She still kept her clothes in a case, folded neat. Sometimes he’d do the laundry and she’d yell at him to leave their shit alone. She’d find their clothes hung in the closet and she’d take them down and return them to the case. He’d buy the wrong kind of toothpaste for Robin and she’d yell at him, the wrong kind of shampoo, the wrong brand of breakfast cereal. She’d yell so much her throat would hurt. Through it Robin would watch. Sometimes he’d ask for quiet and she’d give it, she’d walk the acres and curse at the dropping sun like a fucking mad girl.
She gave less thought to Vincent King, to Dickie Darke, they were turned pages in the darkest chapters of her life. She knew they would appear again, the twists, the sting in her tale.
Most of all she felt tired. Not from the work or the sleep, just from the wretched hatred that lived so deep inside her.
17
“I NEED TO CARRY A GUN to school.”
“No.” Hal was anxious that first morning.
Robin was anxious too, he had questions about the school, about where he’d meet her and what would happen if she didn’t show. There was no bus that ran out as far as their land so Hal said he would drive them and collect them. He groused about it eating into his day, till Duchess told him they’d hitch a ride with a rapist trucker instead, or maybe she’d sell her body to raise cash for a taxi.
“Will the other kids like me?”
“You’re a prince.”
“Of course,” Hal said. “And if they don’t then they’ll deal with your sister.”
“And yet you still won’t let me pack.” She finished her cereal, then checked Robin’s schoolbag, made sure he had his pencil case and his water bottle.
Hal let her drive the track, just to the point where the gum trees folded over the sky. She left it idling as she climbed from her seat and Hal climbed from his. They crossed at the trunk, Hal nodding once and Duchess nodding a return.
“You watch out for each other,” he said, eyes on the road.
“In case the big kids take our lunch money?” Robin said, perking up and wide-eyed.
“They can try. I’m the outlaw Duchess Day Radley and I’ll put a bullet between their eyes.”
“You need to learn to ride the gray if you want to be an outlaw,” Hal said.
“You know nothing. I can ride, it’s in my blood.”
“I did some reading on Billy Blue Radley once.”
Duchess looked over, the scowl replaced by interest.
“If you want I could tell you about him sometime.”
“Okay.” It was not a truce or offering.
Robin tensed when they moved into the turn, the bus and the parents, noise and SUVs. She saw a Ford with muddied wheels and a Mercedes too shiny. She thought of Darke, his Escalade, his fading promise.
“You want me to walk you in?” Hal drew the truck up to the curb.
“No. People might think you’re our father. The bullying would be merciless.”
She took Robin’s bag and his hand and they emptied into the street.
“I’ll be here at three,” Hal said from the window.
“We don’t get out till three fifteen,” Robin said.
“I’ll still be here.”
They moved between groups of kids, tan from the summer and catching up with loud, exaggerated stories. She caught pieces that made a similar whole, vacations and beaches and theme parks. They drew looks and she gave them back.
She led Robin to his classroom and took him inside, a cluster of mothers knelt and kissed and fussed over their children. A little boy was crying.
“He’ll be the wuss, don’t hang around with him,” Duchess said.
The teacher was young, smiling as she made rounds, kneeling and shaking small hands. Duchess led Robin to the pegs and found his name and his animal picture above.
“What animal is it?”
Duchess squinted. “Rat.”
“That’s a mouse,” the teacher said, appearing beside.
Duchess shrugged. “Vermin is vermin.”
The teacher knelt by them, took Robin’s hand and shook it lightly. “I’m Miss Child, and you must be Robin. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.”
Duchess nudged him.
“Thank you kindly,” he said.
“And you must be Duchess.”
“I am the outlaw Duchess Day Radley.” Duchess pumped the teacher’s hand so hard she left it white.
“Well, I hope you have a lovely day, Miss Duchess,” Miss Child said, affecting a sweet drawl. “Your brother and I are going to have lots of fun today, right, Robin?”
“Yes.”
Miss Child left them and went back to the crying boy.
Duchess bent to her brother and met his eye, cupped his face till he stayed locked on to her. “Any shit at all, you come find me. You just go into the hall and you scream my name. I’ll be close.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, a little firmer. “Okay.”
She stood.
“Duchess.”
She turned to him.
“I wish Mom was here.”
Outside in the halls, thinning with stragglers, boys carried a football, red-faced and sweaty. She found her classroom and took a seat by the window, far enough back to keep from being called up.
“You’re in my seat.”
He was tall, odd angles, his shirt coming up small and his shorts high.
“You borrow your sister’s shorts? Keep walking, motherfucker.”
He blushed, turned and went to a seat on the other side of the room.
Beside her was a black boy, so thin she guessed he carried worms or some other parasite. He had a hand twisted into something that no longer looked like a hand. He caught her noticing and stuffed it into his pocket.
He smiled.
She looked away.
“I’m Thomas Noble, you remember me?”
The teacher came in.
“What’s your name?”
“Quiet now, I’m here to learn.”
“That’s a funny name.”
She silently willed him to burst into flames.
“I saw you that time in town. You’re the angel with the golden hair.”
“If you knew anything at all, you’d know I’m about as far from an
