BETT, DAN, PAUL, HESTER, AND Anna were celebrating their community service punishment with a party, a party that was, given the hosts, full of Twinklers and Stays, gathering in laughing knots of themselves in Hugh Munin’s field. It was like old Salt River times but better, somehow, Bett in her musty sweater, which she had decided this afternoon was cool and that she loved it. Stephanie was there, too (“Your makeup is amazing!” “I had this great teacher once.”), as well as Ranger, shorter and younger than all the rest but ecstatic to be included. Both Dan and Bett had reinforced their threats to him about that stupid tufty-eared devil of whatever, and Ranger had looked sufficiently scared that they had trusted him to come along.
“This is a real partycakes!” he cried. “Are you guys going to drink stuff?”
“No,” everybody chorused, and Paul and Eli put a cooler behind them.
Bett went over to Mutt, who stood on the periphery of the field. He was not exactly attending the party, but not exactly not attending it, either. Very few kids were forgiving of him. Most, like Dan, were still enraged.
“Are you scared?” she asked Mutt now. “About what might happen to you because of . . . ?”
“Yes,” he said. “My parents . . . I need to get custody of Meredith when I turn eighteen,” he said. “That’s why I work so many jobs. I’m not letting her life be wrecked.”
Wow. “I bet you could get help now,” Bett said. “My mom says—”
“No,” Mutt said vehemently. “ ‘Help’ is code for foster care, and no way. I’m not letting the police or the department of social services do that to us. My dad’s a prick and my mother’s useless, too, but I can take care of things for one more year, and then we’ll be fine. I’ll take classes at the community college after senior year while Meredith’s at school during the day so I can be there for all the other stuff she needs when she comes home at five.”
“Who’ll take care of her until five?” Bett asked.
Mutt shrugged. “She goes to aftercare in the elementary wing most days, anyway.” He smiled a little. Bett smiled back. Now she understood that part of Mutt’s punishment. “Forged my dad’s signatures on the forms,” Mutt added. “Nobody notices. I’ve had to do it for three years.”
“Mutt,” said Bett, “you are much less of a douche than I thought.”
“No, I’m not,” said Mutt. “I said homophobic, stupid shit, and I was an asshole to you on the first day of school, too. I’m sorry, Bett. I totally . . . respect what you can do.”
“Thank you,” said Bett.
“I’m going to head over to . . . the cooler. Can I bring you anything?”
“Nope,” said Bett. “But thanks anyway.” She watched him move through the group, some people ignoring him, some looking at him with pure disgust. Even most of his own minions were avoiding Mutt.
Bett shook her head. What was going to happen to him? To Meredith? Who could help them? Maybe her mother, who knew Mutt’s situation. Maybe McLean. Bett shook her head hard. She’d have to think.
Someone had sparklers and was passing them from group to group, so the whole field twinkled like fireflies, like stars.
“What were you talking to Mutt about?” Dan asked Bett as they formed a tiny triangle with Stephanie in the midst of the party.
But Bett couldn’t answer. And then there was Anna, buzzing up beside the three of them on her cricket-thin legs.
“Hey,” she said to Stephanie. “I’m Anna.”
“Hi,” said Stephanie. “I’m Stephanie. This is Dan and Bett.”
“I know them,” said Anna. “We were recently arrested together.”
Bett nearly spit-laughed. So did Stephanie.
“Bett is beyond the coolest, Anna,” Stephanie said, and put her arm around Bett’s waist. “Are you the Anna who made stuff out of the art that got messed up here?”
“I am,” said Anna.
Stephanie’s eyes went bright. “Whoa! Bett texted me a picture of the wings you made on the wall. They were gorgeous.”
Anna grinned. “Thanks a lot. I just can’t stand seeing destroyed stuff not made into something beautiful, you know?”
“Well, I make stuff as well,” Stephanie told her. “Can I help with the statue? And maybe do something with the devil drawings, too?”
Oh, no. Bett hadn’t had time to tell Stephanie the truth about those yet.
Anna looked at Bett and Dan. “What if Mutt didn’t do those?” she mused. “He keeps saying he didn’t.”
“Of course he did,” said Stephanie. “Fits the profile.” And she slapped Bett’s hand five for using cop language.
Bett felt a pang of guilt as she slapped Stephanie’s hand, but then she thought of Ranger. He’s only twelve, for God’s sake. And he thought he was helping. And Mutt’s punishment—it wouldn’t change even if Mr. McLean knew Mutt didn’t do the drawings.
“I’m not sure,” said Anna, glancing at Bett and Dan again.
But Stephanie interrupted, “Your wings were so cool, Anna,” she said. “What if—well, what about us making more and figuring out how to bronze them and getting them mounted on the statue?”
Anna’s eyes went wide. “That’s a fabulous idea. I bet the shop teacher would help us.”
Dan was nodding enthusiastically. “I bet the whole shop class would. I could ask. We love that shit.”
“And let’s leave all the hatchet marks on the statue where they are,” said Anna. “To represent the wounds the troops suffered. And what about vines growing out of one of the man’s eyes? I’m addicted to these online videos that this girl in Rayfen does. She makes these insanely cool ones about these incredible Blythe dolls, and for one she made a flower and—”
Stephanie stopped dead. “Blythe dolls?” she said. “That’s me! Those videos are me! I can’t believe you watch them!”
“You are Rayfenetta? Oh my God! YOU ARE A GENIUS! Those dolls! They are the best!”
They were the best. Bett knew. Stephanie may have lost an eye, but Bett had certainly been keeping one on her through the Rayfenetta videos.
“Shut up!” cried Stephanie to Anna now.
“I will not shut up,” said Anna.
“I’ll make a doll just for you.”
Bett blinked hard, embarrassed at the surge of jealousy she felt. Anna and Stephanie friends, too? But she tried to swallow it down and listened to the two of them talk, intense and focused with lots to say.
“Oh, I can’t afford it,” said Anna. “Don’t call me a stalker, but I know how much your dolls go for on Etsy.”
“Yeah, they’re expensive. They’ll put me through college,” said Stephanie matter-of-factly. “But what if we just exchange work? Artist to artist?”
“Really?”
“Sure! What kind of doll do you want?”
“Can I have one you already made?” asked Anna. “The warrior with the woven metal breastplate?”
“No,” Steph said unexpectedly. “Not that one. She’s my Valkyrie . . . I am so sorry, but she’s for Bett.”
“A Valkyrie?” Bett said. The wisp of jealousy dissolved instantly. “For me?”
“Yup,” said Stephanie. “Because you are my badass goddess sister.”
Bett fought not to blush as her eyes welled. For a badass she sure had overwelling eyes. She and Stephanie slapped hands.
“Can I have the stone sprite with wings instead?” Anna asked.
“Sure. And I want something you make out of broken glass. I have a pile of it at home if you need it.”
“Thank you,” said Anna. “I feel like I’m in a dream. I’m collaborating with Rayfenetta.”
Stephanie laughed. “I’ve never actually heard anyone say my handle out loud before.”
Anna laughed back, and she and Stephanie continued to talk about their art and making things, hard and fast.
Ranger passed by, clearly not knowing what to do with himself. “Ranger”? Bett called to him. “Do you have a Sharpie?”
Ranger beamed. “I always do,” he said, and handed it to her out of his hoodie pocket.
Bett tugged Dan down on the cold grass beside her and put one ankle on the opposite leg to write on the sole that Dan couldn’t see.
COMPASSION, she wrote, and traced the letters until they felt permanent. And then over COMPASSION, she wrote PERMISSION. And beside the palimpsest of words she wrote TO SURVIVE.
Dan reached over and took the Sharpie from Bett. And, hoisting his own foot over his knee, he wrote four letters on his sneaker sole.
Bett swallowed. She was not going to presume.
Dan sighed. “Don’t make me say ‘I like you, Bett.’ It’ll make me feel like I’m Ranger’s age.”
Bett was surprised into silence. Dan’s face fell.
“I mean, I know you probably like that Bill guy,” he said hastily. “I remember you wrote his name on your sneaker when we were younger.”
“You noticed that?” said Bett, now doubly surprised.
“You used to stick your feet up on my desk all the time when we did that Social Studies project in ninth grade,” said Dan. “I saw a lot of shit you wrote on those sneakers.”
Then Bett raised the other foot, the one that Dan could see, and wrote three letters on that one.
“Ranger,” Dan called out, “why don’t you go get one of those sparklers?”
“Okaycakes,” said Ranger, and fairly ran to the girl distributing the sparklers. He took one and dashed as far away from Dan and Bett as he could.