Five Flavors Of Dumb Part 9

I waited, but Finn didn't pa.s.s along the message. I gave him my death-ray stare, but he returned it with interest, then slung his book bag over his shoulder and skulked away with a shake of his head.

I felt myself redden. "If you leave, Kallie, my mother will take you to court for that money."

"That's crazy," she moaned, but she looked worried.

"No one made you sign the contract."

Kallie took a deep breath and readied herself for another a.s.sault. But when she couldn't think of anything to say, she began tearing up, right there at the entrance to the school.

I was suddenly acutely aware that our discussion had attracted quite a crowd, most of them gawking at Kallie like she was in the process of spontaneously combusting. Which, in a way, I suppose she was.

"I-I can't believe you're doing this," she cried.

To tell the truth, neither could I, but I didn't have time to say that, as Kallie was already sprinting toward the girls' bathroom. And however bad I'd felt the night before, I felt a thousand times worse now.

I tried to shut out the incriminating glares as I shuffled after her. My hand was shaking as I pulled open the restroom door. Thankfully we were the only girls in there, which meant there were no other witnesses as she bit her lip to prevent her whole face from creasing up.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she cried.

"What are you talking about?"

She didn't answer. She knew I understood her.

"It's my job to make sure you stay in Dumb," I said.

"And what if Tash wanted to leave? Would you treat her the same way?"

I rolled my eyes. It was a stupid question, but I couldn't exactly deny she had a point.

Kallie leaned against a sc.r.a.ped porcelain sink and ripped a paper towel from the dispenser. She dabbed at her eyes slowly, deliberately, like she needed time to think. "Seriously. Why do you hate me?"

I snorted, considered saying "Why the h.e.l.l do you think?" Only it occurred to me that Kallie was the one in tears, not me. While I was busily stating my case, she was scrabbling around for a sign that I could tolerate her existence.

"I don't hate you, Kallie. It's just . . . look at you. You're beautiful and popular and . . . you have really nice clothes." (I couldn't believe that with four years to prepare, that's the best I could do, but her crying kind of threw me off my game.) There were still tears in her eyes, but she looked stronger, more defiant now that she had something to work with. "My mom is a supervisor at Nordstrom Rack," she explained, her voice steady. "All my clothes were bought with her employee discount, and they were imperfect to begin with. Plus, everything is last season."

I tried to think of a suitable reb.u.t.tal, but failed.

"I also share a one-bedroom condo with my mom because my dad hasn't paid child support in seven years," she continued.

I should have been sympathetic, but I just felt defensive, like she'd unfairly withheld evidence from the prosecution. "You're still popular though," I said, sounding like an eight-year-old.

"You mean the friends that started walking away when you made me cry? The ones who didn't follow me in here? The ones who like to remind me that my clothes are so last season?"

"Then why do you still hang out with them?"

"Who else should I hang out with? Tash? Will? You and Ed? You've all made it clear how much you want me around."

I felt exhausted, and it wasn't just the strain of lip-reading in a room that echoed like a cathedral. Despising Kallie from afar had always been an unwavering constant in my life, like Finn being late, and USS Immovable Immovable's engine turning over twelve times before starting. If I'd been wrong about her, what else had I been wrong about?

"It's only Tash that doesn't like you being in the band," I conceded. "And maybe Will. Why did you even want to join Dumb in the first place?"

"Because I love music. I've wanted to be in that band for ages, and I've been practicing, honestly. I thought there was a chance I could join last year, but then Josh said the others wouldn't agree to it. He said he needed one more member in favor of me joining, so he wouldn't be outvoted. And then you became manager."

As I processed the remark, I tried to convince myself it was all just a coincidence. Surely Josh wouldn't go to the trouble of installing me as manager just to get Kallie on board. But then I pictured him with his hands on Kallie's b.u.t.t, his come-on as subtle as a sledgehammer. Making me temporary manager had probably seemed like a small price to pay for increasing his chances of hooking up with Kallie. If that had been his plan, he'd have to be disappointed by the early returns on his investment.

"Has Josh asked you out?" I asked finally. I knew it was the million-dollar question, and I didn't have the energy to broach the subject gently.

"No. Well, he did last year, but I wasn't really interested."

"Are you going to date him now?"

Kallie narrowed her eyes. "I like watching him perform. He's funny, and really smart, and he's got so much energy, but ..."

I didn't need to hear what came next. "But" was the only word that mattered.

Kallie had stopped crying now, but the recent waterworks imbued her with a melancholy beauty that was possibly even more striking than her usual s.e.x appeal. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she contemplating the very real possibility that we were both p.a.w.ns in a chess game that Josh was controlling like a Grandmaster?

She adjusted her shoulder bag (which may not have been a designer label after all). "I know managing Dumb must be very difficult," she said, "but in the past week I've had my guitar unplugged during a recording session, and been cussed out by Tash. Now you're threatening to sue me if I quit. I don't know what to do."

I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Me too. But I still want you to know that I think you're a really good manager. And I don't hate you at all. I don't even hate you for having blond hair, and gorgeous blue eyes, and a chest people can actually see. Or for the way people listen when you open your mouth." She began tearing up again. "You're deaf . . . but I may as well be dumb."

She didn't wait for a response before leaving, but that was just as well-nothing I could have said would have made things right.

I leaned over the sink beside me, turned on the faucet, and splashed my face with cold water. Her accusations had been uncomfortably spot-on, yet the line that kept replaying was the one about my appearance. I tried to dismiss her observations, pretend that in the heat of the moment she'd exaggerated for effect, but when I looked in the mirror I saw the same pale blue eyes that she had seen. And while my dirty blond hair wasn't going to turn any heads, it could have been worse. Even my b.o.o.bs were at least a cup size larger than Kallie's. None of it changed who I was-I was as unspectacular as before-but I couldn't ignore the fact that Kallie had really looked at me, and in doing so had found herself lacking. I grabbed a paper towel and dried my face before I was tempted to undertake any more self-a.n.a.lysis in the mirror.

I waited a couple minutes before leaving the bathroom. I wanted to be sure that Kallie had gone, and I hoped the rest of the foyer had emptied too. But when I pushed open the door I found Finn and Belson engaged in another heated debate.

Finn spun around and pointed at me, like he'd just delivered a decisive blow. For his part, Belson staggered back like a punch-drunk boxer.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I told Mr. Belson I was waiting for you, but he gave me detention," blurted Finn, signing the entire sentence as well just to be sure I got it.

I couldn't hide my shock. "Mr. Belson?"

Belson furrowed his brow. "He's loitering on school premises again, listening at the girls' bathroom. I just thought ..." He ran out of steam, clearly unsure exactly what he had had thought. "I've got my eye on you, Vaughan." He waggled a finger at Finn as he shuffled away. thought. "I've got my eye on you, Vaughan." He waggled a finger at Finn as he shuffled away.

I waited until we were completely alone. Were you really listening? Were you really listening? I signed. Finn nodded. I signed. Finn nodded. You're a pervert. You're a pervert.

"I'd rather be a pervert than whatever you are," he shot back, no longer even making the pretense of signing.

I'm not discussing this.

I turned away from him, but he grabbed my arm and spun me around. "Some manager you've turned out to be. Kallie gets blistered by the other members of the band, and you go after her instead of them."

You don't know anything about it.

"I know enough."

Don't tell me how to do my job.

Finn closed his eyes, shook his head slowly. "Whatever. Let's just go home."

"Whatever," I droned. "You can walk."

His eyebrows shot up. "You can't do that. It's not your car."

"Then drive yourself." I tossed the keys at his feet.

Finn bent down and picked them up, but his eyes never left me. He wanted to say more, that was obvious, but he had the self-restraint to clamp his jaw shut and stomp away.

I hung around after he left, waiting for him to return and apologize. The lights in the foyer dimmed, and I was aware of how completely the school had emptied, all the pent-up energy of another stressful day sucked out in one efficient maneuver. I felt so tired. I just wanted to go home.

When Finn didn't come back after thirty seconds, I stepped outside. It occurred to me he'd probably decided to run home, knowing that without the keys I'd have to traipse after him. Quite a smart plan, actually; I should've thought of it.

But I was mistaken. Instead, in the far corner of the parking lot, USS Immovable Immovable shuddered slightly as the engine misfired. I inhaled sharply, tried to convince myself that Finn wouldn't actually do anything as stupid as I knew he was capable of, but then the car shuddered again. I broke into a sprint, hoping against hope that he'd realize I'd left the car in gear to stop it from rolling backward. shuddered slightly as the engine misfired. I inhaled sharply, tried to convince myself that Finn wouldn't actually do anything as stupid as I knew he was capable of, but then the car shuddered again. I broke into a sprint, hoping against hope that he'd realize I'd left the car in gear to stop it from rolling backward.

I suspect that of all the sounds in the universe, the dead crunch of metal is the one I hear just as clearly as anyone else. I know I watched in disbelief as the car lurched forward, like it was trying to steal a kiss from the concrete wall.

Finn was climbing out of the car when I reached him, so I shoved him back onto the driver's seat. He looked like he might try to get out again, but then gave up and cowered in the seat, bawling like Grace when you take her pacifier away.

I hadn't seen Finn cry in years, and it made me pause. I didn't feel comfortable shoving him again, even though it seemed like an entirely rational response given the situation, so I inspected the damage: a crumpled front b.u.mper, but thankfully nothing more. I leaned against the car and waited, as the rain drizzled down and the air chilled around us.

A minute later Finn reemerged, clearly distraught. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, he signed with shaking hands. he signed with shaking hands.

I just shrugged. What the h.e.l.l is going on? Is this about Kallie? What the h.e.l.l is going on? Is this about Kallie?

Finn grimaced, shook his head.

Then what? It can't be about signing for me.

He nodded slowly.

Why? What is it you're so embarra.s.sed about? Me? Or the signing?

He kicked the tire angrily. Neither. I'm p.i.s.sed you treat me like your personal slave, even when you don't really need my help. Neither. I'm p.i.s.sed you treat me like your personal slave, even when you don't really need my help.

I don't treat you like my slave.

You do. You never thank me, and whenever I don't want to sign, you threaten me.

I sensed the blame-balance s.h.i.+fting, and I hated feeling defensive after Finn had just crashed the car crashed the car.

Why is it such a big deal for you? I asked, my face tense, my gestures sharper. I asked, my face tense, my gestures sharper.

Because when everyone hears your words coming from my mouth, they forget I'm interpreting. They think I agree with you.

No, they don't.

Yes, they do. And you don't even notice. When you and Kallie left, everyone stared at me like I was the one who'd made her cry, even though I'd refused to sign for you by then. It's totally unfair.

What's unfair is how I'm deaf but you're not. Have you thought about that?

But I've done everything I can. Other kids learned Spanish or French, but not me. I'm fluent in American Sign Language, and I did it for you. Not for Oma and Poppy. I did it so that I could talk to you, because you're my sister.

So you want me to thank you more often, is that it?

Finn shook his head. I don't know. . . . I guess I just want to feel like I have my own ident.i.ty . . . that when we get home Mom and Dad will stop telling me I'm a shadow of you, that if I had one percent of your work ethic maybe I'd amount to something. I don't know. . . . I guess I just want to feel like I have my own ident.i.ty . . . that when we get home Mom and Dad will stop telling me I'm a shadow of you, that if I had one percent of your work ethic maybe I'd amount to something.

It was hard to believe this was my brother speaking. Gone was the bravado and the don't-give-a-c.r.a.p, replaced by a sh.e.l.l in search of rea.s.surance. It occurred to me that a good sister would have known exactly what to say in that moment, to rea.s.sure him he was just plain wrong-that he had an ident.i.ty and that we all loved him for who he was. But something told me that even in his weakened state, Finn's bulls.h.i.+t detector would be functioning perfectly.

"Come on," I said. "Let's see if the car still drives."

CHAPTER 24.

Halfway through dinner Finn still hadn't confessed, and I sure as heck wasn't about to put my my head on the chopping block. Neither Mom nor Dad had noticed the damage, but they would in the morning, and we couldn't drive around forever with a front b.u.mper that was liable to fall off at any moment. head on the chopping block. Neither Mom nor Dad had noticed the damage, but they would in the morning, and we couldn't drive around forever with a front b.u.mper that was liable to fall off at any moment.

Mom waved at me, stirring me from my reverie. "How is the band these days?" she asked.

I tried to ignore the look Finn gave me. "Good," I said.

"What about the interview last night?"

"It went great. We got some good press."

"That's terrific. What kind of press?"

It was the first time anyone at home had shown genuine interest, and I have to admit, I really liked it. "Well, there are some bloggers saying that-"

Suddenly Mom whipped around and gazed at Grace, then at Dad. Before I could catch up, Mom had jumped out of her seat and was showering Grace with kisses.

"Did you hear that?" Mom grinned, her hands cradling her face in wonderment. I shook my head. "Grace said 'Mama'!" Mom kissed her again for good measure. "She said her first word. My beautiful, perfect little Gracie said her first word."

Dad was already out of his seat and hugging Mom, while Grace beamed to the delight of her parents.

"Say it again, Gracie," shouted Dad, practically begging her to repeat her death-defying feat of pure awesomeness. "Say it again, you amazing little-"

"I crashed the car today!" The words tumbled out of my mouth so quickly they caught even me by surprise. Mom and Dad turned away from Grace and gave me their full attention. "I left it in gear. I don't know how it happened. I've never done it before."

Dad sat down again, so slow and controlled. "Is it damaged?"