We Run the Tides(40)

She stares at me. I don’t know what I’m going to say is disgusting so I drag out the moment while I plot my response.

“The story you told,” I say. “You really think anyone’s going to believe that kidnapping story?”

“Excuse me?” she says.

“Have you taped your ABC interview yet?”

“They’ve done B-roll,” she says.

I nod as though I know what that is.

“That means they’ve filmed me walking on the beach with my family. I think it turned out really well.”

“You could get in a lot of trouble for lying to the news,” I say. I don’t know if this is true, but it sounds true. “The story you told last night has a very familiar ring to it, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” she says, and I can tell she’s frightened.

“Kidnapped? Robert Louis Stevenson.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god,” I say, as it dawns on me. “Last time I was in Mr. London’s office there was a book missing. It was Kidnapped, wasn’t it? You took it.”

“What are you talking about?” she says in a quiet voice.

“The book. You got the idea from a book.”

“I don’t even read books,” she says. “Maybe the kidnappers do, but I haven’t exactly been able to read recently since I was busy being kidnapped!”

“Well, I’m just saying that before you go on ABC and give them your exclusive, you might want to revise your story a little bit.”

“I’m leaving,” she says. “But I brought you something you forgot last night.” She reaches into the bag and takes out my bowler hat. She throws it on the ground between us. Then she proceeds to jump up and down on it like it’s a fire she’s trying to stomp out. “There,” she says. She turns and walks down the stairs. I pick up the hat and try to restore its shape, but it’s destroyed. I carry the hat inside like it’s a once beloved animal that I’m going to need to bury.





22


On Sunday morning my dad comes into my room and asks if I want to go to church. I pull the covers over my head.

When my parents return home, I learn that my mom talked with Julia’s mom, Kate, in the church courtyard. A plan has been hatched for me to go to Julia’s house this afternoon to make Valentine’s Day cards.

“It will be just like how it used to be,” my mom says. “You girls used to always make cards together.”

I tell her we haven’t made valentines since we were little.

“Well, Kate misses you,” my mom says.

“Well, Julia hates me.”

My mom wants to contradict this. She opens and closes her mouth. After a few seconds she says, “Anyway, it’s all been arranged.”

My mom makes a cheesecake and pours red cherries from a can on top, spreading them with a wooden spatula. Shortly before 3, she walks with me to Julia’s house, carrying the cheesecake, which has been Saran-wrapped. She’s taped down the edges of the wrap with the rough surgical tape she brings home from the hospital.

Kate opens the door wide, an exaggerated gesture to show how welcome we are.

“Your new house is beautiful,” my mom says before she even looks around.

“Thank you,” Kate says. She seems genuinely grateful for the compliment. She’s still wearing her church clothes, which resemble her shiny ice-skating outfits except that the top is less sparkly and the skirt is slightly longer.

“I brought you a cheesecake,” my mom says and offers the cake to Kate.

“Thank you so much, Greta. You know how much I love your desserts. What was that thing you made for the bake sale last year?”

“Broom cookies,” my mom says proudly.

“Exactly,” Kate says. “Do you actually place them on a broomstick to get them to look like that?”

“Yes,” my mom says. “But don’t worry—it’s a clean one!”

They both laugh fake laughs.

Julia is not within sight, and we all stand in the entranceway, waiting for her without saying we’re waiting for her. Sitting by the door are three boxes with “Hitachi” and “Toshiba” and “Sanyo” printed on the side.

“New TV?” my mom asks.

“It’s a long story,” Kate says, and sighs dramatically. I can tell she wants to share this long story, but my mom doesn’t prompt her. “Anyway, the short version is they’re for sale. Do you know anyone who wants to buy a TV, a Betamax, or a karaoke machine?”

“Maybe,” my mom says. She seems genuinely interested. “How much are you selling the Betamax for?”

“Um, I’ll have to get back to you about that,” Kate says.

“Jesus, Mom,” Julia says as she enters the room. “Gentle will go even more crazy if you sell that stuff.”

“Don’t call your sister crazy,” Kate says.

“Hi Julia,” my mom says. “I like your hair.”

Julia’s normally light brown hair has turned orange. I know this is the result of the Sun In she sprays on her head. She goes crazy with the Sun In.

“Thanks,” Julia says. “I was sitting outside with lemon in my hair.”