Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [33]
This is too much, Ellie thinks, this is insult and injury and grievous and if she were not eight years old she would figure out some way to sue her sister for damages. No, she would figure out how to divorce her sister. She would figure out how to become not-sisters. Un-sisters. Unrelated.
“First you’re late! Really late. Later than ever. So late I didn’t think you were coming. And now . . . and now—”
Alice looks at her shoes.
“I hate you Alice, I really hate you.”
Ellie takes another step back, farther away from the smell.
“Where’s Henry?”
“Band practice.”
“I am not going to walk home with you.”
“But—”
“You can walk on the other side of the street. Or you could hide in the woods ’til it’s so dark that no one will see you. And smell you!”
“Ellie—”
“Do not! Do not even try to speak to me!”
Ellie turns and walks off, heading for home. She is walking fast, as fast as an eight-year-old can walk. Her head is down and she’s swinging her arms, sort of like Mom on a power walk. She’s like a little engine. Running on mad.
And she’s wearing a hat, Alice notices, even though it’s not that cold. A hat that completely covers her hair.
“Hey! How’d everybody like your new haircut?” Alice shouts across the street.
“What do you care?”
“I bet Mrs. Baker likes it.”
“Yeah.”
“Janna?”
“Pretty much.”
“The other kids?”
Ellie is twisting the middle button on her hand-me-down plaid spring coat.
“Luke Piacci?”
The button pops off in her hand.
“Is that why you’re wearing that hat?”
Ellie gulps in one of those horrible sobs where it sounds like she’s choking and wailing at the same time.
“Can I come over there?” Alice asks.
“No!”
“I like it,” Alice offers.
“No you don’t. And neither does Gram or Mom or—”
“I bet Mrs. Grover likes it.”
“What about Daddy?” Ellie asks through a fresh burst of tears.
“Daddy’s gonna love it.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“You know what Daddy would say?”
“What?”
“Take off that silly hat and quit worrying about what other people think.”
They cross Belknap Road with slightly less distance between them and turn down Baird Road.
“Hey, you want to bake a cake? After I throw these stupid sneakers in the trash?”
“He said I look like an elf.”
“Who?”
“Luke Piacci.”
“Maybe that was a compliment.”
“An elf.”
“Well, you’re a very, very cute elf, Ellie.”
“Shut up!”
They turn into their driveway. Alice carefully keeps to her own side of the drive.
“Could we make a lemon cake?” Ellie asks.
“Sure.”
“Caramel frosting?”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay!” Ellie shouts, pulling her hat off and skipping along the last twenty yards of their driveway, past Matt’s grape arbor and apple trees. A wash of sunlight spills over the trees and dapples her shining cap of hair.
“Okay.”
April 16th
They get through the weekend somehow. Alice didn’t even tell her mom the truth about her sneaks. She just threw them away wrapped up in dozens of Wegman’s bags. She paid Ellie two bucks to keep her mouth shut and told her mom she lost them.
Which made her mom really mad.
“I just bought those sneakers!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not paying attention, Alice!”
“I’m—”
“How many pairs of sneakers do I have to buy, anyway? In a lifetime of being your mom . . . ? And when are you going to at least wash that stupid shirt?!”
So all day Saturday it’s mad Mom and a trip to the hated mall and the dreaded shoe store and the eyeglasses store to pick up Ellie’s new glasses. A compromise pair, yes, but still way too big for Ellie’s little face. She loves them.
Now it’s Sunday afternoon and everybody is in a bad mood as they play catch up with chores. Alice is stuck in the basement with a mountain of laundry while Ellie is upstairs “dusting” and Angie is what, doing the taxes? Never a good day.