Enough!

“I nteresting visiting day,” Rory said at dinner. “Wasn’t it, Patsy?”

“I know I told you to stay clear of Amy and her family,” Patsy answered.

“But who could resist Amy’s mother in that party skirt? And cute little Charlie‑boy? Come on, Patsy. How could you expect me to stay away from him?”

Rory’s words crushed me. I stayed silent at the table.

“Karen, please pass the sandwiches,” Patsy said, refusing Rory’s bait for her own protection, and, maybe, for mine. Yet I didn’t need Patsy to play counselor anymore. I no longer feared Rory. I just hated her.

“See,” Donnie said, “what they do with the menu on visiting day? Chicken dinner at lunch, so parents think we’re eating great. And after they leave, disgusting sandwiches for supper.”

“But dinner doesn’t matter, does it?” Rory grabbed her opportunity. “’Cause if we don’t eat, I’m sure Amy will share her yummy fruit with us. Am I right or am I right?”

Rory didn’t know I had already thrown the fruit into the outdoor trash bin. I only wished my mother could have seen me toss her precious peaches, plums, and nectarines in with candy wrappers and empty cookie bags. At the bottom of my fruit bag, I found two chocolate Tootsie Pops. When had my father sneaked those in?

“You watch your tongue, Rory,” Patsy ordered now at our table, “or Mr. Becker’ll hear about this.”

“But it’s not my tongue Mr. Becker cares about, is it?” Though Rory’s war with me had ended when she got Charlie, she kept up her battle with Patsy. Nothing to lose, Rory probably figured. Uncle Ed wouldn’t kick her out now that she was Robin’s best friend.

“Enough!” Patsy banged her fist on the table. Silverware jumped, but none of us did. Immune to this sparring, we just slathered mustard on sandwiches and reached for potato chips.

“But I’m not done,” Rory said, eager to rouse us. Though I pretended not to listen, her words chilled me. “See,” she went on, “I keep picturing Charlie‑boy, and I figured out who he reminds me of: Mr. Becker–and I don’t mean Amy’s father. Yes indeedy, little Charlie‑boy could be Robin’s brother, all right. Catch my drift, Patsy?”

“Stop it right now, Rory! That’s Amy’s family you’re talkin’ ’bout again.”

I felt Rory’s eyes on me. “Doesn’t seem to bother Amy.”

“Nope. I don’t care.” My voice came small but free of tears. I picked up my sandwich and chewed on my father’s words: “handsome Becker genes like your Uncle Ed.” And Rory’s observation: “little Charlie‑boy could be Robin’s brother.” I had caught Rory’s drift all right, and the question it carried lodged in my gut. I tried to drown it with bug juice, but it stuck with me, trapped for the next four weeks. “Let her say what she wants,” I told Patsy.

My battlefield had changed. The opening strike: telling my mother I knew about her and Uncle Ed. Revenge for her not having seen the truth about camp. My mother didn’t believe that Rory staged the dog attack. She couldn’t understand my wanting to come home. And when I told her I knew her secret, my mother said nothing.

What would happen at the end of the summer? How much longer could my mother and I keep dancing around each other before we’d finally crash?

Rory chose a new target after visiting day–a double: Fran and Karen. I got tired of Rory’s telling them to shut their traps. And when she intercepted Fran’s mail and ordered Jessica to tear it up, I spoke out. “Don’t listen to her, Jess,” I called from my bed.

“Well, la‑de‑da,” Rory jumped in. “Look who’s looking for trouble.”

“No trouble,” I answered, my voice strong and even. “I just don’t see what’s in it for you.”

“That’s none of your business now, is it, Amy Becker?”

“Nope. I suppose not. But I just thought you’d come up with something new instead of stealing mail again, Rory.”

“You know, Jess, she’s got a point. I’ll come up with something new all right. Maybe try it out on Amy.”

“What do I care?” I answered, looking down at the letter from my father. “Do whatever you want.”

Erin and I continued to meet in the boathouse. I didn’t worry that Uncle Ed might find us. Like Rory, he no longer had power over me. Let him tell my father I still don’t fit in. Let him tell my mother I’m not popular. So what? Even if my uncle had barged into the boathouse with Patsy, I wouldn’t have winced.

All I wanted was to win the tennis tournament and get back to Charlie. At lights out, I would X over the date on my countdown on the last page of my writing pad. As I moved the pen back and forth until black lines nearly tore the paper, I hoped that my brother had really forgotten the cocker spaniel and that he would trust me again. I decided I would give him the tennis trophy if I won it, sort of a reverse homecoming gift.

Cousin Robin and I made it to the finals. Everyone from Bunks 9 and 10 crammed behind the fence, gathering as they had at The Lodge before the Saginaw boys arrived, an invisible line dividing our tribes.

My heart raced when Jody opened a new can of balls, signaling the importance of this match. “Take a five‑minute warm‑up,” she told us. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need a warm‑up,” Robin called, playing to her group before she even hit a ball.

“Yes indeedy, Amy Becker,” Rory yelled. “Robin’s ready for you. No warm‑up.”

“Amy,” Jody said matter‑of‑factly, “start the warm‑up, please. Five minutes.”

“Come on, Amy!” Erin cheered as soon as play began. “Hit like you did on visiting day.” Visiting day, when I drilled the ball at my father and knew he was proud. Visiting day, when I knew my mother didn’t care to watch. My mother, who hadn’t even denied her relationship with Uncle Ed.

“Kill her, Robin!” Rory cried.

Focus. Concentrate. Don’t let her win.

“Ready?” Robin shouted across the net on her first service game when she led one game to love. “’Cause you’re about to see things your father never taught you.”

Hit the ball, Amy. Smack it hard. I made a good return. Erin cheered me on with a “Great hit!”

“Great hit!” a male voice echoed. Oh my God. Andy had come to watch. “Clarence gave me the afternoon off,” I heard him tell Jody. “I won’t be in the way.”

Robin refused to shake my hand when I beat her, eight games to three. She stormed away with Rory and their group before I even left the court. Good thing, because Andy and my friends were waiting to congratulate me. Now I could enjoy the attention without hassle.

“Great playing,” Andy said. He kissed my cheek, even though I was a sweaty mess. “I’m sorry the summer’s almost over,” he whispered, then raced away before I could think of what to say.

“I knew you’d win,” Erin said. She hooked her arm around my waist as our group headed off to change for swim. “And you lucky duck, your boyfriend was there to see it.”

We burst into singing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” our new favorite song.

Nothing would ruin this day for me. At least that’s what I thought.

^{Chapter 17}

Дата добавления: 2015-10-16