Lindsay Hunter - Ugly Girls

“All right,” she said. “But you know we can’t control who she’s friends with at school.”

“She shaved all her hair off,” Jim said. “Dayna did, I mean.”

“Now that’s a girl with some secrets,” Myra said. “We can’t blame her for that. Plus, with a friend who looks like that, the boys will probably stay far away, right? And I know for a fact that Perry ain’t been talking to the boy she was into online, not for a while, anyway.”

“What boy?”

“Just some new boy in town named James or something,” Myra said. “Jamey. He likes bass fishing. For a while Perry would be on that computer for hours, talking to him. But all that stopped about a week ago. She ain’t been on the computer in days, so she ain’t replaced him with another, either. See? You think I don’t pay attention, but I do.”

Jim nodded. “Jamey, huh? Bass fishing.”

“He seemed like a nerd type, as far as I could tell. Maybe Perry just liked the attention.” Myra felt silly saying that last part. Might as well have been talking about herself, dredging up the fight she and Jim had that morning. Her head zinged at the memory of it, her hangover finally emerging from out of the fuzzy blanket. Her hand on that boy’s crotch. Shame and desire. Storm. Her hand.

“Anyway,” Jim said, sitting beside her. Myra knew he was thinking of what she’d confessed, too. “I got another shift tonight.”

“I know,” Myra said. “I saw on the calendar. I got a week off from work, courtesy of Bill.” She didn’t want to tell him the part about drying out, but it came out anyway. “He told me to get myself together,” she said.

“Better him than me,” Jim said. An attempt at a joke, a nod at their fights, and even though he was hinting at a mountain of pain between them, Myra felt thankful. Thankful that he’d joke, thankful that he knew her so well, thankful that he was sitting on the steps with her, him shaven and clean and her wrinkled and used up.

A low growl rolled over them, the thunder far off but closing in, the sky more gray than yellow now. The neighbor’s chimes blasted, the wind picking up. Myra realized she hadn’t heard the loud polka music in days, realized she’d take that over those chimes in a heartbeat. At least the polka was music, and not just a series of random screeching notes. With one you knew what to expect. With the other you just had to take what you got.

“We should get inside,” Jim said.

“You go ahead,” Myra said. “I’ll be in after a while.”

She wanted to wait and see if Pete would show up, wanted to tell him not to come by no more. The odds of him wandering around in a storm seemed slim, and maybe that was why it was so easy for Myra to sit out there, waiting to do the right thing. Wouldn’t be her fault if she never got the chance.

BABY GIRL DROVE TO SCHOOL, waited in the parking lot for Perry. She’d sent two texts: Hey bitch I’m in the parking lot and We’ll meet you by the quarry tonight .

She had left Charles at home after all. No library for him. Goon, goon, she was a goon. The gun was under her seat. All of it felt like a giant fucking joke. I’ma get mine. I’ma get mine. I’ma get mine.

She could see how it would go: They’d pull up, Jamey would be waiting there, he’d probably be cute enough for Perry to take over from there. Which meant he’d have a face and two arms and two legs, ha-ha. Maybe she’d show them the gun, maybe she’d keep it to herself. Depending on whether she wanted them to get scared or not. Depending on whether she wanted to get scared, too.

What had Charles done with the gun before the accident? Had he ever pulled it? Had he ever shot it? In her head she put the gun in the hands of the Charles he was now. He shook it, waved it around, laughing, pulling the trigger over and over, yelling, Click! Click! Click! right along with it.

She’d seen preaccident Charles get angry, saw how he could get as big and senseless as a gorilla. In her head, that Charles gritted his teeth, pulled the trigger, blam blam blam , three starbursts, aimed right at her.

She couldn’t say which version of Charles seemed sillier. Both dancing apes, Look at my gun!

The parking lot security guard was headed her way, though she couldn’t tell if she’d been seen. Today it was the PE coach in the golf cart, driving slow, peering and squinting into every back window. Baby Girl slid down in her seat. The sky filled her windshield, a wash of greenish yellow-gray. A few leaves blew by. She had the urge to honk her horn, over and over, come and get me, do whatever you have to, I don’t know anymore, I don’t know anymore.

Well, if she did show them the gun she’d make sure it was for a reason. But why had she brought it? Charles had once told her that if you pull a gun you’d better be ready to kill. She didn’t want to kill. She just wanted them to stop breathing, ha-ha.

The golf cart was getting closer, moving so slow that Baby Girl had another urge, the urge to leap out and take off running, just to show the coach that she could outrun him, that he’d have been better off on foot. She pulled the gun out from under her seat, rested it in her lap. If he found her he’d be getting a show, that was for sure.

One day she wouldn’t live with Charles no more, she wouldn’t be friends with Perry, she’d be someone else with hair and a job and a memory of the day she sat in the parking lot at school with an unloaded gun. She heard the golf cart creep by her car, heard it reaching the end of the row and turning down another. So she hadn’t been seen. More thunder, closer now, louder. She cracked her window. The air was thick, the sky like an overstuffed balloon, one more drop of water and the whole thing would burst.

PERRY WAS SURPRISED by Baby Girl’s text, figured they’d had enough of each other for a while. But now here she was, ready to pick Perry up from school and take her wherever. She thought about texting back, I’ll just see you later . She didn’t have a whole lot to say to Baby Girl, she was tired and smelly and she just wanted to get through today so it’d be tomorrow, so it’d be the day she would meet up with Travis. But the thought of wasting time in the trailer with her momma wasn’t all that alluring, either. In the end she texted Jim, Don’t need a ride, taking the bus home . At least driving around with Baby Girl would give her something to do.

It was going to rain, Perry could smell it in the air. Baby Girl was slumped down in the driver’s seat as Perry walked up, just her forehead visible. She sat up when she saw Perry, shoved something under her seat.

“Was that a bottle?” Perry asked. The car didn’t smell like booze, but maybe she hadn’t opened it yet.

“No,” Baby Girl said. “That was a surprise for later.”

The thought of a surprise coming later made Perry feel more tired than ever. Like maybe she should have sent that see-you-later text to Baby Girl after all.

“I’m not up for being out tonight,” Perry said. “Ain’t you tired?”

“Once we get where we’re going, if you want to leave, you can just say so and we’ll leave. Okay?”

Baby Girl started the car, put it into reverse. Perry had the feeling that she’d never met her before, this bald person she was letting drive her somewhere, she looked familiar but Perry had no idea who she was. She was in the car with a stranger.

“You still mad about last night?” she asked. “About what I told you?”

Baby Girl laughed, quiet, through her nostrils. “I’m not mad,” she said. “In fact, that’s where we’re going now. We’re going to meet up with your friend Jamey over by the quarry. He wants to see you.”

Perry was wide awake now. “Are you serious? We’re going to meet up with Jamey?”