Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,108

guys are going to have quite the season,” Everett says.

“Didn’t you play football?” Cal asks.

“I did, but I wasn’t as good as you guys. I always had to work harder. You know how there’s always one kid on the team who’s not quiiiite as good as everyone else, but the coach keeps him around because he’s ‘got heart’?” Everett puts air quotes around the words “got heart.”

“Oh definitely,” the boys say in unison.

“That was me,” Everett says.

“We have one of those this year, too,” West says, without irony.

“You ready, Aunt Queenie?” Cal asks.

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, trying to stand up straight.

“It’s all downhill anyway,” West says.

“See you at the opener,” Everett says.

“Yes, sir,” the boys say in unison.

We say our good-byes and begin running down the hill and away from Everett and Arrow, who has yet to get up. I can hear Everett trying to convince him to get a move on. The old dog isn’t buying it.

After I shower I head up to the salon clutching my cup of coffee. I open the front doors to find Merry Carole standing nose to nose with Whitney McKay. It’s odd seeing Whitney so soon after leaving West. Once again, we’re all shocked that he’s such a good kid given his . . . origins. Dee and Fawn are begging the pair to back off and take it easy. I set my coffee cup down quickly and jump into the center of the two women and push them apart.

“That’s enough,” I say. Whitney jerks forward like she’s going to make some last-minute jab at Merry Carole. “I won’t hesitate to punch you in the face, Whitney. You know I’ll do it, so govern yourself accordingly.” I wave her off as she backs away immediately. “Now what’s going on in here?”

“This bitch told me that my ring was a cubic zirconia piece of trash that Reed bought just so he could . . . I can’t even say it!” Merry Carole is fuming. “I wasn’t even supposed to be wearing it . . . I was just showing it to Dee and Fawn,” Merry Carole says.

“Why didn’t you just throw her ass out?” I ask, as if Whitney isn’t in the room.

“It just kind of got away from them,” Dee says, stepping into the fray.

“I was just repeating what I heard, Merry Carole,” Whitney says.

“It’s a lie and you know it. Right? You know it’s not true. Whitney?” I ask, stepping forward. This has gone on long enough.

“I don’t—”

“You didn’t hear anything of the kind. So what’s this all about then? And trust me, your minions aren’t here and you’re outnumbered. We are not above locking you in this salon until you talk,” I say, motioning for Fawn to lock the salon door.

“You can’t lock me in,” Whitney says.

“You’re the one who started this fight, it’s not our fault if we have to finish it,” I say. Merry Carole pulls her hankie from her apron pocket. She dabs at her mascara as she waits for Whitney to speak. I sigh. I shift my weight as Whitney’s eyes dart around the room. “The truth shall set you free, Whitney.” My twang is deep and thick. The clichéd words have the desired effect. Whitney rolls her eyes and lets loose with the smallest scoffing laugh. I step forward. She flinches.

“Fine. Fine,” Whitney says, poufing out her hair just so. I turn around and realize that she’s looking at herself in the mirror like a three-year-old.

“Um . . . Whitney? Yeah, we all know why you pick on Merry Carole, so . . . this will be one of those teaching moments where this is more about you learning how to talk about your feelings than actually enlightening any of us,” I say.

“Oh, y’all know why I pick on Merry Carole?”

“Yes,” we all say in unison.

“Well, then, why do I have to say it? I mean, can I at least have some coffee or something?” Whitney says, looking around the salon desperately, as if she’s crawled through the desert for a week without a drink. Dee just sighs and walks back to the kitchenette.

“But don’t say nothing till I get back,” Dee says, calling out from the kitchenette. We all stand in silence. Whitney studies her fingernails and I settle into one of the salon chairs. I catch Merry Carole looking at her engagement ring.

“Hurry up, Dee,” Fawn yells back to the kitchenette.

“All right, all right. I’m coming,” Dee says, presenting Whitney with a mug