“What is this, first grade?” Julia asked.
Julia pressed her toes up against the edge. Warm wood vibrated through the soles of her flip-flops, like a dryer set to low. It really did feel like something was down there. Something alive.
“This is my Rat Pack. Take the aspy and go back to Brooklyn. Lock him in a loony bin where he belongs.”
Julia didn’t look to see Larry’s reaction. She knew he’d be grabbing for himself, maybe walking in a circle. He didn’t cry when people teased him. It happened too often. At school, on the bus, at the grocery store—there weren’t enough tears. Instead, he retreated. His eyes went dim and faraway, and they stayed faraway even after the teasing was done. Every time that happened, she felt like she’d lost a piece of him that she’d never get back. She’d once explained this to Shelly, that it was her job to keep him whole and alive, only she didn’t know how. She was so afraid of failing. The one thing that made her special in her family was protecting him.
“I heard for a fact that the school shrink diagnosed him mentally retarded,” Shelly said. “Imbecile level, which is better than idiot but worse than moron.”
Julia charged the slab. Crrrrck! The wood creaked under their combined weight and she didn’t care right then if she fell. All she wanted to do was slap that dirty, toothy grin off Shelly’s mouth. “Don’t you dare talk shit about my brother. I’ll fight you anytime.”
“You dumbasses need to get off. It’s gonna break,” Dave called from the edge.
Hearing that, Shelly bent low, then sprang, tucking her legs like the slab was a trampoline. As soon as she landed, the knothole split an inch on either side:
Crrrck!
“Stop!” Dave shouted, angry as spit. “Seriously, Shelly. You wanna die, go ahead. Don’t take Julia with you.”
By now Ella, Sam, the Markles, and Lainee had arrived. They’d surrounded the sinkhole on every side.
“You shouldn’t do that, Shelly!” Ella called. “Mom says—”
Shelly started laughing, only no sound came out. Her whole body convulsed. Without all that hair, there wasn’t anything to soften her features. Her big eyes looked like they’d receded into their sockets; her cheekbones and jaw jutted, sharp and too defined. She was the thirty-year-old version of herself that had lived a hard, bitter life. She jumped again, high and hard.
Crrrraaakk!
The slab bowed, tearing even more. Julia crouched down. She’d forgotten about her anger. All she wanted was off this damn slab. Please, God. Please, please, please don’t let me fall in. Don’t let the hole get me…
The slab got still. The Rat Pack got quiet. Everything slowed, so the only sound was the angry cicada heat-song.
“Stop,” Julia said, low and loud, even though her throat still hurt. She was in the center, afraid to stand. Worried any movement at all would send them both tumbling down.
“Ask nice,” Shelly answered.
“Crawl off, Julia. Leave her!” Charlie called.
“Stick your hands through!” the Markles heckled like brainless stereo speakers.
“Please, Shelly. I’m asking nice. Stop jumping,” Julia said.
Shelly walked off the slab. It cricked and moaned with every step. “Julia’s a chicken and a loser, but we all knew that when we voted not to hang out with her.”
Still crouched, Julia gathered her courage, trying to decide whether to stand and walk off, or to be smart and crawl.
“My mom’s throwing another barbeque once the hole is closed. To celebrate. Everybody except Julia can come,” Shelly said. “Julia has to admit she’s a lying hypocrite. Then we can all be friends again, and I’ll stop holding it against her, that her family is a buncha sluts and criminals and crazies. So are you gonna say you’re sorry, Julia?”
“I don’t even like barbeques,” Dave said.
“Stick your hand inside!” Michael cried.
“Stick it! Stick it!” Mark added in exactly the same voice.
Julia knew the smart thing to do, what her parents and brother would want her to do: crawl off this stupid slab before it broke open, apologize, and move on with this hot, shitty day.
But it was one thing to avoid her friend-turned-enemy; it was another to buckle under her. She didn’t want Larry to see that. He’d think it made Shelly right, that he didn’t deserve decent treatment. If she apologized, Dave Harrison and Charlie Walsh might still act nice, but they’d think less of her. She wouldn’t be an equal anymore. The rest of these kids weren’t strong personalities. They’d internalize the pecking order, that she could be treated badly without repercussion, that she and Larry were the lowest people on the block.