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Chapter Twenty-One
Ulla
Linnea found Ulla chilled and shaking on the porch. “Why did you leave?”
“You had Everett,” said Ulla through chattering teeth. The wind had plummeted the temperature.
“Yeah, but-but . . . I never know what to say to him.” She plopped next to her.
“You don’t need to talk to suck face.”
In a dreamy voice, Linnea responded, “He told me I was a good kisser.”
Ulla wanted to vomit. One kiss from Everett Barnes erased Linnea’s resentment that Ulla was so pretty. Mission accomplished.
“Will you come back in?” Linnea asked. “I need your help.”
“You’re on your own with Everett,” she bit back.
“Why are you so mad? He’s moving, anyway.”
“Thank God.”
Linnea hugged her arms and sighed deeply. “I feel like we’re fighting.”
“We’re not fighting. I’m just upset at my stupid mom.”
Linnea was quiet. She fidgeted with the folds of her robe. “Let’s walk home.”
“Really?” Ulla’s chest inflated with renewed energy. “What about Everett?”
“Like I said, he’s moving.”
Ulla craned her head to study Linnea, not believing her explanation. Then she recognized Linnea’s worried lips turn inward, her shoulders hunching upwards. “You’re spending the night, aren’t you?” Ulla asked her.
Linnea nodded hesitantly. “But my parents are . . . ” She shrugged. Linnea often did that when talking about her parents, using gestures and incomplete sentences. Ulla understood and said, “Let’s stop at your place first and grab your clothes,” knowing very well that Linnea had enough of her belongings at Ulla’s house. “Make sure your parents are okay?”
Linnea’s grateful eyes pumped life back into Ulla.
They walked briskly to Linnea’s house against the icy winds attacking their skin. Ulla wanted to ask Linnea why she cared so much about her addict-parents when they seemed to care so little about her. They’re not always like that, Linnea would say.
They turned onto Linnea’s street, and the only light from her quiet house was a blue halo from the television.
Ulla smelled the cigarettes and weed before they hit the crumbled concrete walkway to the front door, but they diverged from the path to the backyard. Linnea said she needed to check on a few things, which Ulla understood as confiscating as many Millers and Coors as she could, dumping half the contents of Schnapps, swiping marijuana and white powder, and scattering handfuls of it into the toilet.
Their footsteps crunched over the dead leaves piled against the side of the house. Linnea scanned the party through the window in the back door.
“Do you want my help?” Ulla asked.
“No,” Linnea whispered, then squinted through the glass and said, “Maybe.”
She whirled around and gave Ulla instructions, pointing at the door’s window. “See the guy right there? The one with the really big nose? He’s playing cards with the guy with glasses?”
Ulla nodded.
“Ask them if they want a refill. And if they say yes, put in Coke or Fanta first, okay?”
“Okay.”
