Girl in the Arena by Lise Haines

Author:Lise Haines
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: ebook, book
ISBN: 9781599903729
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Published: 2010-08-09T10:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

19

—Uber called, Allison says. —I couldn’t find you.

I watch her apply her lipstick and then throw the tube back into her purse. Thad and I are tucked in close in the backseat watching the fans waiting on the other side of the gate. I can see they’re making Thad nervous.

—Okay, I say.

Before we go anywhere Allison rides up and down for a while, adjusting her seat. She’s waiting for me to show a little interest. She looks at me in the rearview mirror. Up and down while I look at a text.

Sam wants to see if I can get together with her and Callie. I guess she’s feeling remorse at losing a suddenly high-profile friend. I keep writing back: Return to Sender. She pretends it’s a joke and chats away.

—Is Thaddy’s seat belt right? It looks twisted around. By the way, Uber asked me to tell you he’s sending the crown off to a restorer. He’ll bring it back as soon as it’s ready. Then he apologized of all things. I think this really says something about his integrity, don’t you?

—Hold on, I say.

I’ve shut Sam off and I’m trying to help Thad. I tell him we’re going to wear sleep masks today, and put one of Allison’s blue silk ones on him. I worry that once we pull out of the drive all the flashes going off will send him into convulsions. It’s a steady stream of blinding wattage now as Allison backs up. I’m reminded that when you see a picture of a celebrity on TV or in a magazine, grinning to their gums, they aren’t smiling at anyone, because they can’t see anyone. They’re smiling into a wall of painful light.

Allison hits the switch, the gates open, and the car inches forward. The photographers push against our car doors now. They angle across the windshield and throw themselves at our rear window. I won’t let Thad take the mask off until we’re headed into Boston.

—Please drown them out, I say.

Allison reaches over and blasts a morning show on the radio. The weather will be fair, not too hot, not too cool.

—Not too hot, not too cool, Thad says.

A few dirty jokes, money giveaways, the traffic blocked up at the Lever Connector, talk and laughter, and we’ve finally pulled away. I get out of my seat belt for a moment, stretch into the front seat, and push the CD button. Mozart’s Così fan tutte fills the car.

Although she and my succession of fathers have drawn varying degrees of attention from the media, this level of interest is different. Every time they shout their questions at me, about whether or not I’m going to marry my father’s murderer, I feel like someone who’s been shot up in a mall or wedged into a well unable to move, without a rescue crew—somewhere between dead and stuck. I can’t tell exactly how Allison feels about the fact that the focus has shifted to me because she has her personality face on, that expression that lets the media know she’s self-possessed and plans to stay that way.

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