hidden (24 page)

“Caw! Caw! Caw!”

The gargoyle faces work. The beasts back off. If only the
Alien
was so easily shooed away. I’ve lost track of his whereabouts.

Voices—

They come close—

Shadows on the solar panel—

Somebody’s pissed.

“
S
top
that!”

I look over the edge. Marci jabs her index finger at Anita’s chest. “There’s
other people!
”

Then … crickets.

Blue-Eyed Bob either slit their throat(s) or Anita’s lost her voice.

I peer over the roof. There! There he is! The rapist! The killer! He stands in the shadows! Bizarre, we’re both eavesdroppers. He steps back. I strain to see him without being seen. He pulls out a cigarette pack. He toys with the lid. His bald head moves. He glances up. Oh, shit! He’s seen me! No, he didn’t. Because he doesn’t jump up and grab me. I do, however, see his eyes. Blue. Blue-Eyed Bob.

I’m tempted to warn them. But if I do, he might get me, too.

“This afternoon—” Marci’s voice, broken up by the loud street traffic. “I follow—” … “—to a bar!” and “saw … I took you in for
that?
” she says, fully audible. “So you could turn
tricks?
”

I remember Hammer’s two categories of tricks: hookups and sugar daddies.

“I didn’t do that!” Anita squeals. She’s a bad liar, and I can’t even see her face.

“
Really?
So those men
don’t
pay? I mean,
come on
. I know
all about
that place.”

“You know
what
about that place?!? Don’t tell me
you
tricked it—there. All you said when I moved in was,
no drugs
. It’s my life. You’re always saying that. Now you
spy
on me?”

“No, I’m not ‘spying’ on you,” Marci says. “Nadya and me were coming back from her clinic—”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“You found her in the alley,
bleeding
, hiding under a Dump-ster, figure it out.”

“Oh, girlie girl got the AIDS?”

“Abortion.
She
saw you and—”

“
Nadya’s
the damn spy?”

“She was
excited
to see you. She wanted to say, ‘Hi.’ I asked her to wait.
I
followed you. She didn’t have a clue where you were going so don’t get defen—”

“
Defensive? Bitch!
You saw
shit!
All I did was—”
Click, click.
Anita’s Bic. Ciggie smoke drifts up. “
All
I did was go in that bar, sit down and let some guy buy me a drink.”

“Fine, it’s your life. But if you get picked up for, oh,
whatever
, you’re on your own.”

Too bad I’m not down there, on the roof. “Watch out!” I’d warn them. “His name’s Bob. He’s five feet away from you and listening to your argument while cleaning his fingernails with a switchblade.”

“Living here means coming home after school.
Straight
home.”

“
When
am I s’posed to get my fun on?” Anita whines. “Sounds like some damn shelter. Or house arrest.”

“‘Nita, in case you didn’t notice, living here’s
not
about getting your fun on. You
know
what happens to those other kids?”

“What happens is,” I think, “Blue-Eyed Bob follows you downstairs, steals a wig and goes Lizzie Borden on your asses.”

“If
they
get caught because
you
had to ‘get your fun on’?”

“Tell me, girl, what is this ‘about’?”

“Please don’t blow smoke in my face. It’s about
you
getting
your
cosmetology license and getting a job. Then
you
can support
yourself and get
all
the fun on
you
want. Party twenty-four seven.”

“I get it.”

“No,” Marci says, “since you remember our first conversation, then you also remember what I said about using in the safe house. Obviously, you didn’t bring any booze
into
the house but, c’mon, Anita. Some of those kids. Ben? They’re nowhere near as, uh—”

“Lil’ Benny’s bought his hooker training wheels.”

My back stiffens. Excuse me?
Hooker? Training
wheels? Forget Blue-Eyed Bob, I’m gon’
cut
Lil’ Miss Two-Faced Tranny Bi-atch!

“—acting all innocent! L. O. L. Tricks are for kids!”

“Ben and Nadya
study
all day. They—”

“Sit, take up the kitchen table like they own it.”

“‘Nita, you can be such a bitch.”

“Don’t get me started! You missed the night little Mr. Prep School fucked J.D. right here, baby, up on the roof—”

“
What?
”

What is right.

“That’s right. One night, I
saw
them stand on the escape, kiss and crawl back inside. Kiss the way people do after they been. Fuck. Ing.”

“For some reason,” Marci says. “I doubt that.”

“What
else
would they be doing on the roof?”

“Talking?”

“Oh, there’s a lot you miss.”

“Please, tell me, what else has Ben been up to?”

My question exactly! What
else
have I been up to?

“
Well!
” Anita says, huffing and puffing, ready to blow that ciggie down. “He
followed
Hammer into the closet, and those two pulled a show! Peanuts told me. Kidd and Peanuts heard
everything
. Finally, Peanuts couldn’t take it no more, got up and caught them! Peanuts told me, they looked
guilty
as hell.”

“Hammer’s doing shows again?” Marci sighs.

“Didn’t hear it from me.”

“Ben’s not the type.”

“Honey,” Anita says, “they
never
do. Those types are the ones who
always
the type. You didn’t know me then.
I
started out that way. Hammer’s a whore to the core. Got some fresh meat. I bet he made
bank
.”

None of this is true, but still I feel ill. I lie there, plotting revenge.

“Don’t look down on Hammer. He’s the reason we’ll have heat this month. Promise you’ll come straight home after school?”

“
Nevah
straight, Gaily Forward, girl, I’m rhythm in motion.”

“The other reason you really need to stay away from those fern bars.”

“Really, what reason?”

“’Cause,
girl,
you sound like an old queen.”

“
Fine
,” Anita says, a pout in her voice. The conversation moves away.

Bob steps away from the elevator house and a corner. A door creaks, opens, groans and shuts.
Click.

I crawl to the other side and peek over the edge. Blue-Eyed Bob’s gone. A cigarette’s been left on a dry spot. Red embers consume the white paper.

Plop.

Water hits my arm.

Rain. I look over the elevator roof. They walk around the solar panel. If they look up, they’ll see me. But they don’t. I guess they’re not curious about the rain.

“Gross, everybody smokes up here.” I see Marci kneel and daintily pick up Bob’s cigarette. She flicks it away, onto the roof.

The door squeaks, opens and slams. They’re gone. I start to follow and stop. I don’t want to run into Blue-Eyed Bob. He’s the type who hides in stairwell shadows.

My right leg’s fallen asleep. Crazy, pinprick sensations shoot down my legs. I forget about being scared. I won’t need to psyche myself on the fire escape—I’ll be lucky if my legs work.

One step at a time, I obsess on Blue-Eyed Bob turning up on the roof. I debate whether or not to warn Marci. If I do, I rat myself out. I bet Bob does all his dirty deeds in public. That’s probably part of the thrill for him. Besides, twenty-five locks
keep us safe. Right? I convince myself, Yes, we’re safe, and step into the kitchen. The front door opens. Marci follows Anita—
she
sees me and flashes a big, fake smile.

“Oh, you’re wet, baby,” she coos. “Hiding out on the escape? Come in and take that off. Don’t want you sick.”

She doesn’t ask why my jacket’s wet. And I don’t tell her how close she stood to death.

I decide to keep my mouth shut about what I saw on the roof. Because, really, what can Marci do about Mr. Switchblade, Blue-Eyed Bob. Call the cops?

D
awn. The kitchen curtains are suddenly sheer. I peer over the bed. Below, Kidd and J.D. sleep. At night, they curl up together, two spoons. By morning, they sleep apart, separated by a wall built from sheet and pillows, “…
like brothers on a hotel bed
.”

I reach under the futon, fingers feeling for the hard rectangle shape. The journal’s blue lines are in the faint morning light, nearly invisible. Doesn’t matter. I put pen tip to white paper and let the black ink spill.

white ankle, black plastic

“H
ey,” I ask. “What about my tooth?”

Marci ignores my question.

“Gas and electric?”

“Twenty-two forty-one,” Kidd says.

Alice / Nadya notes the amount on scrap paper. Marci counts out the bills, hands them to Kidd who slides the money into an envelope and hands it off to Alice / Nadya who affixes a stamp. We live off the grid, but we pay bills like everyone else.

Eleven letter-sized envelopes are lined up on the kitchen table. I stare at them. I don’t care about the heat. Lately, my tooth aches. The wisdom tooth that got me
out
of Serenity Ridge
now
gives me constant pain. I floss, and brush, but the pain’s only gotten worse.

“Phone?”

“Fifty-six thirty-three,” Kidd says. Count, money, envelope, stamp.

“What does that leave us?” Marci asks.

“After rent? We’ve got …” Alice / Nadya taps the amount in a calculator. “Two hundred and one dollars and seventy cents.”

“Let’s see,” Marci says, motioning me over. I open my mouth. She peers inside. “I’m sorry. We don’t have money for a dentist.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tie a string around the tooth, hook it over the knob and slam the door. Wait,” Marci says, stacking the completed envelopes. “I’m forgetting something. We still need to spend two hundred on Pony’s bus ticket.”

“Fuck him.” Peanuts scowls. Pony’s moving in. I forgot. I already hate him. I
live
here. Two hundred would pay to fix my tooth. Pony,
he
gets a bus ticket; I get more Tylenol.

“Huh,” Peanuts says. “I thought we was full up.”

“We’re saving lives.” Marci shrugs. “Desperate time, desperate measures.”

“Who’s leaving?” I ask. Maybe it’s one in, one out.

“Nobody,” she says, sliding the envelopes into the backpack and walking to the front door.

“Where’s this one gonna sleep?” Hammer asks, looking at Peanuts. “Coz there’s no room in the closet.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Marci says. The door shuts. She’s gone. With my dental two hundred.

“Hey, you forgot … !”

Marci left an envelope on the kitchen table. It’s addressed to “Karen Smith.” The postmarked’s Nashville, TENN. I open the envelope and slip the letter out. Before I read it, I pause. I’m the same as Haifa snooping in my journal. The print is blocky, childlike. I read.

A memo (typed) is paper-clipped to the first envelope.