Шарлин Харрис - Small Kingdoms and Other Stories

“But they would be smarter than you,” Sarah muttered as she looked down at her plate. Her mother gasped.

“What did you say?” JimBee’s tone was ominous.

“I said, ‘I wouldn’t dream of getting pregnant, thanks to you,’” Sarah said.

“Were you smart-mouthing me, you little bitch?”

“No,” Sarah replied instantly. “I would never do that.”

“Go up to your room and finish your homework,” her mother said. “Your dad wants to watch the football game.” Sarah, whose homework had been finished before she left school, left the room hastily, followed by her brother.

“Where’s James going?” JimBee asked. “He always watches the game with me. Hey, who’s he taking to Homecoming?”

“Mercedes Webster,” his wife said. “He’s going over to her house tonight.”

“She a cheerleader?”

“No, she’s the editor of the school newspaper. Real nice girl. Her parents go to First Baptist.”

“What’s she look like?” asked JimBee, slurring his words just a bit.

“Nice looking.”

“He should be dating that Dawn Metcalf,” JimBee said. “Head of the cheerleading squad. Her assets were sure bouncing around at that last game.”

Sarah came down for a mug of hot chocolate later in the evening and passed between the television and her father when his team scored a touchdown. That earned the girl what JimBee thought of as a light slap.

He was very surprised the next morning to see that Sarah’s face was swollen. Lizzy and Sarah left the dining room for the kitchen. He could hear them talking. “It’ll go down by Homecoming,” his wife said. “Here’s an ice pack. You’ll look pretty by then. Honey… why’d you do that? You had to know you’d set him off.”

Darn right. It was all Sarah’s fault. And he really hadn’t hit her that hard. It troubled JimBee enough that he actually thought about the incident while he checked his Facebook page that morning. No. He really had only slapped her.

By the time Sarah went to school on a very cold Monday, the bruise had turned to a yellowish-purple color. She’d put on a little makeup, but it was impossible to hide completely. Sarah had pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. Finger marks on her arm showed too.

“Good morning, Sarah. Did you run into something?” Ms. DeWitt asked, her voice calm and low. She was in her usual spot outside her office.

“Yes, ma’am, a door,” she said, not even trying to sound convincing. “My dad says I’m awful clumsy.” Sarah saw Mr. Mathis noticing. And Coach Halsey.

By lunch time it had warmed up enough for Sarah and Brian, wrapped in coats and scarves, to sit on the bleachers on the practice field sharing a candy bar.

“I could tell my dad,” Brian said. “I hate that you’re living like this.”

“No,” Sarah said. “Then they’d make our family split up. I’d never get the money out of him to go to Davidson.”

“I got early acceptance,” Brian said, and she bit her lip to keep her bitterness in.

“I’m glad for you,” she said, in the steadiest voice she could manage. “I guess it’s the ju-co for me.”

Brian didn’t speak. She was sure he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You remember last year when Teddy Thorndike’s family got evicted from their house?” Sarah said.

“Teddy’s the one who sings lead in the a capella group? Yeah, sure.”

“You remember the guy who evicted them had a change of heart and told them they could move back in?”

“Yeah. Everyone said it was Jesus who changed him.” She felt Brian’s body move in a shrug.

“I babysat for them. His little girl told me someone had told her daddy they would cut off his, ah, thingy if he didn’t let the Thorndikes back in their house.”

“Who?” Brian asked her, totally amazed.

It was her turn to shrug. “A secret hero,” she said, smiling to show she was half-joking. “Someone who wanted Teddy to stay in Travis so he could do the solo at State.”

“Oh, come on,” Brian said. “Who’d do that?”

“I figure it was someone here at the school,” Sarah said, smiling. “Or someone we see all the time, like our mailman or our minister.” She wanted to tell Brian. He was so sweet. She knew he’d never believe her, though. But that wasn’t important. “Someone strong and… crafty.”

Brian looked very skeptical, and Sarah was glad when they spotted Principal DeWitt.

She was speed-walking around the track wearing hi-tech sneakers, instead of her heels. Ms. DeWitt only did her walking at lunch when the weather was cool; Sarah figured she didn’t want to be sweaty the rest of the day. After a moment, Coach Halsey came out of the workout room below the bleachers and fell into step with her.

Brian said, “You think they’ve gotten your test scores?”

“I checked online this morning. Nothing yet.”

Brian nodded toward the coach and the principal. “Do you think they’re sleeping together?”

“Is that what people think?” Sarah was really startled. It seemed so strange to imagine people the age of DeWitt and Halsey being swept away by passion.

“I’ve heard some comments,” Brian said, trying to sound worldly. “The guys on the team have seen them out together.”

“Yeah? Where?”

“At the shooting range. At a restaurant in Candle Springs.”

“They’re both single,” Sarah said, smiling. “Why not?”

Sarah was pretty when she smiled. With extreme boldness, Brian put his arm around her shoulders and scooted closer, and he was delighted when she did not move away.

The next day, Sarah checked online first thing in the morning.

She was only two points off of a perfect score on her SAT. Surely she would get a scholarship to Davidson. She sat, stunned into silence for a moment, thinking about the happiness within her grasp. She ran downstairs.

“I’m sure I can get a full scholarship to Davidson,” she told JimBee and her mom. “I know it. Brian’s going to Davidson too.”

“Slut,” said JimBee. “You ain’t going to Davidson. You’re going to commute to the ju-co.”

“You keep telling me you’re not my father,” Sarah said with a terrible intensity. “I hope that’s true.” As she ran upstairs, she saw her mother turn to JimBee with the fire of battle in her eyes. Sarah knew, from long experience, that Lizzy’s anger wouldn’t last long.

Sarah went to James’s room. He looked up from tucking in his shirt, and he crumpled at the look on her face. “Not again,” he said, as if he were begging.

That morning, a miserable James had to drive them to school. Sarah was in too much pain. She winced every time she sat down.

Two nights later, JimBee was driving home for dinner. It was already dark, because he’d stayed late at the tire store doing inventory. He was looking forward to taking off his shoes, having a beer or two (or three) and eating his dinner. He turned off the road and started down the driveway, rounding the curve up the hill to the house.

There was a wooden crate in the middle of the road.

He screeched to a stop just in time, and leaped out of his car. When he got closer, he could tell it wasn’t as large as it had seemed when it appeared suddenly in his headlights. A shove proved that it wasn’t heavy either.

“Well, goddamn,” he said. Who could have been driving up to (or away from) his house so quickly that he didn’t know he’d lost a crate of this size? He gripped a corner with his hands to try to work the crate to the side of the road. Then he noticed there was no address label, and he had time to think, That’s funny.

Suddenly, JimBee felt a sting. Surely it was too cold for wasps? And surely wasps didn’t attack at night? His shoulder burned. He stepped away from the crate, felt his shoulder. In the dim light, he was shocked to see a dart sticking out of his coat. It felt like the time he’d his wisdom teeth removed, though he couldn’t think why…