Page 135 of Devils' Day Party
“Abortion laws in Arkansas are draconian,” I say, although that wouldn't be an excuse I'd use if I actually needed one. Women know when they're ready to become mothers, and if I wasn't, I wouldn't let some bullshit laws stop me from traveling out of state. “What sort of food are you into?” I ask quickly, trying to change the subject. The more I have to dig into this lie, the worse I feel. I shouldn't be lying to get Pearl to pay attention to me; that won't change shit for either of us.
“Mud Street Café,” she says easily, and I feel my gut churn slightly. The last time I was there, I was with Calix. We had a good fucking morning. I almost—almost—believed that I'd made it to September 26th for real. But then Pearl … And knowing she'd committed suicide was killing Calix, too.
“One of my favorites,” I say, trying to choke back my feelings.
We're quiet for the rest of the ride, pulling into the historic part of Eureka Springs and nabbing a lucky parking space, just two over from where Calix stole one just the other day.
We head inside and end up sitting at the exact same fucking table.
Clearly, the universe is messing with me.
“What sort of dress were you thinking of wearing to the party tonight?” Pearl asks absently, not even bothering to pick up the menu. When the waitress comes by to grab our drink order, she rattles off some fancy coffee that's not on the menu, and the woman doesn't even blink. “Make it two,” Pearl corrects, turning back to me as our waitress leaves.
“Actually, I'd made myself something new to wear,” I say with a small sigh. “But my little sisters—they're only eight—spilled some spaghetti sauce on it. I washed it and hung it up to dry, but this morning, it was gone.”
Pearl watches me, but says nothing, and I decide that there's something about her honey-brown stare that's a bit unnerving. Even if I manage to save her, we'll never really be friends. But that's okay. Not everyone in the world needs to agree or to be friends with each other, but we can all respect one another, show a little love, and get along.
“It was gone because I stole it,” she says, and my head snaps up from the menu, my eyes widening in disbelief.
“You … what?” I ask, blinking through the shock. “How? Why?”
“I have a friend who goes to Devil Springs High.” Pearl shrugs her shoulders, and I frown. “She lives in the same mobile home park as you.”
“So, calling me Trailer Park served what purpose?” I snap, before remembering that I'm here to be a small kindness in Pearl's day.
“It pissed you off, didn't it?” she retorts, shrugging again. Here and there I see someone glance over at our pleated skirts and blazers. They all know Crescent Prep and the rich city kids who populate it. Except, I'm not one of them, the only local at a local school. “Anyway, I saw the dress, and I just … took it. I thought about wearing it to the party; I probably wouldn't have.”
“Why would you take my dress?” I ask, confused. I close my menu and glance up at Pearl. On day one, her admission is something that would’ve made me angry. Furious, probably. But after all I’ve been through, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. Perspective is important, isn’t it? Something that seems so horrible one minute, is like a drop in the ocean the next.
“Because you always look so put out and sad,” she says, gritting her teeth in a way that reminds me of Raz. My heart jumps in my chest, and I try really hard not to think about the day at the spring, and how his hand felt wrapped around mine. “And you have no right to be.” My mouth drops open as Pearl says to me what I almost verbatim said to Calix. “You have two parents who love you, two sisters, two best friends. Nobody took your baby away, nobody shipped you off to live in another state because they're embarrassed of you. Your family lets you—no encourages you—to do whatever you want, dye your hair however you want, paint whatever the fuck you want. And then you have the audacity to act like life is so hard?” She shrugs again and shakes her head. “Look, I'll give the dress back, in light of this bullshit with Calix, but you need to get your shit together.”
I just stare at her, the girl who I caught cutting herself in the train car, the one who shot herself during a Devils' Day Party days prior. And here she is, telling me to get my shit together.
Fuck, maybe she's right?
No, no, she is right.
