The Starfish Sisters: A Novel(28)

“Give me a hug,” Dad said, and pulled back to hold my arms in an earnest way. “Think about what you want, honey.”

I nodded. Kissed Amma and bolted out the door.

Suze

Phoebe ran all the way to our house in the rain, a big black umbrella over her head. She shook it off on the porch, so she didn’t see me at first. It gave me a chance to fill myself up with her actual presence. Her dark, curly hair, her skinny arms. Her sweater was soft pink, something I wanted to touch. She was the first friend who really saw me, saw past the clothes and the hair, and liked me for me. She listened to me in a way that made me feel heard.

I was watching her shake off the rain, and smooth her curly hair, and then turn toward the door, where I was waiting. When she saw me, she gave a little screech. I laughed and pushed open the screen door. We hugged. Hugged hard. I smelled Herbal Essence shampoo, and the sweater was soft as could be. She pulled back and looked at my chest. “Are you wearing a bra?”

I grinned and pulled my shoulders back. “Yes!” I glanced over my shoulder to be sure my dad was nowhere in sight. “My dad is writing his sermon. Let’s go.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs. In my bedroom, I closed the door and unbuttoned my shirt and showed off the white bra Grandma had taken me to buy. “Now you’re not the only one.”

“They’re getting big fast!” She looked down at her own chest. Beneath the pink sweater, small breasts pushed up, but she honestly didn’t even really need a bra yet.

“Can I try on the sweater?” I said, and felt stupid. “I mean, you don’t have to let me.”

“No, it’s okay.” She peeled it off, revealing her ribs and Young Miss bra. “It’s cashmere.”

“It’s so soft,” I cried, pulling it over my head. The fabric brushed my skin like breath.

She eyed me. “That looks way better on you than it does on me. I would send it to you, but my mom would kill me.”

“No, that’s why I brought you up here. I have to show you something!”

I gave her back the sweater and, moving a chair against the door, opened my closet. From a box in the back, I took out a peasant blouse made of lightweight cotton, the fabric printed with paisleys. I’d laced the sleeves and neckline with red velvet ribbon, and it was beautiful. I pulled it on over my head. “I have really learned a lot about sewing.”

“Oh my gosh!”

I held out my arms and felt the power of the transformation. “I feel like a hippie when I wear this.”

“Where can you wear it? Your dad can’t have changed his mind that much.”

“He doesn’t mind the peasant blouses.” I glance at the door as if he might burst through. “The jeans I keep at school and change when I get there.”

Phoebe laughs. “You’re so smart.”

I pulled jeans on and pulled my shapeless dress over all of it, hiding the peasant blouse. My dad didn’t care if I wore pants under my dresses. I just couldn’t wear them alone. “C’mon,” I said, and tugged her down the stairs. “Let’s go meet Joel.”



He was waiting for us by the movie theater, as we’d arranged. I saw him leaning against the wall, smoking, and suddenly got worried that my only two friends in the world wouldn’t like each other. Joel looked hard with his long hair and jean jacket and the cigarette. His acne made his face red, and today it looked aggravated, which made me feel protective. “He is a really good person,” I said. “He’s such a good artist. You guys will like each other a lot.”

Phoebe said in a funny voice, “That’s him?”

“Yeah. Joel!” I called. I’d shed my dress and hidden it in my backpack. I’d taken out the braids and shaken my hair out, and it flowed like a cloak around me, heavy and too much, but I had discovered people noticed me when it was loose like this. “This is Phoebe.”

He eyed her, lifting his chin her direction while he took another drag off his cigarette. He tossed it aside and held out his hand. Phoebe held hers out and they shook, and it seemed like there was a strange little space between them when he didn’t let go that fast, and she was very quiet. “Hi” was all she said.

A ping of jealousy rippled through me, but I wasn’t sure who I wanted to keep to myself. I plunged between them, taking each one by the arm. “Movie is going to start! Let’s go!” But I really wanted to get off the street in case my dad was finished with his sermon or somebody from church saw me.

“What are we seeing? I didn’t bring any money.”

I point at the marquee. “Billy Jack! It came!”

“What?” Phoebe’s mouth opened. “Cool. But I still didn’t bring any money.”

“I got it. I’ve made some money babysitting and sewing.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she said.

“My treat,” I said. “Both of you.”

Phoebe

Joel had the shiniest, longest hair I’d ever seen on a boy. It fell like a satin curtain over his shoulders. Light sank into it and glowed outward. My fingers itched to feel it. He did have acne, like Suze told me, but it didn’t take away from him much. His dark eyes rested on my face easily, as if he liked it, and I felt something in me open, expand. His hand gave me a zing, and when I would have let go, he hung on.