Chapter Nine
Post-bedtime negotiations, Libby discovered Bob dozing in Old Stink with Stump snoring contentedly at his feet. She slipped away to call Caroline.
“Hi Lib,” Caroline answered.
“I wrestled the natives to sleep and figured I’d give you a call before tackling the Himalayan laundry pile,” Libby said.
“That reminds me, do you have my royal blue sweater? The V-neck with the good boob placement?”
“Yes, I dropped it off with the dry cleaning on Monday. Do you want it back?”
“Before Friday, I’ve got a big date with Richard, the CPA.”
“Remind me how you met this one?”
“He does the agency’s taxes. Gail set us up.”
Gail Miller, Caroline’s boss, owned Redwood & Sterling Advertising. There was never a Redwood or a Sterling, but Gail, a woman attempting to break into a man’s profession in the 1960’s, named the firm for the tallest tree and strong metal hoping the name, albeit fictitious, created a rugged image.
“Wait a second,” Libby continued. “Richard wasn’t the guy we went out to dinner with? Cute, funny, chronic ear hair?”
“No, that was Ron. I broke that one off after he started sending mushy, late night text messages and calling Trevor ‘sport.’”
“Ew!” Libby laughed. “Where is Richard the CPA taking you?”
“Higami Sushi, nothing says ‘first date’ like raw fish.”
“Besides the perfect bust-accentuating sweater, what’s the rest of the ensemble going to be?”
“Depends,” Caroline debated. “If I stick to salad and water between now and then, jeans, but Trevor is selling candy for soccer, so most likely black stretch pants. By the way, you bought three chocolate almond bars. I didn’t want to look like a pig and put myself down for ten.”
“Good to know,” Libby chuckled. “How many did I eat so far?”
Caroline confessed, “Two.”
“I still remember selling candy for cheerleading when we were Trevor’s age.”
“Ah yes,” Caroline grinned, “the days when our pompoms stayed put without underwires.”
****
Libby and Caroline met in second grade. Sister Agnes, Immaculate Conception Primary’s principal, appointed Libby as Caroline’s tour guide after the Duffys moved to town from Georgia.
A one-story brick school, from a bird’s eye view IC looked like a thermometer. The long central corridor housed K-8 classes, gym, lunchroom and library. At the tip of the building was a round outcropping of offices for the nurse and teacher’s lounge. Libby’s tour began at the most prominent spot.
“This is the lunchroom,” seven-year-old Libby explained. “My mom makes my lunch, but you can buy if you want.”
“Why don’t you buy?” Caroline asked.
“I buy the chocolate milk, but the food is gross. Tommy Mancuso threw up the mac-and-cheese in math class last week. Sister Barbara had to leave the room; I think she barfed, too.”
Libby was a wealth of knowledge; Caroline was fascinated.
The tour progressed past the bathrooms, library, and gym and finished at the nurse’s office. The sterile white walls, covered in eye charts, overly graphic scoliosis photos, and dancing food groups ate up the entire room. A lime-green vinyl couch lined one wall, and on the desk, glass jars held cotton swabs, tongue depressors, and varying sizes of adhesive bandages.
“Go to the nurse in the morning if you don’t feel good. She’ll call your mom and send you home.” Libby explained. “After lunch Sister Edwina fills in, and you don’t want Big Ed.”
Caroline laughed. “Does she know you call her that?”
“Of course not!”
“Why’s she so bad?”
“She’s crazy in a penguin suit. No matter how sick you feel she gives you an ice pack and sends you back to class to pray. My brother Kevin ate a pencil, and all she did was give him the ice and ten Hail Marys. He could have died!”
Caroline frowned, “What if you feel really, really sick?”
“Doesn’t matter. Big Ed only dismisses early for barf.”
****
At thirteen, Libby and Caroline made an earth-shattering discovery—boys. Although many of their classmates failed to break free from the shackles of disgusting, a few were shaping up quite nicely.
Tearing through Speils Department Store, the girls searched for eighth grade graduation dresses meeting Immaculate Conception dress code: high neck, full sleeves, and nothing remotely flattering. The pickings were slim.
“Did you see Jimmy Shea’s hair cut?” Libby snapped her grape bubble gum.
Caroline pulled a pink, lace gown. “He looks cute; you should totally talk to him.”
“Yeah, right,” Libby wistfully ran her hand down the seam of a blue satin strapless and shoved it back in the rack. “What would I say, Hey there Jimmy, nice haircut. Want to make out?”
Caroline giggled. “What time is your mom picking us up?”
“We have to meet her at the Cine Time entrance after Sean’s movie lets out at four o’clock. “She checked her watch. “I’ve got two hours to find something. If we leave empty-handed, Mom has threatened to make my dress again. Once was enough.”
“Aw,” Caroline teased. “But you looked so cute at Tommy’s birthday party.”
“I looked like a pilgrim after a crop fire.”
At four-fifteen, armed with appropriate dresses and matching accessories, the girls met Sean.
“Is Mom here yet?” Libby asked.
“No, she’s always late.” Sean paced in front of the theater’s glass doors.
“How was the movie? Did your girlfriend like it?”
“None of your business,” he snapped.
“Oh boy. Somebody’s testy.”
“Grow up, Lib.”
“Ignore her,” Caroline chimed in. “She’s just jealous because you’re allowed to date and she’s not.”
“I am not jealous!” Libby snapped.
“Yes, you are.” Caroline took her by the arm. “Let’s get a snack while we wait for your mom. You get cranky when you’re hungry.”
On line at Pretzel Pagoda, Keith Wallace—a former IC student now freshman at St. Margaret Mary High School—slid in behind the pair.
“Well if it isn’t the dynamic duo?” Keith said. “Lib, Caroline, how’s things at good old IC?”
Keith always skirted the edge of trouble. He was the kid everyone knew toilet-papered the neighborhood on Halloween, but no one was caught in the act.
“IC’s fine,” Libby answered, stepping back to put distance between the girls and their unwelcome visitor. “How’s high school? Sean seems to like it.”
Hearing his name, Sean turned and caught sight of Keith’s too-familiar proximity to Libby and Caroline. Abandoning his lookout duties, he made a beeline for the girls.
“High school rocks,” Keith answered. “I got totally wasted last weekend at the football party.” He shifted his attention to Caroline, stepped closer and leered at her chest. He licked his lips. “Duffy, you’re looking mighty good. Seeing anybody?”
“Wallace...” Sean wedged in between the thug and Caroline. “Something I can help you with?”
A sneer crossed Keith’s face. “Just talking to the ladies, O’Rourke. You got a problem with that?”
“No problem...yet.”
“Good. Now how about you and Lib take a little walk while I talk to Caroline for a few minutes, alone?”
Sean turned to Caroline. “You want us to leave?” She shook her head. “Seems Caroline would prefer us to stay, Wallace. So why don’t you be a decent guy and leave her alone?”
Lips curled in an unhappy snarl, Keith leaned into Sean and growled low, “Take a walk O’Rourke. The little bitch doesn’t know what she wants. Get lost, and let me take a shot at her.”
****
Sean discovered the Tri-County Mall security office had surprisingly comfortable chairs. An ice pack over one eye, he barely made out Mae’s blurry silhouette as she spoke with the officer behind the glass partition. Libby and Caroline gripped each other and waited for the fallout.
Five minutes later, Mae stormed the waiting area. “All of you,” Mae bellowed. “In the car, now!” Before the last seatbelt clicked, she exploded. “I have never been so humiliated in all my life.” She turned to the passenger seat, “Sean Bernard, what in God’s name were you thinking?”
She cut him off. “No! Do not open your mouth, not one word until we get to the office. I want you to explain this disaster to Daddy and me at the same time. I only want to hear it once.”
She met the girls’ terrified glances in the rearview mirror. “I am dropping you off at Caroline’s house. Libby, Mrs. Duffy will bring you home after dinner.”
By the time Mae deposited the girls, her temper had reduced to a low boil. “Sean, that boy needed nine stitches. What got into you?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I know I shouldn’t have hit him, but after what he said to Caroline the asshole had it coming.”
“Language!” Mae pinched the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t like you, you’re not a violent boy, and you’re darn lucky the pretzel salesman saw who threw the first punch, otherwise you’d be at the police station right now. Tell me what the boy said to make you angry enough to react like that.”
Sean recounted the ugly conversation, and for several minutes, Mae said nothing. Torn between pride in his chivalry and a growing concern, she also wondered if Sean’s feelings for Caroline’s were developing past friendship.
“Mom?” Sean interrupted her thoughts. “Are you going to say anything?”
She pulled into the Mae Day parking lot and killed the engine. “What that boy said was reprehensible. Any child who uses language like that needs confession and a lesson in what it means to be a Christian, but you were dead wrong to hit him.” She paused. “No matter how much the little bastard deserved it.”
“Mom!”
“I never said that,”—she winked—“and if you tell anyone I did you’ll be cleaning the bathrooms for a month. Now go inside and wait for me. Daddy and I need to figure out how to punish you.”
Head hung, he exited the car and walked to the front door like a prisoner facing the gallows. Alone, Mae’s eyes began to mist.
“How did I miss it?” she whispered. “I blinked, and in that split second my little prince stopped protecting the backyard from dragons and started defending the honor of damsels in distress.”
She closed her eyes in prayer. “Lord, please keep Sean’s tender heart locked away for a while longer, it’s going to be a few years before Caroline Duffy realizes she holds the key.”