Читать книгу Slant - Laura E. Williams - Страница 7

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It’d be nice if the wish I’m making on the thirteen candles I’m blowing out right now would come true. But like wishing on a star, I don’t have much faith that blowing out a bunch of burning wax sticks stuck into a pink frosted cake will do much of anything. Then again, it doesn’t stop me from trying.

“What did you wish for?” my best friend asks. Her name’s Julie and she’s rich and tall. “A cute guy?” she adds without waiting for my reply. “An A+ in math? A cruise to the Bahamas?”

“All of that,” I say. The thing about lying is that no one knows it’s a lie unless you get caught. Besides, if I told Julie my real wish, it’d never come true. I mean, that’s how wishes work, right?

“Open your presents!” my little sister begs with one finger in the frosting, another one up her nose. When Maia is excited, her eyes fold nearly shut. Chinese eyes. I have Korean eyes. Everyone thinks we look exactly alike.

“Can I?” Maia begs, practically tearing the purple paper off the small box.

“Cease and desist, you rapscallion,” Daddy says, taking the half-unwrapped gift out of Maia’s sticky fingers. He hands me the package with a grin. “I believe this belongs to thee, m’lady.”

Daddy talks like that a lot. He likes to say forsooth and doth and take thee to a nunnery—whatever that means. Because he teaches Shakespeare at Trinity he thinks he should talk old-fashioned. At least I think that’s why he talks that way. Or maybe he’s just plain psycho. He didn’t always talk like that. But even when he was “normal,” Mom used to say it was a good thing I was adopted so I couldn’t inherit any of his weirdo genes. I think she was really kidding.

“Thanks, Daddy,” I say. The card is half ripped-off, but I see Lady Lauren written across it. Gee, I wonder who it’s from. I open the envelope. The card isn’t as dorky as I expected. It’s not of an out-of-focus girl running across a field full of flowers or anything. Actually, it’s kinda cute with a cartoon of a dark-haired girl throwing confetti into the air. Her boobs are bigger than mine, though. On the inside, he signed it Love, Sir Daddy.

I turn the envelope upside down, but it’s surprisingly empty. I’m not looking for money. I’m looking for one of Daddy’s long-winded notes.

I jiggle the gift box next to my ear. “What could it be?” I ask, even though I have a strong suspicion.

Daddy doesn’t say anything, and his big Adam’s apple bobs in his neck like he’s got a fish on the line. I really hope he’s not going to get all emotional on me. Jiminy Cricket legs, it’s just my birthday. Okay, so I’m finally a teenager, but so what? It’s not like I have anything growing on my chest (or under my arms, for that matter) to prove it! I don’t even have my period yet.

Carefully I peel off the rest of the wrapping paper. Maia is slobbering with excitement, jumping on me, getting her face in mine. We sure don’t need a pet dog with her around. Julie, my blonde, very-well-endowed-and-looks-like-a-model-and-has- had-her-period-for-months best friend is grinning.

I take my time picking off the tape on the four edges of the box. It’s not that I’m not interested in getting this present, it’s just that what I really, really want doesn’t come in a box.

Finally I lift off the lid. Julie oohs and ahs at the pierced earrings. Maia grabs the next present. So much for a five-year-old’s attention span.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I say. I go around the table and give him a big hug.

Tears are there, glimmering behind his glasses. “Me thinks our little lady hath grown up,” he says in a choked voice. Sounds like he has a lisp to me, but I don’t ruin the moment with a sarcastic crack.

“Our little lady,” he repeats, shaking his head.

I’m not supposed to say hate, but I really do despise it when he says our. There is no more our. Half of the our died three years ago. Why can’t he accept that, change his lingo, and move on? Like I have. I don’t say my parents any more; I say my father.

I give my father a kiss on his scratchy cheek and he wraps an arm around me for a quick squeeze.

I return to my seat, still admiring the earrings. For an old guy, he did a pretty good job picking out the perfect pair, and finally I’ll have pierced ears like all the other girls at school.

Now I open Julie’s gift to me. “It’s totally awesome,” I say when I get the lid off the large box. I shake out the purple suede jacket.

“Try it on,” Julie says.

Giggling, I shove my arms through the satin-lined sleeves. It fits perfectly, just like when I tried it on at the store. I whirl in a circle. My straight-asa-stick black hair whips around and half of it ends up in my mouth when I stop, dizzy.

“That’s a very generous gift,” Daddy says, frowning a bit.

“She’s my best friend,” Julie says. They eye each other. Julie’s almost as tall as Daddy, even when they’re sitting down, and I guess she wins the staring contest ‘cause Daddy looks away first.

“Check out the pockets,” Julie hints.

I do and I find a pair of black suede gloves. “Wow,” I gasp. “They’re awesome, too.” I pull them on. I hold out my hands, admiring the fancy stitching on the backs and up each finger. I run around the table and give her a big hug.

“I want to open!” Maia shrieks. Both hands on another package, she rips the wrapping practically to shreds before anyone can stop her.

I take a flying lunge at the card as it sails by me. I miss. When I pick the envelope up off the floor, I recognize Grandma Milly’s spidery handwriting. I open it.

Wishing you a day of happiness. May all your wishes come true. [Amen, I add silently.] Love, Grandma Milly and Grandpa Dick

Daddy’s parents. They live a whole fifteen minutes away. Too far to actually be here for my birthday party.

Maia almost has the present completely unwrapped. I grab it out of her hands and she squeals.

Julie rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have a younger sister, just an older brother. Much older. Her parents are almost as old as my grandparents. Needless to say, she doesn’t get this sibling stuff.

I finish tearing off the paper and find a picture frame made out of wood with painted pink roses all around it, but no picture inside. As pretty as it is, I know it’ll sit empty on my wide windowsill just like all the others—all blank, looking at me, waiting for me to make a decision and give them faces.

One last envelope. It’s come in the mail from Florida, so I know it’s from Grandma Ann. Mom’s mom.

The card is an embarrassment with bears tumbling across the front of it. I think they’re Care Bears. Does she think I’m turning three or thirteen? Inside she’s written me a note, which I read out loud.

Dearest Lauren, I have a present for you, but I want to give it to you in person. I’m arriving on Sunday for a weeklong visit. Can’t wait to see you. With love, Grandma Ann

I glance up at Daddy. He’s looking a bit sick, but he’s trying hard to smile.

“You know she’s coming?” I say.

He nods. “Uh, yes. It’ll be the greatest pleasure having her here.”

Looks more like greatest illness to me, but I keep my mouth shut. Grandma Ann hasn’t been for a visit since Mom’s funeral. I picture a tall woman dressed in black. I think she always wore black, or dark blue anyway, like she was just waiting for someone to die.

“Is this a good thing?” Julie asks me.

“Is what a good thing?”

“Your grandmother’s visit.”

I shrug. “Sure,” I say. “She’s bringing a present, right? Heck, Jack the Ripper can come visit if he brings a present.” I laugh a little to show how funny I am, then I cut the cake. Cake-in-mouth is a good way to stop all awkward conversation.

After my dad, Maia, and I pig out (Julie is on diet number 363, so she only has a bite), we all clear the table. Daddy offers to do the dishes, an added present for my birthday, and sends me off to walk Julie home.

Julie really doesn’t need to be walked home. She only lives on the other side of our lawn, but I appreciate the chance to breathe some fresh air and look for a star. It’s still early, but I manage to find one just barely bright enough to overcome the light of the setting sun. I make my wish. The thing about wishing for the same thing over and over again is that I know all the wishing words by heart.

We walk across the grass. Julie’s house, or mansion, I should say, was the main house on an estate. We live in what used to be the servants’ quarters. So once we walk across my lawn in like fifteen steps, Julie still has another thousand to go to get to her house. But we have a ritual. We only walk each other to the property line. Obviously Julie always has a longer walk than I do, but I tell her it’s fair on account of her way-longer legs. One step for her is like three for me. Even so, it’s still unfair, but I just tell her she could always have her chauffeur come pick her up. She usually shuts up after that. She says she hates being rich. Poor thing.

At the property line, we hug.

“I love my new coat,” I say. I’m actually wearing it even though it’s warm out.

“Nothing’s too good for my best friend,” she says back.

I watch her walk a little way, then she turns and waves before heading home at a jog. That’s another thing she’s good at. Exercise. Sometimes we stay after school and go to the gym together, when I’m in the mood for torture and shame. I’m not usually into those two things, so I mostly stay away.

I turn and walk back, my eyes lifted to the sky. More stars are out, but that first one I saw is still burning the brightest. I hope it’s not a planet instead of a star. Wishing on a planet doesn’t work, does it? Just in case, I pick another pinprick of light and wish on it too. I kinda worry, though, that this is negating my earlier wish since this really isn’t the first star I’ve seen tonight. Have my two wishes canceled each other out? I comfort myself with the thought that at least I had my birthday wish. And a birthday wish, especially for a girl turning thirteen, should be pretty powerful. Not that I’m obsessed or anything.

When I get inside, it’s time for Maia to take a bath and go to bed. She’s pretty much covered with frosting.

“Come on, shrimp,” I say, trying to avoid contact with her fingers. “Bath time.” Lately this has become my responsibility, not that I mind. My father is teaching an extra class at the college this semester and is always overloaded with work.

I start the tub and she strips, wiggling and giggling and throwing her clothes around the bathroom. No modesty in her whatsoever. Just wait till you’re still flat at my age, I think in her direction, you won’t go prancing around in your undies like that. Then again, maybe she will. I remember that I was shy naked when I was little. Maybe when Maia is my age, she won’t care about no boobs, no period, and slanty eyes.

I plop her in the tub and only get frosting up to my elbows. But when I reach into the water to rinse them off, Maia dumps a plastic cup of water and bubbles on my head. Shoulda seen that one coming. When will I ever learn? Wiping the dripping mess out of my eyes, I decide there’s only one thing to do: It’s time to call in the tickle monsters. The little brat has it coming to her.

Maia, shrieking with terror, and I, shrieking with menace, pretty much soak the entire bathroom in the next five minutes. Daddy only checks on us once.

“Rabble-rousers,” he mutters and leaves us alone.

In the end, Maia is sparkling clean, and I look like a drowned rat, but we’re both happy.

In her Barney pajamas, Maia is warm and cuddly. I love her so much my heart actually aches. And if it hurts this much to be a sister, I can’t imagine how it must feel to be a mom or a dad. Of course, sometimes she makes me so mad (like when she takes my pointy markers and flattens the tips) or grosses me out (like when she eats her boogers), but sometimes, like now, I just want to gobble her up. I also want to warn her about her future. About the teasing and awkwardness and all the secret wishing. Or, better yet, keep her in her room where she’ll be safe from it all. But I don’t lock her up, and I don’t say anything. Daddy might call this a lie of omission. Which means that keeping quiet about a truth is just as bad as telling someone an outright lie. He’d say it’s wrong even if you don’t get nabbed for it.

After she kisses Daddy good night, I put her to bed and get her favorite-of-all princess fairy books to read to her. Slowly, I read, pointing to the words like Mom used to do for me. I use all the different voices, even the deep, scary ones that might give a little kid nightmares. But Maia never gets them. She’s braver than I am.

When she starts to suck her thumb, I know she’s ready for sleep. I ease the book closed and kiss her on the forehead.

“See you in the funny papers,” I say, just like Mom used to say to me.

Maia smiles sleepily.

I tiptoe out. It’s still pretty early, but I’m tired myself. I find Daddy in his office, which is really the spare bedroom that he’ll have to clean up when Grandma Ann comes to visit. He’s correcting a pile of papers.

I put my arms around him, leaning against his bony back. “Good night,” I say. “Thanks again for the beautiful earrings.”

He turns on his swivel chair and pulls me onto his lap. “You’re almost too big for this,” he says, kissing my hair. “I can’t believe you’re a teenager.” He sighs.

“I’ll always be your little girl,” I tease. I quickly kiss him good night and hurry to my room. If I don’t, I know he’ll start in with the our bit. Other than referring to me and Maia as our children, or whatever, he never talks about Mom. I try not to let that bug me, but I have to admit, secretly, that it does.

Anyway, it’s time to go to bed. By the time I’m burrowing under my quilt, I’m half asleep. But not too asleep to do my nightly ritual. I’m not sure praying is any better than wishing on a star, but I figure with all the praying and wishing I’m doing, my dream is bound to come true sooner or later.