Family Storms (35 page)

“I didn't see much more than poor people struggling to eat, Kiera.”

“You know what I mean.”

I didn't, but I didn't disagree with her. If she wanted to believe those things about me, fine. Right now, it looked like something of an advantage to have her think that way about me.

“But you can't keep going to school dressed like a character in
Alice in Wonderland
or something,” she continued. “I'm going to give you more of my things to wear. My mother has to realize you're not a ten-year-old, and boys won't take you seriously if you look like you just walked off
Sesame Street.
”

“Ricky seems to like me,” I said.

“He's one of us. Besides, he's only one boy. You don't want to become dependent upon one boy this early. That's the whole point of our club. Girls get into this frenzy to have a relationship. Heaven forbid they not be asked out on a date or not have a date to the prom or something. We're free of all that anxiety and pressure.” She smiled. “And it drives the boys crazy because we act so indifferent. We're in more control of our own destinies. You see the point, right?”

“Yes,” I said. I did see the point. What she was saying made me feel a little better about what I had just sworn to do and to be.

Luckily, Mrs. March wasn't home when we arrived. I didn't have to greet her with my face full of deception immediately. We went right up to our rooms, but Kiera wanted me to come into hers after I settled in so she could choose some clothes for me to wear to school. That was where Mrs. March found us. Kiera had at least five outfits laid out on her bed.

“What's all this?” she asked as soon as she entered Kiera's suite.

“Clothes I'm lending Sasha, Mother. She doesn't have anything really fashionable. Alena's things are just not right for her now,” Kiera said.

“Fashionable? I hardly think the clothes you wear to school are what I would call fashionable, Kiera.”

“They are to me and to my friends, Mother,” she said with what I thought for Kiera was remarkable control. She even smiled at her. “You just forget what it was like to be a
teenager. I'm sure your mother complained about the things you wore.”

Mrs. March stepped closer to examine what was on the bed. “I don't remember you wearing these things.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kiera said, rolling her eyes. “Sasha likes them,” she added.

I hadn't really expressed any opinion yet, but Mrs. March looked at me as though she had caught me in a betrayal and then relaxed her shoulders like someone accepting defeat.

“How did the audition go?” she asked.

“Neither of us was thrilled with it,” Kiera said. “We're rethinking it.”

“Why?”

“Mother, will you ease up a little? Sasha has enough pressure adjusting to a new school, making new friends, learning the clarinet, and everything else.”

Again, Mrs. March turned to me for a reaction. I was silent.
I'm already deep in a lie,
I thought, and felt trapped.

“Very well,” she said. “I'm meeting your father at Palmeri for dinner. Don't give Mrs. Duval or Mrs. Caro any grief.” She left.

I knew Mrs. March was very upset with us, but Kiera looked as if she couldn't care any less about it. She continued pulling clothing off hangers and tossing what she liked onto the bed with cries of “This will look great on you! This is perfect!”

She stood back from the clothes. “You need some jewelry, too, and I have a watch you could have. Here,” she said, taking the watch off her wrist and handing it to me.

“But it's your watch.”

“I have more than twenty, silly.”

“Twenty?”

“Those are real diamonds in it, by the way.”

I put it on my wrist.

“Looks nice on you.”

She dumped a box of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces onto the bed beside the clothing she had laid out and began putting the outfits together with the jewelry. She had so much I thought she could open her own jewelry store.

“Is any of this very expensive?” I asked.

“It's all very expensive. I don't buy junk, and I don't let my parents buy me junk, not that they would. You have nothing here that would make you ashamed to wear,” she said.

“I don't mean that. I don't want to lose anything expensive. It makes me nervous.”

She laughed. “First of all, Daddy has some kind of insurance policy on our jewelry, and second, I could replace anything anyway, even without insurance, so don't give it a second thought. I don't. There,” she said, stepping back. “You have a different outfit for every day of the week with the right accompanying earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings. Start trying things on. Oh, wait a minute!” She examined my ears. “You don't have pierced ears. Didn't your mother ever want you to get your ears pierced?”

“No. She didn't think I was old enough.”

“Damn. Most of these earrings are useless. We have to get your ears pierced. We'll do it this weekend.”

I looked at the watch she had given me.

“Will you stop being such a worrywart about your homework? I'll leave you alone after dinner. Promise,” she said, holding up her right hand.

I began trying her things on and was surprised at how well everything fit me. Everything looked and smelled new, too. She raved about it all. All of the tops were skin-tight, shirred, with plunging necklines. The skirts were short and also tighter than I would normally wear. There was a fuchsia halter-top dress that left little to the imagination. In fact, I thought what she was giving me was even sexier than the clothes she wore.

“Are you sure I can wear all of these things to school?”

“Of course you can. You're not dressing much differently from most of the other girls. Besides, if you have it, flaunt it,” she said. “That's my motto, and it should be yours, too. You have a great figure.”

I was still reluctant. “Your mother was very upset about it.”

“Of course she is. She has you in Alena's room, playing Alena's clarinet, and wearing Alena's things. We know why, and we know how we both feel about that, right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good. I'm starving,” she declared before I could say anything else. “Let's go eat dinner. Keep that on. I love the expression on Mrs. Duval's face when she sees you in something I would wear.” She seized my hand and pulled me along.

She was right about Mrs. Duval. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head softly, mumbling to herself as she went back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen.

At dinner, Kiera reminded me about getting the club's tattoo on Friday.

“That's when we'll get your ears pierced, too,” she said.

“What will be our reason for not coming right home after school?” I asked. Mrs. March probably would approve of pierced ears, but I couldn't imagine her approving of tattoos.

“I'll tell my mother I had to stop at the mall to pick up some makeup. That's one thing she understands and approves of, cosmetics. Besides, it is the start of the weekend. We don't have to rush home to do homework—not that I ever do, anyway.”

“Does she know you have a tattoo?”

“I don't bathe in front of my mother anymore, Sasha, and certainly not in front of my father. Besides, they both know that if I wanted to do something like that, I'd do it with or without their permission.”

I was still quite nervous about doing it, but I felt I couldn't back out now without turning all of the girls against me. Kiera didn't talk about it any more. She went on and on about different boys and other girls at school whom the club members were considering, and she told me more about each of the girls themselves, especially whom I should listen to more and trust more. It was truly as if I had been taken into her confidence now, and there was nothing she wouldn't tell me. She lived up to her word after dinner, however, and didn't disturb my homework and practicing of the clarinet.

Grover picked me up after school the following day, as Kiera had a therapy session. During the day, I did notice
that more boys were looking at me because of the clothes I was wearing. Both Ricky and Boyd made a point of telling me I looked hot, and all of the girls in the VA club complimented me. I saw the envy in the faces of the girls in my classes, too.

“You'll need us more than ever,” Deidre whispered. “Boys will be coming at you like flies to honey. Make no promises or commitments until you speak with one of us.”

I thought I had felt as if I were floating when I had just entered such a school, but now I really was lightheaded and happy. I dared to think that maybe I was beautiful; maybe I was just as pretty as or even prettier than Kiera.

Grover was surprised and amused by how many boys accompanied me out to the parking lot, each trying to get me to pay him some special attention.

“I guess you're adapting pretty well,” he said before driving off. He rarely said anything, so I was pleased and actually felt myself blushing. I waved when I saw Kiera driving away, but she didn't notice.

Either because we were friendlier now and she was assuming more of a big sister's role or because she had reached some important realizations about herself, Kiera complained less and less about her therapy and behaved much more nicely and kindly toward her mother. I still saw the suspicion flashing in Mrs. March's face, but even she began to relax more. On Thursday night, after dinner was over and we were heading up to our rooms, Kiera claiming that she was trying hard to do better in her schoolwork, Mr. March asked me to follow him to his office.

“I'd like to speak with you a moment, Sasha.”

Kiera paused, too.

“You can go up, Kiera. I just need to talk to Sasha right now,” he said.

Kiera looked at me with fear and warning in her face, but she didn't linger. Mrs. March followed Mr. March and me to his office. He smiled at me as soon as we entered.

“There's nothing wrong, Sasha,” he said. “You can wipe away your look of anxiety. On the contrary, there's something right.”

He went to his desk and took a cigar out of a box. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing with his cigar toward the red bullet leather chairs. I sat, and he lit his cigar.

“You could wait until she leaves, Donald,” Mrs. March said. “Not everyone loves the stench of cigar smoke.”

“Oh. Sorry. Does this bother you, Sasha?”

“No, sir.”

There had been a time not so long ago when the aroma of a lit cigar would have been more like perfume when compared with the odors surrounding me.

He leaned against the front of his desk.

“First,” he began, “I want to thank you for giving Kiera a chance to redeem herself when it comes to you. You have every reason to hate every cell in her body. I know it looks like I'm totally aloof from all that goes on here, but I assure you, I'm not. Both Mrs. March and I have kept in close contact with Kiera's therapist, and we're very happy with her progress.”

“We hope it's real,” Mrs. March said.

“I think Dr. Ralston would be a better judge of that than we would, don't you, Jordan?”

“I'd hope so. I have a closet full of Kiera's broken promises to us both.”

He shook his head slightly at her, puffed on his cigar, and turned back to me. “In any case, you've been very generous in permitting her to rework herself into decent behavior. I'm also impressed with the influence you've had on her. Now, even more important perhaps, I wanted to tell you how pleased I am to hear about your own progress and achievements. I must admit I was wary when Jordan, Mrs. March, wanted to have this arrangement, but I'm very happy to be proven wrong. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?”

I looked at Mrs. March. She was finally smiling warmly.

“No, sir. I have more than I ever dreamed I would have,” I said, and he laughed.

“You and me both, Sasha. You and me both. Okay. I just wanted to have this little talk. Don't hesitate to come to me if I can do anything more or if anything bothers you, okay? I know you have Mrs. March to rely on, but I want you to know you have me as well.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled and went around to his desk chair. I rose, glanced at Mrs. March, and then hurried out and up the stairs. Kiera was waiting for me at her doorway.

“What did he want?” she asked. “Was he trying to get you to tell him something? My mother must have put him up to it. Well?”

“No, nothing like that,” I said. “He wanted to tell me how pleased he was with how things were going between us and how both of us were doing now,” I said. “He told me not to hesitate if I needed or wanted anything.”

“My father said that?”

“Yes. He was very nice, nicer to me than ever.”

She studied me a moment to see if I was telling the truth and then smiled. “That's my father. He can be a real charmer when he wants to be. This is great. Mother might ease up on us. Okay. Get to your homework,” she said, and went into her room.

On Friday as planned, all of the girls in the VA club met us after school and followed as Kiera drove me to a tattoo parlor in West L.A. The man doing the tattoos looked as if he was tattooed on every possible area of his body. There was a snake up his right arm beginning at his wrist and what looked like a chain up his left arm. He even had a tattoo on his throat.

All of the girls followed us into a small area in the rear, and the tattooing began. It wasn't pleasant, and twice I was on the verge of screaming that I wanted him to stop, but Kiera stood right beside him, and the girls were right behind her. Afterward, I looked at it in a full-length mirror by holding another mirror to catch the reflection. It looked bigger than theirs, and he had done what they had asked, a form of calligraphy.

They insisted on celebrating. Kiera called Mrs. March and told her we had gone to the mall so that I could get my ears pierced. She asked her to let us hang out and go for pizza with some friends. Minutes after she hung up, my phone rang, and Mrs. March asked me if we were doing what Kiera had said we were doing. Kiera knew, of course, that it was her mother calling me, and she watched and listened. I had no choice but to lie.