her, eyes wide, mouth open. Then, to Clarice’s amazement, he started to back up. First one step, then another. He tried to act as if he were in charge, calling her a string of filthy names and threatening to hurt her. But Clarice could see from the way his eyes darted left and right searching out an escape route that this short, chubby teenage girl had him unnerved.
Odette kept moving toward him and he kept backing away. He moved across the living room floor, his feet shuffling across the orange carpet. His hands gripped the backs of the heavy, mismatched furniture he was careful to keep between himself and Odette. When he had backed completely out of the room and into the hallway that led to the kitchen, he yelled out, “I ain’t got time to be dealin’ with this crazy shit. Go on, get out. I don’t care where you go. You ain’t none of my concern.” He moved out of sight then, and a few seconds later they heard the rear door of the house open and slam shut.
Odette maintained her Golden Gloves stance for what seemed like an hour, but was probably less than a minute. When Vondell didn’t return, she brought her fists down, shaking out her shoulders as if she’d just gone ten rounds. Then she walked toward Clarice, who was still frozen at the front door. Stepping into the circle of golden fabric she had shed onto the floor earlier, Odette said, “Clarice, could you give me a hand getting back into my dress?”
After Clarice packed Odette into her gown, the two girls went to Barbara Jean, who sat in the maroon chair staring at Odette with awe. Clarice picked up the imitation fur stoles and dime-store jewelry from the floor while Odette helped Barbara Jean up from the chair. Odette said, “Come on, Barbara Jean, we’ve got us a party to go to.”
The three girls squeezed into the front seat of Clarice’s car for the drive to Little Earl’s party. They were about a third of the way there when Clarice finally found words. She said, “That was incredible, Odette. I had no idea your father taught you how to box.”
Odette snorted and said, “Box? Daddy’s never weighed more than a hundred ten pounds his entire life. Who the hell was he gonna box? Vondell would’ve broken my neck if he’d decided to fight me.”
During the rest of the ride to the All-You-Can-Eat, Clarice fought to keep her eyes on the road and not stare at her insane friend in disbelief. Barbara Jean gazed out of the car window and periodically gasped, “Holy shit.”
They had fun at the party that night. They flirted and lip-synched Supremes songs. They watched Little Earl, in a costume consisting of his best Sunday suit and a Bible, try to use the “I Have a Dream” speech as a pickup line. They admired Chick Carlson.
Girls approached Chick all night. Freed from convention by their costumes, they forgot for that evening that they were on opposite sides of a racial divide and constantly interrupted his busboy duties by asking him to dance. Clarice, Barbara Jean, and Odette got a kick out of watching him hop across the floor in his cowboy costume—his everyday clothes plus a bandana. And they giggled as, regardless of the song, he treated each girl to a two-step—the only dance that country white boys knew back then.
Late in the evening, Odette went missing for a while. She returned to the window table with Big Earl and Miss Thelma, who promptly shooed away all of the kids, except Barbara Jean, Odette, and Clarice. Then, after seating themselves on either side of Barbara Jean, they told her that she would be moving into the room that their daughter, Lydia, had vacated when she left Plainview two years earlier. They didn’t ask her opinion or entertain other options. Each of them held one of Barbara Jean’s hands and informed her that Lydia’s room was hers that night and for as long as she wanted.
Barbara Jean protested just long enough to show that she had good manners. Then she agreed. So that evening, courtesy of Big Earl, Miss Thelma, and Odette, Barbara Jean had a family for the first time in her life. And Clarice came to understand that she had a friend who could perform miracles.
Chapter 16
Between them, Lester and Barbara Jean owned four vehicles when he died. When she learned that Odette was sick, Barbara Jean donated