‘Evie,’ Diane presses, ‘you’re the one who got Connie to give me a chance, aren’t you? You were the one who said you’d stand up for me, and you believed me before any other girl did. And in front of Connie, too. And you were the first person I felt I could tell – really tell – about the baby. And you didn’t judge me. You just listened. Really listened.’ She pauses, holds my gaze with hers. ‘You didn’t have to do those things, Evie.’ She squeezes my shoulder tight. ‘Evie, this wasn’t all about feeling like you owed me something. You’re just a wonderful person is all.’
I sniff and keep crying. ‘Thanks, Diane, but … I don’t know. Everything’s been so mixed up and awful. My grandmother thinks I’m going to hell. I miss my big sister, and she’s having a hard time. My mother hates me, probably. After the way we left things, I don’t think she’ll even want me to come home. I’m not a perfect daughter. I don’t want the same things she wants for me. I don’t really know what I want, to be honest. But I do know that I think I should be able to at least have permission to find out for myself what it is.’ When I say this last sentence out loud, I realize that it’s true. I realize that I’ve decided I refuse to live my life for someone else no matter what the consequences might be.
Diane lets go of my shoulder and clasps both her hands tightly together, like she’s about to pray. ‘Evie, I only met your mother that one time, but I can’t believe she doesn’t want you to come home.’ She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her left ear, then presses her hands together again. She squeezes them so tight her knuckles turn white.
‘Evie, you do have a right to figure out what you want to be. Maybe your mother hasn’t realized that just yet, and maybe not everything is perfect in your house. I don’t think any house is, probably. But I know what it’s like not to be wanted,’ she says. ‘Not to be wanted by your own folks.’ She closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath. Then she opens her eyes again and looks into mine. ‘Evie, I bet your mother is worried sick about you. I practically guarantee it.’
I sigh, remembering how Mama came to me with that plate of bacon our last morning together. Begged me to tell her what was going on. I remember our late-night snuggles when I was a little girl, back before my life turned wild. Maybe Diane is right. I want her to be.
I don’t say anything, but I dry my face with the cuff of my cardigan. Take a deep breath. Then I lean over and blow on the saltine crumbs until they spill out in every direction like dust. Like I could blow away every unsettled, anxious feeling inside me.
‘My mother would flip if she could see me now,’ Diane says. ‘Her awful daughter turning out just as she’d feared. A criminal in a dump of a hideout.’ She waves her arms in the air like a model showing off a new car. Then she manages a rueful laugh. ‘I almost wish she could see me now.’
‘I’m sorry, Diane,’ I say. ‘I don’t understand how your parents couldn’t love you just as you are. You’re such a terrific person.’
‘Thanks, Evie,’ she says. ‘But I made my peace with all that the day they sent me away to Dallas. Maybe even before then. I knew I wasn’t ever going to be anything but a disappointment, so giving up trying to change their minds was sort of freeing, I guess.’ She sighs, then lays herself out on her back, staring up at the ceiling. ‘God, I wish I could make the clock speed up. I wish it could be eight o’clock right now!’
I think about Johnny heading over here in the dark and then realize I’ll be the ultimate third wheel in their reunion.
‘I could go hide out in one of the bedrooms,’ I say. ‘Or maybe you’d rather do that?’ I blush just as I say it, and Diane catches me and laughs.
‘Wow, Evie, your cheeks are pink!’
‘Shut up!’ I shout, covering my face with my hands, laughing.
‘Don’t worry,’ Diane says. ‘All I want to do with him is talk. Catch up again. Maybe we’ll just sit out on the back steps.’
And then what will happen? I wonder. Then the police will believe our story? Betty will be able to convince her father? Preston’s rich, powerful parents will give up trying to blame their son’s death on someone? But I don’t say anything to Diane about those unanswered questions. All that matters right now is that she’s happy, the happiest I’ve seen her since we met. Let her have her letter and Johnny and dreams of this evening. Let her have a fairy tale with a happy ending for once. And as Diane and I prepare to pass the time until this evening, I decide I’ll even let myself have a happy ending, too. It’s not as clear in my mind what mine will look like, but I want to believe in it.
I think maybe Diane has helped me believe in it.
Eight o’clock approaches, and Diane can’t stop wriggling with anticipation. She keeps checking herself in the mirror, finger-combing her hair.
‘I look awful,’ she mutters, alternating between checking her watch and the mirror. As the moment she’s been waiting for ticks near, she takes a deep breath, exhales carefully. My stomach is fluttery with nerves just waiting with her.
‘All right,’ she says, ‘I’m going out on the back steps. Would you give me …’ Then she pauses, and now she’s the one who blushes. ‘Would you give me a moment alone with him outside? I want our first kiss after all this time to be outside in the autumn air, not inside this musty old dump.’ She wrinkles her nose in disapproval.
I can’t help but grin. It’s the most tea-sipper thing she’s ever said to me, but I just nod.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘I’ll stay inside. But be careful. Don’t venture too far off the back steps.’
‘I won’t,’ Diane says, and as she walks toward the kitchen to head out the back door, she turns and flashes me a big, beautiful Diane smile. ‘Evie, thanks again. For everything.’
‘Sure, Diane,’ I say, and I smile back.
Leaning up against the living room wall, my knees drawn tight up under my chin, I wait, hearing only the occasional honk of a car on Telephone Road or the angry howl of an alley cat. I imagine Johnny racing up the back steps, taking Diane in his arms. I grin to myself as I envision him kissing her, then smiling when she says she’ll be with him forever. I even picture the two of them stumbling back inside the house arm in arm, Johnny thanking me for everything. You’re the best, kid, I can picture him saying, as my heart swells with pride and love.
And then, suddenly, I hear a scream. Loud, shrill.
Frightened.
I stand up fast, my mouth dry. My brain says, ‘Move!’ but I’m stuck in place.
Another scream, even more frightened than the first.
Diane.
Finally my feet catch up with my mind, and I head through the kitchen and toward the back door. I tug it open, not caring at all who might see me.
It takes a moment for my eyes to absorb what I’m seeing.
Standing in a snarling, angry pack in the strip of backyard are Ray Swanson, Dwight Hardaway, Butch Thompson, and a few other boys Johnny runs with. One has a switchblade in his hand. Another, a broken beer bottle. Their faces are one collective angry leer, aimed right at Diane, who’s standing feet away, her face stricken, her eyes wild.