Wendy sighed, laughed a little. “You know you were not very cool, right?”
Maeve shrugged. She knew. “I couldn’t help it.”
“I’m grounded until prom. And it’s going to be strict.”
“Because of me?”
“Officially, because I violated the door rule. It’s so stupid. My brothers and I aren’t allowed to be behind closed doors with anyone except for family. No exceptions. She said I should have gone into the bathroom or their bedroom to change. But yeah, it’s because of you. She’d probably be thrilled if I closed the door with Brett.”
Maeve let out all her breath. She did not want to imagine Wendy with Brett Overton.
“Look,” Wendy said. “It’s not you. She doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like that I’m not girly like her. She doesn’t like sports. She doesn’t likethat I play basketball. I heard her and my dad fighting once, and she was yelling that it was like she had three boys. She thinks girls should be girls and boys should be boys. She even slapped Caleb when he called me a lesbo. She thinks someone is going to turn me into one. None of them know I already am.”
“You’re already what?” Maeve asked.
Wendy swerved off the road onto the gravel. A black car zipped around them, honking. She blinked at Maeve incredulously. “A lesbian, Maeve. I’m a lesbian. You’re a lesbian. We’re lesbians.” She shook her head. “Is this some kind of revelation?”
Maeve’s parents had their own chairs in the living room, like Edith and Archie Bunker. Normally, after dinner, they would occupy their spots in front of the television, and Maeve would retreat to her room to do homework or listen to records. But it was Wednesday, and Wednesday night was family night. On family night, there was no bickering between her and Molly, everyone lingered at the table, even Maeve’s grandfather, who came for meat loaf and mashed potatoes, then stayed for hot chocolate and an episode ofEight Is Enough.
Her father leaned back in his chair, set his crumpled napkin on the table. “Oh, you won’t believe who I saw today. Conor O’Kane.”
Maeve only half paid attention, her thoughts still on Wendy, what she’d said in the car. She startled at her mother’s response. A fist on the table that rattled the dishes.
“Ugh! What now?” She tapped three fingers into her forehead, a tell, like a squirrel hiding a nut for later.
“Says he’s trying to clean up his act. Guess he did some time down in Massachusetts. Counterfeit gun licenses. Something about grenades.”
“Guns? Who has guns?” Molly asked.
“Papa, take Molly out to the living room and set up the television, would you?” Faye said. “We’ll clean up and make the popcorn. Maeve, grab the plates.”
In the kitchen, William continued. Maeve washed and her father dried, while her mother wrapped up leftovers. “Yeah, he said he and Glenda got married, but she walked out on him when he went to jail. He said he wants to win her back, though from the looks of him, he hadn’t made much improvement. He was pretty sauced. He wanted to know if I’d put in a good word for him at BIW. I told him I didn’t think I could. He wasn’t very pleased with me.”
“I don’t like this,” Faye said.
Then Maeve remembered. “Um, do you think he still drives that black muscle car?”
Her father put the dishcloth over his shoulder. “Yes. Why?”
Maybe she was wrong. But she could picture the red streak on the side of the car that had sped past her and Wendy earlier. “I think I saw that car this afternoon. Close to here. Wendy—” She faltered. Even saying her name made Maeve blush.
“What’s wrong? Did you talk to him? Did he say something?” her mother asked.
“No. Nothing like that. Wendy wanted to show me her prom dress after school—” Maeve’s eyes fluttered.God! Spit it out!“She drove me home, and a car kind of sped past us, annoyed and honking, you know? I guess maybe Wendy was driving too slowly?” She shook her head. “Anyway, maybe it was that car?” She stuck her sweating hands back in the dishwater.
“William,” her mother said.
“I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.”
Maeve sat on the floor, her back against the couch, a bowl of popcorn between her legs. Clearly, the conversation about that stupid guy stillbugged her mom, based on the way her arms were crossed. Not Maeve’s problem. She had bigger ones.
It was family night, and Maeve wondered what would happen if she was what Wendy said she was. While Molly giggled with their grandfather about the family on television, Maeve ate her popcorn absentmindedly. The week before, Wendy had sucked salt off Maeve’s finger at the drive-in burger stand, tongue to fingerprint, fingerprint to lip. She tapped her salt-puckered lips, remembering the sensation. What would happen to family night, what would happen to her family—this one or the one she dreamed she’d have with some mystery man who would come along and love her the way her parents loved each other, who would carve their initials into a tree trunk and frame it with a heart? What would happen to her?
When the show was over, her grandfather went home, and Molly was sent to bed. Maeve wanted to stay up to watchCharlie’s Angelsbut thought better of it, certain her parents would see the way her eyes followed Sabrina rather than Jill. She felt like her insides were on her outside, her interior life exposed. “I’m heading up too,” she said.
She thought about sneaking into the kitchen to call Wendy, but Wendy’s voice was already in her ear, telling her she wasn’t normal, wasn’t ... straight. This couldn’t be true. Wendy made Maeve feel special, pretty and smart and funny. Her head spun while she got ready for bed. Maybe that was the plan, to confuse Maeve, corrupt her. No, that couldn’t be right. She brushed her teeth, staring into her own eyes as her mouth foamed. Where was the part inside her that had gotten mixed up? Could she brush it away, pluck it out, scrub until this thing was not a part of her anymore? She put her toothbrush in the cup, ran her hands over her chest, down her stomach. Go lower, she thought. That’s where the problem is.
Monday morning, Wendy met Maeve by her locker. She fumed about her mother, the silent treatment she’d been given over the weekend. She slammed the locker shut. “I’m so sick of her.”
