The Smell of Other People's Hou - Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock Page 0,62
Thank you, Gran, I think. I just need to hold on a little longer. But he hears the siren, too, and another one, and another one. They are getting louder.
“You little snitch,” he says to me. “You had those baby rabbits do your dirty work for you—you goddamn snitch.” A snitch. The worst possible thing a person can be around here. He holds the gun up and looks at me through the sight.
“Shoot me,” I say. I am not quivering. I am not even scared. “Shoot me so I never have to see your face again.”
He is so surprised he just stands there, lowering the gun and trying to figure out who I am. The police cars pull up and park at crazy angles, spraying dust and gravel everywhere. “Drop the rifle and put your hands up,” they shout from behind the doors of their patrol cars. My father drops the gun, but he keeps staring at me. They approach from all sides, then rush up, guns drawn, and handcuff him. The whole time we never stop staring at each other. I hope it’s the last time I ever have to look into those red, bloodshot eyes.
They load him into the back of a police car and the siren wails again, this time in the other direction, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
Dumpling’s dad appears just as all the tension that had been holding me together leaks out of me. He has to prop me up because my legs give out.
“Are you okay?” he says.
I’ve never seen so much love and concern on the face of anyone. At least not for me. “Can I stay with your family? Can I stay and never have to leave?” I whisper, barely able to find my voice.
“Oh Dora, you don’t have to ask,” he says, wrapping me in his huge arms.
The paramedics appear from inside the house with my mom strapped to a stretcher. She is black and blue, her arm is in a sling, and her eyes are swollen shut. “Mom?” I say.
“Dora, no hospital,” she says. “Tell them—we don’t go to hospital.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll pay. You look terrible.”
“She’s got a concussion,” says one of the paramedics. “We need to watch her.”
“I’m not going to stand by and pretend he didn’t hurt you,” I say, realizing that’s what I have always wanted her to say to me.
Paula and Annette tell the paramedics they’re riding along in the ambulance and won’t take no for an answer. Nobody expects me to come, too, which is good because I have someone more important to see right now anyway.
“Is Dumpling up for visitors?” I ask her dad.
“Only if it’s you,” he says.
I badly want to talk to Isabelle, but she is acting strange all of a sudden, as if she just drove two thousand miles to watch girls flounce around in tights. It’s not even a performance; it’s an audition, which means people aren’t sitting in seats waiting for the show. Instead there are long-legged ballerinas in tutus milling about everywhere, waiting for their turn.
When we step inside there is nowhere to put your eyes because wherever you look feels wrong.
Isabelle checks the schedule and says, “We might be too late,” then rushes down to the side stage door, gesturing for us to follow. We almost knock over a bony woman with wild salt-and-pepper hair standing just inside the door, but before she can topple over, Isabelle grabs her and they hug, whispering frantically to us that this is Abigail and we can all talk afterward. At the last second, a girl with big brown eyes runs up and Abigail smiles at her, saying, “Honey, you’re going to miss it, hurry up,” as she, too, steps inside and the lights dim.
The auditorium appears mostly empty, but it’s too dark to see anything except shadows and outlines. We’re backstage, so Abigail motions for us to peer through the thick velvet curtains. All I can see are the judges in the front row, their glasses perched on the ends of beaky noses. This must be a very big deal. You can feel the tension and the judges are the serious unsmiling kind, which is never a good sign.
The girl standing onstage is waiting for her cue. That’s Abigail’s niece, Isabelle mouths silently at me. We did just barely make it in time.
She is long and lean like every other dancer, in a simple pink skirt and white tights, her hands held in front