By Kate Lynch, 2014
I couldn’t stop the flurry of my nubby pencil on the page even though I wanted it sharper.
I fly. I am known to detox houseplants from adverse pests such as aphids. Not to be confused with the affidavit that was just delivered, signature required, at the doorstep of the mansion on the block, surrounded by stately but less overt homes. I chose this palace to make my home because, frankly, it was the only way to stay close to the posse hatched from the same bunch of eggs. I am the promise of Spring even if I’ve been known to erupt into life sooner than the calendar date of the season of renewal, this, precisely ...
“What are you working on?” asked a tiny voice from behind me.
I covered the paper with my hands, shielding the words from prying eyes.
“A project for school. The teacher asked us to imagine being a bug and to write an essay without giving away what kind of bug we are. Like, the class has to guess at the end. I picked ladybug. When did you get here? I didn’t know you were coming.”
“My mom just dropped me off. She’s got a luncheon. Not coming back to get me until dinner.”
Oh crap, I thought, another day of coercion orchestrated by sisters who hate each other.
“Did you know that cousins used to marry each other?” I asked.
“No way. Where did you find that out?”
“One of these books I’ve read. I asked my mother if it’s true. And she wanted to know where I found it out, too. Don’t tell her I read romance novels or I’ll kill you. And she’ll take them away. They have sexy scenes in them. Want to see?”
I got up from my desk and opened the closet door with a creak, walked into it as far as I could, rummaged through the dense line of clothes dangling from hangers and found the box.
“Remember, top secret, okay?”
I handed one of the steamiest Civil War scenes I had found to my cousin, James. In it, a soldier tears the bodice from a Southern belle in a closet beneath the stairs while her parents are standing in the grand foyer sipping mint juleps with their guests.
“Since you’re not starting at the beginning, I’ll just tell you that the people on this page happen to be cousins who fell in love.”
He took the book, carefully, from my hand and started to read.
I snapped the notebook with my ladybug essay shut and put it into the top desk drawer. Then I went to look out the window. Yup, sure enough, no car in the driveway. Aunt Lila had dropped him and ran. And my mother was downstairs banging around in the kitchen. I was hoping that today my mother wouldn’t walk around with her mouth adjusted so tight around her teeth and the number eleven dancing between her eyes. She could be so much prettier if she just wore a better face. Like the girls in my books. They always had a beatific smile or a rosy pout or feline eyes filled with desire. I was learning a lot of new words from these books. The dictionary had been moved permanently into my room after Daddy’s home office got torn apart and made into a space where Mom could throw her clothing parties. Her lady guests would dodge into the bathroom right off of the ex office to try on the clothes Mom was selling. For these parties, she wore lipstick and looked a lot like I knew the Southern belles would look if I got to meet them in person.
“This is really weird. I don’t like it. At all. Gross. Where did you find this book?” James asked.
“There was an estate sale across the street last weekend. Too bad you didn’t get dropped off that day. I actually looked for hockey skates and sticks for you. But the Walkers didn’t have boys. The girl stuff was old and smelled like a dirty basement. Mrs. Walker had boxes of books for sale. My mother told me to stay away from the smut. I went back and bought about ten of them, they were only a nickel each. They’re hidden around my room in different spots. But the one you just read happens to be my favorite scene.”
James made his way over to my desk and had his hand on my top drawer. “So, you’re writing smut now?”
“No. I promise you, that's homework due at the end of next week. I’m getting a jump start. Get away from there!”
I bounded over to where he stood in two steps and yanked at his arms to get him away. But he was getting stronger. And even though I’m taller by inches, I was struggling. I found his stomach and tickled, found his armpits and tickled and he started to twist and turn, like the fish we catch from the river.
“Race you downstairs,” I yelled. I took off out of the room and down the hallway, hoping he’d follow, grabbing my ponytail so he wouldn’t.
It worked. I’d bated him easily enough.
“Get outside and play. Now!” howled my mother from the depths below.
I flew down the hallway, heading to the back stairs knowing that I’d find my mother at the bottom, in her kitchen post. I wanted to give her a quick hug before we headed outside. It usually made the scrunched up ugly face melt.
“Macy, for God’s sakes, you’re going to fall on your face one of these days tearing around the house. Please!”
I was on top of her in seconds. And turned to wink at James.