“Shhh!” Girl hissed at her brother, “We’ll get caught.” Brother hit her with a cushion and they both buried their faces in the fluffy pile, which only kind of worked to stifle their giggles. The children were about as quiet as a pack of chattering squirrels, but they were bored and wanted Father to get up; they just didn’t want to get in trouble for rousing him. The children could hear Father and #Four stirring and knew they had succeeded.
Instead of getting out of bed, though, Father and #Four started kissing. #Four lay on top of him, their uncovered naked bodies squishing into each other and moving back and forth. Girl and Brother watched silently. She had never seen anyone have sex before, but based on the description in the books Mother gave her, she knew that was what they were doing. Girl was fascinated—it had never occurred to her that women could be on top during sex.
When they were done Father called “Good morning” to the children. “Come snuggle,” he said, and Brother and Girl climbed into the futon bed with them, even though it didn’t seem quite like something they should be doing. After a few minutes, Father went to pee and everyone got off the futon. Girl had heard about condoms but didn’t see one. She didn’t know there were invisible ways to prevent pregnancy, so she wondered if Margaret was going to have a baby now.
“I went inside #Four,” Brother told her later, but she didn’t believe him.
“Father rubbed between my legs,” she lied, trying to keep up with Brother. She knew any flopping contact was accidental … probably. She told herself that she should have been wearing pajamas bottoms or underpants, like a normal girl. She knew that if they told anyone, they would be told that they should have known better, and if they told Stepmother they wouldn’t ever be allowed to go to Alaska again.
listwood
During the school year, Girl walked one of two ways to Listwood Elementary. Normally Girl went down Belmeade to the path—a cut through between two houses with a dirt track worn in the grass by dozens of children’s feet. From there it was three more blocks to the main entrance. Sometimes, though, Girl turned left on Gardham and walked four blocks straight over, then cut behind the high school to arrive at the back of the elementary building. It was the same distance either way, but the walk got boring, so she mixed it up. If Girl went behind the high school, she passed the smokers on the corner, just off school grounds. She was afraid of the loud teenagers with their tight jeans and denim or leather jackets, because sometimes they’d jump out at the little kids and yell, sticking their tongues out like Gene Simmons. Sometimes Girl saw her cousin Peter, with his black curly hair and athlete’s build—he was so cool. If she saw him she knew she was safe. He’d always say hi, even though Girl was just a dorky kid and he was a teenager. Once past the smokers, Girl cut across the high school running track, walking on the top crust of the deep snow. Mostly she was light enough to walk on the ice layer on top of the snow, but sometimes the ice crust broke and she fell into the snow up to her crotch. Girl was proud to be so little, and never wanted to be tall. Her sister Juli was a dwarf, and she wanted to be just like her. The snow on the field was blinding white, like being inside a diamond. She had to squint as she walked in her ugly, cheap, brown duck boots. She wore bread bags over her dirty socks because her boots never stayed dry.
Girl never had enough socks, so the ones she had turned permanently gray from too few washings. She hated when the colored bands at the top didn’t match. More than that, she hated when she wore the tube socks the wrong way and the heel was on the top and it rubbed a red spot on her skin and wore a hole in the sock. Girl couldn’t figure out how to put her socks on the right way, even though she was in third grade. She’d hold them up and look for the dented-out heel part, but because she got it wrong so often, Girl could rarely find it just by looking. Once on her feet, she didn’t have time to take them off and try again. When Girl walked across the snow in her brown duck boots the heel of her sock rubbed the top of her foot raw, and she wished she had turned the sock around before she left.
Girl liked to lie on her back and make snow angels before dinner, looking up at the stars. She wanted to make a snow fort, and had a plastic brick-making form, but her endurance never matched her ambition. It was better to find a drift left by the snow plow on the six-foot-wide strip of lawn between the sidewalk and the street. If Girl and Brother found a big enough pile, they would hollow it out together, making a fast though inconveniently located fort. She was a girl who liked taking shortcuts.
The best thing in winter, almost as good as Christmas, was when Mother half-woke Girl, whispering, “You don’t have to get up, it’s a snow day.” Girl’s bed was pushed up against the wall, and the window gently seeped cold air onto her cheeks and the tip of her nose, her body warm in footie-pajamas and wrapped in her puffy comforter. Everything good about childhood was wrapped up in her mother: her kisses, her lap, her pillowy body covered in a
