A horn honked outside. Ray. She wanted to get to the bottom of it. It was more important than riding around on Cross Bay, but that was hard to explain. The faded macramé owl on her wall gave her a silent hoot. Fine. She pulled on her shoes and swiped sticky lip gloss over her lips. More chemicals.
The stairs creaked under her weight, heavy with humidity.
“Where are you going?” her mother asked from the couch as a laugh track erupted on Ed Sullivan.
“Out.”
“Where’s out?” The volume lowered. This would not be easy.
“I don’t know. Just a ride.” The horn honked again. She almost hoped they’d leave her behind. The TV clicked off.
“I’ll walk you out.” Her father met her in the hallway. Gia wiped the lip shine off. Wearing it in front of him was embarrassing.
“Why don’t you just tie a bib around my neck and stick a Binky in my mouth?”
Her father searched her face. Gia glared back. Leo never got walked out. This was worse than him dropping her at school in the patrol car, whooping the siren to see which circles of kids scattered. None of them better be your friends. How was she supposed to grow up like this?
“You’re my daughter,” he said. “Shouldn’t I know where you go?”
“But Lorraine is going too.”
“Even more of a reason.”
The man at the canal flashed back into her mind. The wet dress was still in a heap upstairs. She wouldn’t have minded her father’s arm around her shoulder then, but now it was heavy, labored her walking, and felt more like ownership than protection.
The radio shook the car, scattering the parakeets. Lorraine’s front door opened. She was still in her honeycomb dress, glowing on the dark porch like a firefly. Ray lowered the music, one arm dangling from the window. There was no shuffling, no quick hiding. Ray had anticipated this, which made Gia feel less grounded, like riding a bike on ice.
“Hello again.” Ray smiled. His sleeves were rolled up, showing mismatched skin tones. Whatever that rock had done was hiding.
“Evening,” her father said. Why did Ray always get such gentlemanly respect even though he was a kid too?
“What’s the plan for this evening?” It sounded friendly, but something floated underneath. Her father leaned into the window like at a traffic stop for a “broken taillight.” Gia inched away now that his arm wasn’t around her. Lorraine picked her way over the uneven stones dotting her walkway, one arm holding her elbow, turning back to look at her house, chin quivering.
“Dad?” Gia whispered. He didn’t look up.
“Just a ride, Uncle Eddie. Maybe grab a burger, a milkshake.” He stretched the last word into two, snapping on the k like a broken rubber band. Leo and Tommy stifled giggles, but her father wasn’t laughing. They wiped their faces clean and shut up real quick.
“We got plenty of food inside, you know.” His eyes met Leo’s. “Your mother saved you a plate.”
Leo stared into his lap, his thumbs running circles over each other.
“That’s real nice,” Leo mumbled. Tommy’s shoulders shook from the effort not to laugh.
“Well, you know, that’s my point.” The trap snapped closed. “It’s not funny. In fact, it’s disrespectful. You’re punished for the fence but think you can ride around all night?”
The parakeets flapped wildly, neon green in the streetlight, bouncing the wire. So much for caring where his daughter was going.
“So I says to myself, What could be so important for him to forget?” He threw up his hands, mock considering. Said, Gia silently corrected, embarrassed. They’d been over this. Present tense. Past tense. Future tense. Grammar. He hadn’t just stepped off the boat. No need to sound like it.
A silent tear rolled down Lorraine’s cheek, catching the streetlight. She brushed it away. Everything was wrong tonight.
“And I couldn’t think of one good reason, so let’s go. Out of the car. Night’s over.”
“We didn’t mean any disrespect.” Ray held up his empty hands, trying to catch whatever was left of the night, but her father was angry-calm. It was over.
“My son should know better. It’s disappointing.”
Leo slid over Tommy, trying harder than usual not to fidget, but his face twitched. He rounded the car, the headlights washing him into a blur.
“Get inside.” Eddie pushed Leo toward the walkway, but Leo was only wearing one shoe. “And what is this?” Eddie threw up his hands.
Agnes was in the doorway, a silhouette of a bathrobe. The rabbits stirred in their cage. Straw fell through the chicken wire as Ray coasted to the stop sign, but Lorraine was still standing in the street, holding her elbow.
“Show’s over,” her father said, softening when he saw Lorraine. Where was that same nice for Gia? “What’d she do?” he asked Lorraine, noticing her tears.
The house was dark minus the flickering TV in the window. Lorraine’s chin quivered harder. It was puffy and red. Lorraine licked the tears away, holding her elbow tighter.
“Stay here,” Eddie whispered, and he headed into her house. Gia stood beside Lorraine, sorry she’d lingered in Ray’s basement now. It had probably upset Aunt Diane. Or the canal had. The TV snapped off. Something thumped. Eddie hauled a black trash bag to the curb. Glass broke. Diane screamed inside, but it didn’t sound like words. Lorraine stiffened. Agnes put her arm around her even though they were almost the same size.
“Sleep over tonight,” she said softly. Lorraine nodded. Eddie wiped his hands on his pajama pants.
“I’ll walk you back in the morning when she’s not a lunatic,” Eddie said.
“Or less of,” Lorraine mumbled.
Gia trailed behind as her parents walked on either side of Lorraine, who looked more like their daughter than Gia felt. Her father had cast her out like raw meat on a hook, just to get Leo. Now everyone would think she’d snitched. It wasn’t right.
Gia sat next to the rabbit hutch. The big ones took turns drinking from the waterspout. The babies nestled in a ball. Even the rabbits ignored her.
Leo clinked a Slinky at the kitchen table. It fell, bounced on the linoleum.
A chair slid out from the table.
“What’s going on with you?” her father said. Silence.
“You take down a fence, forget you’re punished. You haven’t mowed the lawn in two weeks and come home like this.”
Leo mumbled something.
“The rain has nothing to do with it—don’t give me that. Your mother tells me you took five dollars from the grocery jar and came home with nothing from the store. Something’s not adding up.”
“It’s summer, Dad. I don’t know. I put it back.”
“Not according to your mother. Why would she lie?”
The Slinky started, then stopped abruptly.
“It’s time you got a job.”
Agnes made a little sound.
“Well, he’s not studying,” Eddie said. “So he should pitch in.”
“School starts in a week. He’ll have more to do then. They’ll be busy again.”
“It’s not enough, Agnes, clearly. He rolls around in the dirt fighting every kid in the neighborhood. He’s not studying then either.”