It's Just a Jump to the Left Page 3

  “He is not creepy. He’s actually pretty funny. And nice.”

  “For a weirdo.”

  “You know what? Forget I said anything. God.”

  “I’m sorry,” Agnes said, but she was still laughing a little, and Leta wasn’t sure she really meant it. “So, tell me—was he any good? Oh, my god, did he try to feel you up?”

  “No?—”

  “Did you know he’s adopted? Like he thought his grandma was his mom but it turns out his Aunt Susie in Oklahoma is his real mom. She gave him up to his grandmother so she could go to college and get on with her life. I guess he found it out last year. He asked his mom—his real mom—if he could come live with her in Oklahoma, and she said no.”

  “Oh,” Leta said. She didn’t like that Agnes knew something about Cawley that she didn’t.

  “Jay McCoy told me they got drunk once in a field and Cawley got quieter and quieter, and then, all of a sudden, he stood up and started screaming at the top of his lungs and hitting at this old oil drum. Remember last year when he broke his hand and he said it was a botched alien probe? Well, that’s what really happened.”

  Leta could see Cawley in her mind then—the uncooperative blond hair, the crooked smile, the gap between his two front teeth, the secondhand-store bowling shirt he wore that said “Eugene” on the pocket. All those things she’d always found comforting about him now seemed turned; he’d gone from dorky-cute to intolerable in one phone call, and she couldn’t seem to reverse it.

  “Roger and I almost did it today,” Agnes said suddenly.

  Leta sank to the ground out of sight of the window. “You what?”

  “I want to do it with him,” Agnes said as if she were planning a class trip.

  “Are you sure you want to have…” Leta lowered her voice to a whisper. “Sex with him?”

  “Who are you on the phone with?” Leta’s mother appeared on the porch, startling her.

  “The Kremlin!” Leta snapped, her heart beating wildly.

  “You shouldn’t joke about that sort of thing. You never know who’s listening in.”

  “What’s your mother’s problem now?” Agnes snarled on the other end.

  “She thinks the FBI’s tapped our phones.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Agnes whistled.

  “Give me the phone.” Her mother made a swipe for it, but Leta dodged her. “It’s nearly ten o’clock, Leta Jane. Tell Agnes good night.”

  “I’m not finished.”

  “It’s late!”

  “I’m not finished!” Leta held fast to the phone.

  “Well, don’t stay on too long. It’s a school night,” her mother said. She padded silently to her room and closed the door with a soft thwick. Leta knew she’d won this round, but suddenly, she wished she hadn’t. It didn’t feel safe; it was like she’d taken her first steps in space only to find that her line wasn’t anchored to anything and she was hopelessly adrift.

  “I better go,” Agnes said. “My dad just got home.”

  “We have to talk, though,” Leta insisted. “Do you wanna go to the mall tomorrow?”

  “Can’t. I’m going to Roger’s.”

  “Oh,” Leta said. “Okay.”

  “Not for that,” Agnes scoffed. “I’m sitting in on his band’s rehearsal.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I know! Isn’t that so cool?”

  “Wow,” Leta said again.

  “Don’t let your mother drive you too crazy.”

  “I won’t.” When Leta hung up, she realized they’d never finished talking about her sort-of-maybe first kiss, and all her unasked questions settled inside her, heavy as sand.

  That night, Leta embraced her pillow, imagining Tom’s face in the whiteness above her. “I love you,” she said, because you were supposed to say that when you kissed. She pressed her lips to the pillow. Her tongue ventured out, meeting with an unwelcoming, cotton starchiness that robbed her mouth of all moisture.

  With a sigh, she flipped the pillow over, wet spot down, and stared at the wall. In the next room, Stevie’s TV was on. She could hear the drone of it, all the shows and commercials blurring into one another. Stevie was talking, too, saying words that she knew didn’t match—cat when he meant house, football instead of man. She wondered if it made any sense to him and if it mattered that no one else understood. Was it lonely not to be able to communicate with other human beings, or was it a relief to stop trying?

  Across the hall, soft, strangled cries came from her mom’s bedroom. It reminded Leta of a nature show she’d seen once where a bear cub had caught its foot in a trap. It cried for help, and when none arrived, its cries became a muted yelp it used to comfort itself until sleep came. Leta turned away from the sounds in her mother’s room. She pressed herself closer to the wall and let the TV’s soft, repetitive noise lull her to sleep as if she were five and her parents were having a dinner party, their muffled voices in the living room a soothing wall of sound that stood between her and the rest of the world.

  Leta awoke to the sound of Stevie screaming and her mother shouting. Still dazed, she stumbled into her brother’s room. Her mother had him pinned to the bed, but she was no match for him. His arm caught her across the face and she flew back, blood pooling at her lip. Stevie shook for a second and settled.

  “It’s over,” Leta said, but she was trembling.

  “I didn’t sign up for this.” Her mother stifled a sob. She held up a blood-smeared hand. “I need to change him now.”

  Leta knew this was her cue to leave, so she turned on the little TV again, working the rabbit ears until the image was clear, letting the soft constant sound numb them all into a sleepful waking.

  SCIENCE FICTION/DOUBLE FEATURE

  On Friday, Leta went to Rocky Horror alone. She’d never gone without Agnes, and as she got out of her mother’s car wearing more makeup than usual, she felt adrift. Standing in the lobby by herself, she searched for a new tribe of Rocky fans to join, but they all seemed complete already. Jennifer had added a red wig to her outfit, and Leta imagined using Riff-Raff’s gun to laser it to pieces.

  “Leta?”

  Leta turned around to see Miss Shelton standing behind her with some of her friends.

  “Hi, Miss Shelton.”

  “Amy, please!” her student teacher laughed. “Hey y’all, this is one of my students, Leta. Are you here for The Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

  “Yeah, I come every—well, most every Friday,” Leta said.

  Miss Shelton’s eyes widened, and Leta enjoyed feeling like she was part of the secret club. “Cool. Are you here by yourself?”

  “Yeah,” Leta admitted.

  “Why don’t you come sit with us? We’ll save you a seat,” Miss Shelton said.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Who is that?” It was Tom. He was talking to her. Tom. Talking. To her.

  “She’s my teacher, um, a friend,” Leta answered.

  “Huh,” Tom said, watching Miss Shelton head for Theater 2. He turned back to Leta with a smile. “Sprite, right?”

  “Yeah.” Leta grinned. He knew her drink!

  “Maybe later I’ll come find you guys. Save me a seat.”

  “Sure,” Leta said, and it was like she’d swallowed the sun.

  This was only the second time Miss Shelton and her friends had seen the movie, and Leta enjoyed playing Rocky Horror tour guide, showing them when to throw things, prompting them on comebacks. She didn’t even care that Jennifer stood up in front of her seat to dance. Miss Shelton laughed at all the right parts and even some that Leta didn’t understand. When Leta sang along to “Sweet Transvestite,” Miss Shelton high-fived her, and Leta couldn’t wait to tell Agnes about it. Maybe Agnes would be jealous of her new friendship with Miss Shelton, who was super pretty and cool and in college.

  Toward the end of the movie, during the floor show, Tom slid in next to Leta, taking the empty seat she’d dutifully saved for him with her jacket.

  “Are those guys in makeu
p?” Tom whispered, and Leta felt it deep in her belly.

  “Yeah,” she whispered back, relishing the nearness of his perfect ear.

  “Huh. This is a weird movie, man.”

  Leta stared at him. “You mean you’ve never seen it before?”

  “Huh-uh. Not my thing.”

  “Oh, my god, it’s like the best movie ever. Nothing’s as good as Rocky,” Leta said.

  “I know one or two things,” Tom said and winked. “You want anything from the concession stand?”

  Leta shook her head, and Tom reached in front of her to tap Miss Shelton on the arm. “You want anything? Coffee, tea, me?”

  Miss Shelton laughed, and a woman with crimped hair and a maid’s outfit shushed them. Tom made a face, and even though Leta didn’t want the lady to be mad at her, she giggled anyway.

  When the movie had ended, and they were huddled in the harsh glare of the theater lobby, Miss Shelton put her arm around Leta. “That beat hell out of Texas history, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Leta said, but her eyes were on Tom.

  “I gotta close down the place,” he said. “But, hey, let’s do the Time Warp again.”

  “Sure. Okay.” Leta was still grinning. “See you next Friday for sure!”

  “Yeah. See you then. You, too,” Tom said to Miss Shelton.

  At the Popcorn on Wednesday, Cawley and Leta put the finishing touches on the set for Our Town. In the week since their kiss, Leta had managed to avoid him—taking a different hallway to classes, carrying all her books so as to skip her locker, ducking into the girls’ bathroom when necessary. But now they were at the Popcorn together, and Leta was determined to keep things strictly professional.

  “Could you hand me those?” Leta pointed to a wad of tissue-paper flowers the size of a tricycle.

  “Jennifer Pomhultz told Scotty West’s brother that she’s going to dance with the regulars at Rocky Horror this weekend,” Cawley said, holding the flowers in place.

  “So?”

  “So? We gotta show up and take her down.” We. He was already making them into a couple. “I’ve got it all figured out. My grandmother can drive me over around nine o’clock, and drop us off at the Pizza Hut. Then we could just walk over to the Cineplex from there later.”

  “They’re pretty strict about IDs,” Leta said, letting the staple gun rip.

  “But they let you in. Just tell ’em I’m your cousin or something. Your kissing cousin,” he joked.

  Leta’s face went hot. It had been a mistake to kiss Cawley. She couldn’t be seen with him, not now that she had a shot with Tom. “Actually, I-I may not be able to go this weekend. I think my dad is coming. And, you know, we’re doing, like, family stuff.”

  “Yeah, but the show’s not till midnight.”

  “Sorry.”

  “But Jennifer Pomhultz is trying to take your spot as Columbia! You have to go!”

  “You’re not the boss of me, Cawley!”

  Leta’s finger slipped on the staple gun, nearly catching Cawley’s thumb, and Leta thought of the gun going off, the bullet shattering her brother’s temple.

  “Stupid!” she hissed, and she wasn’t sure who or what she meant by it.

  That night, Leta’s dad called. His flat tones echoed over the phone, all the way from Connecticut, which sounded like a state you had to put together yourself from a kit. “Hey, kiddo, how’s eighth grade treating you?”

  “Okay,” Leta said.

  “How’s Agnes? Is she behaving?”

  “I guess. You know Aggie.”

  Her dad laughed. “Well, Stevie sounds good.” There was a pause. “Your mom getting on okay?”

  Leta flicked a glance toward her mother, who was stirring anger into the pot of noodles on the stove. “Yeah.”

  “Good, good. Good.”

  Leta wanted to ask her dad when he was coming home. She wanted to know if he missed them, or if they were faint as the ghostly images on a negative. She wanted something she couldn’t name and she hoped he’d know what it was.

  “Well, take care of yourself, kiddo. Lemme have another crack at your mom, there, okay?”

  “Sure.” Leta handed off the receiver, ducking under the cord.

  Her mother’s voice dropped to a wounded whisper. “I just don’t think I can do this anymore, Dean, I really don’t.”

  When her mother had gone to sleep, Leta took the picture of Columbia she’d torn from a movie magazine and taped it to her bathroom mirror. From under the sink, she took out a box of red dye, coating her head and setting the egg timer for thirty minutes. Once she’d washed it out, she chopped at her lank strands, going shorter and shorter until her hair was just below her ears. It didn’t hang exactly even, but it wasn’t too bad. The dye was darker than she’d imagined—a deep auburn. It made her eyes greener and her skin more sallow. But most importantly, it made her seem older. Leta pulled on her winter cap so that her mother wouldn’t see the new hair before Rocky Horror. After tomorrow, it didn’t matter if she was grounded.

  In the hushed dark of the kitchen, Leta swilled antacid straight from the bottle, wiping the gluey liquid from her mouth with the back of her hand. She tested the locks and checked the thermostat before opening the door to Stevie’s room a crack. He was sleeping. In the corner, the TV was all static, and the screen was as white as the surface of the moon.

  SUPERHEROES

  For the first time in nearly two months, Agnes and Leta were together on a Friday night, but they wouldn’t be together for long.

  “You little shits better not get into trouble,” Diana said. “If I get grounded because of you, you’re both dead.”

  “If I get in trouble, you get in bigger trouble,” Agnes said.

  “Don’t make me kill you,” Diana said. She flipped them the bird before driving off.

  The girls waited in the parking lot. From here, they could see the cars cruising the strip, making the endless loop from the Pizza Hut at the south end to the Sonic at the north.

  Agnes ruffled Leta’s short red bob. “Your hair looks amazing.”

  “Thanks. You look pretty. You’ve got protection, right?”

  Leta and Agnes had seen films in their sex ed class about how easy it was to get pregnant, even if it was your first time. To Leta, watching the films seemed like trying to imagine living in a foreign country.

  Agnes unzipped the pocket inside her purse to show Leta the small foil pouch. “All taken care of.”

  A minute later, Roger rode up on his motorcycle. He nodded to Leta. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Leta answered. That was usually the extent of their conversations.

  Agnes got on the back of the bike and put her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his back. It was funny how some people just seemed to fit.

  “Don’t let Jennifer Pomhultz take your spot!” Agnes shouted. “And good luck with you-know-who!”

  For a few minutes after Agnes left, Leta sat on the car hood, searching for Tom’s Camaro.

  “Hey, I thought you couldn’t make it tonight!” Cawley called, startling her.

  “I… it was sort of last minute,” Leta stammered.

  “Cool! We can sit together.” Cawley slid in next to her on the car hood and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Um, I’m sort of meeting some friends here.”

  “Okay, so we can all sit together.” He nuzzled her neck, and Leta flinched. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just not—people might see us, you know?” Leta said, swallowing hard.

  “What, are you embarrassed to be seen with me or something?” Cawley asked.

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “So what is it?” Cawley looked her in the eyes then, and she knew he wouldn’t go until she gave him the truth.

  “I’m waiting for a guy,” Leta said at last.

  Cawley shoved his hands in his pockets. “You could’ve just told me you didn’t want me to come.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want you to come, I j
ust…” She stopped and pressed the backs of her hands to her eyes. She was making a mess of things. Why was it that the one person she wasn’t sure about was the only person who was sure about her? “I just wanted to go out with somebody else, okay? I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I? I mean, it’s still a free country and everything.”

  “Yeah. Free country.” Cawley slid off the car hood and walked away from her, toward College Drive.

  “I’ll see you at the Popcorn,” Leta added. It was a stupid thing to say. In response, Cawley kicked a trash can hard and it spun, nearly toppling over.

  “Dammit, Janet,” Leta said to no one but the cars.

  In the litter-strewn field behind the Cineplex, Leta finally found Tom in a tight huddle of older kids. She approached the pack cautiously, trying not to attract too much attention, waiting for them to notice her. When no one did, she cleared her throat.

  Tom’s head popped up. He squinted at her.

  “It’s me, Leta,” she said, patting at her new hair.

  “Oh. Right. Hey, Lisa,” Tom said.

  “Leta,” she corrected softly.

  “Wanna party? Hey, make room for Lisa,” Tom instructed and Leta was ushered into the fold. A joint came her way, and she passed it to the pimply ticket-taking guy on her left.

  “I can’t. I have an ulcer,” she offered by way of explanation.

  “Don’t old men get that?” he asked, taking a hit.

  “Some people just produce more stomach acid?” Leta said and immediately wished she hadn’t. “Anyway, it’s okay. I took my medicine.”

  “How come you’re all dressed up like that?” one of the girls asked.

  “For the movie. I’m Columbia.”

  One of the guys snickered. “You’re Columbian? Can we smoke you?”

  They all laughed then, and Leta didn’t understand why, but she wished Agnes were here and they were sitting in the warm movie theater throwing toast and singing like before.

  “Hey, Leta!”

  Leta turned to see Miss Shelton wobbling over on platform sandals. Her boobs quivered like unset gelatin. Everyone stared.

  “Hi, Miss Shel—Amy.”

  Miss Shelton gave Leta a little hug, like an older sister, and Leta was overcome by happiness. It would be okay. Everything would be okay. “I didn’t know you liked to party.”