and that's what you're going to get if you try to pull me onto that bed," I threatened. My eyes were full of fire.
He cowered. "Fine. Get the hell out, then."
I headed for the door.
"You and your cousin are full of it," he yelled after me.
"Don't put me in the same category as Jennifer," I spit back, disgusted.
Out in the hallway, I saw Brad leaving one of the bedrooms, a smile on his face as he hurried to straighten his clothes.
"Brad, where's Jennifer? We're going home!"
"Fine, chill, I'm done with her. She's all yours." He laughed as he made his way downstairs to the party.
I pushed open the bedroom door and saw Jennifer lying on the bed, her skirt bunched up and her shirt halfway unbuttoned. She looked as if she was sleeping, but I had enough experience with my mother to know that she was passed out.
"Jennifer, wake up!" I shouted, shaking her by the shoulder. "C' mon, we've got to get out of here!"
"What? Who? Raven . . what are you doing here? What happened?" She looked groggily around the room. "Where's Brad? We were having fun, and then the room started to spin, and I . ."
"Come
on,
Jennifer, you have to get up!" I pulled her into a sitting position, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
"Ohhh, my head! I want to go home," she moaned, clutching the side of the bed.
"We will. That's why I came looking for you. But first you better tell me what kind of stories you've been telling everyone about me," I demanded.
"Please, Raven, I just want to go home."
I could tell there was no use talking to her in this condition, so I put my arm around her and helped her to the stairs. Brad was standing at the foot of the stairs with a group of boys, and they were all laughing hysterically.
"Somebody better take us home," I said. "Jennifer's sick. We need to go now."
"Why don't you just hitchhike?" Brad suggested. Everyone laughed.
Jennifer and I made our way downstairs, and I turned to Missy Taylor who had come up from the basement to see what all the laughing was about.
"If someone doesn't take us home, my uncle will make a lot of trouble for you, especially with all this drinking going on."
She smirked. "Take them home, Brad. I don't want to get into trouble. They're too young to be here, anyway. It was a stupid idea."
"I'll say it was," Jimmy piped up from behind us. "Come on," I urged Jennifer, and we walked to the front door.
"Let's get moving," Brad said angrily. "I don't want to miss the fun."
"Yes, we'd hate to have you miss any of the fun. Some fun," I muttered, and led Jennifer to his car. She sprawled out in the backseat.
"She better not throw up in my car," Brad said. "You really didn't want to bring her here. Why did you?"
"I did it as a favor for Jimmy so you would come. I guess you didn't hit it off, huh?" he said, smiling. "That's okay, though, Jennifer and I had fun." Jennifer giggled from the backseat.
"No," I said, "we didn't hit it off."
"A lot of girls want to go out with Jimmy," he said as if I had lost a golden opportunity.
"Here's one who doesn't," I said.
He shook his head. "Man, where are you from?" he asked.
Yes, where am I from? I wondered, and then I thought, it doesn't matter where I'm from. It's where I'm going that matters.

It was raining harder when we arrived home. Brad wouldn't help me with Jennifer. He just sat there waiting impatiently while I struggled to get her out of the car. She didn't even seem to realize we were getting soaked, because she wouldn't or couldn't move quickly. I practically carried her from Brad's car to the house. He shot off as soon as we were out of the automobile. By the time we reached the door, both of us were soaked. I had hoped to sneak Jennifer in and up to her room, but the moment I opened the front door, Uncle Reuben sprang from his recliner in the living room and appeared in the hallway. His eyes bulged when he saw Jennifer. She was pale, her clothes wet and disheveled, her hair messed with strands sticking to her forehead, and her eyes half closed. She leaned on me for support, and I guided her into the house.

"What the hell happened to her? What's wrong?" he demanded. "Is she sick?"
She lifted her eyes and looked at him
pathetically for a moment and then suddenly burst out laughing and crying at the same time.
He turned to me.
"What's going on here?"
"She drank some vodka at the party," I said. I had made up my mind I wouldn't lie to protect her.
"What? Drank some . . . Clara!" he screamed. Aunt Clara came rushing out of the bedroom and appeared at the top of the stairway. She wore only her nightgown. "What is it, Reuben?"
"Look at your daughter," he declared, extending his arms toward Jennifer.
She looked even more ridiculous wearing an idiotic smile and clinging to my arm. Her eyes rolled, and she pressed her hands to her stomach. "Uh-oh. I don't feel so good," she moaned.
Uncle Reuben turned to me again. "I thought you said the party was chaperoned."
"I didn't say anything. That was Jennifer," I said.
He curled his thick, dark eyebrows toward each other and narrowed his eyes into slits of suspicion. "Who gave her the vodka?"
"I'm sick, Daddy. Let me go upstairs," she pleaded.
"Oh, dear, dear," Aunt Clara cried, coming down the stairs quickly. She took Jennifer's other arm. We started toward the stairway, but Uncle Reuben reached out with his large hands and grasped my shoulders, pulling me away and toward him. He nearly lifted me off the floor as he brought his nose closer to my face and sniffed.
"You drank something, too," he accused.
"Just half a glass of beer," I said.
"I knew it. I just knew this sort of thing would happen when you came into my home
"It wasn't my fault," I cried, and pushed his hand away from my shoulder. "Jennifer wanted to go to this party more than I did. And she knew exactly what was going to be happening there," I told him If he only knew what else had happened--even his precious princess wouldn't be safe from his wrath.
He didn't hear a word. Jennifer stumbled on a step, and Aunt Clara struggled to keep her from falling. Uncle Reuben shot forward, scooped Jennifer up in his arms, and charged up the stairway with her as if she were nothing more than a toddler.
"Don't shake her so much, Reuben," Aunt Clara warned, climbing after them. It was too late. Jennifer started heaving again just as he reached the upstairs landing. He hurried toward the bathroom.
"Oh, dear, dear," Aunt Clara said, pressing her hands together and then to her face. She paused to look at me and shook her head. "How could this happen, Raven?"
"I think it's happened before, Aunt Clara, only you never knew," I said. I wasn't sure exactly what had happened with Jennifer and Brad, or if it had happened before with other boys, but I was pretty sure Jennifer wouldn't want her parents to know about that, either.
She bit down on her lip and started upstairs. Uncle Reuben stepped out of the bathroom,
"See to her," he ordered. "Give her a cold shower."
William had come to the doorway of his bedroom dressed in his pajamas. He wiped his eyes and looked out at the bedlam, confused. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Go back to sleep," Uncle Reuben ordered. Then he turned to glare down at me. "I want to talk to you," he charged.
"I didn't do anything," I protested, and went to my little room, closing the door behind me.
He nearly ripped it off the hinges opening it again. "Don't you dare walk away from me!" he screamed.
"It wasn't my fault, Uncle Reuben. She wanted to 'go to the game and the party. She talked the boys into asking us. She went right to the bar and poured herself a glass of vodka, claiming she knew how to drink, but she got sick right away. I guess she drank too much too fast trying to show off. I brought her home as soon as I could. That's the truth."
"Jennifer never went to a party like that before," he insisted. "She's never come home like this. Somehow, I'm sure this was all your doing."
"Believe what you want," I said. "You will anyway."
I turned my back on him. It was a big mistake. Seconds later, his big left hand was at my neck, and his right hand scooped up the hem of my dress. He lifted me off the floor and tossed me to the pullout, nearly knocking it over with me on it. Before I could scream, he had unbuckled his belt and pulled it off his pants. The next thing I knew, he was pulling down my panties. Then I screamed as loud and as hard as I could.
"Bitch!" he said. "Bad seed! You're not coming here and ruining my Jennifer. I'll put an end to this bad behavior right now."
The first whack of the belt shocked me more than it hurt me. I couldn't believe this was happening. With his large palm on my back, he held me down as he swung his belt again. This time, the pain shot up my spine.
"Wagging your rear at boys, going to parties, drinking and who knows what else. You are just like your mother," he said. "You should have been whipped before this, but it's not too late. No, sir." He hit me again and then again. Between my screams and my tears, I started to choke. It was useless to try to get away. He as much as nailed me to the bed with his heavy palm. He finally stopped beating me, but for a long moment he just held me down. My rear end was stinging in pain. It was as if I had been stung by dozens of wasps. I felt him move his right hand over it, but this time surprisingly softly. I wondered if he was checking to be sure he had done enough damage. Then he pulled his left hand from my back. I was afraid to turn, afraid to move. I sensed him standing there, gazing down at me, breathing hard.
"Maybe now you'll behave," he said.
I shuddered with sobs and heard him leave, closing the door behind him. For a long time, I didn't move. I remained there, with my face down, waiting for the pain to subside. Finally, it did so enough for me to turn over. It hurt to move my legs and even more to put pressure on my rear. I sprawled on my back and tried to catch my breath, wiping my face. I think I was bothered more by my outrage and loss of dignity than the stinging and aching, however. Slowly, I leaned over and pulled my panties back on. When I stood up, it was like rising from a beach or poolside and realizing you had been sunburned. My skin was throbbing, and there was a deep, sick feeling in the center of my stomach.
I wanted to open the door and scream, "How dare you do this to me?"
I actually did open it, but when I looked out at the quiet house, I suddenly became even more terrified. If he would do this, who knew what else he would do? Instead, I made my way to the bathroom and tried putting a warm, damp towel on my battered thighs and rear.
It didn't help much. I returned to my room, moving cautiously and slowly through the house. I could hear Uncle Reuben yelling upstairs and Aunt Clara's muffled sobs. I barely had enough strength to undress, and when I finally did lie down, the throbbing grew worse. It kept me awake most of the night. I think I passed out rather than fell asleep sometime just before morning.
A cold shock woke me, and I realized I was drenched in ice water. I cried out and sat up to face Uncle Reuben, who stood there with the emptied pail in his hands. The water quickly soaked right through the blanket, but I kept it close to my half-naked body.
"You get yourself up and get out there to help Clara do the weekly cleaning," he demanded. "You won't sleep late here because you carried on like a tramp, hear? I'll teach you what it means to misbehave while living with me," he threatened, speaking through clenched teeth. "I'm not your mother. None of this goes here. Now, get up!"
"I will. Leave me alone," I moaned.
He started to throw more water on me.
"Reuben, stop!" Aunt Clara cried from the hallway.
He glared at me and then nodded and left the room, pausing at the doorway to speak to Aunt Clara.
"Don't baby her, Clara. She needs strict discipline. She's no more than a wild animal."
He walked off.
When I began to move, the pain from my beaten body shot up my spine and made me cry out.
"What is it?" Aunt Clara said, coming in. "What's wrong, Raven?"
"He beat me, Aunt Clara. He beat me with a belt last night."
She shook her head in denial, but I turned on my side and lifted the blanket from my legs and rear. Then she gasped and stepped back. "Oh, dear, dear."
"Is it bad?"
"It's inflamed, welts," she cried. "Reuben, how could you do such a thing?" she asked, but far from loudly enough for him to hear. It was more as if she was asking herself how her husband could have turned into such a monster. There were other questions to ask, but this was hardly the time to suggest them, I thought.
"I'll get some balm," she said. "Just stay there, Raven. Oh, dear, dear," she muttered, and hurried out.
I collapsed back onto the pillow, my head pounding. What tortured me was not the beating I had been unfairly given as much as the realization that there was no one I could depend on now that Mama had gotten herself into even deeper trouble. Aunt Clara was too weak. I had no other relatives to run to for help. I was in a strange town in a school where I was still so new that I hadn't had time to make close friends. I was truly trapped.
"Here, dear. Let me see what I can do," Aunt Clara said, hurrying back.
I turned over to let her apply the medicine. It did bring some cool relief.
"I can't believe he did this," she muttered. "But he was so upset. He has such a temper."
"I didn't make Jennifer drink the vodka, Aunt Clara. Those kids are all her friends, not mine"
"I know, dear. I know."
"He won't believe anything bad about her," I said, turning when she was finished. She stared at me. "It's not fair, and it's not right," I continued.
"I'll speak to him," she promised, nodding.
"It won't matter, Aunt Clara. He has a bad opinion of me and my mother, and he hates me for being alive and a problem for you. I should just leave."
"Of course not. Where would you go? Don't even think of such a thing, Raven. He'll cairn down. Everything will be all right," she insisted, just as someone living in Never-Never Land would.
"It won't be all right. He'll never cairn down," I said. "He's an ogre. He's more than that. I know why he favors Jennifer so much, too," I added, more under my breath. Aunt Clara either didn't hear me or pretended not to. She quickly turned away.
"I'll make us some hot breakfast, and we'll all feel better. You take your time, dear. Take your time," she said, and left before I could add a word.
I sat there fuming. All I wanted to do was get my hands on Jennifer and wring her neck until she confessed the truth. I wasn't going to let her get away with this, I thought. I took the beating that should have been meant for her.
I stepped out cautiously, hating even the thought of facing Uncle Reuben now. I heard no voices, just the clanking of dishes and the sounds of Aunt Clara moving about the kitchen. When I peered in, I saw William alone at the table. Jennifer was permitted to sleep off the effects of last night, but not me.
Anger raged up in me like milk simmering too long in a pot. I felt the heat rise into my face. Without hesitation, I turned and started up the stairs. If I had to drag her down these steps and throw her at her father's feet, babbling the truth, I would do it, I thought.
As I turned at the landing, I saw that her bedroom door was slightly ajar. I started for it and stopped when I heard the distinct sound of
whimpering. Then I heard Jennifer's voice, tiny and pathetic, sounding more like a girl half her age than her usual cocky self. I drew closer, curious and confused.
"I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't want to do it, but Raven and the other girls started to make fun of me. They said I was immature, a baby, and I shouldn't be at parties yet."
"Don't you let them say those things about you, princess. Don't you even think it," I heard Uncle Reuben say.
If only he knew the whole truth, I thought, then what would he think of his little princess?
A moment later, Aunt Clara called for me. "Raven? Are you upstairs?" Uncle Reuben heard her call me and appeared in Jennifer's doorway.
"What are you doing up here?" he demanded. "I came up to see Jennifer," I said.
"She's not,well this morning, as you should know," he said. "Just tend to your chores."
"Daddy!" I heard her cry behind him.
"Go on!" he shouted at me.
I started down the stairs, turning to look up when I was almost halfway to the bottom. Jennifer's door was closed.
"What is it, dear?" Aunt Clara said.
I looked at her for a moment and thought about telling her about last night.
"It's nothing, Aunt Clara. I'll be right down." I wasn't ready to stoop to Jennifer's level. Not yet, at least.
Aunt Clara knew something was wrong, but she didn't press me for answers. I suppose she didn't want to know about Jennifer's behavior any more than she wanted to know about Uncle Reuben terrorizing William. Deep in her put-away heart, she couldn't be happy with the person Jennifer was becoming. She had to be aware of her deceitfulness, her laziness, and her meanness. I knew she was upset about the way William shut himself off from everyone, even her, and wanted the best for her son. So what about her daughter? What did she want for her?
And then I would reconsider and stop hating her and start pitying her. I had been here only a short time. I had no idea what sort of horrible things she had endured before I arrived. It was easy to see she was afraid of Uncle Reuben, maybe even more afraid of him than I was. All he had to do was raise his voice, lift his eyebrows, hoist his shoulders, and she would stammer and slink off, pressing her hands to her bosom and lowering her head. There were times when she didn't know I was looking at her, and I saw the deep sadness in her face or even caught her wiping a tear or two from her cheeks. Often, with her work done, she would sit in her rocking chair and rock with her eyes wide open, staring at nothing. She wouldn't even realize I was around.
I never doubted she loved her children, and maybe she once had loved Uncle Reuben, but she was someone who had been drained of her independence, her pride, and her strength, a hollow shadow of her former self who barely resembled the pretty young woman in the old pictures, a young woman with a face full of hope, whose future looked promising and wonderful, who had no reason to think that anything but roses and perfumed rain would fall around her.
Some adults, I thought, fall apart, drink, go to drugs, become wild and loose like my mother did when they lose their dreams. Some die a quiet sort of death, one hardly noticed, and live in the echo of other voices, their own real voices and smiles carried away in the wind like ribbons, gone forever, out of sight, visible only for a second or two in the glimmering eyes or soft smiles that come with the memories.