Music From Another World - Robin Talley Page 0,124
focused right on Tammy and me, as Lisa stepped forward and smoothly introduced herself to the reporter. He asked her why we were demonstrating and she recited the talking points against Prop 6 with poise and precision, telling him about human rights and the First Amendment and how Briggs’s initiative would cost thousands of taxpayer dollars that should be spent on textbooks and school supplies instead.
I tried to make sure my face looked serious for the photos, as if I was thinking hard about the First Amendment, instead of being wholly absorbed in the sensation of holding Tammy’s hand.
When the photographer finally moved on to get some shots of Leonard and Dean, I exhaled. I thought I’d be relieved, but to my surprise, I was exhilarated.
“Well done, you two.” Alex grinned. “Way to play to the press.”
“That was brilliant, Sharon.” Tammy beamed at me. She hadn’t let go of my hand. “You’re a genius. Did you see that lady’s face when the reporter walked away from her? She probably—”
When Tammy pointed back to the other group of protestors, her smile faded. She jerked her hand away from mine so hard it hurt.
“That’s—” Tammy stammered, her breath coming fast. “It’s Carolyn.”
“What?”
Then I saw her, too.
A girl about our age was walking through the group of pro-Prop 6 demonstrators. She had long red hair styled in soft Farrah Fawcett-Majors curls, and she was wearing a yellow wrap dress that probably cost more than our VW bus. She couldn’t have looked more different from Tammy and me in our protest T-shirts and jeans.
“What’s she doing here?” I whispered. Suddenly, the distance between their group and ours didn’t seem so wide.
“No idea. But there’s no chance she’s here alone.”
Tammy was right. A new group of people was filing in among the protestors down the lawn. A mix of teenagers and adults, all dressed in Sunday school linen and lace, passing out pamphlets and brochures.
“There’s Carolyn’s mother,” Tammy muttered. “And Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch from the church board, and… God, half my church is here. Oh, shit—that’s my sister. And my other sister, and my nephew. There’s Uncle Russell, and…oh, damn it, Sharon, that’s my mom…”
It wasn’t hard to pick them out of the group. Behind a tall, wide older man who carried himself as though he was by far the most important person here, there was a cluster of blond women, two of them holding babies. A little blond kid toddled along behind them.
And emerging from the back of the group was Aunt Mandy, strolling toward the school in a Chanel suit and heels, her lipstick painted in such a perfectly straight line it must’ve been gearing up to cut someone.
“They haven’t seen us.” I turned back to Tammy, but she’d already gone sheet-white. My heart was pounding fast, too, but I had to stay calm. This time, I had to help her. “Move to the back of the group. You can slip away to the bus once you’re out of sight. They won’t ever have to know you were here.”
Tammy didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.
I turned back to the group. Aunt Mandy was striding as quickly as ever, but she’d veered off from her original course.
She was coming our way.
“Holy shit.” Peter pushed through the others until he was at our side. “Isn’t that your aunt, Tammy?”
“Is it?” Alex leaned in. “God, she looks worse than you said. I’m going to go get it, in case…” Alex disappeared before I could figure out what she was talking about.
“Come on.” I stepped in front of Tammy, trying to block Aunt Mandy’s view. “We’ve got to hide you—”
“Pardon me, sir.” Aunt Mandy’s simpering voice was just a few feet away, and the sound of it brought my fear racing back. She was talking to the reporter, but we might as well have been in my living room all over again, with Aunt Mandy pouring poison in my mother’s ear.
If it was that hard for me to hear her voice, I could only guess how Tammy felt.