Violet Raines Almost Got Struck by Lightning (11 page)

The cave is suddenly dark as someone squeezes into it. The intruder don't see me at first, and I can't see who it is, it's so dark. I scream as loud as I can. Eddie bolts against the doorway, ramming his shoulder, and he's trying to escape, but I'm grabbing his shirt and trying not to laugh too hard.

“Violet!” he says. He almost sounds mad. “You trying to give me a heart attack and make me deaf at the same time?”

“I didn't know it was you!” I say. I let go of his shirt.

We squeeze out of the tree and lean against it. “So what were you thinking about in there?” he asks. He knows me, knows the cave is good for that sort of thing.

“School. Who's your teacher?”

When he tells me, I don't recognize the name. So Eddie won't be in my class either. I sigh.

Eddie clears his throat. “You sure looked different the other day.” He steals a glance at me and looks away real quick.

My face reddens. I am humiliated thinking about that clown makeup. But I say, “Don't you know anything about makeovers?” He don't have no sisters, so I'm guessing the answer is no.

He shrugs.

I lift my chin in a superior way. “Well, that shows what you know, because Melissa gave me a makeover in case it was a look I'd like to use in junior high.” I look at him. “Everyone else liked it.” I don't mention what I thought of it.

He nods, doesn't say anything.

I've just lied to him. Everything I said was true, but there's something dishonest about it. I feel it making a gap between us. We stand in silence. After a few minutes, the woods darken and we look up to see purple-black clouds taking over the sky.

I look at Eddie. “We better get out of here.” I ain't taking chances anymore. We run all the way to the edge of the woods, and the first sprinkles hit as we jog onto the dirt road. We're on dangerous ground still—the road is lined with trees. We keep running and when he gets to his turnoff, he runs down the street, making the gap between us wider and wider.

24

Me and Lottie are sitting on her steps with a real-life reporter from the newspaper.

He called this morning after Momma left for work. “Mrs. Raines, please?” he'd said.

“She ain't here.” I didn't offer to take a message, 'cause some people just talk and talk and do they think I'm a secretary? I can't write that fast.

“Is this Violet Raines?”

Never identify yourself over the phone. Then I jerk my head—I wasn't supposed to say Momma wasn't home either.

“Actually,” I said, “Mrs. Raines is here, but she's taking a shower.”

Then he said his name and that he was a reporter from the newspaper and how he got this letter about a tragic incident, that's what he called it, and he wanted to come talk with everyone involved. Today.

“Today?” I shouted. I got that man's number, called Momma at work, and now here we sit, me and Lottie, the ones involved in the tragic incident.

Except I must admit I don't feel tragic at all. Momma's here, Lottie's whole family's here, and everyone's happy. Even Melissa being here with her momma don't spoil it for me.

First off, he asks each of us to describe in our own words what happened. We interrupt each other a lot, adding details and parts the other one forgot. He laughs. “You girls are like sisters, the way you finish each other's sentences.”

We look at each other and giggle. At the same time, I say, “We practically are!” and Lottie says, “Violet practically lives at our house!” and then we laugh some more.

I like how he writes down every little thing we say, like it's so important. The photographer comes over and takes a few pictures of us. Melissa's watching from the side. She wants to be in the picture so bad, I just know it. Well, this is just for those who were involved in the tragic incident, and that is not her.

“Oh, I just want to get one thing right,” the reporter says. He looks at Lottie. “Your name, ‘Lottie'—is that with an ‘i' or a ‘y' at the end?”

“Actually, it's—” I start to correct him, but Lottie talks over me.

“Actually, I have a question,” she says. “If something's in the paper, does that mean it's the truth? Like that's the way things really are?”

The reporter nods. “We'd get in big trouble if we didn't get things right.”

“Okay, then.” She takes a big breath. “My name is Char.”

I turn so quick I almost snap my neck. “
Char?
Where'd you get that from?”

Lottie's face gets pink, but she keeps her eyes on the reporter. “It's short for Charlotte,” she tells him. “C-h-a-r.”

Char
. It's so pretty. Only one thing: “Did Melissa make that up for you?”

“No.” She jerks her head at me. “I came up with it myself.”

In that case, “I love it,” I say.

“Me too!” Melissa says from the steps. “It sounds like a celebrity name.” She waves her hand as if Lottie's new name was on a marquee. “Char!”

“Short for ‘Charlotte,' ” Lottie says again.

The reporter writes it down. Then he smiles at Melissa. “Okay, Melissa, let's get your story.”

I leap up. “She wasn't even there!”

“Violet!” Lottie says as if I'm acting foolish. Melissa swings around the banister and sits on the other side of her. That girl moves just like a cat.

The reporter says, “We want folks to know about the good neighbors around here.”

“Thank you,” Melissa purrs.

I sit back down 'cause I got to hear what she says. It's all true, how Lottie's family is staying over there, but oh, my Lord, she makes herself out to be an angel, and she really doesn't have anything to do with this. The more I listen, the more my lips pout and my eyes become slits.

Flash!
The photographer takes our picture. “One more,” he says. I'm so mad at Melissa horning in on mine and Lottie's tragic incident, I don't even make my fake-happy face. I let the real me show through.

25

As soon as the talking was done, the excitement around here cleared out faster than church on Super Bowl Sunday. Momma went back to work and Mrs. Gold went home. Hannah and Ashley ran out back and climbed the big oak. I could already see things getting back to the way I liked them.

The Home Sweet Home people came by right before the newspaper reporter left. They're the people who help rebuild houses for people in need, like when all them hurricanes and tornadoes came through a few years back. I overheard them—they're going to fix everything, even turn Mrs. Townsend's sewing room into a bedroom for Lottie. Mr. and Mrs. Townsend walked around the place like they were newlyweds, hugging and kissing; they even hugged and kissed me. Said it was all my doing, and they were just so thankful for it.

It did my heart good to hear that.

With all that hugging and kissing, I lost track of Lottie. Now I'm stuck on the porch with my most un-favorite person in the whole entire universe.

Melissa swings around the banister. “Ooh, here comes your boyfriend.”

Eddie's flying down the road on his bike. “He's not my boyfriend,” I snap. I'm sick to death of her teasing me about him.

“A little touchy, huh?” She flashes a smug grin at me.

Eddie turns down the driveway and skids to a stop. He looks cool doing it, but I can't let my feelings show because Melissa would bother me to no end over it.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey, Eddie,” I say.

“Hi, Eddie.” Melissa bounces down the steps. “Have you heard? Char and Violet and I are going to be in the newspaper! Isn't that exciting?”

“Char?” He looks confused. “Who's Char?”

'Course he don't know who that is. Melissa's just saying it 'cause she wants to act like her and Lottie are the real best friends.

“That's Lottie's new name—Char,” I say to him nicely. I won't let Melissa make a fool out of him.

“Short for Charlotte,” Melissa says. “Isn't it cool?”

“I love it,” I say, staking my claim. I
was
the first person to hear it.

“I
adore
it,” Melissa says dramatically.

I wish that girl would shut up.

But she doesn't. She steps closer to Eddie and says, “Isn't it pretty?”

I want him to say
NO!
Not about the name but to her, like,
NO! I'm not your friend! I belong to Violet!
Back off!

Instead, he nods. “Cool. I like it.”

Melissa smiles at him. “Hey, who's your teacher this year?”

“Mrs. Hughes.”

“You're kidding!” she shrieks. “She's mine too! We'll be in the same class!”

Well, stab me in the heart, why don't you? First, she's stealing Lottie; next she's gonna work on Eddie. I'm sick of her. I push off the stairs and make sure I'm standing closer to Eddie than she is.

“You feel like doing something?” I say. Mainly, I do this to get his attention off Melissa. And to show her that
I
am his friend, not her.

“BrainFreeze?” He leans forward on his handlebars.

“We don't have to collect those cups, do we?” Melissa says.

I can't believe this girl. “How we gonna pay for it then?”

“It's disgusting,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I'll just ask my mom for the money.”

Eddie shrugs. “Either way.”

“I'll go find Lottie,” I say.

“You mean ‘Char,' ” Melissa says. “That's who she is now.”

“I know that!” I know my best friend.

“Char!” I call into the house. Calling that name makes me feel like a liar; I'm not used to it. I do like Lottie's new name, but I don't like Melissa reminding me. Maybe Lottie is staying at her house and maybe they are friends, but don't act like you know her better than I do. “Char!” I holler. “Char! Char!”

Lottie comes charging down the stairs, laughing.

“What's so funny?” I ask.

She lifts her shoulders and smiles. “I heard you keep yelling, ‘Char, Char,' and I was like, ‘Who's Char?' ” She opens her mouth wide and stares at me. We crack up laughing.

When we get outside, Melissa asks, “What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” I say, putting my arm around Lottie. “You wouldn't understand.”

26

There is nothing better than a BrainFreeze to cool you off, especially when you walked all the way around the woods to the county road to get it.

We sit at a picnic table under a tree. Melissa's all persnickety about where she can sit because there's a little bird poop here and there on the bench. I don't want to sit in bird poop either, but— oh, my Lord!—don't make a big deal out of it; just scootch down a little.

We're not talking much. Mostly, we're slurping our drinks.

Then Melissa says, “I have a good idea.” Her eyes gleam. “Let's play truth or dare.”

Lottie—I mean, Char—claps her hands. “Okay! Think of some good questions!”

“Or some good dares,” I say, looking directly at Melissa.
I dare her to . . .
This has got to be good. I think on this.

“I got a good one!” Lottie yells. “Melissa, truth or dare?”

Melissa smiles. “Truth.”

Lottie leans forward and asks, “If
Paris Heights
was your real life, and Zeke went to our school and got into a terrible accident and had amnesia, would you tell him you were his girlfriend and that he had always loved you?”

“Who's Zeke?” Eddie and I say together.

“Like only the best-looking guy on
Paris
Heights,
” Melissa says and laughs. Then she turns to Lottie. “You know I would! Do you even have to ask?”

They giggle together. A slow burn creeps up from my heart and works up to my eyes.

“Okay, okay, my turn,” Melissa says. “Char— truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Melissa's not prepared. I finish my BrainFreeze, it takes her so long to come up with the lame question she asks, which is this: “If your sisters were held for ransom and your parents had been kidnapped and the only way you could save them was to fling yourself off a cliff with only your long wedding dress for a parachute, would you do it?”

Eddie groans.

Lottie considers this question seriously. “Yes, I would do it.”

Melissa looks sympathetically at her.

“Oh, my Lord!” This is like boxing with pillows. “I can't believe you're asking these questions. Come on, let's play it right.” I look at Lottie. “I got a good one for you. Truth or dare?”

“Truth!” She's into it now.

“Who's your best friend?”

Her face falls. Everything stops—the smiling, the laughing, the birds' singing—everything stops and Lottie stares at me as if I asked her to pluck the still-beating heart from someone she loves.

“Violet . . . ,” she says, but she's not answering the question. Her eyes plead with me to stop.

“Answer the question,” I say. She asked for the truth, now she's got to give it.

The air is thick. I wait.

“Okay, this is my answer,” she finally says. “Violet is my oldest and dearest best friend.”

Ha! I knew it!

“And Melissa is my newest best friend.”

“That's not an answer!” I say. “You have to pick one!”

“You think you're so tough,” Melissa says. “I've got the perfect dare for you, if you're not too scared to take it.”

“I ain't scared of anything you can dish out,” I say. “Go ahead!”

“Okay.” She smirks. “I dare you to kiss Eddie.”

The expression on my face freezes. My heart falls inside of me, crashing a hundred times. Lottie looks shocked. Eddie looks shocked too, but in a truer way, like the way he looked when we were sitting on the porch and we felt that lightning strike the woodpecker tree.