Frenemy of the People Page 12

  “That’s the truth?”

  “I’m not a liar, Dad,” I said. “I never lie to you guys.”

  “And what were you doing?”

  “I was upset about Slobberin’ Robert’s accident and everyone at school was acting strange. So Lexie and I—”

  “Who is Lexie? I never heard of her. What happened to your real friends?”

  “Lexie is the girl who gave me all that advice about the mortgage, remember?”

  He frowned.

  “So we went to her house. And, well. We decided we’re going out now.”

  “What does that specifically mean, going out?”

  “She’s my girlfriend,” I said. I still felt proud, but also wilted inside because he was interrogating me. Just like they say, no one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition.

  “You decided, huh? When you had a boyfriend, did we let you go over and hang out at his house when no one was home?”

  They hadn’t, although I had done that a few times they didn’t know about. I didn’t consider that lying. It was more a sin of omission.

  “I wasn’t going out with her when I went over,” I said, knowing my father would say I was being slippery again. “We were just friends then.”

  “Why do you have to have a girlfriend anyway?” my father said. “I know you kids are all into experimenting. But adults don’t see things that way. You’re going to make things hard on yourself, invite prejudice into your life, for no reason.”

  “It’s not no reason,” I said. “I think I’m falling in love with her.”

  Desi was definitely listening now, giving me the same rapt attention she’d given to Jessie. Love and girlfriends were more interesting than foreclosure. Mom was looking pained.

  Dad threw up his hands. “I don’t get it,” he said. “You say you’re bisexual. So you can date boys and girls. So why not just date a boy? What ever happened to that nice boy you were dating, Richard?”

  I was horrified. “Robert,” I said. “His name is Robert. He’s the one I was telling you about, who was in a horrible accident. He’s in a coma. So no, Dad, I can’t date him.”

  I couldn’t believe my father didn’t know. I had told them both early this morning about Slobberin’ Robert, in tears, at the start of this longest, weirdest day of my life.

  My dad’s expression changed to one of concern. “He’s the same boy? I’m sorry, pum’kin, I didn’t know.”

  But I got up and walked out of the hotel room, blurry tears in my eyes. I didn’t have a key card, so I would have to knock when I came back. I walked aimlessly around the hallway of the hotel. I spotted a Pepsi machine. Maybe a soda would help me feel better. But no, that would mean spending a dollar fifty when we owed thousands of dollars to the bank. I leaned my head against the soda machine, listening to its humming. Tears dripped down my cheeks. I felt like I was about to crack, that I couldn’t endure one more thing going wrong in my life. I resolved to spend some time with Sassy tomorrow morning at the barn before school. Even if she wasn’t my horse anymore and that hurt, maybe she could make me feel better. I didn’t even remember what room number we were staying in. I might as well wait here until Mom came to find me, if she ever did.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lexie

  My mom called me downstairs for dinner. There’s a terrible double standard in this house. If my parents don’t make it home for dinner, it’s no big deal. But if even one of them was there, I had to be sitting at the dinner table no matter what.

  My mom was having chicken and kale, and I had a bowl of Peanut Butter Puffins with almond milk. After years of acrimony, we finally brokered a compromise where I can eat whatever I want for dinner and no one is allowed to criticize anyone else’s food. You would not believe the torment that rule ended. The lights in the dining room were tastefully dimmed. “Did you really buy me a horse?” I asked.

  “Yes, I did,” she said. “I still hope it will be good for you. When you have a horse, you have to take responsibility, and hopefully it will teach you about hard work.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work,” I said. Was that true? I had no idea. When had I ever done any hard work? Did toiling over butterflies’ wings count as hard work?

  “You know, a horse eats a lot,” my mom said. “Don’t let her eat too much. It’s expensive. The woman at the stable said the horse is an easy keeper, so you don’t need to feed her a lot.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that. Those are the two topics my mom is the most interested in, not eating too much and how much things cost.

  “I bet that horse weighs nine hundred pounds, at least,” my mom said. “She must have cost me something like five fifty per pound.”

  “Mom. Please,” I said. “You’re not going to eat the horse, are you?”

  After that it was pretty silent around the dinner table. I spent most of my time fantasizing about Clarissa. If I learned to ride a horse, we could ride our horses together. It would be so romantic.

  That whole evening, I felt strangely upbeat and positive. I was so happy I had gotten together with Clarissa. For the first time since I could remember, the world appeared to be a coherent and unbroken place. I wanted to do something really nice for Clarissa. Even though I was on cloud nine, I knew that her problems with the foreclosure were very pressing, so I wished I could cheer her up, even a little bit. I decided to bake her some vegan chocolate-chip cookies. I went into the kitchen and took out the dark chocolate chips and the flour, but then Mom started yelling at me.

  “No baking, Lexie. You’ll make a big mess. I don’t want the temptation of a lot of cookies in the house.”

  “They’re not for you,” I said.

  “No baking.”

  Thwarted but still cheerful, I went to my room and made Clarissa a romantic playlist on Spotify that started with the song “If You Love Someone Set Them On Fire” by the Dead Milkmen and ended with “Eau d’Bedroom Dancing” by Le Tigre. But it seemed cheesy to me, and I was dissatisfied. I wanted to give her something really special. But not something expensive and consumerist. It needed to be something that came from the heart.

  I decided to make her a gift basket of items I had Dumpstered. Then she could appreciate the work I put into it, and those things could be saved from the landfill. On a previous Dumpster-diving expedition, I had found a big wicker basket with just a few strands of wicker on the handle slightly frayed. I could put her gifts in that.

  “I’m going out to the drugstore to buy some necessaries,” I shouted out to my mom.

  “What place is open this late?” she asked.

  “Just a place.”

  “Would you pick me up some cheek highlighter cream?” she shouted back from upstairs. “You know the kind I like.”

  I never buy cosmetics that have been tested on animals, like every single product my mother uses, and I wasn’t actually planning to buy anything. But I called back, “Okay.” I could just tell her they didn’t have any, or something.

  I drove to the mall. On the way I passed the MegaBank I had vandalized. I thought I caught a glimpse of the storefront covered in plywood, but really I was going by too quickly to be sure. It seemed to be another me who had done that. Sure, I still hated MegaBank, but I was too happy to go around smashing things.

  You would not believe the stuff that gets thrown away, especially by stores. In a world where all our natural resources are being depleted from making more and more junk, and landfills are filling up to the brim, it makes no sense to throw out perfectly good stuff. And yet, food that is still good to eat is thrown out because it doesn’t look perfect anymore, and consumer items are thrown out because of the weird caprices of capitalism. Honestly, even people who don’t care about the environment should go Dumpster diving because it’s like a treasure hunt, and you can find all this cool stuff for free. The first time I went Dumpster diving was with Ramone on a freegan tour of New York City where the tour guide taught us how to do it. I guess that was kind of like a date. Now I went out
Dumpster diving about once a week, and I was slowly discovering which stores’ garbage had a trove of magical items and which stores just had actual smelly garbage. Occasionally someone would come and chase me away, but this wasn’t a risky activity.

  I liked to use a grabber like old people have to pick things up off the floor. That helps me sift through the Dumpster and pull out garbage bags, so I don’t have to actually dive into the Dumpster. In fact, 90 percent of the time, I do not get into the Dumpster. Gloves are key because there is some ick. I always tie up the bags again neatly after I look inside and put them back in the Dumpster. It’s like camping: leave the forest as you found it. Also, if you meet other Dumpster divers, the rule is, whoever gets to the Dumpster first gets to look first. I only met another Dumpster diver once, and she was a genuine homeless person, I think, so I let her go through all the Dumpsters first.

  First I went to the shopping plaza that had the health-food store. I had found amazing things there before, but I was disappointed to discover that now the Dumpster was locked. My next stop was the bagel place, but they had poured bleach over the perfectly good bagels that had been made only that morning, just to keep people like me from taking them. What a waste. But when I hit the bath-and-beauty shop, I really scored. There was a cardboard box filled with brand-new, unopened bottles of shower gel in many different scents. There were even cosmetics, including a pot of cheek highlighter for my mom. It wasn’t her brand, but that was still an amazing coincidence.

  That kind of thing happened all the time when I was Dumpstering. I would find exactly what I needed. It was almost enough to make me believe in a higher power. A Dumpster Goddess. Like, once I needed a new coat really bad and I let my mom buy me one. The very next night, I found a much nicer coat in the garbage on my own street. The moral is, don’t buy anything, ever.

  In clear plastic bags sitting next to another Dumpster were piles of belts. A bridal shop in another shopping plaza that was going out of business had bag after bag of dresses, but red paint had been poured on them. Other things I found were two cases of barbecue sauce—unfortunately not vegan, aloe vera lotions for sunburn, coffee that was just barely expired, nutritional supplements, craft magazines, a pair of jeans with minor defects, and a wooden box I thought was a humidor for storing cigars. The best thing for Clarissa was a beautiful robe still in its packaging. I thought Clarissa would love that. The coolest thing I found for myself was a neck pillow. It had some Dumpstery stains on it, but I hoped a trip through the wash would restore it to glory.

  My mom was happy to get her cheek highlighter and told me it was her favorite brand. I arranged the basket for Clarissa beautifully. I knew it couldn’t solve her problems, but at least she would know I was thinking about her. Then I watched My Friend Flicka on my computer in my room until I fell asleep. I had a muddled dream of riding horses with Clarissa. My horse was black, and hers was white. She was also wearing a white cowgirl hat. I passed the basket to her, and she was delighted with every single item in it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Clarissa

  I arrived at the stables at six a.m. I wasn’t very excited about wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday, cleaning the stalls in them, and then going to school in them. Mom had offered to buy me a change of clothes at Walmart, but I didn’t want to spend the money. I was hoping I had a T-shirt in my locker at school. But before I started working, I wanted to spend some time with Sassy.

  I was curry-combing Sassy under her chin—that’s her favorite—when Mrs. Astin came by.

  “Clarissa, Sassy has a new owner,” she said, without even saying good morning or anything. “A Ms. Fialkow finalized the purchase yesterday. So I think you’d better stop doing Sassy’s grooming. That’s not really the kind of thing you should do for someone else’s horse. We wouldn’t want you to cross any boundaries, would we?”

  “Would we?” I repeated, holding Sassy’s bumpy little comb. Sassy stuck her big face into mine, willing me to continue currying her.

  “And would you start with the petting zoo today?” Mrs. Astin continued, like she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on me. “I have a toddler birthday party here this afternoon, and I’d like the petting zoo to be fresh and clean.”

  Tears swam in my eyes and I couldn’t see for a moment. When I blinked them away, Mrs. Astin was gone.

  “Good-bye, Sassy,” I told her. I had to let go of her forever now. She tossed her head and snorted. There was a lump in my throat. It seemed like my heart kept breaking by degrees, and there was always a little more sadness waiting for me. But this was the final blow. What else could happen? I put away Sassy’s combs and cleaned out the petting zoo and the horse stalls. I had to constantly shake my head to clear the tears because I couldn’t wipe my eyes with my filthy gloves. I also got tears all over the tack. Then I returned to my car, put my head down on the steering wheel, and cried until I was out of tears.

  I was a wreck, but I had to go to school. I reapplied my makeup in the rearview mirror so I didn’t look as bad. I would tell Lexie about how I had lost Sassy. I hadn’t told her about it yet because it was too painful, but I resolved that now that we were dating, I would tell her.

  At school I went straight to Lexie’s locker. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. She was wearing a cute little black outfit that looked straight out of Hot Topic, with an incongruous man’s belt.

  “Hi,” she said, squeezing my hand. My pointy evil-eye ring dug into my finger. I wasn’t sure how much PDA was right to do at school. So I didn’t kiss or hug her, which was a little ridiculous because girls hugged all the time and I had hugged her at school before. But I didn’t want to give Lexie a gentle A-frame hug with three pats on the back. I wanted to squeeze her ravenously and then back her up against her locker and stuff my tongue down her throat. So I did nothing. I wondered if somehow everyone at school could see exactly how I was feeling.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “Pretty good,” she said. “I have a special present for you, but it’s in my car. It’s too big to fit into my locker.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “I could use a special present. It’s been a tough day already.” I hoped against hope the special present was a clean pair of pants.

  “Listen, I have some strange news,” Lexie said. “My mom did this crazy thing, but I’m thinking it’s probably good. Remember how I was telling you my mom buys me presents that are way off? Maybe you can help me learn to ride. My mom bought me a horse. While she was in Bermuda, no less. It’s—what?”

  I had gone rigid. My mind made the mental leap, and I just knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Lexie was Sassy’s new owner. Had I thought there was no greater sadness for me? Now sadness stripped me raw and left me with fury. If I could have shot fire out of my eyes that would have incinerated Lexie right there on the spot, I would have done it. It all fell into place, the way I had been utterly betrayed by someone who pretended to care about me.

  “It was you,” I said. “I never suspected that. It can’t be a coincidence. But Mrs. Astin said it was a woman named Fialkow.”

  “That’s my mom,” Lexie said. “You knew about this?”

  “No,” I said. Yelled, actually. “No, I did not know! I had no way of knowing you stole my horse. How could you?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Sassy is my horse! You bought my horse. You foreclosed on my horse! You are the worst girl in the entire universe. Go ahead, destroy my life. There’s nothing more you can take from me!”

  I yelled at her as loud as I could, but Lexie just looked stupidly alarmed. “Your horse?” she said.

  “Yeah, my horse!” I could hear that my voice was harsh, like the squeaking of a rusty gate. I wished I could literally transform into the bitter, vicious Harpy I felt like, so I could actually scratch Lexie’s eyes out with talons.

  “My mom bought your horse? I had no idea. I’ve never even seen this horse yet.”

  Lexie was certainly processing this slowly. I hadn’t r
ealized she was so stupid. Then, of all things, she smiled.

  “Hey, if someone was going to buy it, I’m glad it was my mom,” she said. “Maybe she’ll give it back and buy another horse. Or at least you can see the horse all the time and ride it. Or—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I’d had enough of this. Maybe a few weeks ago, before all my troubles began, I would have bought into this dumb fantasy that her mom would give the horse back. But, really, the same woman who told me not to scratch her antique fence was going to give the horse back? And my parents were going to say, Oh sure, we didn’t need $4,500. Right. And then I was supposed to be excited because Her Highness would let me ride her horse?

  “Get real, Lexie,” I snapped. “You act all like you are this big radical and you care about poor people. But it’s all an act. You’re pretending. I see right through you. Everyone knows what a total hypocrite you are. You’re just a rich girl who has everything. You don’t even offer to pay for your Hostess Fruit Pie. All you care about is bugs.”

  Lexie narrowed her eyes. “Clarissa, I don’t appreciate being screamed at. We should—”

  “You know what you are? You’re an enemy of the people! I hope you have a good time with Sassy!” I yelled at the top of my lungs and walked off.

  Some boys snickered, and I heard a girl say, “Lesbian drama.”

  “Huh, I wonder who Sassy is,” a second girl said.

  “She must go to another school.”

  The bell rang just as I slammed my books down on the desk in math. Everyone looked at me out of the sides of their eyes. I was disheveled, smelly, and full of hate. They should fear me. I sat through the whole class fuming and wondering how I could have been so stupid as to kiss Lexie Ganz and ever think she cared about me. I didn’t hear one word the teacher said, and I never opened a book or looked up at the board. But perhaps he sensed that if he bothered me, I would tear his guts out, because he never called on me.

  By the end of the school day, my fury had died down to a dull ache of hate for Lexie. Desi and I waited outside the school for Mom, not talking. She had called and said we were going home. I should have been happy about that, but I felt dead inside. I couldn’t handle all these reversals.