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Chapter Twenty-eight

Monday September 14, 2009

Devil horns. Spiked collars. Signs posted 'round clamoring halls declared "MONSTER MONDAY!" The kickoff to homecoming week. Also in the halls: cries of "Hell's Bells," sniggers and sideways glances, glaring hyenas and pumas with cold shoulders. By lunchtime, when she stuffed fast food into her mouth at an empty corner table, Bella had endured two separate and wildly exaggerated interpretations of her drunken Saturday night episode.

4:19pm

Her sister was with a friend. Her father at work.

Bella gazed up at an ineffectual paw silhouetted 'gainst the white backdrop of her bedroom ceiling, unfulfilled, disturbed.

She only wanted a moment's escape, but even fantasy, the electrochemical transmission of internal projection, eluded her grasp. No fantasy. Just reality. A reality wherein only disappointment kept its word. A reality wherein Bella sat alone in her room on a gorgeous afternoon, her calls and texts left unreturned. An unforgiving reality wherein cruel mothers and their sons gathered by flesh. There was no escape from it. Not for day nor hour nor single merciful second. She couldn't stop seeing it. Seeing them.

"I'm going out of my fucking mind," Bella whimpered, closing her eyes.

There they were again.

The level of detail was astounding. It was down to each strand of fur. Down to the subtlest intonation of every suffocated sound. In the darkness, always in the fucking darkness, she could see and hear and smell them.

"You're not going to tell anybody about this."

Of course she wasn't going to tell anybody! As if she had any interest in assuming that association, a reputation worse than any she could produce of her own. All the same, to seem them suffer had its appeal.

Bella sat up in her covers, shook her head violently. Complete, terrible silence settled over the house, and, desperate to escape her thoughts, Bella rolled from the bed. Minutes later, she was again lamenting her father's choice in alcohol.

* * *

"Enough!"

Roger's voice boomed through the TV room, the bark of a single parent exhausted by another day in the book.

But his daughter didn't flinch, might not have even heard him for her muzzle remained adhered to the screen of the computer, upon a set of large, black-furred breasts with nipples skewered by cherry-gold barbells. At his daughter's elbow--in plain sight on a Monday afternoon: two open cans of beer.

"Enough _what?"_Bella grunted after a few seconds' delay.

The laxness, the utter lack of respect.

Roger snatched the empty cans, warped them betwixt his worn paw pads, then jabbed at the computer monitor to turn the screen black.

"I let your mother talk me into tolerating your bullshit," said Roger, glaring over his daughter. "Your drinking and coming and going as you want. Those days are done. No more of this." He tightened his grip on the already-compressed cans, distorting them further. "Next time I catch you taking any more of my beer," he said, and he pinched a silver ring dangling from Bella's ears, giving it a sharp tug, "you owe me one of these."

"Ow!" Bella exclaimed, voice rising an octave and, no longer with that smart-ass expression, glaring back.

"Ow is right, and while we're at it, we're going to figure out a curfew for you from now on: effective immediately. No more of your late-night bullshit."

"Whatever," said Bella, and she switched the monitor back on. She yelped and snarled when her head was jacked back by the scruff of her neck. "I heard you!" she shouted.

Staring into his daughter's venomous visage, Roger growled. "Lose the attitude, missy. From now on, when I'm talking to you, I better be able to _see_that you're listening, got it?"

"I got it," Bella growled back.

Roger kept hold of the fold of rubbery flesh on his daughter's neck. "You're too damn much like your mother sometimes," he growled.

He saw his daughter's eyes flash hostilely, but her black lips kept shut. "Better. Now get that shit off the computer. You better not think of doing that shit to yourself."

"Why don't you just go sit in your fucking chair," said Bella, all the combativeness right back in her voice.

It must have been the stress from work. The monopoly on 'round-the-town errands. He wasn't thinking. His paw moved without his command. A hard swing. The open pads to the side of his daughter's head. She recoiled. No yelp, no snarl. A few seconds of stunned silence. Her eyes illegible. Then she ran for her room, and he fell into his chair.

* * *

Friday September 18, 2009

9:15pm

Of course, while the dress-up days and pep-rallies were meant for fun, homecoming came down to Friday night--the game, the dance, the night beyond.

Bella didn't really care. That the football team had choked away another fourth-quarter lead to drop their third straight homecoming game. That she would be attending her fourth homecoming dance but date-less for the first time. That her father would be chauffeuring her to and from the dance so that afterwards she wouldn't go out and fuck or drink or do whatever else she did every other year. She realized it--just how little she cared--at the upstairs-bathroom mirror, a brush in her hair and a little crimson dress floating above her knees.

She eyed her equal in the mirror who wore a lopsided grin and thought maybe she wouldn't even go to the dance. She certainly didn't feel like dancing. But what was the alternative?

"Remember our deal?" her father asked.

Night was smothering the last strips of sunset beyond Sandy. A dark, new-moon night. No clouds, just a quiet breeze blowing in from the south. South: the trajectory of the Chevrolet Silverado, from the house on the out-of-bounds of the Open Prairie Country Club to grumble outside the doors of Sandy Varsity High.

"Yes, Dad," Bella replied from the shotgun side of the Silverado, her voice automatic. "I'll stay at the dance. I'll call you when I need a ride, and if I leave on my own or I don't call you by the end of the night, or if I even try to have any kind of fun, I'm going straight to hell."

"Good girl."

Bella leapt down from the pickup, rushed into the school to join a short line of students. A few bucks and a breathalyzer to get inside. Some of the kids who had cued behind her applauded when she blew her .00.

Inside the gymnasium, a mass of fur awkwardly writhed beneath lights pulsing yellow, blue. Music pounded in time. Bella pushed through the mass, past clots of underclassmen and dancing couples, not really sure of where she was going or whom she was looking for. She paused near the stage, spotted Lexi slowly grinding her thick tail 'gainst her boyfriend, the puma's dark hair whipping through the pulsing lights. She watched with arms crossed 'til a paw gently cupped one of her ears and scooped it back and into a small shout.

"Hey!"

Shawna, prettily wrapped in waves of azure. An expensive-looking dress for a homecoming dance.

"Hey," said Bella, voice lost under the music.

She saw the rabbit was alone.

"Where's your date?"

"Talking to his friends," frowned Shawna, and she jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

Bella forced a laugh, sighed and looked around the gym. She really didn't want to dance.

Now her head was pounding with the music. Strobe lights, white flashes cutting through the darkness. Her rabbit friend stolen for a dance, Bella checked her phone for what felt the hundredth time to see that only twenty minutes had passed since her arrival. She put the phone away and put a paw to her pulsing head. Somehow, restlessness was sharpening her imagination.

Her mother's face, flickering between black and white, smiled coldly.

That's fucking it, thought Bella, pressing harder at her temples, and she set across the gym floor, jostling her way back through the crowd. The ring of an outgoing call buzzed in her ear as she came upon an empty bit of hallway.

Answer. Answer, you fucking whore.

"What do you want?"

Her mother's voice held no pretense of affection.

"What do I want?" echoed Bella, laughing humorlessly. What did she want? A lot, but little she could put into words in the moment. Hearing her mother's voice, again remembering that obscene scene, all of Bella's emotions tightened inside of her like a fist.

She paced the waxed floor of the empty hall, one row of lockers to the other. Little posters adorned the lockers of the varsity football players, the volleyball team. Bella plucked a cut-out off of one locker-- "BATTER the BRUINS" --and crumpled it, tossed the ball of paper onto the floor. Huffed empty breaths out her flaring nostrils. The hot air brushed over the sterling silver of her septum band. "Let's just start with I fucking hate you."

"That's not really news," her mother yawned, and she gathered her breath with a few tired smackings of her lips. "Why don't you give your brother a call if you want to cry about your feelings. He's the expert on that shit."

"Well, here's some fucking news for you!" replied Bella, her bright, predatory smile cutting deep into her muzzle, and even as she thought her next words another laugh left her, a laugh to shake her paws and burn her eyes. "Tonight, Dad's going to find out what the fuck you and that piece of shit have been doing! What are you gonna do then, huh? You fucking whore!"

Bella's laugh withdrew, confined itself to her wide-eyed breaths. Her head pounded louder and faster than the music resonating dull and distant from the dance.

"Go on, Bell," said her mother. "Go right ahead."

Silence, and then a cold, careful threat.

"But you'd better pray I don't get near you."

The threat hung in Bella's ear with the distant oomph of the music and the tone of a dead call.

* * *

Things were just getting good. A slow song to slow the dance had started. Soft, golden lights settled over Shawna's smiling face. Her paws sought the shoulders of her date, and her date's paws held her by her waist. They moved together, revolving on gentle steps, and while they danced Shawna forgot the reservations she'd had about accepting the night as their first date. The caress of the slow song, the softness of the light, the charming smile on her date's muzzle--for Shawna, the night was taking on a fairy-tale glow.

And then an ugly sob struck her ear. A desperate paw tugged at her shoulder, pulling her out of her fairy-tale moment.

She stopped in the hallway of her AP Bio and German classrooms and looked at her friend who covered her own face with shaking paws.

"What happened?" Shawna asked.

Her friend wept, like on the nights when she drank too much and didn't just pass out.

Shawna hoped that the song wouldn't end too soon. She tapped a foot on the floor and looked over her shoulder, and when she looked back her friend was fighting tears.

"Bell!" she hastened.

Her shepherd friend sniffled, swiped slowly at her eyes and covered them again. "I fucking hate my mom!"

Shawna deflated. "What now?"

The song was going back to its chorus for the last time. Shawna's foot hastened.

"I called her," whimpered Bella, "and I just . . . I just wanted--"

What was her date doing, left alone in the middle of their dance?

"Bella, I'm sorry," said Shawna, as sympathetic as her impatience allowed. "I really gotta get back in there! Let's talk about it later!"

"No!" her friend exclaimed, sputtering more tears and a few flecks of slobber which caught Shawna as she leaned in for a hug. "Wait, Shawna! I'm ser--"

Shawna hugged Bella tightly, patting her friend's bony shoulders. "Come with me! Let's find you someone to dance with!" The head against hers shook, and Shawna leaned back.

"Never mind," said Bella, head drooping. "Just go."

Frowning, Shawna gave her friend one last hug and hurried back to the dance floor just as the slow song came to its end.

* * *

10:04pm

She was back in her father's Silverado, this time going north. Going home. An early end to her senior homecoming dance, her Friday night. She was quiet as they pulled away from Sandy Varsity High, and she remained quiet 'til her father slid his serious eyes towards her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Bella in a small voice. She watched her high school shrink in the side mirror of the pickup. When it was gone completely she looked at her father to see his eyes back to the road and asked him a question she thought she may have asked him a long time ago.

"What was Mom like when you first met her?"

Her father frowned, a minute change, as he considered his response.

"Your mother was smart--very smart--but she liked getting into trouble," her father replied. "Reminds me of someone."

Bella saw him glance at her from the corner of her eye.

They were at a red light, waiting to cross Sandy's main drag when Bella spoke again.

"Did you know that she was crazy?"

"Crazy?" chuckled her father.

The light went green, and they started forward.

"She had the same rough edges, but she could also be--" Her father paused. "Decent."

"Pray I don't get near you."

Bella closed her eyes for the remainder of the short ride.

When they arrived back to the house, Bella went straight to her bedroom where she waited for her father and little sister to retire for the night. She hadn't long to wait, and not long after their doors sounded shut, Bella slipped from her room and snuck down the stairs.

* * *

11:24pm

A small mound of empty cans had been piled at the foot of her unkempt bed. A notebook, shut, facedown, lay upon one pillow. A hollow smile trembled over Bella's muzzle as she staggered into the hall. The house was quiet, a fact beyond the shepherd's deteriorated sobriety.

She felt awful, and yet extremely satisfied--the weight of finality blanketing her as she clumsily took the stairs.