Friction Read online

  “Don’t you want to kiss her?” Stacy asks Tim, like some kind of lawyer or something. Tim sort of shrugs.

  “I don’t know how,” he finally says. Well, that’s a relief.

  Stacy flips her hair back over her shoulders, away from her face. “Come here,” she goes to Tim.

  “What for?”

  “Just come here,” she says again. Then she looks at me. “You watch.”

  Tim walks a few steps toward her. The mansion’s roof is sagging, from the rain, I guess, and it nearly touches their heads.

  “What?” Tim goes.

  Stacy steps forward now and presses her whole body against his. She keeps one foot back to brace herself, and the next thing I know, she’s got her hand behind his head and her mouth on his. She’s not doing some little peck. No way. She’s kissing him slow. Really slow. And then I see her mouth open a little, but somehow, it’s not gross like it is on TV, with mashed lips all over the place, even though their tongues must be touching, silver ring and all. Something low in my stomach glides, and inside me, below my belly button, things start to melt. She kisses him and kisses him like that for a long, long time. And she doesn’t finish fast, but kind of pulls her head away just enough so her mouth is barely touching his anymore, but almost. She stays like that a second, and then she pushes him away, sort of rough.

  “That’s how you do it,” she says. The place underneath my belly slides again, and Tim’s face is just as red as mine must be, and he stands there, really still. “Now you guys try it,” Stacy goes. Tim and I don’t move.

  “What’s the holdup here?” Simon calls, shoving his head and shoulders through the tent’s entrance. “We’re waiting on you!” He disappears again, and Stacy looks at Tim and me. She’s aggravated.

  “I guess Alex must like Simon better than you,” she tells Tim.

  “I do not!” I go.

  “I thought you said Simon liked Alex,” Tim goes.

  Stacy shrugs and bends down to crawl out. “Maybe they like each other,” she says with a smirk. I shake my head at Tim, to let him know that’s just stupid, but he won’t even look at me.

  * * *

  When it’s time to leave, I get into Teddy’s dad’s van instead of Simon’s car. I end up right next to Tim.

  “I thought you were riding with Simon,” he mutters.

  “I thought you were,” I go. We’re quiet for a minute while some of the other kids climb in.

  “So Stacy thinks you like him,” Tim tells me. His voice breaks on like.

  “What happened to her being full of it?” I go. Tim shrugs and looks out the window, toward the three pine trees in the distance. Teddy climbs in up front next to his dad, who guns the engine. “How was kissing her?” I go, trying to sound casual.

  “Gross,” he says. I think he’s lying.

  He looks at me. “What?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, and when the van starts, he leans his forehead against the glass and doesn’t talk the whole way home.

  12

  MY MOM ISN’T too happy about my cheek.

  “Must have been a pretty sharp branch,” she goes, tracing her thumb down the scab. She’s wearing the pajamas I gave her for Mother’s Day last year—pink silk top and bottoms. They look really good on her. Now she lifts my chin to get a closer look.

  “It’s not infected,” she goes. “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” I say. “I told you. Simon put stuff on it right when it happened.”

  “I hope it doesn’t scar.” She frowns. “You have such a pretty face.” My mother’s never said anything like that before.

  “Thanks,” I go.

  She kisses my good cheek. “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  After she turns off the hall light, I sneak out of bed into the bathroom. I tip the toilet seat down, gentle, so it won’t bang. Then I step up and face the mirror over the sink. And there I am. Just a regular twelve-year-old. Brown hair. Brown eyes. My good points are straight teeth that don’t need braces and a winking dimple in my right cheek that I always forget about. My bad point is all the hair I don’t have the patience to do anything with. My mother’s always telling me to get the bangs out of my eyes.

  Then there’s my body. It’s just regular too. Skinny, average height, and no curves anywhere. Actually, that’s kind of a lie. If I turn sideways and pull my nightshirt close, small lumps poke out of my chest. They’re little, but not a bad shape. Stacy’s flatter than I am, even though she’s older. Marie wears a bra, but her chest is sort of funny, more like tubes than bumps. The boys talk about her on the soccer field sometimes when they think I can’t hear. Sophie has boobs too, but hers are perfect. Not too big and not too small. Not too pointy and not too round. Just right. Kind of like Baby Bear’s porridge, I think, and I try not to laugh out loud, standing here on the toilet seat like some kind of maniac.

  I’m hoping if you look hard enough, you can figure out if you’re pretty or not. It’s easy to tell with other people, but I want to know what I am. I want to know who Tim thinks is the best-looking girl in our class. Tim and I talk about a lot of things, but we’ve never talked about that. I wonder if he thinks of me as a real girl or not. I wonder if he would want to kiss me, now that he knows how. I don’t want him to like kissing Stacy. And I don’t want him to think I like Simon, either. I know Tim doesn’t think Simon is nasty, like Stacy says. But it seems like maybe Tim thinks I’m the nasty one now.

  * * *

  I think it’s my alarm going off, but then I figure out it’s a beeper. I wait awhile, hearing the sounds of my parents whispering, shuffling out of bed, pulling open drawers. It’s pitch black outside my window.

  “Mom?” I go, sitting up. “Dad?”

  My mother opens my bedroom door, letting in this patch of light from the hallway.

  “It’s okay, Alex,” she goes. “Everything’s okay.”

  “Is it that patient?” They don’t usually get beeped in the middle of the night. And I can’t remember the last time one of them actually had to go somewhere in the middle of the night either. “Is it that Martha patient?” My mom comes over and sits on the edge of my bed. She’s got her toothbrush in her hand, the bristles all wet, and her breath smells like mint.

  “Yes,” she says. “She’s in pretty bad shape. I’m going to the hospital to see what I can do.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Four forty-five. Tim’s father is sending over a taxi, so Dad will do breakfast with you and then drive in and meet me at the clinic later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I expect her to stand up fast and rush out, but she sits there for a minute looking at me. It’s nice.

  “What?” I go, feeling shy all of a sudden.

  “Nothing,” my mom tells me.

  “Ann?” my dad calls. “Taxi’s here.” She stands up.

  “Coming,” she calls back. She touches my hand. “Bye, sweetie.”

  * * *

  My dad and I sleep through our alarms, so by the time I get to class, flash cards are over and everybody’s working on something else. Tim’s in the silent study room, at a table far from Stacy. He hasn’t saved me a seat, like he usually does, and while I’m pretending not to notice, Simon calls over.

  “Glad you could make it,” he goes. I sit next to Teddy.

  “Sorry,” I tell Simon.

  “Are you okay?” Teddy says.

  “My cheek hurt,” I lie. “My mother had to put stuff on it.” Simon hears me and comes right over. He leans down and holds my chin in his hand, like my mom did last night. The minute he touches me, the whole class seems to know it. From all the way in the silent study room, both Stacy and Tim look over, and I can feel the other kids eyeing us too. Stacy must have been talking again this morning. I pull back fast.

  “Sorry.” Simon pulls his hand away. “Did that hurt?”

  “A little.” I can’t look at him. I want to tell him to go away, to stop getting us into more trouble. He’s making me m
ad with how stupid he is. He stands there for a second, like he wants to ask me something, but then he sort of looks around and then walks off. I want to go after him and explain somehow, but I can’t. Everybody’s watching. Everybody will take it the wrong way. My stomach churns. Teddy’s staring at me.

  “What?” I go. Teddy looks away. “It’s not true!” I say. “None of what she says is true!” Teddy keeps his head down.

  “That scrimmage with St. John’s is coming up,” Danny finally says, from the round table next to us. “The week after next. Simon told us before flash cards.”

  “Good,” I say, swallowing something nasty that’s come right up through my throat. “I plan on kicking ass.”

  * * *

  At lunch, after stampeding through the playground to the soccer field, we all stop short. Our dirt patch is gone. Instead, like magic, there’s a thick, green lawn.

  “Oh yeah,” Viv says. “We forgot.” No mud, no holes, no rocks. Those workmen are here again. Two of them are unrolling a long green strip. It unwinds flat, over the last bare section of soil, like the final swipe of fresh paint on an old wall.

  “That’s wild,” Danny goes. “Is it real?”

  “It’s real all right,” one of the men says. “Takes some time to settle in, so stay off it for a few days.” Then he stamps his booted foot over a bump, leveling it out.

  “Last one to the stream’s second pick for all of next week!” Danny calls, taking off.

  “Hey,” Tim moans. “No fair!” And we’re gone.

  * * *

  “Hold it!” Stacy goes as soon as we burst through the trees into the clearing. “Stop right there!”

  “The soccer field’s all new,” Teddy puffs out, calling across the ladder to Stacy. “And we can’t play on it yet.”

  “Don’t you have to start practicing for your scrimmage?” Marie asks. She’s sitting on the school side of the bank, on top of a book on top of a flat rock. I shrug and plunk myself down next to her. The ground is warm. So is the air. I take off my sweater.

  “Probably we should,” I go, “but missing a couple of days won’t matter much.” Even with everything that’s happening, a wave of excitement washes over me. We’ll be ready for St. John’s. I just know it.

  “We’re going to build a tree house,” Marie says. “Stacy’s going to show us how.”

  “You don’t know how to build a freaking tree house,” Danny goes. He starts throwing rocks into the water.

  “Shove it,” Stacy tells him.

  “Yeah,” Sebastian goes. “Shove it.” He’s leaning on a boulder.

  “She doesn’t, man,” Danny says.

  Tim walks in my direction. Maybe he’s finally going to talk to me. But he stops halfway over and just sits on the ground, all by himself. Viv drops down next to him. I can tell Stacy’s staring at me. I can tell she doesn’t like it that I won’t talk to her now. She’s going to try to make me.

  “Alex,” she says, “I rule on the ladder now. I’ve been practicing.” Whatever. “Check me out,” she calls, acting all innocent. And she starts leaping from rung to rung. She’s not bad. Not like her first day, all wobbly and everything. This time she’s got a good flow, and her feet are hitting the rungs solid, with light sneaker squeaks on the metal. But then suddenly it goes wrong.

  One minute Stacy’s bounding across, really graceful, hair flowing like some sort of scarf, and the next minute she’s lying half in the stream and half on the bank. She’s screaming. None of us moves at first, but then Tim and Viv and I are beside her, only I can’t remember how we got there. Stacy’s arm is twisted the wrong way, and there’s a bone sticking out of it and blood everywhere.

  “Marie,” Viv goes, fast. “You go get Simon.” Stacy’s screaming like crazy. The blood. “Tim, you get Maggie to call an ambulance.” Marie and Tim take off.

  “Don’t move, Stacy,” Viv tells Stacy. “It’ll be okay.” She just keeps screaming long, high notes—the kind that break windows on TV shows. Her blood is everywhere. It’s pouring out of her arm. She can’t bleed so much. Not Stacy.

  Viv turns to Teddy. “Give me your shirt,” Viv goes. Teddy doesn’t hesitate for even a second. He pulls his shirt over his head quick as anything. He knows what Viv is doing. We all do. We learned about it during Science Unit Eight. If someone’s hurt, you’re supposed to stop the bleeding, first thing.

  Teddy and I help Viv wrap Stacy’s arm. She screams one unbelievably loud, nightmare scream when we touch her. We wrap as tight as we can, right over that piece of bone, and when we’re done, she goes quiet. Completely quiet, like she’s asleep, only her eyes are open. She’s so quiet, I can hear the stream tinkling, and all of us breathing heavy, and the sound of feet clomping on the ground behind me. It’s Simon. Tim’s not with him, and neither is Maggie.

  Blood is already seeping through Teddy’s shirt. “You have to stop the bleeding,” I hear myself say.

  “This is going to hurt bad, Stacy,” Simon tells her. Even though she doesn’t look like she’s hearing anything, Simon keeps talking anyway. “You yell all you want,” he says, pulling off his shirt. She doesn’t even blink.

  “Simon,” I say, “don’t let her bleed so much.” He ties his shirt right over Teddy’s. He does it fast. His smooth chest has beads of sweat on it. I watch one drip down to his belly button and then stay there, shuddering. Stacy moans a low, rumbling sound, like an angry dog. Simon lifts her up and starts running through the woods toward the school building. He reminds me of Tarzan, carrying Jane, with his bare top and Stacy limp in his arms. The rest of us follow. We run over blood. It sticks to the bottoms of our sneakers.

  We rush into the lobby of the lower school behind Simon, just as the teachers are closing their doors to packs of little kids peeking out.

  “An ambulance is on the way,” Maggie says as Simon hurries Stacy into her office. “I called . . . ,” and her voice fades to something I can’t hear while Simon puts Stacy on the floor back there and leans over her. Maggie steps out, closing her office door behind her. “Back to your classroom immediately,” she orders us.

  “She’s bleeding too much,” I try to tell her. I guess I must be yelling because the other kids look at me funny, and Maggie kneels down.

  “She’ll be okay, Alex,” Maggie goes. “They’ll give her new blood at the hospital.”

  “No,” I say. It’s hard to talk. It’s hard for me to get the words out. They’re too important. “She’ll bleed to death!” Where’s Tim? “Maggie, she’s not allowed—” Maggie puts her hands on my shoulders.

  “Nobody’s going to let her bleed to death.” She tightens her grip on me. “See?” she says, nodding toward the double doors. Her fingers are digging into my skin through my T-shirt. “Here’s the ambulance now.”

  Two paramedics swoop in with a gurney and emergency kits and things. But Maggie doesn’t know, and Tim’s not here to help me explain, and nobody’s listening anyway. I might not like her, but I can’t just let Stacy die.

  Simon bangs out of Maggie’s office. “She’s in shock,” he whispers. I yank out of Maggie’s grip. The paramedics run right past Simon into the office and close the door again. “From the sound of things out here,” Simon goes, “seems like Alex might be close to it too.”

  “I’m not in shock!” I say loud. I’m about to try to explain everything again, but the words never come out because right then another man bursts through the double doors. He’s huge, and even under his business suit and shiny shoes, you can tell he has muscles like some kind of professional wrestler or something. He walks fast, straight toward us, and he looks pissed off. He blows right by me, knocking my shoulder and nearly shoving me to the ground in his hurry. He doesn’t even notice.

  “I’m Reade Janice,” he booms. “Where’s my daughter?”

  I burst into tears before I even know why, and it isn’t until I’m alone outside that I realize it’s because that’s Stacy’s father, and she’s the biggest liar I’ve ever known.

  *
* *

  I’ve been sitting on top of the jungle gym forever, staring up at the newly fuzzed soccer field and trying to stop crying. I hear steps behind me, but I don’t have the energy to turn around. Then the jungle gym sways a little with the weight of someone heavy, and Simon is here, swinging his legs right next to mine. He’s wearing a fresh shirt. I wonder where he got it. His hands still have blood on them, and so do his pants, just like mine.

  We don’t say anything for a while. I want to put my head on his shoulder because I’m so tired, but I can’t because of Stacy’s lies, and that makes me mad and sad, and I want to cry again. I wish things were like they used to be.

  “Never saw you so upset,” Simon finally says. “You scared the daylights out of me.” He’s waiting for an answer.

  “Where’s Tim?” I go.

  “I think he’s still throwing up in the bathroom,” he says. He drums his fingers on the metal bars, which are sort of hot from the sun.

  “She told me her father was dead,” I try to explain. My voice sounds strange, kind of like there’s no person behind it. “She told me that they were Jehovah’s Witnesses and that he died because he couldn’t have a blood transfusion.” I feel myself blush with the embarrassment from having believed it. Simon stops swinging his legs.

  “That was a whopper,” he goes. We get quiet again, and then I decide I may as well see if Simon can help.

  “I wish I could figure out why she lies so much,” I say.

  “People are complicated,” he goes. “Seems to me, when someone tells that kind of lie, the kind Stacy fed you . . . Well, there’s usually some truth hidden in it somewhere.”

  “Huh?” I say. “I don’t get it.” How could any part of that lie be true? Am I supposed to think Stacy’s dad really was in some car wreck? Or that they really are Jehovah’s Witnesses? He wasn’t. I just know he wasn’t. And they’re not. It was a lie. Every stupid bit of it. And so is every single thing Stacy’s ever said.

  “Even if the content of someone’s lie seems like it’s a pure lie,” Simon says, “there may be something real in it somewhere. Sometimes it’s the reason for the lie that gives us a clue as to where the truth is.”