Chapter Sixteen

Jenny

BENJY GRINNED FROM EAR to ear seeing Jenny in front of him. “Come in. Come in,” he repeated while opening the door all the way for her. The apartment was meticulous and sparse—a twin bed, a table with a folding chair, and a dated box television. The aforementioned headphones rested atop the bed.

Benjy hustled to the one chair and pulled it out for Jenny. “You can sit here. I just have one chair. I sit on the bed most of the time.”

She sat on the chair, and once she looked comfortable, Benjy took a seat on the edge of his bed.

“You look very pretty. I haven’t seen you in a long time, but you still are very pretty.”

“Thank you. How are you doing? Are you OK?”

“I can’t go to pageants anymore.” He stood back up, too anxious to sit still. He shuffled to the window. “I can see the park from here, see?”

Jenny shifted higher in the chair to look out the window. She could see a rusty swing set with a matching slide. Not much of a park, but it wasn’t the time for cynicism. “That’s great.”

The outside world caught Benjy’s attention, and he stopped rambling.

Afraid he might never turn back to her, Jenny pressed on. “What happened after I left? Were you arrested?”

Benjy lowered his head and walked back to the bed. “I had to go in the police car and they yelled at me over and over again, ‘What did you do? What did you do?’”

“I’m so sorry. My mother shouldn’t have done that. She’s a monster.”

Benjy flinched at the word as if she meant it literally.

“I’m going to leave my home. I can’t stay there any longer. I need to get away from my mother.”

“You’re gonna run away?” he asked.

“Yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I have a plan. It will be OK. I’m just going away until I turn eighteen. Then I can come back. It’s only four years.”

“Four years is a long time.”

“It’s not that long and it will be worth it. Do you know anything about Mexico? It’s a country right below the United States. They have beautiful beaches and amazing food. It will be easy for me to fit in there, get a job even.”

Benjy popped up from the bed again, heading back to the window. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t think you’ll be safe.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re gonna be all alone. You shouldn’t be alone. You’re a kid.” He turned back to explain it to her in the most basic sense. “Kids have to be with adults.”

Jenny lowered her posture so that she could look up at him with her best puppy dog eyes and adjusted her tone. “I need your help.”

“You need my help?”

“Yes, you, Benjy, are all I have.”

He came back from the window, repeating a tiresome pattern. “What can I do?” he asked as he sat back down.

Jenny scooted the chair toward the bed until she could reach out and grab his hands. “I need money.”

“OK.”

“OK?” She was surprised how easy he gave in.

Benjy removed his hands from hers and was back off the bed. She waited for him to head to the window, but instead he dropped to one knee, then both knees, then all fours. He was not a spry man. It was a process.

He reached under the bed and pulled out a shoebox. Reebok. Once he could see it, he shoved it back under the bed and reached for another. Nike. That was the one. He flipped off the top, revealing freestanding bills with the wrinkles of being in a thousand pockets. They were mostly singles, but Jenny could see a few fives.

Benjy began to remove each bill, flatten it over his thigh, and place it onto a stack. Once all thirty-two bills were in a neat pile, he handed them to Jenny to count.

Sixty-four dollars.

“This is it?” she asked.

“It’s not enough?” He fell from his knees to sit on the floor against the bed.

Jenny held the dirty money in her hands. She stared at it like she could change the ones to hundreds. What was she thinking? She was so stupid to think she could do this, to think Benjy would have the thousands of dollars she needed. Her breath became short.

“You can get more money,” said Benjy.

“No, I can’t. I don’t know anybody else.”

“What about Gil? Gil’s got lots of money. He has a boat.”

“Who’s Gil?” she asked.

“Gil is my friend. He writes me letters all the time. He likes pageants too.” He crawled back onto his knees and reached under the bed. This time, the Reebok box was right.

It was full of letters, placed back in their envelopes for safekeeping except one on top that she recognized right away.

“This is the letter from you.” He handed it to her. “It’s my favorite.”

She took it from him, but had no interest in revisiting it.

He dumped the remaining letters on the floor. “These are from Gil. He used to write once a week, but not so much lately, because I don’t go to pageants anymore.”

Jenny fanned out the letters on the floor, not sure what to do with them. “What do you guys talk about?”

“All kinds of stuff, but mostly about pageants. Gil lives in New York City. He tells me all about stuff there and I tell him about the pageants. Oh, let me show you …” Benjy riffled through the letters until he found the one he was looking for.

He pulled a generic picture of the New York skyline from the envelope. “This is where he lives. Isn’t it nice?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” she said to please him.

“And I send him pictures too. All the time. He really likes it when I send pictures.”

“What kind of pictures do you send?”

“Of you.”

“Me?”

“I told him you were the prettiest one in the pageants and he agrees. He says you can be Miss America, but I told him you don’t want to do pageants anymore and that you are going to be something else.”

“And you think he could help me?” It was a long shot and he was probably a pervert, but there was no harm in gathering the facts.

“Sure. He’s my friend.”

“I’m going to think about it. Do you think I could take one of these envelopes with his address?”

Benjy separated the envelope in his hands from the letter without hesitation and gave it to her.

“Thanks. Benjy … Is there anything bad in any of the letters?”

He didn’t understand the question.

“I mean, does Gil say anything weird? Like, about me?” Jenny wasn’t sure how to ask if Gil was a raging pedophile. She had to be careful to not worry Benjy or discredit his only friend.

“Gil says lots about you. I say lots too. We like talking about you.” He waited to see if that’s what she was asking.

Jenny sighed. He wasn’t getting her question, but that could also be her answer. If Benjy didn’t understand, this guy couldn’t be too bad, right? Gil owned a boat, lived in Manhattan, and had a clear interest in her. She was out of options. It was worth considering.

THE COUNTY BUS dropped Jenny off in town just in time for her to run back and catch the after-school bus home.

Jenny jumped off the bottom step, a successful landing capping off her somewhat successful adventure. She checked her watch as she bent down to tighten her shoelaces. She was cutting it close and would have to jog back to the school.

“Jenny?” The voice startled her, provoking a weird panic that somehow Linda knew everything and was waiting there to catch her and send her to reform school.

She stood up to see it was just Ms. Willoughby walking from Stone’s Variety Store to her car, holding a small package of four cupcakes. “What are you doing?” she asked.

What could Jenny be doing that would explain her getting off the county bus alone? “Nothing,” she said, not one of her more creative lies.

“Were you getting off that bus?” Ms. Willoughby pushed.

“What? No,” Jenny said, realizing if she was asking, she didn’t know for sure.

“I got an e-mail that you weren’t in school today, an unexcused absence.”

The door to Stone’s opened again, and Mr. Renkin trotted out, on his way to Ms. Willoughby’s car. He would 100 percent know Jenny had skipped school. She’d even missed a quiz. She needed an excuse and fast.

Like a miracle from baby Jesus, a car door between them opened and out stepped Virginia—her useless, schlubby sister. Only she didn’t look as schlubby as usual, and she was about to be very useful.

Ms. Willoughby turned to see where Jenny was looking, and they both watched as Virginia walked across the parking lot, past Mr. Renkin, past Stone’s, and on her way to the post office. They all kind of froze, even Mr. Renkin, watching Virginia glide through the town center. Seeing her sister so presentable was distracting, and it was just the distraction Jenny needed.

“Oh, there’s my sister. We had kind of a skip day. My mom knew about it. She must have forgotten to call.” Jenny shrugged at Ms. Willoughby. “See you tomorrow,” she said, turning away and running after her sister. “Virginia, wait up!”

Virginia turned around like she’d seen a ghost. She looked from Jenny running toward her to Ms. Willoughby, then to Mr. Renkin, not sure of what to make of the situation, unaware of her role in the events unfolding.

“Hey,” Jenny said as she reached her and slowed to a stop.

“Hey,” she said, acknowledging Jenny’s presence but seemingly preoccupied with her surroundings.

“Can you give me a ride home?” Jenny asked.

“Um …” Virginia paused. To say she seemed frazzled was an understatement. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her nicely fitted jeans, almost to bring her arms into her body and make herself less noticeable. “No, not really.”

Jenny looked at her watch. She had wasted too much time getting stuck with Ms. Willoughby. “Please,” she begged.

“I just can’t, OK? I’ll see you on Sunday,” said Virginia, pulling her hands out of her pockets and rubbing them together like she might start a fire. Her eyes darted around, over Jenny’s head. Her mouth flapped open a bit like she might say more, but she instead took a defiant step around Jenny and scurried back to her car. She never went into the post office.

“Fine,” Jenny blurted out after her. When Virginia didn’t turn back, she added, “I hate you!” before taking off toward the school, praying for the bus to still be there. As she ran by, Ms. Willoughby and Mr. Renkin gave her disappointed looks, witnesses to her outburst. It was childish and she regretted it, but she had done some serious stuff that day and a stupid run-in with her idiot sister wasn’t going to unravel all her hard work.

SHE CAUGHT THE BUS at the last possible second. It had actually started rolling, but her body darting across the parking lot grabbed the driver’s attention enough to stop and let her on. JP sat toward the middle, and she swung into the seat to join him.

“You still mad at me?” he asked.

“Whatever, JP,” she said, remembering she was mad at him, or at least supposed to be.

“Don’t be mad.” He rubbed his knuckles into her shoulder. “We’re best friends,” he said with his best schoolgirl voice.

She smiled. His effort was appreciated.

“Where’d you go today?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you weren’t in school, dumbo, so spill it.”

“I went to visit a friend. Jealous?”

“A friend? Does it have anything to do with last night? With your mom?”

Jenny shrugged. “More to do with you, I guess.”

“With me?”

“You made it pretty clear last night that you weren’t going to help me. So I found someone who will.”

“In less than twenty-four hours you went out and found someone to help you run away? Who is it, the runaway fairy?”

“It’s a friend and he has money. A lot of it.”

This piqued JP’s interest. “And he’s going to give it to you?”

“I think so. I can be pretty persuasive.”

JP raised an eyebrow. “Does this friend know what you need the money for?”

“Does it matter?”

“How much money?”

“You have a lot of questions. Are you reconsidering my offer?” she asked.

“What offer?”

“To come with me.”

“You mean to take you with me?”

“Not anymore.” She grinned. “You have the plan. I have the money. Seems even to me.”

JP laughed. “Look, you get the money and we’ll talk about it.”

The bus barreled down Pike Street, and Jenny could see her house up ahead. Panic set in. If Ms. Willoughby got an e-mail about her skipping, Linda had definitely gotten a phone call. She squeezed her brain for what she told herself would be one last great idea. And then it came to her.

“Give me your pocketknife,” she said.

JENNY HOPPED OFF the bus at Sanford Hill and promised to bring JP his knife back the next day. He wasn’t worried. He was a kid with a lot of knives.

She took slow cautious steps toward her house until the rest of the kids were out of sight; then she ducked into the tree line across the street. She went just far enough into the woods to give her a sense of privacy.

Jenny removed her jacket and tied it around her waist. A branch snapped, and Jenny froze. A dumpy squirrel scurried in front of her, and she sighed, trying to relax. This wasn’t going to be pleasant, but it was better than the alternative.

She rolled up the left sleeve of her light green sweater, and once it was two inches above her elbow, she pulled the knife from her pocket.

It stuck a bit when she unfolded it before giving way and flinging open. She was embarrassed how much she flinched. It wasn’t a good sign for her tolerance going forward.

Jenny bent her left elbow and peered around to inspect the back of her forearm. She took one exaggerated breath and put the knife to her arm. She pushed hard, knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back a second time. The knife plunged into her skin and she pulled it down toward her hand until she couldn’t tolerate the pain, leaving about an inch-and-a-half gash.

It took what felt like forever for the blood to come out. The back of her arm seemed like a safe place on her body that wouldn’t bleed too much, but it had to bleed enough. Then the blood came, pooling in the wound before spilling over the edge.

She had to move quickly now, dropping the knife, and pulling down her pants with her right hand. It was awkward, and she regretted not pulling them down first. Her underwear caught on the jeans and came down with them just enough. Jenny reached between her legs with her bloody arm, rubbing everywhere, then squeezing her arm against her underwear. The blood soaked in. She separated her underwear from her jeans and did the same to the crotch of her pants. Dark red seeped deep into the fibers.

Twenty minutes later, Jenny burst through the garage door, ready to sell it.

“Jenny!” Linda yelled from the other room. “Is that you? The school called and—”

“Mom!” Jenny screamed with a high pitch reserved for true panic.

Linda stormed into the kitchen to find her daughter.

“Mom, I got my period.” Jenny turned toward her mother, alligator tears in her eyes, forearm blood between her legs.

Linda covered her mouth. “My baby,” she gasped as she ran to comfort her daughter’s fake entrance to puberty.