Okay. The hallway fight. This came a couple of weeks after the Senior Weekend. It was the end of April, and the Prom was the only thing the seniors were talking about.
I was pretty excited. And pretty depressed. Not just because Lou and I were sour. Because I knew I'd have to settle for a cheap dress. Since I was a little girl I'd dreamed about going to all the boutiques in Manhattan and getting fitted for the most gorgeous, romantic Prom dress in the world. It would be strapless and lacy and I'd wear elbow-length white gloves and baby's breath in my hair and everyone would look at me and whisper.
Well, I knew I wasn't going to any Manhattan boutiques. Maybe not even the mall. And I was pissed off about it. Actually, I was pissed off about Lou, and about going to Geneseo instead of Wesleyan. And I was guilty about Dad and Corey.
Maybe you're wondering what was so terrible about Corey, since I keep bringing him up. I told you he was a hyper kid. Well, he was also smart. Maybe smarter than I am. When he was six, he was reading newspapers and stuff. Corey's one of those kids who can never take notes and still ace the test.
But that isn't the whole story. It's his attitude and what it does to Dad, and to me. Like the night of the Sumpfest.
See, there's a sump at the end of Cindy Lane. It's a party place for a lot of kids from Westfield School District. When I say party, I mean about four or five hundred kids. This was a night at the end of April, and it was muggy and hazy, the kind of weather that makes you feel like stabbing someone.
I was loading up the dishwasher from dinner. We don't have dinner together very often. Dad works all these jobs and Corey and I are never home at the same time. But tonight we had meat loaf because I felt like cooking. Corey wasn't too thrilled about it. He hunkered over the table with this sullen look and kind of sucked up the food. He finished in about four minutes and then mumbled, "I'm goin' out."
"You're through already?" I said.
"Yeah."
"No dessert?"
"I'll have somethin' later."
"No way. Once I clean up, the kitchen's closed."
He made a sarcastic face. "Yeah."
"I mean it. Daddy?"
Dad looked tiredly at Corey. "Kimber's in charge of the kitchen."
"Give it up," Corey said under his breath. Then he kind of unravelled from his chair—he's about six feet tall and he's all limbs.
He said, "See ya," and he was gone. I heard the screen door slam. Then I heard Corey bellow, "Yo! Greg!" to his friend.
While I loaded the dishwasher, I thought about my homework and shopping for a Prom dress and how Lou hadn't called me and about Martha's mess (I'll get to it!) and I started to cry.
Dad stayed at the kitchen table. He's a pretty decent-looking guy, about five-ten, kind of slender. He has receding hair and a bald spot in the back of his head. He buttered a piece of bread and ate it while he stared at the microwave. It was like he was waiting for a show to come on!
It's hard for me to talk to Dad about what he's going through. I was twelve when Mom walked out and I knew that she'd been cheating on Dad with some college professor. But Dad never showed his emotions. So I was doing dishes and he was staring.
The phone rang, which broke the tension. Right away I knew it was bad news: "Can I speak to Mr. Delaney? This is George DePaul, Corey's math teacher."
I wanted to tell him, "My dad is tired. Flush Corey down the toilet and do us all a favor. "
But I gave Dad the phone and I went back to the sink. I saw Dad's face get a little more waxy. He mumbled stuff like "Okay. We'll get on it." I put the water on harder. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to smash Corey's head against the wall. He was playing games. He knew if he screwed up the teacher would call. He also knew Dad wouldn't nail him.
Dad held out the phone and said, "Would you hang this up for me?"
I hung up the phone. "What did the jerk do now?"
"Failed a test with a thirty-three."
"Is that all?"
Dad got up and walked out of the kitchen. While he was upstairs, I heard shouts outside. Then I saw a red glow in the foyer.
Cops.
My heart was in my throat right away. I went to the front door and looked out through the screen. At first I couldn't see anything. It was a dark night, and the air was thick and heavy.
So I opened the screen door and went out. I saw hundreds of kids all over the street and all over the DeMarcos' front lawn. The DeMarcos live in the house right by the woods and their front lawn is a hill.
A cop car with its roof light on was parked by the De Marcos'. The kids were swirling all around the car. Other cars idled on the street, with headlights on. I knew what was happening before anyone told me. The cops had probably chased these kids out of the sump and they'd wandered up here.
The screen door slammed and Dad came out. I heard his shoes crunching on the driveway. "What's happening?"
"I think the cops are chasing them out of the woods."
I could feel Dad stiffen up. Joan and Marty Reese were on their driveway next door, and the Burkes, two houses down, were outside, too. It was like everybody had to protect their houses. Dad and I walked over to the Reeses and watched while the cops got the kids moving.
"Who called the police?" Dad asked.
"Not me," Joan Reese said. She's this petite blonde and she wore a housecoat and slippers.
"I didn't know anything was going on," Marty said.
The two Reese girls were running around the wet lawn and screaming in their pajamas. Millions of little kids were around. It was like a party. Joan said, "There must be four hundred kids in there. Where did they come from?"
"Sumpfest," I said.
"Who?"
"They probably got chased out of the sump."
Marty said, "What were they doing in the sump?"
"Spring party. First warm night of the year."
Dad had his hands jammed in his pants pockets. "Why did they have to discover us?"
"We have the woods," I said.
I watched all the movement, and I shivered. I saw these kids all the time in school, but out here they were dangerous. When these kids got trashed, they got out of hand.
One of the cops went over to the Angelos' and was talking to Joe Angelo at his front door. Meanwhile, the kids were tramping out of the woods, shouting, belching, and singing. Cars kept roaring up the street and stopping. They were filled with other kids looking for the party. When they saw the cops, they moved on.
The kids were streaming past our houses now, headed aimlessly down the block. The night smelled like rain and grass. I could see a yellow moon and smeary black clouds.
Suddenly Dad cursed and took a few steps toward the edge of the Reese driveway. I saw Corey right away. Corey sticks out in a crowd. He was up near the DeMarcos' front lawn, with a bunch of kids.
"Corey!" Dad shouted. Dad must have been upset because he doesn't go around yelling in the street.
He called a couple more times, and finally Corey turned. He waved at us and yelled, "I'm with Greg and Scott!"
"Get over here!" Dad yelled.
Corey came strutting back. He looked goofy in his sweats and his unlaced hightops. At one point, his head disappeared among the branches of a maple tree. He batted at the leaves and bopped over to Dad. "Yeah?"
Joan Reese said, "My God, he's taller than he was five minutes ago."
Marty said, "He's growing up."
I walked away. I let the darkness slide over me as I stood between houses and watched the exodus of the kids. I knew it would go on for a couple of hours, and that unless the cops stuck around, the kids would all come back.
Joan Reese asked Corey, "What's going on at the Angelos'?" and Corey said with a smile, "Some of the kids pissed on his lawn." Everyone laughed about that.
Then Dad started lacing it into Corey for hanging around the kids from the woods. Corey was rolling his eyes and going on about how he was with Greg and Scott and not with the kids from the woods. Dad said Corey would be hauled in by the cops just for being there and Corey said no he wouldn't.
Dad said "Maybe you'd like to stay in the house right now." And Corey said, "I'm not going to get in trouble, okay?"
"I don't want you up there," Dad said.
"I'm goin' to be with my friends," Corey said.
"Not up there."
"Dad, give it up!" Corey said.
"End of discussion."
"NO! I want to be with my friends."
"Sorry."
Corey hooked up over Dad like a big question mark. "I'm goin' with my friends!"
Dad turned away and walked back toward the Reeses, who were leaning on their Toronado. Marty Reese is a contractor and makes all kinds of money, which makes Dad feel low.
Corey wasn't going to let it alone. If he didn't go back up to where the cops were, he'd look wimpy in front of his buddies. So he went after Dad and yelled, "I'm goin' with my friends, okay?"
Dad looked furiously at Corey and said, "Don't shout at me."
"I'm goin' with my friends."
"Not up there."
Corey yelled so loud I thought the cops would come down. "I AM GOIN' WITH MY FRIENDS!"
He flung his body around and started clomping up the driveway. That's when I snapped. I stormed up the sidewalk and I yelled, "STOP!"
Corey turned around and glared at me. "What do you want?"
"Daddy told you not to go!"
"Get out of my face."
"Don't tell me to get out of your face. I'll slap your face in a minute."
"Oh, yeah. I'm really worried."
I was a little scared because he's pretty big. But I was so mad I didn't care. "You better be worried," I said. "You're a total waste. Your math teacher called tonight because you flunked another test."
"Shut up," he said.
"No. You are so smart and you just let it rot. You're going down the tubes. You don't want to get a job, you don't want to read, you don't want to join a club, you don't want to do anything. And now you make a jerk out of Daddy."
His jaw twitched a little and I could tell he didn't like hearing it. But he gave me this huffy expression and said, "Leave me alone, Kimber. You're not my mother."
"I'm as close as you've got."
"Yeah, well you're nowhere near."
He turned around and stomped up the block to where his friends were. Now I knew he'd come back in two minutes because he still wasn't ready to defy his father totally. But he's only fourteen. The next time he'd stay up with his friends longer. And pretty soon he wouldn't listen at all.
I leaned hard against a maple tree and looked at the cop car. I was so mixed up. I knew I wasn't just yelling at Corey. I was yelling at Lou, even though Lou is the opposite of Corey when it comes to using his brain. But he's really the same. Obnoxious to people who care about him.
So I was letting out a lot of frustration. I had this overwhelming need to break up with Lou. But I was afraid of being alone and I hated myself for being a coward.
Oh, man.
"What's wrong?"
You said you'd keep us on track. I was supposed to talk about the fight Rob had in the hall over Martha. Not about me and Corey.
"It's okay, Kimber. You're on track."
No way. This is supposed to be about teenage love.
"It is."
What did any of this have to do with love?
"Think about it, Kimber. It'll come to you. But maybe we'd better hold off on that hallway fight for a while, and move on to another part of the story."
Okay. Anyway, I realize Deena's sitting here and she hasn't said anything yet, so maybe she should have a chance.
"Fine, if she wants to."
And I'm sorry about hogging all this space with my own troubles. It's really selfish. Go ahead, Deena. Tape my mouth if you have to.