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"Fine. Be a bitch, why dont you?"
Kate kept walking.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tully watched the girl walk away.
"I shouldnt have said that," she said, noticing how small her voice sounded beneath the enormous star-spangled sky.
She wasnt even sure why shed said it, why shed suddenly felt the need to make fun of the next-door neighbor. With a sigh, she went back into the house. The moment she stepped into the room, the smell of pot overwhelmed her, stung her eyes. On the sofa, her mom lay spread-eagled, one leg on the coffee table, one on the back cushions. Her mouth hung open; drool sparkled the corners of her lips.
And the girl next door had seen this. Tully felt a hot wave of shame. No doubt rumors would be all over school by Monday. Tully Hart has a pothead mom.
This was why she never invited anyone over to her house. When you were keeping secrets, you needed to do it alone, in the dark.
She would have given anything to have the kind of mom who made dinner for strangers. Maybe that was why shed made fun of the girls name. The thought pissed her off and she slammed the door shut behind her. "Cloud. Wake up. "
Mom drew in a sharp, snorting breath and sat up. "Whass the matter?"
"Its dinnertime. "
Mom pushed the gob of hair out of her eyes and worked to focus on the wall clock. "What are we—in a nursing home? Iss five oclock. "
Tully was surprised her mom could still tell time. She went into the kitchen, served the casserole onto two white CorningWare plates, and returned to the living room. "Here. " She handed her mother a plate and fork.
"Whered we get this? Did you cook?"
"Hardly. The neighbor brought it over. "
Cloud looked blearily around. "We have neighbors?"
Tully didnt bother answering. Her mother always forgot what they were talking about anyway. It made any real conversation impossible, and usually Tully didnt care—she wanted to talk to Cloud like she wanted to watch black and white movies—but now, since that girls visit, Tully felt her differentness keenly. If she had a real family—a mom who made casseroles and sent them as gifts to new neighbors—she wouldnt feel so alone. She sat down in one of the mustard-colored beanbag chairs that flanked the sofa and said cautiously, "I wonder what Grans doing right now. "
"Proly making one of those god-awful PRAISE JESUS samplers. As if thatll save her soul. Ha. Hows school?"
Tullys head snapped up. She couldnt believe her mom had just asked about her life. "Lots of kids hang around with me, but . . . " She frowned. How could she put her dissatisfaction into words? All she really knew was that she was lonely here, even among her new friends. "I keep waiting for . . . "
"Do we have ketchup?" her mother said, frowning down at her heap of Hamburger Helper, poking at it with her fork. She was swaying to the music.
Tully hated the disappointment she felt. She knew better than to expect anything from her mother. "Im going to my room," she said, climbing out of the beanbag chair.
The last thing she heard before she slammed her bedroom door was her mother saying, "Maybe it needs cheese. "
Late that night, long after everyone else had gone to bed, Kate crept down the stairs, put on her dads huge rubber boots, and went outside. It was becoming a habit lately, going outside when she couldnt sleep. Overhead, the huge black sky was splattered with stars. It made her feel small and unimportant, that sky. A lonely girl looking down at an empty street that went nowhere.
Sweetpea nickered and trotted toward her.
She climbed up onto the top rail of the fence. "Hey there, girl," she said, pulling a carrot out of her parkas pocket.
She glanced over at the house across the street. The lights were still on at midnight. No doubt Tully was having a party with all the popular kids. They were probably laughing and dancing and talking about how cool they were.
Kate would give everything she owned to be invited to just one party like that.
Sweetpea nudged her knee, snorted.
"I know. Im dreaming. " Sighing, she slid off the fence, petted Sweetpea one last time, and then went back to bed.
A few nights later, after a dinner of Pop-Tarts and Alpha-Bits cereal, Tully took a long, hot shower, shaved her legs and underarms carefully, and dried her hair until it fell straight from her center part without a single crease or curl. Then she went to her closet and stood there, trying to figure out what to wear. This was her first high school party. She needed to look just right. None of the other girls from the junior high had been invited. She was The One. Pat Richmond, the best-looking guy on the football team, had chosen Tully for his date. Theyd been at the local hamburger hangout last Wednesday night, his group of friends and hers. All it had taken was one look between them. Pat had broken free of the crowd of huge guys and walked right over to Tully.
