arms, but the orangutan grabs her with one hand and gives her a toss. Goldie yelps and rolls, a spray of dirt rising up behind her. The cat follows the movement, lunging against his own bars to get a swipe in as Goldie skids to a halt, inches away from his claws.
“Rue,” I say, swallowing hard. “Please . . .”
One of her hands lets go, but the other is still holding me firmly against the cage. Her free hand flips through my hair, searching, scurrying. She pinches down, pulls her hand back, inspects something between her fingers and pops it in her mouth. I’ve seen her do this before—Cecil said Goldie’s flea medication was too damn expensive and the o-rang-o-tangy could clean her up just fine. It had taken a leash and a lot of calm words on my part, but I’d talked Goldie into sitting still while Rue groomed her, taking advantage of the free snacks at the same time.
Just like she’s doing to me right now.
“Oh my God,” I say, my words as squished as my face, jammed against the fence. “Do I have lice, Rue?”
The only answer I get is the shit-eating grin, as she pops another one into her mouth. Goldie gets her feet back under her and scampers away from the cat’s cage, calmer now that she sees that Rue doesn’t mean me any harm. She cowers next to me, pushing against my leg as I bend my head, letting Rue inspect me. The orangutan reaches out, gives my dog an apologetic pat as her other hand works through my hair, picking me clean.
I slide down to the ground, resting against the cage, Rue’s fingers moving through my hair, mesmerizing. I repeat the action, ruffling Goldie’s fur. She tucks her head into my armpit, pushing forward into me for comfort. I burrow my face into her neck, parting her hair, trying to get down past the smell of the pens and the shit, past the present. Because if I breathe deep enough, I can still pick up the faint traces of shampoo from her last visit to the groomer. And underneath that, if I concentrate, I can smell my mother.
Chapter 37
Felicity
Sixth Grade
“Mom?” I call down the stairs, fingernails digging into my scalp. “Mom? Do we have any dandruff shampoo?”
“What? No,” Mom says hurriedly, as she comes around the corner. “Have you seen my keys?”
“They’re on the table,” I say, pointing toward the groceries she just brought home—everything organic and gluten- and cruelty- and antibiotic-free. Dad says they’re also taste- and fun-free, to which Mom said last night that at least they can eat their dinner without guilt. I can’t. But that’s got nothing to do with what’s on my plate.
“Okay,” Mom says, grabbing her keys. “You ready?”
“Ready?” I ask, still scratching. “For what?”
“You’ve got an appointment with Dr. Gabriella today, remember? I made the appointment after . . . after your birthday party.”
She slips a little, not wanting to say the real reason for scheduling an extra session with my therapist. Her smile is practiced and pasted on, like her lips forgot to slide back over her teeth and now are resting in perma-smile. I know it very well. It’s stuck not just on her face but on every wall of the house, our annual family pictures announcing that yes we are happy—look at our faces. I’ve been practicing a little myself lately, figuring out what it takes to knock Mom’s smile off. I take a swipe now, knowing the one word that always hits home.
“You can just say it, you know,” I tell her, as I follow Mom out to the car. “You can just say we’re going to see Dr. Gabriella because of Tress.”
We all freaked out when we woke up to find Tress gone Sunday morning. Gretchen had sat in my bed, clutching one of my pillows and trying to look like she wasn’t upset. But I knew Gretchen—whether I liked her or not. Her lips, still stained candy red, but now dry and flaking, had been crushed in a straight line, her teeth shut tight against any guilt she might have about what she’d said to Tress the night before.
Maddie had immediately broken into tears, saying now the whole family was missing—which had sent my stomach spiraling. I was in a panic by the time I woke up Mom, a sobbing, hysterical mess. Dad had brought everyone downstairs, asking if anyone had seen her leave or heard anything strange, while Mom