The Quarry Girls(31)

“I’ll make some fresh coffee,” I said. I grabbed the pot and was walking to the sink to rinse it when she stopped me.

“I can do it,” she said. “Is Junie still sleeping?”

“Yeah,” I said hesitantly. She was acting weird. Alert.

That’s when I remembered who had said the phrase that’d followed me into the tunnels the other night. You can’t live in the dark and feel good about yourself. Mom had said it to Mrs. Hansen, Maureen’s mom, shortly after my accident. It was one of the last times I remembered Mom answering the door. There stood Mrs. Hansen, face tear-streaked, swollen from crying. Mrs. Hansen was trim back then, smartly dressed, her black hair sleek as a cat’s. That was before, or about the same time, Maureen’s dad ran out on them.

You can’t live in the dark and feel good about yourself, Mom had yelled and slammed the door in Mrs. Hansen’s face.

“Good,” Mom said, pulling me back into our kitchen. “Junie needs her rest to build strong bones. I’ll make sure she gets lunch and then send her over to practice with you girls.” Her hand came toward me, hesitated, and continued on to pat my arm. “Shouldn’t you be there already?”

I glanced over her shoulder, then back at her, wondering who she was. It had been months since she’d left her room before noon, even longer since she cared about my schedule or touched me. “How’d you know we have practice today?”

She made a face like I’d said something ridiculous. “You practice nearly every second you’re not at work. I’m sure you won’t make an exception on the day you have another show at the fair.”

I smiled, thirsty to hug her but not wanting to push it. “That’s right.”

“I might come see you play tonight. Your dad shouldn’t get all the fun.” She was quiet for a moment. “You’re lucky to have such close girlfriends. I used to have girlfriends of my own, you know.”

I nodded. I remembered.



I mulled over that encounter on the walk to Maureen’s, trying to figure out what it was about. There was a lot I didn’t recall from the first few years of my life. I think it’s the same for most kids. Mom and Dad were there, in the background, taking care of what needed taking care of. There was laughter, family meals at the table. I had a whole photo album that proved we’d even traveled to Disneyland, me perched on Dad’s shoulders wearing Mickey Mouse ears, Mom with her bouffant, standing on her tippy-toes, kissing his cheek. I also had memories of Mom and Mrs. Hansen laughing so hard that once Sanka squirted out Mrs. Hansen’s nose.

In fact, Mrs. Hansen was in most of my early memories, her and Mom as tight as sisters.

Then Junie was born.

After that, Mrs. Hansen stopped visiting. Mom receded from a lot of my memories and Dad came in clearer focus, making breakfast in Mom’s place, driving me to school on the days it rained. When Mom showed up, she was a force, sparkling at dinner parties, running around the kitchen cooking four-course dinners, but it seemed to cost her. She stayed at that level—50 percent of her—for a couple months.

Until my accident.

My hand went to the withered nub where my ear had been.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey!” I’d almost walked right past Brenda leaning in the shade of the enormous maple tree in Maureen’s front yard. We’d swung in its branches and over the years raked mountains of leaves from beneath it. I tipped my head toward the closed garage door. “Maureen not up yet?”

Brenda pushed off from the tree and stepped into the humid sunshine. It took all my self-control not to audibly gasp at the swollen, black-and-blue shiner surrounding her eye.

“What happened?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “You want the version I told my parents or the real deal?”

When I didn’t respond, she rubbed her nose. “I got really messed up last night. Walked straight into a tree.”

“That’s the story you told your parents?” My skin twitched remembering how aggressive Ricky had been to her last night. “Bren, who hit you?”

She shook her head and looked me square in the eyes. “No, for real. I walked into a tree. That big oak closest to the firepit? I think I was going to take a leak behind it but ended up smacking my face against a branch. But it’s only a matter of time until I get roughed up for real if I stick with Ricky. I’m done with him, Heather. I don’t even know what got into me last night.”

I opened my mouth to tell her about me and Ant, it was on the tip of my tongue, but I felt too ashamed. I hadn’t wanted him to take that photo, but I hadn’t stopped him, either. My stomach got all wormy thinking of who he’d show it to.

I swallowed and squinted at the house. “Should we wake up Maureen?”





CHAPTER 17


Over the years, it’d become harder and harder to enter Maureen’s.

At Brenda’s or Claude’s, I felt comfortable walking in without knocking.

“Hey, Heather,” Brenda’s brothers would say when they were still living at home.

“Want some juice?” Claude’s mom would ask.

It used to be the same at Maureen’s, but Mrs. Hansen began changing about the same time Mom did.

“Will you do the knocking?” Brenda asked, pointing to her black eye.