Shocking Pink

“Julie got ’em,” Raven said, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Julie got everyone’s.”

Julie felt herself blush. “You do so have boobs, both of you. Mine aren’t that big.”

“Compared to what? Watermelons?” Raven’s smile faded. “Don’t you guys get it?” She shifted her weight slightly, grimacing. “It doesn’t matter what other people think. It doesn’t matter if the whole frigging world thinks I’m a freak. All I care about is us, our friendship. I could be the most beautiful girl in the world, but I would be dead without you two. You’re my family. And like tonight, family always sticks up for each other. Always.”

2

An hour later, Andie stood at her front door, her head still spinning with the events of the night. She couldn’t stop picturing Raven bringing the rock crashing down on her leg. Raven had hardly even flinched, though Andie knew it must have really hurt. The gash had bled so much her white sneaker had turned pink.

But it had done the trick for Julie, that was for sure. Reverend Cooper had glowered at them, questioning them about their whereabouts before the accident had happened, obviously trying to trap them into confessing some mortal sin.

Through it all, Julie had looked almost comically guilty, but Raven had hammed it up for the Good Reverend, going on and on about the way Julie had stayed to help her even though Raven had begged her to go ahead and get home.

Raven was the best liar Andie had ever known.

And the best friend anyone could have. Andie didn’t think she would have the guts to do something like that, even if it meant saving her best friend’s butt.

In the end the worst he had delivered was a stern admonishment for them all to be more careful. Mrs. Cooper had cleaned and bandaged Raven’s leg, then driven them both home.

Andie turned and waved to Mrs. Cooper, then let herself in her front door. She shook her head. Raven was always doing stuff like that, charging fearlessly in to help her or Julie, never worrying about reprisals or being hurt.

That’s how she and Raven had met. It had been the summer she was eight, and Raven had just moved into the house next door. She had come upon Andie, surrounded by a group of neighborhood bullies on bikes. Raven had jumped in the middle of them, like some sort of supergirl out to save the day. Andie laughed to herself, remembering how awed she had been even though they had both gotten their butts kicked.

They had been instant best friends and inseparable ever since.

Andie headed for the kitchen, hungry. She plucked an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. “Mom?” she called, noticing how quiet it was. “Dad? I’m home!”

“In here, pumpkin,” her dad answered from the den, his voice sounding funny, kind of thick and tight. Like he had a cold. “Could you come in here, please?”

“Sure, Dad.” She ambled for the den, polishing the apple on her T-shirt sleeve. She took a big bite, thinking about the way her dad had sounded. If it wasn’t a cold, he was probably pissed off about some dumb stunt her brothers had pulled. Twins, four years younger than she was, they were always getting into something they weren’t supposed to.

Brothers, Andie thought. They were such a pain.

Andie found her entire family in the den—her mother, father and brothers. She stopped in the doorway, moving her gaze from one to the next, the bite of apple sticking in her throat. Her mother’s eyes and face were red and puffy from crying, her dad’s face was stiff, his mouth set into a hard, grim line. For once, her brothers were quiet, their heads bowed and shoulders slumped.

Something was wrong. Something terrible had happened.

“Mom? What is it?”

Her mother refused to look at her, and Andie shifted her gaze to her father. “Dad? What’s wrong? Is it Grandma? Is it—”

Her mother looked up then, and the raw fury in her expression stunned Andie. She had never seen her mother look that way before. Andie took an involuntary step backward. “Mom? Have I done something wrong? I mean, I’m sorry if I’m late, but Raven fell and—”

“Your father has something to tell you.”

Andie turned to her dad. “Daddy?” she whispered, using the name she hadn’t called him in years. “What’s wrong?”

“Sit down, pumpkin.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not until you tell me everything’s okay.”

“Tell her, Dan,” her mother piped in, voice cracking. “Tell her how everything’s going to be okay. Tell her how you decided you don’t love us anymore.”

“Marge!”

Her mother’s voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “Tell her how you’re leaving us.”

Andie stared at her parents. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her happy family.

“No,” she said, hearing her own panic. “No, it isn’t true.”

“Honey—” Her dad stood and held out a hand to her. “This happens sometimes. Adults fall out of love with each other. This has nothing to do with you or your brothers.”

She heard his words, but hollowly, as if they had come from a great distance. They echoed in her head, mingling with the thunder of her own heart.

Fall out of love? Nothing to do with her?

He was leaving them. Leaving her.

She sucked in a quick, shallow breath, pain a living thing inside her. How could he say that? How could it have nothing to do with her if she felt like she was dying inside?

“This has nothing to do with any of you kids,” he continued. “I love you all as much as I always have.”

Andie darted a glance at her brothers. They were huddled together, clinging to one another. Pete was crying quietly; Daniel was not. Daniel stared stonily at their father, eyes bright with fury. With her brothers, the lines had already been drawn.

How typical of them, she thought. Though twins, they were as different as night and day. Pete was sensitive, emotional, exuberant; everybody’s favorite. Daniel on the other hand, was intense, serious, introverted. Unlike Pete, Daniel would hold his anger in—for days, weeks, months—seething. Daniel was not going to forgive their father easily; Pete already had.

What about her? What was she going to do?

“I’m not moving far away,” her father was saying. “I’ll be right here in Thistledown. We’ll see each other all the time. I’ve already discussed visitation with my attorn—”

“Your attorney?” her mother cut in, her expression stunned. “You’ve already seen an attorney?”

“Yes, Marge,” he said, swinging his gaze to his wife, “I have.”

Andie took another step backward. What had happened? she wondered. How could he look at her mother so coldly? Just this morning they had kissed, they had laughed together.

“I thought it would be best,” he continued, “to discuss my rights before I—”

“Best? Rights?” Her mother’s voice rose. “Your right to see your children only on weekends and half the holidays? You thought that would be best? Better than coming home to them every night?”

“That’s enough, Marge! I don’t think it’s appropriate to be having this conversation in front of the children.”

“Don’t you talk to me about appropriate behavior! Don’t you dare!” Her mother jumped to her feet. “We’re supposed to be a family.”

“The marriage just isn’t working for me.” He made a sound of frustration. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been in a long time. Surely you knew.”

Andie wrapped her arms around her middle, apple still clutched in one hand. Not happy? Her mom and dad almost never fought, had almost never disagreed. He’d kissed her mother when he left for work this morning. He did every morning. And every morning her mom kissed him back, then smiled.

A squeak of pain slipped past her lips. Now he wasn’t happy. Now he wanted to leave them.

Why? Had she done something to cause this? Had her brothers?

Tears choked her. She didn’t want her family to break up. She didn’t want her daddy to leave. She loved him more than anything.

“Don’t go, Dad,” Andie begged. “I want us to stay a family.”

He looked at Andie, then the twins. “We’ll still be a family, kids. We’ll always be a family. Where I live won’t change that.”

But it would. It would change everything. “I’ll help out more,” she said quickly, scrambling for a way to make everything all right. “I promise. Us kids, we won’t fight.” She looked pleadingly at her brothers. “Will we?”

“We won’t,” they said in unison, shaking their heads. “We promise to be good.”

“Honey, it’s not—”

“And I’ll baby-sit,” she went on, not wanting to give him the opportunity to speak, afraid of what he might say. “Whenever you ask, so you guys can go out. And I won’t complain about it, I promise. Just give me another chance. I’ll show you how good I can be.”

“You see, Dan?” her mother whispered, sinking back to the chair, the fight seeming to go out of her. “You see what you’re doing to your children?”

He ignored her and crossed to Andie. “Oh, pumpkin.” He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to his chest. “It’s not you. It’s not your brothers. You guys are perfect.”

He drew back and looked into her eyes. “It’s me and your mom.”

Andie fought tears. She glanced at her brothers again, at the way they huddled together. They always did that, they had each other, they were a team. She had Raven and Julie. She shifted her gaze to her mother, sitting alone, her expression devastated. Her parents used to be a team. They used to have each other.

How could her daddy do this? How could he leave them this way? He was supposed to love them, no matter what.

Andie struggled free of her father’s arms and went to her mother. She knelt by the chair and wrapped her arms around her. For a moment her mother held herself stiffly, then she sagged against Andie, clinging to her.

“Andie, honey,” her father said softly, patiently, “I know you’re upset, but in time you’ll understand.”

“No, I won’t.” She shook her head, her tears spilling over. “You said family was everything. The most important thing. You lied.”

“I didn’t lie. I didn’t know. Things happen. They—” He looked at his wife. “Marge, help me out here.”

She stiffened. “You did this, Dan. You. Don’t ask me to help you make it better now.”

“Fine.” He moved his gaze from Andie to her brothers, then back. “This is the way it’s going to be. I’m sorry, kids, but it just … is. When you’re older, you’ll—”

“Understand?” Andie lifted her gaze to his, heart breaking. She shook her head. “I won’t understand, Dad. And I won’t forgive you. Not ever.”

For a long moment he simply stared at her, then without another word, he turned and walked away.

3

Andie lay on her bed, dry-eyed, completely spent. Moments after her father left, she’d heard his car and had run to the window and watched him go, watching until long after his taillights had been swallowed by the night.

Gone. Just like that.

She rolled onto her side. The house was unnaturally quiet. Still. Her brothers had gone to bed some time ago; her mother was now locked in her bedroom. Usually at this time of night, Andie could hear the muted sound of a late-night talk show coming from the TV in her parents’ room or her mom and dad’s hushed conversation. Once in a while the phone would ring, or the cat would meow outside her bedroom window.

Not tonight. Tonight it was as if the world had come to an end. Nothing was left for her but her own, agonizing thoughts.

Her dad was leaving them.

He didn’t love them anymore, not enough to stay a family, anyway.

Her thoughts, the truth of them, cut like a knife. She sat up, hugging her middle. She glanced at her closed door again, thinking of her brothers, picturing their devastated faces. With a sigh, she climbed off her bed and headed out of her room and down the hall to theirs. She opened their door and peeked inside.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Fine,” Daniel answered angrily, glaring at her. “We’re not babies, you know.”

“I know. But, I … I thought you might want to talk.”

“Andie?” Pete rolled onto his side, facing her. “I don’t get it. Mom and Dad, they were always so … I mean, I thought they were …”

His voice trailed off miserably, and Andie’s heart went out to him. “I thought the same thing.” She sighed. “I guess we were wrong.”

His face pinched up with an effort not to cry. “Are we going to see Dad at all anymore?”

“I don’t know.” She looked away, then back. “He said so.”

“But he’s a liar,” Daniel said, sitting up. “He’s a stinkin’ liar. I don’t care if I ever see him again. And neither does Pete.”

But Pete did care, Andie could tell. His eyes filled with tears, and he turned quickly away. She scowled at her other brother. “Shut up, okay. You don’t know everything.”

“I know more than you.”

“You wish. You’re just a kid.”

He jerked up his chin. “Well, I know something about Dad that you don’t. It’s a secret.”

“Sure you do,” she said sarcastically. “And of course it’s a secret. That way you can’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. Close the door. I don’t want Mom to hear.”

Andie made a sound of annoyance but did as he asked. That done, she folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, it’s closed. What’s the big secret?”

“Dad’s got a girlfriend.”

For a moment Andie simply stared at her brother, too stunned to speak. Then she curved her hands into fists and took a step farther into the room. “You’re lying. Take it back, Daniel. Take it back now.”

“I heard him talking to her on the phone. Tonight. He told her that … he told her he loved her. Before he hung up.”

“It’s not true.” Andie struggled to breathe past the lump in her throat. “You’re making it up.”

“I heard him, too,” Pete whispered brokenly. “He said … he said that after tonight—”

“They could be together,” Daniel finished, his anger and defiance fading. “He had to take care of us first.”

“No. It’s not true.” Andie backed out of her brothers’ bedroom, shaking her head, refusing to believe them. There was an explanation for what her brothers had overheard. Her dad wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t one of those kind of men.

She snapped their door shut, wishing she had left bad enough alone. Wishing she hadn’t goaded Daniel into telling what he supposedly knew about their father. Her dad wouldn’t do that, she told herself again. He wouldn’t.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, she heard her father’s voice. She swung toward her parents’ closed bedroom door, hope surging through her. He’d changed his mind. He’d come back. He wasn’t going to leave them after all.

She raced down the hall. Pete and Daniel were wrong about what they’d heard; it was a lie. She grabbed the doorknob, ready to burst in without knocking. She stopped short at the sound of her mother’s voice.

“—take everything you want now, because I swear to God you’re not setting foot back inside this house without a court order.”

“Fine, I’ll do that.”

Andie heard the click of latches being opened. She brought a hand to her mouth. He wasn’t staying, she realized. He was packing.

“I’m really sorry, Marge. I never meant for this to happen.”

“Spare me the big apology,” her mother answered, her voice thick with tears. “I’ve given you the last twenty years of my life, and you give me ‘I’m really sorry’? No thanks.”

“What’s with the wounded surprise? This has been coming for months. Years, really. It’s been over for a long time.”

“You have children,” she said. “How can it be over? You made a vow to me, Dan.” Andie pressed her ear to the door and heard rustling noises, like clothes being dug out of drawers. “A vow,” she repeated. “Don’t you remember?”

“I know,” he said heavily, sounding tired, more tired than Andie had ever heard him. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she repeated angrily. “Sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn’t do this! There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“Marge, don’t—”

“Someone you love more than me. More than us.”

“Stop it, Marge. For God’s sake, the children will—”

“That’s right, the children. Your children. What do you care about them? If you cared, you wouldn’t do this.”

“I care plenty, and you know it.”

“Right. You care. Who’s always here for them, chauffeuring them to this class and that field trip? Who gave up a career to raise our kids? Our kids, Dan. Not just mine.”

Andie squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as though she might vomit, not wanting to hear her mother’s words but unable to tear herself away.

“Always playing the martyr, aren’t you? You’ve been throwing your ridiculous little career up in my face for twenty years. You worked at the newspaper as a cut-and-paste girl.”

“I was a commercial artist!” her mom cried. “I loved it, and I was good, too!”

“Well, here’s your chance to get back to it,” he said, slamming what sounded like a bureau drawer.

“I know there’s someone else. I’ve known for months.”

“For God’s sake—”

“Tell me it’s not true, then. Tell me you haven’t been having an affair. Tell me you haven’t been screwing around behind my back.”

Andie pressed a fist to her mouth, holding back a cry, praying for him to deny it was true.

He didn’t deny it. His silence spoke volumes.

“I bet,” her mother continued, “whoever she is, she doesn’t have any children. She’s unencumbered. No runny noses to wipe, no childish disagreements to break up. Plenty of time to make herself look pretty and feel sexy—”

“I don’t love you anymore. I don’t love us anymore! That’s what this is about, it’s not about Leeza.”

“Your secretary?” Her mother’s voice rose. “My God, she’s twenty years younger than you are!”

Leeza Martin. Her father’s secretary. Andie squeezed her eyes shut, picturing her, young and pretty, wearing short skirts and a bright smile. Andie used to look at her and think she was so cute, she used to look at her and long to be as cute herself.

Pretty Leeza had stolen her daddy.

Andie’s stomach turned, the taste of hatred bitter on her tongue. All the time Leeza had been smiling and being so nice to her, she’d been … been … sleeping with her father. Breaking her mother’s heart.

Her mother was sobbing, begging him to stay, pleading with him to think of the kids. He made a sound of disgust. “How could you want me to stay if I don’t want to be here? How could you want me to stay only for the children? That’s not a marriage. It’s a prison.”

Andie sprang away from the door as if it were on fire. The tears, the pain welled inside her until she thought she would burst. She longed to throw herself at him and beg him not to go. To cry and plead. Just as her mom was doing.

It wouldn’t do any good. There was someone he loved more than his family, someplace he would rather be than here with them.

He had promised he would always be here for her. Always. He’d told her that nothing in the world was more important than his family, their happiness.

He’d lied. He was a liar. A cheater.

Raven. Her friend would help her; her friend would make everything okay.

Andie turned and ran back to her bedroom. She closed and locked the door behind her, crossed to the window and opened it. With one last glance backward, she climbed over the sill and dropped to the ground.

It was late, the sounds and smells of the night assailed her senses: the perfume of some night-blooming flower; the call of the crickets and a bullfrog; the scream of a horn somewhere in the distance.

Andie picked her way across her yard and through the hedge that separated the Johnsons’ property from their’s. A car swung out of the driveway across the street, momentarily pinning her in its headlights. Andie froze, afraid that Mrs. Blum, a third-shift nurse at Thistledown General, would see her and call her mom.

Mrs. Blum moved on. So did Andie.

Within moments, Andie found herself below Raven’s bedroom window, tossing pebbles up at the glass and praying her friend would come. How many times had Raven come to Andie’s window, seeking comfort? Too many to count, Andie acknowledged.

Now it was her. Andie’s chest ached at the realization. For the first time ever, her home didn’t feel safe and happy, it didn’t feel … perfect anymore. For the first time, she wanted to be somewhere else.

The moment Andie saw her friend’s face, she started to cry. Raven slid the window up, her expression alarmed. “Andie?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“My parents are … they’re splitting up.”

“No way.” Raven shook her head, her expression disbelieving. “Not your parents.”

“Yes, they’re—” Andie struggled to find her voice. “My dad’s … he’s leaving us.”

Raven leaned farther out the window. “Hold on,” she whispered, the breeze catching her white-blond hair and blowing it across her face. She swept it back. “I’ll be right down.”

A couple minutes later she emerged from the house, fully dressed. She came to Andie and put her arms around her. “Oh, Andie. I can’t believe it.”

Andie pressed her face to her best friend’s shoulder for a moment, clinging to her. “Believe it. He called us all together for this bogus meeting about how much he still loves us and everything.”

She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. “Then I heard the whole truth later. He’s been screwing around on my mom.”

Raven gasped. “Not your dad!”

“With his secretary.”

“That perky little bimbo? She’s … she’s like a Barbie doll. Your mom’s way better than her.”

Andie sank to the ground and dropped her face into her hands. “I feel so awful. I don’t know what to do.”

Raven sat beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around Andie’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How did you make it?” Andie asked brokenly. “After your mom took off, I mean. I feel like I’m going to die.”

For a long moment, Raven was silent, as if lost in her own memories. Then she cleared her throat. “You know what I think? That parents suck. Especially fathers.”

“I always thought I had the best family in the whole world. I never thought my dad could do—”

“Anything wrong,” Raven supplied, and Andie nodded miserably. “You thought he was perfect. A hero, or something.”

As she spoke, something crept into her friend’s voice, something mean. Something Andie didn’t recognize. Andie looked at her. “Rave?”

Her friend met her eyes. “But he’s no hero, is he, Andie? He’s just another prick.”

Andie looked away. It hurt to think of her dad that way. It hurt almost more than she could bear.

“Let’s get Julie.”

“Julie?”

“Why not?” Raven smiled. “Screw ’em all. Let’s get out of here.”

“But your leg. Can you, I mean, doesn’t it hurt?”

Raven glanced down at the bandage and shrugged. “Yeah, it hurts. So what? Worst case, I blow out a few stitches.”

Andie swallowed hard. “How many did you get?”

“Twenty. Would have been less but the cut was so jagged. You should have seen my dad, he turned green and had to leave the room.” She shook her head. “I don’t get human nature. My dad turning green at that? My dad? Unbelievable.” She got to her feet and held out a hand. “Come on.”

Andie shook her head. “You’re going to hurt yourself. I don’t want that.”

“It’s for you, Andie. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter if I get hurt, not when it’s for you.”

Andie agreed without saying a word. She didn’t have to ask where they would go after they collected their friend; she knew. To their place, the abandoned toolshed on the edge of one of farmer Trent’s fields. They had discovered it two summers ago and immediately claimed it as their special place. Small, dilapidated and smelling faintly of oil, they loved it. Because it was theirs. A place where they could be together and be themselves, away from prying parents and annoying siblings.