Outcast by Susan Oloier Read Free Book Online Page B

fine.” Her sniffles gave her away.
    Jake looped an arm around her and walked her down the hallway like a drunken woman who needed sobering. Their tones became inaudible, so I trailed behind, feeling throbs of self-pity because he hadn’t even acknowledged me. But Chad did. Vanilla ? Yeah, maybe. But he had my number, not Trina’s.
     
    I arrived home well before curfew. My mom and dad lounged on the couch watching a rerun of House . My mother turned down the volume much to the chagrin of my father.
    “You’re home early. Everything all right?”
    “Yeah. It just wasn’t what we thought it would be.”
    My mother watched me, waiting for more detailed information. “Whose dress is that?”
    “Grace’s. She didn’t like the one I brought.”
    “A little adult, don’t you think?”
    I shrugged. “I’m going to bed now.”
    “Goodnight.” My dad called out as he turned up the volume of the television set.
    “Are you wearing makeup?” My mother stopped me abruptly with her question.
    “I don’t know.”
    “You know the rules about wearing makeup.”
    “It won’t happen again. Is Becca home?”
    “No. She’s spending the night at Gloria’s house.”
    I remembered seeing her with Carl, pressed against him in a corner, folding herself into him. Mom thought she went to a pajama party at Gloria’s house. How naïve could she be? Becca had a pajama party all right, but not the kind my mother would ever approve of. However, I was the one who’d be forced into mass in the morning. While Becca reaped the benefits of her lies and stories, I repented for them.
    I changed into shorts and a T-shirt and crawled between the covers of my bed. I closed my eyes and relived the dance with Chad , reveling in Trina’s reaction to it. I laughed out loud, thinking how she must have curdled when I handed him my phone number.
    Then Jake walked through my thoughts. I imagined myself dancing with him instead of Chad , wondering how he smelled and what cologne he wore. I fantasized about his arms enveloping me, pulling me close. If Grace hadn’t been so pathetic and weepy, he surely would have noticed me, seen how grown-up I looked. Right? Maybe not. I hit the back button in my mind and played out the dance with Chad again as I drifted off to sleep.
     
    “Let’s go, Noelle. I don’t want to be late. Five minutes. Do you hear me?”
    “Yes.” I swallowed my toothpaste.
    For the first time that school year, I couldn’t get out of Sunday mass. I dried off, ran a comb through my hair, and dressed.
    As we stepped onto the walkway, we noticed it. A front yard decorated with toilet paper. It covered the orange and palm trees, as well as the mailbox. My mother appeared shocked that her precious landscaping was doused with such foul material.
    “Who’s responsible for this?” She looked at me as if I carried a direct connection to the perpetrator.
    “I don’t know.”
    “We can’t go, leaving the house like this,” she hissed.
    I worked hard not to smile at the reprieve this gave me from church.
    “You think this is funny?”
    “No.” But secretly I did. It almost seemed like a message from God that He didn’t need me to go to mass.
    My dad pulled out of the garage, saw the litter, and stepped out of the car.
    “Do you see this, Jack?” Of course he saw the whole thing. How could anyone miss it?
    “We can’t go and leave the house looking like this,” she repeated like a looped recording. “Damnit!”
    “I’ll stay home and clean it up,” I offered.
    “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
    “I’m just offering. If I stay, then we won’t all have to miss church this morning.”
    The wheels turned, and she reluctantly nodded her approval. “All right. But I want it all cleaned up by the time we get home.”
    She crammed herself into the car. As the vehicle backed out of the driveway, my mother rolled down her window. “And you’re going to church next Sunday.”
    My dad pulled away, not allowing her to