Rirefly Lane / Улица Светлячков. Книга для чтения на английском языке

“You have her car?” Kate said, opening the passenger door and poking her head in.

“Technically it’s my car now.”

Kate slid onto the seat and closed the door.

Tully popped a Kiss[105] tape into the eight-track player and cranked up the volume. Then she put the car in reverse and eased her foot onto the gas.

They sang at the top of their lungs all the way to Karen Abner’s house, where at least five cars were already parked. Several of them were tucked into the trees and out of sight. When someone’s parents left town, word spread fast; parties sprouted like mushrooms.

Inside, it was a smoke-fest. The sweet smell of pot and incense was almost overpowering. The music was so loud it hurt Tully’s ears. She grabbed Kate’s hand and led her down the stairs to the rec room[106] in the basement.

The huge room had fake-wood-paneled walls and lime-green indoor-outdoor carpeting. In the center was a cone fireplace surrounded by an orange half-moon-shaped sofa and several brown beanbag chairs. Over to the left, some boys were playing foosball and screaming at every turn of the handle. Kids were dancing wildly, singing to the music. A couple of boys were on the sofa, getting high, and a girl was over by the door, shotgunning a beer beneath a huge painting of a Spanish matador.

“Tully!”

Before she could respond, her old friends surrounded her, pulled her away from Kate. She went to the keg first and let one of the boys give her a plastic cup full of foamy gold Rainier beer. She stared down at it, jolted by the memory that came with it: Pat, pushing her to the ground…

She looked around for Kate, but couldn’t see her friend in the crowd.

Then everyone began chanting her name. “Tu-lly. Tu-lly.”

No one was going to hurt her. Not here; tomorrow, maybe, when the authorities caught up with her, but not now. She chugged the beer and held the cup out for another, yelling out Kate’s name as she did.

Kate appeared instantly, as if she’d been just out of view, waiting to be called for.

Tully shoved the beer toward her. “Here.”

Kate shook her head. It was a slight there-and-gone[107] motion, but Tully saw it and felt ashamed that she’d offered the beer, and then angry that her friend was so innocent. Tully had never been innocent; not that she could remember anyway.

“Ka-tie, Ka-tie,” Tully yelled, getting the crowd to chant with her. “Come on, Katie,” she said quietly. “We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

Kate glanced nervously at the crowd around her.

Tully felt that shame again and the jealousy. She could stop this right now, protect Katie—

Kate took the beer and chugged it.

More than half of it spilled down her chin and onto her halter top, making the shimmery fabric cling to her breasts, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Then the music changed. ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” blared through the speakers. You can dance, you can jive…

“I love this song,” Kate said.

Tully grabbed Kate’s hand and dragged her over to where the kids were dancing. There, Tully let loose and fell into the music and the movement.

By the time the music changed and slowed down, she was breathing hard and laughing easily.

But it was Kate who was the more changed. Maybe it was the one beer, or the pulsing beat of the music; Tully wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Kate looked gorgeous, with her blond hair shining in the light from an overhead fixture and her pale, delicate face flushed with exertion.

When Neal Stewart came up to them and asked Kate to dance, Kate was the only one surprised. She turned to Tully. “Neal wants to dance with me,” she yelled during a lull in the song. “He must be drunk.” Putting her hands in the air, she danced away with Neal, leaving Tully standing alone in the crowd.

Kate pressed her cheek against Neal’s soft T-shirt.

It felt so good, the way he had his arms around her, his hands just above her butt. She felt his hips moving against hers. It made her heartbeat speed up, made her breathing quicken. A new feeling overtook her; it was a kind of breathless anticipation. She wanted… what?

“Kate?”

She heard the hesitant way he said her name and it struck her suddenly: Did he feel all these things, too?

Slowly, she looked up.

Neal smiled down at her; he was only a little unsteady on his feet. “You’re beautiful,” he said, and then he kissed her, right there in the middle of the dance floor. Kate drew in a sharp breath and stiffened in his arms. It was so unexpected that she didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

His tongue slid into her mouth, forcing her lips to open a little.

“Wow,” he said softly when he finally drew back.

Wow what? Wow, you’re a spaz? or Wow, what a kiss!

Behind her, someone yelled, “Cops!”

In an instant, Neal was gone and Tully was beside her again, taking her hand. They made their lurching, desperate way out of the house, up the hill and through the scrub brush, and back down to the trees. By the time they got to the car, Kate was terrified and her stomach was in open revolt. “I’m gonna puke.”

“No, you aren’t.” Tully yanked open the passenger door and shoved Kate inside. “We are not gonna get busted.”

Tully ran around the front of the car and opened her door. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she stabbed the key into the ignition, yanked the gearshift into reverse, and stomped on the gas. They rocketed backward and slammed into something hard. Kate flew forward like a rag doll, cracking her forehead on the dashboard and then slumping back into her seat. Dazed, she opened her eyes, tried to focus.

Tully was beside her, rolling down the driver’s-side window.

There, in the darkness, was good old Officer Dan, the man who’d driven Tully away from Snohomish three years ago. “I knew you Firefly Lane girls would be a pain in my ass.”

“Fuck,” Tully said.

“Nice language, Tallulah. Now, will you please step out of the car?” He bent down, looked at Kate. “You, too, Kate Mularkey. The party’s over.”

The first thing that happened at the police station was the girls were separated.

“Someone will come talk to you,” Officer Dan said, guiding Tully into a room at the end of the hall.

A gunmetal-gray desk and two chairs sat forlornly beneath a bright hanging lightbulb. The walls were a gross green color and the floor was plain bumpy cement. There was a sad, faded stink to the place, a combination of sweat and piss, and old spilled coffee.

The entire left wall was a mirror.

All it took was one episode of Starsky and Hutch to know that it was really a window.

She wondered if the social worker was on the other side of it yet, shaking her head in disappointment, saying, That fine family won’t want her now, or the lawyer, who wouldn’t know what to say.

Or the Mularkeys.

At that, she made a little sound of horror. How could she have been so stupid? The Mularkeys had liked her until tonight, and now she’d gone and thrown that all away, and for what? Because she’d been depressed by her mom’s rejection? By now she ought to be used to that. When had it ever been any other way?

“I won’t be stupid again,” she said, looking right at the mirror. “If someone would give me another chance, I’d be good.”

After that, she waited for someone to burst in for her, maybe holding handcuffs, but the minutes just ticked by in smelly silence. She moved the black plastic chair to one corner and sat down.

I knew better.

She closed her eyes, thinking the same thing over and over again. Along with that thought, running alongside it like some shadow forming in the twilight was its twin: Will you be a good friend to Katie?

“How could I be so stupid?” This time Tully didn’t even glance at the mirror. There was no one behind there. Who would be looking at her anyway, the kid no one wanted?

Across the room, the doorknob twisted, turned.

Tully tensed. Her fingers bit into her thighs.

Be good, Tully. Agree with everything they say. Foster care is better than juvenile hall[108].

The door opened and Mrs. Mularkey walked into the room. In a washed-out floral dress and worn white Keds, she looked tired and poorly put together, as if she’d been wakened in the middle of the night and dressed in whatever she could find in the dark.

Which, of course, was exactly what had happened.

Mrs. Mularkey reached into her dress pocket for her cigarettes. Finding one, she lit up. Through the swirling smoke, she studied Tully. Sadness and disappointment emanated from her, as visible as the smoke.

Shame overwhelmed Tully. Here was one of the very few people who had ever believed in her, and she’d let Mrs. M. down. “How’s Kate?”

Mrs. Mularkey exhaled smoke. “Bud took her home. I don’t expect she’ll leave the house again for a good long while.”

“Oh.” Tully squirmed uncomfortably. Her every blemish was on view, she was sure of it, from the lies she’d told to the secrets she’d kept to the tears she’d cried. Mrs. M. saw it all.

And she didn’t like what she saw.

Tully could hardly blame her. “I know I let you down.”

“Yes, you did.” Mrs. Mularkey pulled a chair away from the table and sat down in front of Tully. “They want to send you to juvenile hall.”

Tully looked down at her own hands, unable to stand the disappointment she saw on Mrs. M.’s face. “The foster family won’t want me now.”

“I understand your mother refused to take custody of you.”

“Big surprise there.” Tully heard the way her voice cracked on that. She knew it revealed how hurt she’d been, but there was no way to hide it. Not from Mrs. M.

“Katie thinks they can find another family for you to live with.”

“Yeah, well, Katie lives in a different world than I do.”

Mrs. Mularkey leaned back in her chair. Taking a drag on her cigarette, she exhaled smoke and said quietly, “She wants you to live with us.”

Just hearing it was like a blow to the heart. She knew she’d spend a long time trying to forget it. “Yeah, right.”

It was a moment before Mrs. Mularkey said, “A girl who lived in our house would have to do chores and follow the rules. Mr. Mularkey and I wouldn’t stand for any funny business[109].”

Tully looked up sharply. “What are you saying?” She couldn’t even put this sudden hope into words.

“And there would definitely be no smoking.”

Tully stared at her, feeling tears sting her eyes, but that pain was nothing compared to what was going on deep inside her. It felt suddenly as if she were about to fall. “Are you saying I can live with you?”

Mrs. M. leaned forward and touched Tully’s jawline. “I know how hard your life has been up to now, Tully, and I can’t stand for you to go back to that.”

The falling turned into flying, and suddenly Tully was crying for all of it – Gran, the foster family, Cloud. Her relief was the biggest emotion she’d ever felt. With shaking hands, she pulled the crumpled, half-empty pack of cigarettes out of her purse and handed them over.

“Welcome to our family, Tully,” Mrs. M. finally said into the silence, pulling Tully into her arms and letting her cry.

Through all the decades of Tully’s life, she would remember that moment as the beginning of something new for her; the becoming of someone new. While she lived with the loud, crazy, loving Mularkey family, she found a whole new person inside her. She didn’t keep secrets or tell lies or pretend that she was someone else, and never once did they act as if she were unwanted or not good enough. No matter where she went in her later years, or what she did or whom she was with, she would always remember this moment and those words: Welcome to our family, Tully. Always and forever, she would think of that senior year of high school, when she was inseparable from Kate and a part of the family, as the single best year of her life.

Chapter eight

“Girls! Quit lollygagging[110]. We’re going to hit traffic if we don’t leave now.”

In the creaky attic bedroom, Kate stood at the edge of her twin bed, staring down at the open suitcase that contained all of her prized belongings. A framed picture of her grandparents lay on top, wedged between her ribbon-wrapped packet of long-ago letters from Tully and a photo of her and Tully taken at graduation.

Although she’d been looking forward to this moment for months (she and Tully had spun endless late-night dreams, all of which began with the words when we’re in college), now that it was here, she felt reluctant to leave home.

Over the course of their senior year in high school, they’d become a pair. “Tully-and-Kate”. Everyone at school said their two names as one. When Tully became editor of the school paper, Kate was right beside her, helping her to edit the stories. She lived vicariously through her friend’s achievements, rode the wave of her popularity, but all of that had taken place in a world she knew, in a place where she felt safe.

“What if I forgot something?”

Tully crossed the room and came up beside Kate. She closed the suitcase and clamped it shut. “You’re ready.”

“No. You’re ready. You’re always ready,” Kate said, trying not to sound as afraid as she was. It occurred to her suddenly, sharply, how much she’d miss her parents and even her little brother.

Tully stared at her. “We’re a team, aren’t we? The Firefly Lane girls.”

“We have been, but—”

“No buts. We’re going to college together, we’re pledging the same sorority[111], and we’ll be hired by the same TV station. Period. That’s it. We can do it.”

Kate knew what was expected of her, by Tully and everyone else: she was supposed to be strong and courageous. If only she felt it more deeply. But since she didn’t feel it, she did what she often did lately around Tully. She smiled and faked it. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

The drive from Snohomish to downtown Seattle, which usually took about thirty-five minutes, seemed to pass in a blink. Kate barely spoke, couldn’t seem to find her voice, even as Tully and her mom chattered on about the upcoming Rush Week[112] at the sororities. Her mother, it seemed, was more excited about their college adventure than Kate was.

In the towering high-rise of Haggett Hall, they made their way through the loud, crowded corridors to a small, dingy dorm room on the tenth floor. Here was where they’d stay during Rush. When it was over, they’d move into their sorority.

“Well. This is it,” Mr. Mularkey said.

Kate went to her parents and threw her arms around them, forming the famous Mularkey family hug.

Tully stood back, looking oddly left out.

“Geez[113], Tully, get over here,” Mom called out.

Tully rushed forward and let them all embrace her.

For the next hour they unpacked and talked and took pictures. Then, finally, Dad said, “Well, Margie, it’s time. We don’t want to get caught in traffic.” There was one last round of hugs.

Kate clung to her mom, battling tears.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mom said. “Trust in all the dreams you’ve made. You and Tully are going to become the best reporters this state has ever seen. Your dad and I are so proud of you.”

Kate nodded and looked up at her mom through hot tears. “I love you, Mom.”

Much too soon, it was over.

“We’ll call every Sunday,” Tully said behind them. “Right after you get home from church.”

And then, suddenly, they were gone.

Tully flopped on the bed. “I wonder what Rush will be like. I bet every house will want us. How could they not?”

“They’ll want you,” Kate said softly, and for the first time in months she felt like the girl they’d called Kootie all those years ago, the girl in the Coke-bottle glasses and high-water Sears jeans. It didn’t matter that she’d gotten contacts and lost her braces and learned how to put on makeup to enhance her features. The sorority girls would see through all that.

Tully sat up. “You know I won’t join a sorority unless we’re in it together, right?”

“That’s not fair to you, though.” Kate went to the bed and sat down beside her.

“Remember Firefly Lane?” Tully said, lowering her voice. Over the years those words had become a catchall phrase, a kind of shorthand for their memories. It was their way of saying that a friendship begun at fourteen, back when David Cassidy[114] was groovy and a song could make you cry, would last forever.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“But you don’t get it,” Tully said.

“Get what?”

“When my mom dumped me, who was there for me? When my gran died, who held my hand and took me in?” She turned to Kate. “You. That’s the answer. We’re a team, Kate. Forever friends, no matter what. Okay?” She bumped Kate, made her smile.

“You always get your way.”

Tully laughed. “Of course I do. It’s one of my more endearing traits. Now let’s figure out what we’re going to wear for the first day…”

The University of Washington was everything Tully had hoped it would be and more. Spread out over several miles and comprised of hundreds of gothic buildings, it was a world unto itself. The size daunted Kate, but not Tully; she figured if she could triumph here, she could triumph anywhere. From the moment they moved into their sorority, she began preparing for a reporting job at the networks. In addition to taking the core classes in communications, she made time to read at least four newspapers a day and watch as many newscasts as possible. When her big break came, she was going to be ready.

It had taken her most of the first few weeks of school to get her bearings and figure out what Phase One of the academic plan should be. She’d met with her School of Communications advisor so often that he sometimes avoided her in the hall when he saw her coming, but she didn’t care. When she had questions, she wanted answers.

The problem, once again, was her youth. She couldn’t get into the upper-level broadcasting or journalism classes; no amount of cajoling or prodding could move the behemoth bureaucracy[115] of this huge state school. She simply had to wait her turn.

Not something she was good at.

She leaned sideways and whispered to Kate, “Why is there a science requirement? I won’t need geology to be a reporter.”

“Shhh.”

Tully frowned and sat back in her chair. They were in Kane Hall, one of the biggest auditoriums on campus. From her chair in the nosebleed section[116], crammed in among almost five hundred other students, she could barely see the professor, who’d turned out not to be a professor at all, but rather his teaching assistant.

“We can buy lecture notes. Let’s go. The newspaper office opens at ten.”

Kate didn’t even glance at her, just kept scribbling notes on her paper.

Tully groaned and sat back, crossing her arms in disgust, waiting minute by minute for class to end. The second the bell rang, she shot to her feet. “Thank God. Let’s go.”

Kate finished with her notes and collected her pages, methodically organizing everything in her notebook.

“Are you making paper? Come on. I want to meet the editor.”

Kate stood up and slung her backpack over one shoulder. “We are not going to get a job at the newspaper, Tully.”

“Your mom told you not to be so negative, remember?”

They went downstairs, merging into the loud crowd of students.

Outside, the sun shone brightly on the brick-covered courtyard known as Red Square. Over by Suzzallo Library, a group of long-haired students were gathered beneath a CLEAN UP HANFORD sign.

“Quit complaining to my mom when you don’t get your way,” Kate said as they headed for the Quad. “We can’t even get into journalism classes until we’re juniors.”

Tully stopped. “Are you really not going to come with me?”

Kate smiled and kept walking. “We aren’t going to get the job.”

“But you’ll come with me, right? We’re a team.”

“Of course I’m coming.”

“I knew it. You were just messing with me.”

They kept talking as they walked through the Quad, where the cherry trees were lush and green, as was the grass. Dozens of students in brightly colored shorts and T-shirts played Frisbee and hacky sack.

At the newspaper office, Tully stopped. “I’ll do the talking.”

“I’m shocked, really.”

Laughing, they went into the building, announced themselves to a shaggy-looking kid at the front desk, and were directed to the editor’s office.

The entire meeting lasted less than ten minutes.

“Told you we were too young,” Kate said as they walked back to the sorority.

“Bite me. Sometimes I think you don’t even want to be a reporter with me.”

“That’s a complete lie: you hardly ever think.”

“Bitch.”

“Hag.”

Kate put an arm around her. “Come on, Barbara Walters[117], I’ll walk you home.”

Tully was so depressed over the meeting at the newspaper that Kate spent the rest of the day cajoling her into a good mood.

“Come on,” she finally said, hours later, when they were back in their minuscule room in the sorority house. “Let’s get ready. You want to look your best for the exchange.”

“What do I care about a stupid exchange? Frat boys are hardly my ideal.”

Kate struggled not to smile. Everything about Tully was big – she had such high highs and low lows[118]. Their time at UW had only increased her tendencies. The funny thing was that while this huge crowded campus had somehow released Tully’s extravagances, it had had an opposite and calming effect on Kate. She felt stronger every day here, more and more ready to become an adult. “You’re such a drama queen. I’ll let you do my makeup.”

Tully looked up. “Really?”

“It’s a time-limited offer. You better move your ass.”

Tully jumped up, grabbed her hand, and dragged her down the hall to the bathroom, where dozens of girls were already showering and drying off and blowing their hair out.

They waited their turns, took their showers, and went back to the room. Thankfully, their other two roommates weren’t there. The tiny space, filled mostly with dressers and desks and a set of bunk beds for the upperclassmen, barely gave the two of them room enough to turn around. Their own twin beds were in the large sleeping porch down the hall.

Tully spent almost an hour on their hair and makeup, then pulled out the fabric they’d bought for their togas – gold for Tully, silver for Kate – and created a pair of magical garments held in place by tight belts and rhinestone pins.

Kate studied her reflection when they were done. The sparkling silver fabric complemented her pale skin and golden hair and brought out the green in her eyes. After all the nerd years, she was still sometimes surprised that she could look good. “You’re a genius,” she said.

Tully twirled for inspection. “How do I look?”

The gold toga showed off her big boobs and tiny waist, and a riot of curled, teased, sprayed mahogany hair spilled down over her shoulder, à la Jane Fonda in Barbarella[119]. Blue eye shadow and heavy liner made her look exotic.

“You look gorgeous,” Kate said. “The guys’ll be falling all over themselves.”

“You care too much about love; must be all those romance novels you read. This is our night. Screw the boys.”

“I don’t want to screw them, but a date would be nice.”

Tully grabbed Kate’s arm and led her out into the hallway, which was crowded with laughing, talking girls in various stages of dress, running down the busy corridors with curling irons, hair dryers, and bedsheets.

Downstairs in the formal living room, one of the girls was teaching the others to Hustle[120].

Outside, Kate and Tully merged into the crowd walking down the street. There were people everywhere on this balmy late September night. Most of the fraternities were having an exchange. There were girls in costume, in ordinary clothes, in almost nothing at all, walking in sorority groups toward their various destinations.

The Phi Delt house was big and square, a fairly modern mixture of glass and metal and brick, that was set on a corner. Inside, the walls were worn, the furniture was broken and ripped and ugly, and the décor was prison-era 1950. Not that most of this could be seen through the crowd.

People were packed in like sardines, chugging beer from plastic cups and swaying to the music. “Shout!” blared through the speakers and everyone was singing along, jumping up in time to the music.

A little bit softer now…

The crowd crouched, stilled, then raised their hands and rose up again, chanting along.