Her father was a doctor and she used to live in Toledo, Ohio. She didn’t like Connecticut so far, but they were going to visit Mystic soon, her father said.
“You know what’s at Mystic?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Boats?”
They sat under a smallish tree at the edge of the playground. She raised the plaid of her skirt and nudged a beetle off her thigh. “The nuns are nicer here,” she said, watching Sister Theresa.
“Some are nice,” he said.
“They don’t hit you so much.”
Kristi flopped down next to them. “It’s hot out there,” she announced. “You guys got all the shade.” She studied a kickball game across the yard before turning to Laura and squinting. “Who’re you?”
“This is Laura,” Biddy said.
Kristi peered at her. “Do you have a sister in the first grade?”
“No.” Laura said.
“Are you an orphan?”
Laura looked up, wide-eyed. “No.”
“Look like an orphan.”
“Kristi,” Biddy warned.
“You’re not very nice,” Laura said.
“Well, you’re an assface.”
“Kristi get out of here,” he said. “Go sit under your own tree.”
She stood and left. “Assface,” she called over her shoulder.
Laura squinted after her.
“My sister’s creepy sometimes,” he said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She started to cry. She said, “I don’t know anyone here.”
“It’s okay,” he said meaninglessly, surprised. “You know me. You’ll know other people.” She stared moodily at the tree, a lone hair lifting from her head in the breeze. “I don’t know many people either,” he offered. “And I’ve been here my whole life.”
She didn’t cheer up. He looked off in the direction she was looking.
Sister Theresa was approaching, gesturing for them to assemble with the others. She had a small oval of blood inside her nose, dark in the shadow of her nostril.
“What happened to Sister?” Laura breathed as Sister came closer.
“Probably picked it too hard,” he said, and she laughed, startling him. Sister stopped, equally surprised, and dabbed her nose with a handkerchief and noticed the blood. She looked up at them and walked over. She waited.
“My bloody nose is funny, Laura?” she said. “Is it funny?”
They didn’t speak.
“That’s very nice. You see someone bleeding and you laugh.” She paused. “I think you should stay after with me today, young lady.”
“No,” he said. “That’s not fair. She wasn’t laughing at you. She was laughing at something I said.”
“Oh?” Sister held the handkerchief back up to her nose. “And what was that, Jack Benny?”
He looked away, sullen.
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Was it that terrible?” She dabbed again. “You might as well tell me. You’re staying after as well.” She gestured toward the school. “You’ve held up the whole recess line now. Not brave enough to tell me?”
“I said you must have picked it too hard,” he said.
She slapped him across the face.
Laura drew in her breath sharply, and his eyes filled with water. Sister stood them both up and followed them back to the recess line.
They stayed in separate rooms after school and Laura was released a half hour before he was. He wasn’t allowed to leave his seat. He spent some time in Three Rivers Stadium but couldn’t find the will to stay and was beginning to derive less from it in any event.
On his way home he thought, I could write a note.
Dear Mom and Dad.
I’m all right. It’s real nice here and everybody’s nice to me. I’m learning how to do all sorts of things. I found a new dog and he’s really good. I’m eating a lot. I’m sorry I left. Today we went for a hike and saw farms and mountains. Today we went swimming. Today we went skiing.
Where was he going to go, he thought. How was he going to go anywhere? He didn’t know where to go, didn’t have any money, and didn’t know anyone. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go.
I don’t know anything, he thought, and threw his lunch box into his yard as he came down the street.
“Kristi,” he called up the stairs as he climbed. “Don’t do that again.” The bannister slipped and whistled under his palm.
“What are you fighting about?” his mother called. “Stop it.”
He called her again, and went into her bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
“Shh,” she said.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m watchin’ Mr. Fraser back the car out.”
He went to the window. “What for?”
“He’s runnin’ over his rake.”
“His rake? Where?”
“There.” She pointed at the long, thin-handled rake, prongs up, lying in the driveway.
“Why don’t you tell him?”
She looked at him. “I want to see if he sees it.”
They both watched, charmed into silence as Mr. Fraser edged the car out slowly, looking farther down the driveway. The bumper crept nearer so incrementally that the scene began to resemble something from an inept thriller. The prongs disappeared under the car’s shadow.
Fraser stopped and got out of the car, checking behind it, and pulled the rake out of the way.
Kristi turned from the window. “I’m thirsty.”
“Kristi, don’t act like that with Laura anymore.”
“You like her.”
He stared at her. “What do you care?”
“I don’t have to like her just because you do.”
“You don’t have to like her. Just don’t be mean to her. Don’t be so mean to anyone.”
She sat on the bed, bored. “Can we get a cat since Lady’s dead?” she said.
“Shut up.” He looked at her blue eyes, her nose. “We don’t need a cat. And you’d just treat it awful anyway.”
“Well I wouldn’t kill it.”
They could hear noises outside. She rummaged in a drawer for a sweater, seemingly realizing she might have gone too far.
“Why are you so mean to everybody?” he asked, in almost a whisper. He very much wanted to know.
“I’m not. Leave me alone.” She found a bright red sweater and pulled it over her hair.
He felt sad, beaten in some way. He said, “Put on a jacket if you’re going out.” I sound like them, he thought.
“Leave me alone.” She went to the stairs. “And get outta my room.”
“He’s always in my room,” he heard her complain to his mother as she passed through the kitchen.
On the stairs later that evening, he heard his father and mother discussing him. “Well, we gotta do something,” his father said.
He couldn’t hear his mother’s response.
“Well, Jesus Christ, he walks around with his face down to here. Everything is ‘I don’t care’ or ‘I don’t feel like it,’ and he’s got no interest in anything anymore. Now all I have to hear is that his grades are suffering.”
His mother said something.
“Well, I got Al Greaves looking for me, for a dog. Something small, you know, and it won’t cost us anything, and I’ll make sure it’s not something that’s gonna take your hand off.”
“You think it’s that simple?” His mother was closer now.
“What do you want me to do? Hire a psychiatrist? Bring in a team from Yale?”
“He’s unhappy about more than the dog and you know it.”
“Well, let’s start small, all right? We’ll surprise him with the dog, and if he ends up strangling it then we’ll know what our next move should be.”
Dishes collided and rattled.