Those Girls (16 page)
I felt good for her, my fingers itching for my camera, but I hadn’t taken it out of my packsack since Brian had dropped it.
Even Courtney started to wake up when Patrick tied some gloves on her hands and showed her a couple of moves. She went over to a heavy bag in the corner and hit it in rapid succession, then kept hitting it over and over, frantic movements with no form, just hard punches that made a loud
smack
, her breath almost sobbing out of her with each blow. A couple of kids gave her curious looks but Patrick motioned them away. Tears were rolling down my face. Dani looked stricken too, watching Courtney take her grief out on the bag.
Finally she stopped. Still gasping for air, she turned to Patrick. “Can you teach us how to take care of ourselves?”
“Sure thing—no one will mess with you girls again.”
Again.
I wondered how much he guessed or knew. Would he try to find out where we came from? I hoped not. Helping scared kids was one thing. He might not be so cool if he knew I was a murderer.
“Come on,” he said, like he sensed he’d freaked us out. “Let me show you the apartment upstairs.”
“What apartment?” Dani said, her voice suspicious.
“It’s part of the gym. Tenants just moved out. It’s not much, but you girls can stay until you get back on your feet. We’ll work something out for the rent.”
* * *
He was right, it was just a two-bedroom apartment above the gym—you could hear the thumping below, but I liked that, the comfort of the noise, people nearby. The kitchen had a few cupboards, a scratched-up counter in pale yellow, a single sink, a small fridge and stove, and a bathroom with tiles peeling back and a bathtub stained with rust. But there were three beds with sleeping bags, a couch with one of the crocheted blankets, and a couple of dressers.
“There’s some cutlery, pots, plates, things like that,” Patrick said.
“It’s perfect,” Dani said. “We really appreciate this.”
I pulled curtains away from the window in the back. It looked out over some houses. A woman was planting flowers in a box on her balcony. Our new apartment also had a small balcony, and I thought about getting Dani some seeds.
I looked far below. No one would be able to climb up there.
“Yeah, it’s perfect,” I said.
* * *
Two days later we were having breakfast with Karen and Patrick. I stared at the laminated card, studying the name.
“That one’s yours, Jamie.” Patrick passed Courtney a card. “This one’s yours, Crystal.” He gave Dani the last one. “And Dallas.”
We’d sat up and talked in the dark a couple of nights ago, discussing our new names. Courtney had picked Crystal, after Crystal Gayle. Dani wanted to be Dallas, after Mom’s favorite show. I’d wrestled with mine, testing the possibilities out on my tongue: Janine, Jennifer, Jewel, Jillian, Jocelyn, Jackie.
Finally Courtney said, “Jamie. You should be Jamie.” Since the day at the gym, she’d been talking more. “Like Jessie James.”
“The outlaw?”
She gave a wry smile. “Why not?”
Jamie
. I rolled the name around in my mouth, already leaving Jessica behind. I could be Jamie. I could make up a whole new person.
I looked at the new ID again. Jamie Caldwell. I glanced at Dani, who was staring at a photo of a boy on the kitchen wall. He looked like he was in his twenties, big like Patrick with the same green eyes but black hair. He was wearing boxing shorts and gloves, posed with his fists close to his face, his eyes serious.
Patrick followed the direction of our eyes. “That was Stephen, my son.”
I could tell by the look on Patrick’s face that he didn’t want us to ask what had happened to him. Dani stared down at her ID, her face flushed like she felt bad for being caught staring. I glanced at Karen, flipping eggs at the stove. She’d mangled one and was trying to put it back together, scraping at its edges carefully, cursing under her breath.
* * *
Over the next couple of weeks Patrick showed us how to clean the gym and work the front desk. He didn’t have a lot of work for three girls so we also had to get other jobs. Once we put some money together we’d be paying rent, but he’d said he’d give us a deal.
Dani and Courtney found jobs waitressing right away and worked most nights, but I wasn’t having any luck and would sit awake in the apartment for hours. I wasn’t used to being alone so much—every creak and noise in the building made me jump. I’d think about Dad, how we used to wait up for him when we were kids, the sound of his boots on the stairs that last night. Then I’d think about heaven and hell, wondering where I would end up now that I’d killed him, wondering if my mom would be ashamed of me.
I didn’t go to bed until one of my sisters was home.
At the gym I helped Patrick organize his office and made sure people were up-to-date on memberships.
“Be nice to get this all on the computer,” he said.
“No problem. I took a class in school.” I was relieved I’d have something more to occupy my time—and my mind.
Karen showed Courtney how to teach some of the aerobics classes and she caught on fast. I liked watching her do the complicated steps, bouncing up and down to the music, her blond hair in a ponytail. She’d dyed it platinum. Dani and I had gone the other way, darker, more of a chocolate brown. I liked how it made my eyes greener. It suited Dani too. She was still playing with her new short cut, trying different things, spiking it up or making it all messy. It made her seem older. I wanted to cut mine too but Karen said I had nice hair. She trimmed it one night for me, gave me bangs and showed me how to blow-dry it smooth and straight so it grazed my collarbone. She said the bangs made me look mysterious. I wasn’t sure about that, but I liked that I looked different.
I looked like Jamie
.
We practiced our new names every day, calling them out to each other, saying them over and over as we went to bed. I’d stare at Courtney, saying,
Crystal, Crystal, Crystal
, again and again in my mind, but she was still Courtney to me and I had to think about her new name every time I spoke, hesitating when we were around people. It was hard with Dani too, but her new name suited her short haircut, the way she walked around the gym in workout clothes Patrick had found for us, her hair slicked back with sweat, her tanned arms all sinews, the muscles bunching and flexing as she practiced her jabs and uppercuts for hours.
I slipped my new name on in the morning like it was a new outfit. I practiced walking different, holding myself different, my shoulders up, my eyes challenging.
Jamie.
I made myself answer the phone with a confident voice, “Phoenix Boxing. How can we help you?” With each file I transferred onto the computer, each box that I removed, I felt more in control, more like maybe things would be okay, maybe we could build ourselves new lives. But I was still afraid—of Brian and Gavin, of the police finding us, afraid everything would fall apart.
Courtney and I shared a bedroom again—Dani was across the hall. I woke up yelling some nights, other times Courtney or Dani woke me up yelling out. Sometimes I just heard one of them crying. I wasn’t always sure which one, but it didn’t matter—we shared the same pain, the same nightmares.
Sometimes I just walked around the apartment checking the locks, padding through the hall, sitting in the armchair for hours, watching the door.
We didn’t talk about Dad or what had happened in Cash Creek. We didn’t talk about the ranch, our old house, Ingrid and Walter and Corey. They were all gone.
Patrick and Karen never asked about the dark circles under our eyes in the morning—we often had breakfast with them at their house, which was walking distance from the gym. Karen would talk to Courtney about some music she wanted to create a routine around, and Patrick would tell Dani he wanted to teach her a new combination, and they’d pile my plate with more food, Karen laughing.
“For such a small girl you sure eat a lot.”
Patrick was teaching all of us boxing and self-defense moves. He said there were lots of programs we could take when we were a little older so we could be certified fitness instructors. He’d already signed Dani up for one.
He told people we were his cousin’s kids. Both our parents had died in a car accident and he’d taken us on until we were old enough to go out on our own.
He brought up the subject of school. “There’s one around the block, but it might get tricky if they need to see any paperwork proving I’m your guardian.”
“I don’t care about school,” Courtney said. “I was failing anyway.”
“What about you two?” he said to Dani and me.
“I’ll get my GED,” Dani said.
“Me too,” I said, feeling like I was going to cry. I blinked hard.
Dani looked at me. “But you’re so good at school. You loved it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “When I’m older, maybe I’ll go to college or university. I can take night classes.”
Patrick was nodding. “Don’t give up on your dreams, girls. You just might have to find another way to get there.”
When I wasn’t at the gym during the day, I checked Dumpsters for cans and bottles that we could return for money, searched in the gutters and on the sides of the road, but I was nervous going down the alleys and always made sure I was home before dark. Sometimes I folded laundry for tips at the Laundromat. Dani was working hard, coming home sweaty from the gym and the restaurant where she was waitressing, taking on extra shifts when she could, bringing home leftovers she’d snuck into her bag. Courtney was working at a sketchy restaurant and started hanging out with one of the owner’s sons. She was getting too skinny, her face breaking out, and she’d take off for big chunks of time, sometimes not coming back to the apartment until the early-morning hours. When we got up she’d stumble out of bed, throw crumpled bills on the table, pull on clothes, and go to the gym.
Dani and I talked about it one night.
“It’s drugs. I’m sure of it,” I said. “She’s doing them
and
selling them.”
“We’ll talk to her when she gets home.”
We tried, but she brushed it off. “I’m fine, it’s all fine.”
“Where’s the money from?” Dani said.
“I’ve made some new friends, don’t worry about it.”
Dani followed her into the bathroom. “It’s not
fine
—we don’t want this money.” She threw it on the floor.
Courtney whirled around. “
Now
you care about being legal?”
“We can’t get in more trouble,” Dani said.
“
Please
, Courtney,” I said. “If the cops catch you and they figure out who you are, we’re all in trouble.”
“Fine, whatever,” she said.
* * *
She stopped bringing money home after that, just small bills from tips, but she’d still take off for hours, occasionally not coming home at all. I couldn’t rest until I finally heard the door unlocking, Courtney’s purse being tossed onto the floor, the creak of her bedsprings. Sometimes she’d climb in with me, her back warm against mine, our breaths matching until we drifted off.
Other times she’d be okay for a few days, hanging around the house more, or at the gym, seeming focused,
present.
Then she’d get an angry edge to her, snapping about silly things, or she’d just be quiet, hardly saying anything, huddled on her bed for hours, drinking beer after beer, staring at the wall.
Dani gave her shit one day, accused her of spending all our money on beer.
“You’re turning into a screwup.”
“Someone gave me the beer,” Courtney said. “And I was already a screwup.” She gave a bitter smile, held the beer high in the air. “Bottoms up.”
* * *
Soon Courtney started missing shifts at the gym. Dani flipped out, said Patrick and Karen would kick us all out, but Courtney just blew her off.
“They’re not going to kick you guys out.”
“If you’re not going to show up, you should just quit.”
“Fine.”
After that she only worked at the restaurant. We’d been worried that Patrick and Karen would be upset, but they seemed to understand. They’d ask how she was doing, and she was welcome for dinner anytime. Karen would watch her with that thoughtful, troubled expression and push more food onto her plate, which Courtney barely touched. But then I had something bigger to worry about.
Three months after we’d escaped Cash Creek, I realized I might be pregnant.
I hadn’t thought about it when I didn’t get my period the first couple months. I’d never been regular—I’d missed months before—and had had some spotting, so I’d thought everything was fine. But when it didn’t come the next month, I started to get worried. I waited and waited, woke up every morning certain it would be the day. I didn’t say anything to my sisters for another couple of weeks, still hoping my period would come.
It didn’t.
I found Dani alone in the apartment, sanding the wooden frame of a floor-length mirror. She’d been scavenging for things left in alleys and bringing them back for our apartment: old chairs, a coffee table, another couch, plant stands, and mismatched dishes. We hung tea towels up as curtains, painted the chairs and the wooden table in different bright colors, stenciled flower patterns onto the kitchen cabinets. Slowly but surely it was becoming home.
“Something’s wrong,” I said.
“With Court—Crystal?”
“It’s me.”
She frowned “You sick?”
“I haven’t had my period for a while.”
She looked at me. “What’s ‘a while’?”
I wanted to cry. “Not since … you know.”
She jerked back like I’d hit her, leaned the mirror against the counter carefully, then slowly walked over and collapsed into a chair.
“Shit,” she said.
We’d never talked about getting pregnant. I remembered the look of relief on Dani’s and Courtney’s faces when they came out of the bathroom the first month after we left Cash Creek, but neither of them had ever asked me about my period.
“We should get a test,” she said.
I put one on the table, the plastic spinning for a moment like a compass.
