Chapter Text
May 12th, 1985
Carol Perkins threw up today. I was in the bathroom, and I heard her come in talking to a couple of others and when they left, she went into the stall and threw up. She saw my feet under the gap, asked who was there. I said my name and she sighed, spat and told me never to let a boy fuck you without a condom. She’s so crude. It sounded like she was crying, but then she laughed and called me pyramid princess.
Jason sat with me at lunch again. I think he likes me. I don’t know if I like him like that, but he’s sweet and maybe we could just be friends.
Mom is weighing me on Friday. I wish she
It’s good to stay on top of it.
Homework needs doing, I’ll make time tomorrow.
I had that dream again.
I wish
I know things will get better soon.
-CC
Bambi (One Really Great Summer)
Open mouthed, she bit you
“You can’t hurt me if I never loved you”
I was wrong when I met you
About who I thought would save who
Chose to be alone
And walk the whole way home
Soaked to the bone
Hid your face
Said I don’t wanna play
But you were born game
-Ethel Cain
Carol Perkins is out of cigarettes.
‘Motherfucker.’
It’s not ever supposed to happen, but it does, more and more. She hates the weight of an empty pack, the trickery of hope in convincing herself there’s one left, when she knows there’s not. Can’t god ever cut her a break? Just bend reality to toss a single extra one there when she really needs it?
Apparently fucking not.
She crumples the box, looks around. Beneath the bleachers, she’s alone, skipped fourth to get some air, smoke and sanity but one out of three is all she’s got apparently.
Now what? Sit here like a twat? Go to class? Fuck that.
She hauls her handbag onto her shoulder, the strap hanging by a thread, prepared to go into the lot and see if Harrington left his car unlocked, he’s dumb and trusting like that, when footsteps draw her attention and she sees a cheerleader approaching.
The girl stops dead when she spies Carol who, without nicotine in her blood, is irritable by default. ‘What do you want?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I.’ She drops her gaze, turns awkwardly and Carol sighs, gets up.
‘I’m leaving, it’s all yours.’ She squints as she gets nearer, has to pass the girl to get by. She’s year below, top of the pyramid. ‘Hey, aren’t you Cassy?’
‘Chrissy.’
‘You were in the bathroom.’ The girl blushes hard, awkward and ugly. Carol smirks. ‘Oh, it was you. Well. Did you follow my good advice, Pyramid Princess?’
The younger girl gives a sad scowl, adjusts her pack and stares determinedly at her sneakers, pristine white. ‘Did I miss it when you gave some?’
Carol chuckles appreciatively. Chrissy smells of vanilla cupcakes and floral perfumes and virginity.
‘OK, I’m sorry. I was being a bitch.’ Carol cocks her head, expression flat. ‘Still holds up, though. Anyway. I’m out of smokes, so. All yours. Unless you’ve got a coke, in which case I’m your best friend.’
Chrissy looks up, delicate emotions twining together. ‘I do have a coke, actually.’
‘You do?’
‘Yeah.’
Carol puts on a really nice smile. ‘Would you share it with me? Pretty please?’
They sit together under the bleachers and listen to the natural world as it exists, boring and soft. Birds, wind, trees. This town blows. Not even a mall anymore after the fucking fire.
Chrissy politely shares her coke and pretends to read a book which Carol has no qualms about reading over her shoulder. ‘Lord of the Flies, huh?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Isn’t that for next year?’
‘Yes.’
‘So why—?’
‘I’m getting a head start,’ she explains, a little curt and Carol grins like a wolf, adores getting a rise out of anyone. ‘Reading it through the summer to hit the ground running next year.’
‘Sounds fun.’
‘I like reading.’
‘Yeah, well.’ Carol is so hogging the soda. ‘I fuckin’ hate it.’
‘Even good books?’
‘What is a good book? Reel one off for me.’
‘Well.’ Chrissy half closes the book in hand, fingers on the page to keep track. ‘Jane Austen. The Bronte sisters. Mary Shelley.’
‘Any of ‘em fuck nasty?’
Chrissy rolls her eyes, makes a low sound of disgust. ‘You’re so gross.’
‘What?’ Carol laughs. ‘Is sex gross, Pyramid Princess?’
‘Don’t call me that, I’m not even on the top anymore,’ Chrissy points out, takes back the half empty soda can and frowns. ‘And sex isn’t gross, but the way you talk about it is.’
‘Why?’
‘It just.’ Chrissy shrugs. ‘You sound like a boy.’
Carol leans back against the uncomfortable wood. ‘I’d love to be a boy, do you know that? If I was a boy, I’d fuck every girl in this place and I’d wear a condom too.’
Chrissy’s cheeks darken and her jaw is working. ‘Bullshit,’ she utters quietly, but oh there’s something beneath it.
‘Sorry, what’s bullshit, princess?’ Tommy used to call her that. ‘Which part of that stunning sentence is bull—’
‘You wouldn’t have sex with girls,’ Chrissy cuts across again, prim, proper and perfectly reasonable all but the little tremor Carol catches. ‘You’re just trying to embarrass me.’
‘I’m not trying anything.’
‘Can’t you be nice?’
‘What, like you?’
‘No, but, like. Just nice.’
‘How?’
‘God, I’d settle for quiet, actually.’
‘You know, I think you skipped class today too. I think you came here to get away too.’ Carol scowls, feels wronged somehow. ‘And I am being nice. We’re sitting, talking, sharing.’
‘I’m the one sharing, you’re the one trying to make me feel stupid.’
‘I’m really not, actually.’ Carol looks forward, sun is in and out of the clouds above, can’t make up its mind. ‘I forget how to be sometimes. I’m always around boys.’ She clears her throat. ‘Sorry.’
Chrissy looks at her, expression softening.
‘Start again?’
‘What do you mean?’
She offers her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Chrissy.’
Oh. That’s kinda cute.
Carol takes it. ‘Hi, Chrissy, I’m Carol. Great to meet you.’
Chrissy grins. ‘You can finish the soda.’
‘Was going to anyway.’
*
May 15th, 1985
I kept the ringpull from the can. I don’t know why I kept it, but it’s just sort of living in my pocket and I get this weird thrill of fear whenever Mom goes near it. She wouldn’t care, she’d throw it away but I think I’d be sad if she threw it away.
Jason and Eddie Munson got into another fight today. Sometimes I think he’s more obsessed with Eddie than me, in a weird way. Classes were fine, except for skipping gym. Period pain on a seven today.
Mom weighed me, didn’t seem happy, but she didn’t say anything bad either, so I guess I’m doing better.
I don’t know why I kept the ringpull.
-CC
*
Tommy Hagan is a piece of shit and Carol Perkins is never not going to love him, but not in the way he loves her.
She doesn’t think she could ever love anyone that way.
Despite how she is, how she goes through the world, she’s not made to hurt anyone. It’s not in her nature.
They’re well past the, can’t we make it work? stage and onto the quiet, kinda dull, do you need money for the abortion? phase.
And yeah, she did.
And he got it from his Dad.
And Carol got it done without telling anyone.
Tommy went with her, he drove her there and back. They didn’t talk.
They’re not together anymore.
Sometimes she thinks that their love was the summer, and this place they’re in now is the rainy grey of a long winter setting in and when summer returns, it won’t be the two of them anymore.
That was last week.
This week, she’s a brand new person.
At lunch, her gaze sweeps out across the cafeteria. She’s brown bagging it, and the contents are pretty grim, but that doesn’t matter.
She sweeps around, looking for…
‘Ah.’
Chrissy Cunningham is sitting with a few of her cheerleader friends. Clean and sweet, with their minimal makeup and neat swept ponytails, all six of them look identical. Carol dumps her bag on the table without so much as a hello and sits opposite Chrissy.
The cheer squad glare at her.
‘Uh, what do you want?’ one little automaton demands.
Carol beams. ‘Come to see my girl,’ she says, and just drinks in the reaction from those silly little bitches (she should know, she was one once) as she pulls out the red, shiny can of a full, uncracked coke and hands it to Chrissy. ‘Repaid in full, princess.’
Chrissy exhales what would have been a chuckle in any other circumstances, blushes faintly and takes the drink, rolling her eyes. ‘You didn’t have to—’
‘Well, I always pay my debts,’ Carol cuts off firmly. ‘So, what’s the scuttlebutt, bitches?’
The squad look scandalised.
‘Pardon?’
‘Yeah, what’s the drill? The goods. Are we a fucking your boyfriend in the backseat kinda gang or a Jesus would have treated me right bunch’a bible bashers?’
Chrissy cracks the can, buries a snort. She pulls the ring right off, pockets it. Carol wonders why.
‘Sex before marriage is gross,’ one of them declares, tone distressed and hostile.
Carol nods. ‘Gotcha. Well, you let me know how that works out for you, kitten. And remember, masturbation is god’s best form of contraception.’ She grabs her bag, winks at Chrissy and feels pretty amazing. The girls are whispering already. Chrissy just stares at Carol. ‘See you around, princess.’
*
Tommy and Eddie get into a fight on the last day of school and it’s such bullshit because it’s about her. Carol hates this crap. Boys pretending to care about girls when really, deep down, there’s probably gay shit happening South of the equator.
Eddie Munson is her cousin, or like, second cousin. The whole family line is fucked and her half (Mom’s side) don’t talk to Dad’s side, but Dad’s side is cousins with Wayne Munson, who is pretty decent, so every now and then, there’ll be some weird barbecue and she and Eddie will get high out back and tell vicious family secrets and cackle at how absolutely shit their family is.
She and Eddie have never been close. He does his own thing, so does she, but whatever else, they’re family and so when Tommy corners her against the locker one day, his eyes red rimmed, whiskey on his breath and she yells, shoves him away, Eddie comes diving in and makes a god damned mess of the lockers.
‘Who asked you to do that?’ she demands in the parking lot while ruthlessly daubing his nose with wadded toilet paper. ‘Huh?’
‘He—ow! He was being—fuck, ouch, Carol!’
‘Shut it and stay still. God, I am so sick of fucking men and their bullshit! You just wanted a fight!’
He sneers. ‘I really didn’t.’
‘Surprised you don’t just go find Jason Carver to rub up against,’ she smarms, voice lowered all the same. She’d never out him, has standards.
‘Hey,’ he warns sharply, smacks her hand away. ‘I know what he did. He’s a prick and he was hurting you!’
‘Yeah, you know? Where the fuck were you then? You offer to drive me?’
Eddie drops his gaze, jaw working. ‘I didn’t wanna overstep.’
‘Funny how offering to take me out of town for a fucking abortion was overstepping but beating the living daylights out of my ex was just the right thing to do.’
‘Man, you’re fuckin’ impossible,’ he declares flatly. ‘You’re so like your Mom.’
‘I’d rather be like my Mom than your Dad.’
It’s low.
She regrets it.
Lets silence say the sorry she cannot.
He looks off to the side, jaw working.
‘Whatever.’
‘Yeah, whatever. Here. Best I can do. If they hold your ass back again, that’s not my problem.’
‘Never said it was.’
‘And stay out of my business.’
‘I was never in it. Trust me I know better.’
They stand together in scathingly mild dislike until Carol glances at him. ‘You wanna get high?’
He sighs. ‘Back of the van?’
‘Cool.’
*
School is out.
Carol graduated by the skin of her fucking teeth.
Eddie didn’t make it, yet again.
He said a bunch of times it wasn’t Tommy, it was the grades, but she feels a sickly thread of guilt tying her to his grim situation all the same.
Chrissy Cunningham has still got another year.
Tommy leaves for the summer, tells her its college stuff, but she doesn’t know if that’s true. He never showed her an acceptance letter, would have bragged hard if he got one.
It’s whatever.
‘What are you gonna do now?’ Eddie asks when they’re out back behind the oak tree way at the end of the yard and they can both hear their families already getting nasty, alcohol loosening the tongues of people too comfortable being cunts.
‘Now? What does that mean?’
‘Like, a job? A career? I don’t know.’
‘Fucked if I know either,’ she retorts, plucks the joint from his fingers and gets a good inhale. ‘Look around, I guess.’
‘You could just stay at the multiplex.’
‘Yeah, maybe. It’s only part time though. What about you?’
He shrugs, takes what she offers, as close as they ever get to sharing. ‘Still dealing. It’s good money.’
‘No it’s not.’
‘OK, well it’s decent money and I get a lot of free time.’
‘Whatever. You can’t do that forever.’
He glares dully. ‘Neither can you.’
‘Shows what you know. Anyway, shut up about jobs and shit. What are you, Aunt Clara?’
They snort in joint understanding of the low level hatred everyone has for Aunt Clara, who makes it her mission in life to ensure everyone knows she works in fashion, lives out of town and does well for herself.
‘Fuck Aunt Clara,’ Eddie snorts.
Carol giggles. ‘Speaking of fucking.’
‘Ugh, don’t start.’
‘I’m not. I just kinda had like. A question.’
He wrinkles his nose. ‘Babe, I don’t think I got any intrinsic knowledge that you don’t already have when it comes to fucking.’
‘God, would you shut up? It’s a queer question. A double Q.’
‘You’re so dumb.’
‘And you’re a walking fuck-stick. So like.’ She gets a good pull, holds it and then exhales, finding the words. ‘Do you feel gay?’
He stares, unamused. ‘I hate that word.’
‘See a therapist already and that’s not what I mean. I mean, did you always feel like… other? Or did you just think thoughts of railing guys was normal?’
He looks mildly appalled at her phrasing. ‘We’re not close enough for this kind of conversation.’
‘We so are! At family events, we’re the united front. The least bad of everyone. The ones who aren’t racist, xenophobic or homophobic!’
‘Jesus, can you just ask what you’re asking. I need to pee and, like, eat something that your Mom didn’t make.’
‘OK, fine.’ She squints, staring at the tree trunk. ‘I kinda feel like I wanna fuck a girl.’
‘Right, and?’
‘No, that’s it. The crisis.’
‘I mean, that’s not a crisis. Just go do it.’
‘That’s the most male thing you’ve ever said and my estimation of you has plummeted.’
‘Didn’t realise it was that high to begin with.’
‘You’re in the negatives now. Come on, be serious. Be decent. Pretend I’m someone you like.’
He softens against his own will. ‘I like you, Carol. I just also don’t like you. They exist together. Like our family.’
She cackles under her breath, sad that the joint has run out. ‘Forget it anyway. I’m just high.’
‘No, look. I mean, I’m hardly an expert here, but like, if you’re thinking about girls or whatever, then yeah, that’s maybe a solid indication you’re queerish.’
‘Queerish?’
‘Yeah. Bi, or whatever.’
‘I think it’s more than bi.’
‘Lesbian, then?’
‘I don’t know. I need data.’
He bursts out laughing, has to lean against the tree and it draws the attention of their family, while Carol smacks his shoulder, snickering too.
‘Data, oh my god, OK. Yes. That can be your summer assignment. Go get data, little queer.’
‘Fuck you, I’m not little.’
‘You’re Danny DeVito sized.’
‘You’re Danny DeVito styled!’
‘That doesn’t make sense.’
‘That did not make sense, but whatever. OK. I accept.’ She straightens up, feels loopy and light. ‘Data.’
Eddie nods sagely. ‘Data. Do you think your Mom’ll mind if I order a pizza here?’
‘I think she’ll decapitate you, but if you split it with me, I’ll help you hide it.’
He winks, flicks her cheek. ‘Deal.’
*
June 8th, 1985
Heatwave coming in next week, the TV said it’s the biggest one for a decade. I don’t want it to be that hot. The girls will hang out by the pool and I don’t like it there. There’s nothing to do here when school is out. Being home is unbearable.
I keep seeing Carol Perkins everywhere lately. All last week it’s like everywhere I look, she’s there. I heard from Kelly that she got an abortion in May, but I don’t know if that’s true. Kelly can be mean.
Mom threw away the ringpulls.
I feel so lonel
I should try to do more this summer. Maybe go steady with Jason Carver. Be more open to new things. Try to be better. Happier.
I wish
I will be better.
This is going to be a really great summer.
-CC
*
Carol’s mission for data is going abysmally.
First off, she gets fired. Fired. From the multiplex. It’s mortifying. They reel off a bunch of completely valid reasons, topped off with the fact they know she was stealing popcorn for her younger siblings. Carol throws her uniform in the butter, spits on the counter and drops a glacial smile as she flips the bird and walks out.
‘Fuckers,’ she says hotly, like she was a good employee and they were unfair employers when in fact she was stealing so much popcorn, the shit’s all over her house.
But fuck them.
Fuck anyone who wrongs her.
They’ll burn.
Like this boiling fucking day.
No boyfriend to pick her up, no car, no job.
She wanders around town, peering into shop windows in search of jobs, but it’s summer and there’s about to be a fucking gold rush of kids suddenly at a loose end in need of cash and she knows it’s fair that the multiplex wanted someone who maybe doesn’t steal and smoke on the job, but it still sucks.
Walking past the bookstore, she peers inside and sees the man she thinks is Chrissy Cunninghams Dad, stacking shelves. There’s a small sign in the window, but it’s buried amongst others, hardly visible at all. The other signs are all sun faded posters for new books, offers to start a book club that have seemingly gone unanswered, and several other community bullshit signs and notices that she could care less about.
Wanted: Full Time Retail Assistant.
She sighs heavily, thinks of Micky her baby brother who really needs new shoes, and heads inside.
The musty smack of old books is absolutely vile and her automatic urge to open a fucking window has to be choked right down because Mr Cunningham looks over and smiles hopefully.
‘Hello!’ he greets in the tone of a man who absolutely doesn’t know who she is. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Uh yeah.’ She clears her throat. ‘I’m here about the… job ad?’
‘Oh, really?’ He climbs down off his book ladder and wipes his hands on his Dad pants (beige corduroy) and then offers his right to her. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Leonard Cunningham.’
‘Carol Perkins.’
‘Well, would you like to come over and have a chat?’
‘You mean like an interview?’
‘Sure, I guess,’ he says cheerfully. ‘Would you like a tea? Or… hmm, I guess not coffee if you’re still in school.’
‘I just graduated,’ she fills in smoothly. ‘And I’d love a coffee, please.’
‘Certainly! Here is where I make them, I’ve created a little station.’
She follows him over and surveys the station with interest and not a small amount of second hand embarrassment for the guy because he has put a lot of work into making this a streamlined system and it’s just clearly never been used.
There are at least twenty five uniform black mugs all lined up neatly, complete with saucers, spoons and little packaged cookies. ‘Are these for staff?’
‘Well, they’re for anyone,’ he points out, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Customers, mostly. I had this idea of making the store… somewhere kids would want to be, but it uh. Well. Help yourself.’
Carol makes herself a coffee, pockets a handful of the cookies when he’s not looking and they go sit at a small table in the back.
‘So,’ he says happily. ‘You like books?’
‘Uh…’ She trails off, thinking hard. ‘Yes. Definitely.’
‘Wonderful! What are some of your favourites?’
‘Hmm,’ she says nodding sagely. ‘Tough Q there, Mr C, but I’d have to go with uh… Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters and probably Mary Shelley. What about you?’
‘Wow, excellent taste!’ he declares excitedly. ‘Me? Well, I’m a big fan of the classics, but nothing really beats Tolkien for me. I have to say, I think you and my daughter would get along. She loves to read.’
‘Oh, Chrissy?’
‘You know her?’
‘A little.’
He nods, and they drink coffee at the same time while her jacket pocket crinkles with the stolen cookies. ‘So Carol, what I really need is someone I can trust to run the store while I’m away.’
‘You’re going away?’
‘For three weeks,’ he explains, clearly nervous now. ‘To be honest, I’d just as soon close the store, it doesn’t uh, well, we don’t get very busy, but I can’t stand the thought of someone needing a book and coming here only to find the store closed. You have retail experience?’
‘Yes, definitely.’
‘And you seem to know plenty about books.’
‘Mmhmm.’
‘I’d be happy to offer you the job if you’d accept a secondary condition.’
He’s offering me the fucking job?!
‘Shoot, Mr C.’
He chuckles. ‘Mr C, I like that. OK well. It’s actually about my daughter, Chrissy. She uh. She’s been real sad lately and her Mom and her have a…’ He inclines his head and winces, ‘somewhat strained relationship. I’m more worried about leaving her alone than the store and she likes to come here when things are tough. If I gave you the job, would you promise to keep an eye on her and call me if anything is wrong?’
Carol stares, gripping the coffee cup.
‘I’m sorry, you… you want me to watch your daughter while I’m running the store?’
He sighs heavily. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but it would only be if and when she comes by. She uh.’ He smiles. ‘She likes to come and read here, over there.’ Mr Cunningham gestures to a very ratty old chair that nonetheless looks very comfortable. ‘I just worry about her, more and more lately. She doesn’t really have any friends and I don’t know what I can do to help. What can I do? She’s not little anymore, I can’t set her up on playdates and her Mom is a little too interested in her life, so I don’t want to add to that.’ He scrubs a hand across his face. ‘I’ll pay fifty dollars a day, four days a week. What do you think?’
Carol’s eyes go wide. Daily rate, not hourly? Not sales based? Even if that’s eight hours, it’s way above minimum wage.
Fuck.
‘So I’d be on my own?’
‘Yes, you’d have the keys, you’d be in charge of locking up and cashing out, but don’t worry, there’s a safe in the back where we keep all the money.’ Part of Carol cringes at how trusting he is. ‘It’s collected once monthly, so I’ll be back in time to arrange that, don’t worry. Otherwise, it’s stock, inventory, sales and…’ he gestures around with an undeniably fond smile. ‘whatever else you’d like to do with the place, really.’
Carol licks her lips. ‘Mr C, aren’t you afraid I’ll burn the place down? Ruin things?’
‘No,’ he laughs, drinking his coffee and dunking a cookie. ‘You seem like a good girl to me and if you know Chrissy, then all the better. I worry about her. I really do.’
‘OK, well, then yes. Yes, thank you very much.’
He looks so happy it’s ridiculous. ‘Oh my. Well.’ He beams and offers his hand. ‘Welcome to the team!’
*
Carol quickly realises several things on her first day in training with Mr C. The first is that he’s terrible at running a bookstore. He doesn’t seem bothered about sales, customers or “silly little things” like overhead costs. His concern is what books are being cycled into the window display, what classical music is playing over the speakers and how his daughter is doing that day.
She also realises that he’s more wealthy than she thought, the whole family must be judging by the oh so casual way he tells her to deduct her wages from the cash drawer at the end of each week and just innately trusts that she’ll do precisely that with nothing else on top.
The third thing comes on day two, when Mrs C and Chrissy make their first appearance.
Carol is subtly oiling up the cash drawer because the fucker sticks and she thinks maybe Mr C hasn’t noticed because he’s never opened it, when Mrs Cunningham and Chrissy walk in, looking around for Mr C.
The wife, a short, skinny woman with way too much hairspray calls out for her husband while Carol watches Chrissy until the younger girl meets her gaze. Chrissy blinks.
‘Oh. You.’
Carol grins roguishly. ‘Me, princess. How you doing?’
Chrissy leaves her Mom’s side and heads over to Carol. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I work here.’
‘No you don’t.’
‘I do, though.’ Carol taps her name badge that Mr C meticulously wrote, cut and laminated himself. ‘I work here.’
Chrissy gawks. ‘You’re the nice girl my Dad hired?!’
‘Aww, your Dad is actually super cool,’ Carol says happily. ‘But yes, that’s me.’
‘You hate books.’
‘I do not.’
‘Carol.’
‘Look, it’s a job and I’m not gonna screw up, all right? Don’t get your panties in a twist. Anyway.’ Carol thinks of her second job, the secret one. ‘How are you?’
Chrissy scowls. ‘Fine.’ She walks away, more storms away, and her Mom comes into view with Mr C.
‘Chrissy, darling, you really shouldn’t have worn that dress,’ Mrs C intones fretfully. ‘It sits so poorly on you.’
Carol watches Chrissy’s face go dead behind the eyes, shutters crashing down. ‘Sorry, Mom.’
‘Hey now, I think she looks lovely,’ Mr C says and then oh, then the Mom glares.
‘What would you know, Leonard? Look at you.’
Carol gets it.
The lynch pin of the family is a bitch pin.
Bummer.
There’s a little chit chat after, Chrissy shooting Carol a few looks while Mr C laughs cheerfully, clearly talking Carol up and then the adults leave and Chrissy stays.
‘My Dad said you’re into Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters and Mary Shelley.’
Carol beams. ‘Yup.’
‘Name one of their books.’
‘Oh, Chrissy. Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy,’ Carol sighs, casting around for any sign of any of those authors, but none are to be found, god damn it. ‘Ye of such little faith, I could but name a dozen if not all, except I am so very busy right now, so I’ll have to get back to—ah! Frankincense!!’ she yells triumphantly, having caught sight of a Mary Shelly book on the nearby wall, is my favourite,’ she adds coolly, styling it out.
Chrissy stares. ‘Frankincense.’
‘Yup, absolutely in my top three. So. What’s your summer plans, princess?’
‘Could you stop calling me that? And clearly being here to make sure you don’t run my Dad’s store into the ground, those are my plans.’
Carol snorts a little. ‘Babe, it’s already in the basement. I’ve not seen a single customer.’
Chrissy frowns. ‘He’s just… there are customers, but it’s not a lot.’
‘Look, I know you think I’m a shady bitch who’s gonna rob your Dad blind or whatever, but I actually really need this job, Mr C is pretty cool and I don’t want to fuck this up, so why don’t you go ahead and chill out,’ she says all in one breath, glancing back at the wall. ‘Oh,’ she utters, squinting. ‘Franken…stein?’
‘Yes,’ Chrissy intones dryly.
Carol sighs. ‘Like I said, this is a good thing for me and I’m not about to fuck it up. Not like my sunny personality can drive away the customers and I’ll keep the bricks upright, make sure the books don’t spontaneously combust and you can still hang out here whenever you like.’
‘He asked me to run the store,’ Chrissy says quietly, looking down. ‘But Mom wouldn’t let me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Carol clears her throat. ‘Your Mom seems like a bitch.’
Chrissy’s reaction is so funny. She experiences three emotions, each one fading into the next in the space of about a second. Indignant anger, thoughtful confusion and finally, amusement.
She chuckles softly and nods, leaning on the counter. ‘I guess.’
‘You guess?’
‘Anyway,’ she says, changing the subject swiftly. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not implying you don’t deserve the job. I just feel bad for my Dad most of the time. He had big dreams for this place and they never came good.’
‘Well,’ Carol says bracingly. ‘Maybe we can turn that around, who knows?’
‘Nobody wants to read all summer.’
‘You do.’
‘Yeah, but I’m the only one.’
‘My cousin likes books.’
‘Eddie Munson?’
‘Yeah. Though, he hides drugs in them, so.’
Chrissy wrinkles her nose like a kitten. ‘Ew.’
The tantalising subject of other people is too good to ignore. Carol leans in, elbows on the counter. ‘You know who’s also ew?’
‘Who?’
‘Jason Carver.’
‘Oh, no he’s not,’ Chrissy defends with a wry smile. ‘Come on, Jason’s like the perfect guy.’
‘Gross, but I knew you’d say that. Are you going with him? Everyone knows he likes you.’
‘I don’t know.’ She dims a little. ‘Maybe I should.’
For some reason, that gets Carol right in the chest. ‘Well… don’t just shack up because you think you should. Boys are like apples, plenty of ‘em out there, you can take your pick.’
‘Maybe I don’t like apples,’ Chrissy mutters.
Carol wonders what it would taste like to kiss her, to put lips on lips and not wince at the grain of stubble. ‘Yeah, me neither.’
Chrissy lifts her gaze.
They stare for a while.
Carol breaks it first.
‘OK, well go on and get out of here, I got a lot of work to do,’ she says sternly, cheeks very warm.
Chrissy stands up straight, pretty long legs make Carol feel all weird and short. ‘OK, cool. I guess I’ll see you around.’
‘Damned straight, Bambi,’ she purrs.
Chrissy laughs, shakes her head. ‘I’ll take that over princess.’
‘Sold.’
*
June 28th, 1985
Dad is leaving the store with Carol Perkins in charge. I feel sad I couldn’t do it, but Mom was adamant. I know why. She thinks I’ll sit in the chair and read and eat, plus she won’t have me around to complain to. I wish I could be there. I wish I could get fat and she’d just give up on me.
I wish I could be like Carol.
She doesn’t care at all. I wonder how that feels.
I’ll go check in on her.
She called me “Bambi”.
I think I liked it.
I think I like her.
I think
I know it’ll be good to hang out with different people, and maybe Carol can be one of them. Who knows? This summer might not be such a washout after all.
-CC