‘So any word on what went down at Winkler’s on Saturday night?’ Ray says, oblivious to whatever it is that’s happening between Diane and Johnny. ‘The fuzz still haven’t picked anyone up.’
‘No clue,’ Connie answers, tossing her cigarette butt onto the ground and letting it burn. ‘But I’m sure they’ll be creeping around this neighborhood, looking for someone to blame. That’s what they always do.’
‘Yeah, but this is different,’ Ray says. ‘Beefs between us and the tea sippers are nothing new, but murder sure as hell is.’
On hearing this, Diane grips her thermos more tightly to her chest and bites her bottom lip.
‘I don’t think it was anyone we know,’ Sunny says, maybe too loudly.
‘Shit, what do you know, Miss Detective?’ Ray barks, laughing at Sunny’s words.
Sunny scowls. ‘I know a lot,’ she protests, elbowing him.
‘Don’t get fresh,’ Ray answers. ‘You’re too cute for that.’
At this Juanita and I glance at each other, but we don’t say anything. Just then, the bell rings for fifth period, and Diane is the only one who jumps at the sound.
‘I guess it’s time for class,’ she says, shooting a furtive glance at Johnny, who has barely been able to keep his eyes off her.
‘What’s class?’ Ray cracks. I wish someone would tell him he’s not half as funny as he thinks he is.
‘I guess I’ll see y’all later,’ Diane says, turning to go. ‘It was … nice to meet you.’ She glances at Johnny once more, then darts off across the lawn.
‘Jeez, Johnny, drool much?’ Ray says, noticing Johnny watching her go.
Connie pushes herself off the oak tree at last and draws up close to Ray.
‘It would be so nice,’ she says, her words coming slow and even, ‘if someone told you once in a while to shut the hell up.’ And then, without waiting for Ray’s response or for any of us to follow, she marches off toward the school. I catch a glimpse of Sunny, who allows herself a tiny grin as Ray curses out Connie under his breath.
‘Evie, do you feel like fifth period?’ Juanita asks me.
I don’t, but I do feel like getting away from Ray’s stupid remarks.
‘I guess I could make an appearance,’ I answer.
‘Same here,’ says Juanita. She glances over at Sunny. ‘You coming?’
‘All right,’ Sunny answers, defiantly tossing her blond hair over her shoulder as she walks away from Ray, for once not waiting for his permission. Ray’s face is still frozen into a scowl over Connie’s words, but he doesn’t protest.
As the three of us head across the grass, Sunny says to us, her voice nothing less than gleeful, ‘I know Connie can be a real piece of work sometimes, but I’m glad she’s on my side.’
‘Me too,’ I answer, and I make a silent wish that she’s on Diane’s side, too.
When I get home, Grandma is snapping peas on the kitchen counter.
‘Hello, Evelyn,’ she says, looking over her shoulder at me, then back at the peas. Snap, snap, snap. Just then, along with the rest of the day’s mail, I spy a slim white envelope on the kitchen table with my name written in Cheryl’s unmistakably lousy cursive. I lunge for it and race to my room.
‘A polite young lady would say hello back to her grandmother!’ Grandma hollers down the hallway.
‘Hello!’ I yell as I shut the door behind me.
I can practically hear my grandmother sighing at me through the walls.
I used to share this space with Cheryl. Two twin beds, Cheryl’s closest to the closet and mine pushed up next to the drafty window because Cheryl got colder more easily during Houston’s brief winters. One old, cracked dresser from the resale shop with the top drawer that sticks. Two seen-better-days nightstands, mine littered with magazines and a pile of gum and candy wrappers the size of Mount Everest, plus my marble collection from elementary school in a jar, my Raggedy Ann doll, my eye makeup, and an empty water glass I’ve forgotten to return to the kitchen and that Grandma will soon be scolding me about. A brightly colored oval rag rug on the wooden floor sits between our beds. And on the wall space next to the window, above my pillow, a collection of ripped-out pictures and covers from 16 and Teen Screen stuck up haphazardly with pushpins. The best one is of Ringo Starr, my favorite Beatle. Everyone else loves Paul, but Ringo is the one for me. I don’t know why. He just is. And I like that not everyone else likes him best.
I glance at Cheryl’s side, stripped clean and bare, even her childhood quilt long gone, leaving behind a sagging mattress. I try to picture her there, on the other side of the room, spread out on her bed doing homework and sketching pictures or, years earlier, cutting out paper dolls. It’s like I can almost see her sitting cross-legged, brow furrowing in focus, humming quietly to herself like she always did when she was concentrating on something.
My heart sinks with longing. It still feels strange to me that my sister isn’t here, ready to talk over her day with me, share our private jokes. Cheryl is four years older than me – she’s nineteen now – but she was the first person to treat me like I wasn’t a kid anymore. Now she’s gone and it hurts so much, I don’t know what to do with the hurt.
I tug the letter out of the envelope and flop onto my bed on my belly, anxious to take in Cheryl’s words. For the past year, we’ve mostly kept in touch through letters. Once in a while, she’ll call late on a Sunday evening when the long-distance rates aren’t too expensive, but we can only speak for a few minutes on the phone, with Grandma and Mama hovering around picking up every snippet of my end of the conversation.
Hey, favorite sister, her letter starts. I smile at the old joke. I’m her only sister, of course. I keep reading. How are you? I’m doing all right, I guess. I know you’ll get irritated, but just a reminder to HIDE THIS LETTER after you read it because you know Mama and Grandma will take a peek if they spy it lying open on your disgusting and messy side of the room. Anyway, things are all right, like I said. I started talking to the girl who lives next door to me on base. Her name is Mary and she’s pretty nice. She’s 20 and just had her first baby so that’s sort of hard for me. I know you understand what I’m trying to say. Dennis is hoping we can try to have another one soon. I know it’s what he expects and wants. I guess we’ll see. I suppose it would give me something to do. I go over to Mary’s to fold laundry with her or watch television, and that helps fill my time. Maybe I should take up a hobby or something. Maybe I should start drawing again? But that seems so pointless. Mary’s baby is named Charles, but they call him Charlie Junior. He spits up on absolutely everything, you wouldn’t believe it.
I read on. Cheryl spends a paragraph or two talking about a place called Vietnam and Dennis maybe having to go there. That part of the letter is sort of confusing, because I don’t really understand everything Cheryl says about all of it, and honestly, I don’t think she does either from the way she’s writing it. I’ve heard about Vietnam on television a few times, and I know it’s another country and maybe the United States will soon send more troops to this faraway place, but I haven’t paid much attention. It all sounds scary to me. At the end of the letter, Cheryl adds, Write me back soon don’t forget LOVE CHERYL YOUR FAVORITE SISTER. I go back to the beginning and read it through again. Most of Cheryl’s letters sound like this. Confused. Lonely. She doesn’t come right out and say it. I can just tell.