“Why you laughin’?” I whine, rubbing the sore spot on my head.
She notices the streaks of red on the floor, glances at the toilet, and winces.
“Did you try to jube your monthly outta ya?”
“Uh-huh,” I admit.
She shakes her head. “Don’t get cocky,” she says. Then she hands me a giant maxi pad and a belt.
“This is not the way to use your abilities,” she says, all somber now.
She helps me stand and leaves me to tend to myself. So much for sendin’ Ambushina on her way with a single flush.
That afternoon, Anne Marie flips through the newest arrivals at Lowcountry Records, looking to buy a new one. She’s meticulous, inspecting every detail.
Every. Detail.
“Did ya see this one?” I say, handing her a record.
She studies the cover and the song list for several seconds. “I like Neil Sedaka, I think. But his songs all sound the same to me,” Anne Marie reasons before handing it back to me. I’m gettin’ tired a bein’ in this store. She needs to make a decision or give up.
“How ’bout this one?” I ask, handing her another one I just grabbed at random.
She glances at it and then stares at me in disbelief.
“Stonewall Jackson? You’re suggestin’ I buy an album recorded by a man who calls himself Stonewall Jackson?”
“Oh, I—I thought it was somethin’ else,” I lie, and toss it back in the general direction of where I found it.
“What you gonna recommend next? Greatest hits a the Confederacy?”
“Well shoot, I might as well. So far nothin’ has impressed you. Are you sure you actually like music?” I ask.
Anne Marie makes a face at me and continues to scrutinize every record in sight.
“Evvie, what do you think a Dee Dee Sharp? Too teeny bopper?” she asks me.
“I think she’s fine.”
“Seriously!”
“I seriously think she is seriously fine,” I tell her. I’m sorry, but it should not take forty minutes to pick out and buy one record. One! But this is what shopping with Anne Marie is like. I wouldna come at all, but she guilted me into it. Sayin’ she’s hardly seen me since her cookout, and she values my opinion. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I don’t tell her that I feel like we see each other all the time. And the party was only… well. Huh. Now that I think about it, that was like three weeks ago. Or four? Damn. Feels like it was a couple days ago.
That might be cuz I been spendin’ every single free minute I have (with the exception of the last forty) with Clay, and he makes the time go fast. So fast that I want it to slow down. I want the minutes with him to last as long as possible, but I guess that ain’t scientifically possible. Unless—
“EVVIE!”
“Oh. What?”
“What’s wrong with you? I been callin’ your name.”
“Sorry. Jeez!”
She’s standing several feet away and gestures urgently for me to come over to her. It takes all my strength not to roll my eyes as I join her by a stack of 45s.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
Her eyes dart around behind me like she’s lookin’ for somethin’ she don’t wanna find. I start to turn around, but she grabs my arms, preventing me.
“What the hell?”
“I was tryna get your attention, cuz somebody was standin’ behind you.”
I feel a slight chill despite the July heat. I have a feeling I know what she’s about to say.
“He was just starin’ at you, and then he came up close behind you, and I yelled out for ya and he just turned around and left. It was the spookiest thing!”
I swallow. “What did he look like?”
“Weird. He was white. Real pale. And he had black hair and—”
A small involuntary cry leaps from my throat. “Oh my god.” I pull her to the back corner of the store and hide us behind a tallish shelf. I peer out to see if I can catch a glimpse of him, but I don’t see him anywhere.
“He’s gone, Evvie. What’s goin’ on?”
“Remember the day you came to the Heywoods’ and I had the knife?”
“Wait! That was him?”
“Shhh!” I don’t know why, but I’m scared for anyone to overhear us. Though there’s hardly anybody in here, and Billy’s over behind the register bobbin’ to whatever’s playin’ in them giant headphones he’s got on. Lookin’ like a spaceman.
“Yes,” I whisper. “He—he just—he keeps on—” I can’t seem to spit it out, and I’m all shaky. I can’t explain what he’s doin’, cuz I don’t even understand it.
“Okay,” she whispers, as though I’d said something coherent. “Do you feel safe walkin’ down to the drugstore?”
I nod automatically, but I do not feel safe right now.
“Why don’t we go get a soda, and you can tell me about this freak if you want to. Only if you want to, okay?”
“Okay.” I usually do feel better when I talk things out with Anne. She can get on my nerves sometimes, but she’s a good listener and she really cares. Not like a lot of people, just waitin’ for their turn to talk.
She links arms with me, and we start to walk out of the store. Until she stops short.
“What is it?”
She picks up a record album and stares at it like she’s hypnotized. It’s Eartha Kitt’s Bad But Beautiful. Looks like a collection of her hits. Not somethin’ I would choose, but you never know what Anne Marie’s gonna like.
“You should get it,” I tell her.
Anne Marie traces the photo of Eartha with her index finger and just keeps starin’ like she’s in a trance. I nudge her and she jumps, lookin’ at me like she forgot I was standin’ there.
“Yeah. Lemme get this real quick,” she says, making a beeline for the register. I follow her. Billy finally removes his headphones to take her money. Then he looks over at me.
“What’s wrong? Didn’t
