‘I’m glad y’all weren’t so dumb as to try and go to Mexico. What was your plan? Sleep on the beach or something?’ Connie asks.
‘I know, but we just didn’t know what else to do, I guess,’ I respond, my cheeks flushing, fully aware now how risky our original plan was.
‘I get it, Evie,’ she answers, ‘but even though I’m glad you didn’t try to pull that off, I’m not inclined to trust some tea sipper.’ She waits a beat, then eyes Betty, her mouth turning into a scowl.
Betty just glances at Diane and me.
‘I trust her, Connie,’ I say, peering back at Betty. ‘We’re right to trust you, aren’t we?’ I try to make my voice sound hard and in charge like Connie’s, but I’m sure I fail miserably.
‘You can trust me,’ Betty says, then looks around the room. ‘All of you can. I promise. I know what sort of boy Preston was. I know Diane and Evie are telling me the truth. I swear to you, I’ll do whatever I can to help fix this.’
Connie shrugs, bites her bottom lip, and bounces some more.
‘We don’t have any other ideas,’ Sunny offers. ‘Let’s let Betty try it. And we can hide Diane and Evie in the abandoned house.’
‘It’s still empty,’ Juanita agrees. ‘And it would only be for a few days. We could bring them food. The water is still on. It’s a good idea, Sunny.’
Sunny puffs with pride, but Connie frowns. ‘I don’t know. It still seems too risky. If y’all are right and you’ – at this Connie fires another look at Betty – ‘can get your rich daddy to believe her, Johnny will be free and Diane will only get a slap on the wrist for protecting Evie. But it still seems like a big chance to me.’
‘I believe in Betty,’ Diane insists. She turns and looks at her friend and smiles, grateful. Betty returns the smile, flashing her perfect white society smile.
‘Didn’t she let you down before?’ Connie asks, like Betty’s not even sitting in the room with us. ‘I mean, she didn’t exactly stick by you earlier.’
Diane glances down at her hands, her face strained for a moment, and Betty’s smile falls. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘That’s true. But I forgive her.’
‘You’re a real soft one,’ Connie says to Diane, rolling her eyes. Her voice is a mix of annoyance and awe. Betty blushes.
‘I think Diane and I should go tonight to the abandoned house,’ I say, trying to keep us on track. ‘I think it’s the best choice.’
‘What about your mother, Evie?’ Sunny asks. Then she looks at Diane. ‘And your aunt?’
Diane scowls. ‘My aunt won’t even realize I’m gone. Trust me.’
‘Your mom’ll notice,’ Juanita pipes up, eyeing me.
My face stings at the memory of what happened earlier. It seems a lifetime away. I put my hand up to my cheek again, and I can feel my mother’s slap. I push the urge to cry down as deep as it will go while I tell the girls what happened. I don’t want to break in front of the girls. Not now. I try to act like it doesn’t matter.
‘Damn,’ says Juanita when I finish my story.
‘Your mother hit you?’ Connie says, incredulous. ‘That’s a first.’ Then she mutters a quiet, ‘I’m sorry, Evie.’
‘Thanks,’ I whisper, staring down at Sunny’s threadbare bedspread. Maybe Connie is the soft one. But Connie knows what it’s like to be hit. She says sometimes it’s the only way she can be sure her parents know she exists. A lump in my throat builds, and I take a deep breath, making sure it’s really gone before I open my mouth again. ‘My mother doesn’t want me around right now anyway,’ I say, forcing myself to believe it’s the truth. ‘So I think hiding out with Diane is the best choice.’
Connie waits a beat and we all look to her, even Diane and Betty.
‘Okay, fine,’ she says at last. ‘There’s something about this I don’t like. But I can’t put my finger on it.’ She stands up and bounces on her heels again, crosses and uncrosses her arms. ‘But all right. Let’s do it. We’ll gather supplies tonight and get Diane and Evie over there.’ She looks at Betty again as she gets up off Sunny’s bed and reaches for her black pocketbook. ‘Don’t mess this up, all right? I want my brother out of jail. He doesn’t deserve to be in there.’ At this Connie’s chin quivers, almost imperceptibly. None of us say anything, and Betty just nods, her dark eyes wide and serious. Connie would hate it if we ever treated her like she might break down and cry.
Sunny unlocks the dead bolt and Diane walks Betty to the front door. She takes one of Betty’s hands in hers and gives it a squeeze.
‘Betty, thank you,’ she says. ‘Thank you for everything you’re doing for us.’
Betty doesn’t let go of Diane’s hand. She only looks right into Diane’s eyes and furrows her brow, her face serious. ‘I promise I’ll convince my father Johnny didn’t do anything,’ she says. ‘I know he’ll believe me.’
Even though the rest of us are milling around Sunny’s living room and Connie is clearly ready to get moving, Diane takes a moment before she leans over and embraces Betty, hugging her tight. She whispers something into Betty’s ear, and Betty nods in agreement. I feel like a spy again, like I shouldn’t be here. Like none of us should. Juanita and I catch eyes, and Connie and Sunny stare at the floor, but none of us interrupt. We know it wouldn’t be right. Finally both girls pull apart, and Betty offers us a quick wave before she heads out Sunny’s front door.
'Evie?’ Diane calls out to me from her side of the abandoned living room. A fat white candle in between us melts to a disfigured stump.
I peek my face out from under a thin blanket and lean up on one shoulder.
‘Yeah?’ I whisper. Then I raise my voice to normal volume. After all, Diane and I are the only ones here, and even though it was well past midnight when Connie, Sunny, and Juanita left the two of us on a mess of blankets and pillows taken from their own homes, Diane and I haven’t been able to fall asleep. It’s not just the hard floors and unheated house, either, although they certainly aren’t helping.
‘I wish I could drift off,’ Diane says.
‘So do I,’ I answer. ‘But my brain won’t stop.’
‘Neither will mine,’ she says. She reaches out and lazily passes a finger through the flame of the candle.
‘Don’t go so slow,’ I say. ‘You’ll burn yourself.’
‘I won’t,’ says Diane. ‘I’ve done this since I was a kid. It used to drive my mother crazy.’ She pauses. ‘Maybe that’s why I like doing it.’ At last she pulls her hand away from the candle flame and lies down on her back. ‘I keep wondering what she’ll do when my letter hits the papers. Pass out first, I guess. And when she comes to, she’ll disown me.’
I picture my mother and grandmother reading the same story. I can only imagine my mother bursting into tears, not passing out. Certainly not cutting me out of her life. A knot of sadness builds in my stomach. I try to ignore it.
‘Do you honestly think she would disown you?’ I ask.