Pretending Normal by Mary Campisi Read Free Book Online Page A

she is, sprawled under our blackberry bush, her wide body shriveling with grief. “Conchetta?” I kneel next to her, swing the flashlight in the smear of dirt near her head.
    She grabs my hand, claws her nails into my skin. “Help me, Sara. Please.” The single word drags itself through the dirt, twists around my throat.
    “Okay, but come on, get up out of the dirt.” I hand Nina the flashlight and help Conchetta to her knees, almost falling to the ground myself. She’s a big girl, not fat but broad and full. Like Nina says, a Roma tomato. Nina shoots a tiny path of light in front of us and we edge our way toward the willow. Conchetta shuffles like a sleepwalker behind me, mute, fingers digging into my flesh. “Here,” I say when we reach the bedspread. “Sit down.”
    She shrinks to the ground, dragging me with her. Nina flips off the flashlight and we are in darkness again, the world inked out around us. Black is my favorite color. It is the color of truth.
    “We’re good listeners,” Nina’s voice floats over us.
    Conchetta grips my arm tighter. “They say I must go live with my Aunt Rosarina once I graduate from school. She is crippled with arthritis and uses a walker. They say I must help her cook and clean and tend her garden. That it is my duty.” Her voice cracks. “They say I should forget these silly ideas about college because I will never go, I will never become a teacher.” And then, softly, “I will never leave Norwood.”
    “They can’t make you do that,” Nina says, and then, “can they?”
    She is so naive sometimes. “Did you try talking to them?” I ask.
    “There is no talking. There is only telling.”
    “Oh, so your house is just like the rest of ours .” Nina lets out a small laugh, but it falls flat between us.
    “ I’ve always done everything they asked, but this…” Conchetta’s fingers slip from my arm.
    “We ’ve got two more years until graduation,” I say, “that’s a lot of time.” If I had to stay in Norwood I would be choosing weapons of self-destruction. Frank’s hunting knife? His razor blade? The gun he keeps hidden in his sock drawer? Maybe I would gas myself in the ’57 Chevy.
    “We’ll help you,” Nina says, and I wonder how she plans to fight the Andolotti mob. “Sara and I will come up with a plan. I mean, nobody can force you to do something you don’t want to do. Hell, sorry for swearing Conchetta, it’s almost child abuse, isn’t it? Anyway, you’ll be on your own in two years. You can just leave, that’s what Sara and I plan to do.”
    “I don’t know how —”
    “You gotta stop thinking about your parents all the time and what they want for you. Do you want to be as screwed up as they are, because I’m sorry but any parent who tells their kid they have to give up her dreams to babysit an aunt is sick.”
    “But how —”
    “Don’t worry” —Nina is on a roll now—“we’ve got a lot of time to figure it out. Sara and I are experts at figuring ways out of here.”
    And that’s how Conchetta Louise Andolotti becomes our friend. But now that she’s our friend, we can’t ignore certain things like the bushiness of her eyebrows that we know is the source of cafeteria jokes, or the dark hair on her legs and upper lip that gets her the name Groucho. Friends help friends, right? So, Nina and I buy a razor and a hair removal kit from the A&P and when Frank’s at work and Kay’s at her friend, Tracy’s, we sneak Conchetta into my bathroom and start the makeover. When we’re finished, she runs her fingers along her newly shaven legs, mindless of the four Band-Aid spots on her knees and the smile that spreads over her face is brighter than a burst of Juicy Fruit. Before she leaves, we remove the rosary hanging around her neck and hand her three packs of Dentyne. Friends help friends, right?

Chapter 9
    She should have been home by now. How long does it take to get a cheese dog from Benny’s? I should have known by the way