My Best Everything Read online

  He said, “I took a gamble on a new farmer. It didn’t work out. I don’t have the money for your school.”

  I sat back in my chair, completely confused. I tried to make a joke of it. “Are you leaving me between a rock and a hard place?” That’s how Daddy always described Dale. It’s true, of course, the way it’s crammed between two mountains. That’s not what he really meant. And that’s why his words made no sense.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “But…” My dinner sat heavy in my stomach while my head swirled. “There must be something you can do.”

  He shook his head, eyes on his empty plate.

  “What about Paul?”

  “This will be his last year. He can’t wait.”

  “I can’t wait either, Daddy.”

  “We can’t afford private school, Lulu. Especially not out of state.”

  “You’re the one who told me to pick a Catholic university.” My voice was low, close to cracking.

  I didn’t know what to feel or think or do. I plan things. I make decisions and stick with them. The University of San Diego’s biochemistry program was top notch. With state-of-the-art labs. I hadn’t even applied to any Virginia schools.

  “Daddy,” I said louder. “You have to fix this.”

  I knew eyes from other tables were on me. Ears were listening. But I couldn’t stop the words from boiling up and over. “There’s nothing for me here. You know that.”

  He didn’t even try to argue.

  I threw his own words at him. “The only people who stay in Dale are the ones with no other options.”

  I read the truth in his eyes: That was me.

  I bolted out the door. I didn’t want to lose it in Monty’s. It’d be all over town by morning that I was having a nervous breakdown.

  Dale isn’t quite small enough to be incestuous, but close. It’s definitely small enough that everyone thinks they know each other’s business. They remember when your mother freaks out at your middle school spring festival event and has to be carried out by the paramedics because she’s paralyzed with anxiety. You know what it’s like to have everyone think they know all about you and your family. To be waiting for you to make the same mistakes.

  Back at home, Daddy tried to explain. This wasn’t the first time one of his gambles hadn’t worked out, but it was the first time I’d felt the ripples.

  Mom rubbed my back. “There are things you could do here, Lulu. You could help out at the church and keep working. Sal reminded me you don’t even know how to drive yet.”

  I wanted to say, Drive? You can’t even walk out our front door to check the mail. I was filled with an all-consuming, dizzying sort of anger. If she wasn’t such a Jell-O mom, we might have had other options. We might not even live in Dale at all. But might-have-beens were a waste of worry. And talking about her problem would have broken family code.

  Instead I said, “I’m leaving in September.”

  No more rock. No more hard place. Gone.

  4

  I stayed up all night researching scholarships and financial aid, but Daddy was right. All the deadlines had passed. Then, in the midst of my searching for the magic solution, an e-mail popped up from USD. A deposit of four hundred dollars was due.

  At work I searched the Internet for ideas and stories of young entrepreneurs. I read about a girl who’d raised golden retrievers, and a boy who’d sold some kind of radio circuit boards. One family grew Christmas trees to fund the education of four children. I was only fifteen years too late to start that one. Roni squealed when I found the story about Lullaby Breaker doing a fund-raiser for a girl with leukemia.

  She’d developed mad love for Lullaby Breaker ever since she saw them play at Buttercup’s birthday party, right before they started their first tour. Back then they were just some local band that Buttercup’s cousin Troy played in. I’d missed the party to stay home and study for the SATs, but I’d heard all about Lullaby Breaker ever since. I’d heard “This Feeling” enough times that it didn’t sound like music anymore.

  Roni said, “Too bad you don’t have cancer.”

  “Too bad you think I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

  “Oh, Lulu. I know how much this matters to you—I really do. But I also know you’ll figure something out.”

  Roni didn’t get my distress. She planned to stay in Dale forever. She wanted to get married and pop out Bucky’s babies, who would grow up and stay here too.

  As Ollie came in the trailer to grab a soda from the fridge, bringing with him an overpowering smell of sweat and dirt, Roni said, “Let’s buy lottery tickets.”

  Ollie said, “I want in.” Then he belched, making the trailer smell even worse.

  “Eww, Ollie,” said Roni.

  I said, “Buying lottery tickets is throwing money away.”

  “Can’t win if you don’t buy a ticket,” said Ollie. “If I won the lottery, I’d start a restaurant for peanut butter sandwiches. Peanut butter and mayo, peanut butter and fluff, peanut butter and brown sugar, peanut butter and…”

  “Jelly?” I suggested.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I was thinking honey. Point is, I’d invest that money right back into my business, which would then make me even more money.”

  Ollie has always been my favorite Muscle. He’s a dreamer, always making plans, looking ahead, seeing the potential in what most people toss. Kind of like Sal, but with less money. And body hair. That day he made me sad. I couldn’t help thinking he was never going to do anything different. He’d always be stuck in the junkyard dreaming his sweet, sticky peanut butter dreams.

  Randy and Dawg came in the trailer then too, putting the air quality at grave risk. Randy said, “Hey, Lulu, did Ollie tell you a Malone boy asked about you this morning?”

  Too many eyes were suddenly all on me. I said, “Did you help him find a radiator?”

  “Is that what you kids call it these days? A ray-dee-aaaay-tor?” Randy can make anything sound dirty.

  Roni said, “Does he mean Mason? Why was he asking about you?”

  “He said he needs a radiator.”

  “Didn’t buy one,” said Dawg.

  “That’s true.” Randy chuckled. “I guess he just wants Lulu’s radiator.”

  Ollie said, “I don’t know that you should mix up with a Malone, Lulu.”

  “I’m not mixed up with him,” I said. “But I can not not mix up with whoever I want.”

  Roni laughed. “Not not mix-upping can be fun.” She was always latching on to funny lines.

  “I don’t trust him,” said Randy. “He played dumb when I tried to get him to sell me some moonshine. Said he’s not involved with that business any longer.”

  “But he was?” I asked. I looked at Roni, who shrugged.

  You can’t live in Dale and not have heard about moonshine. I knew it was a deep and ingrown redneck tradition. Of course I knew it was illegal. Stronger than store-bought liquor. It seemed like every few months there’d be a notice in the paper about an old still getting shut down and dismantled. I didn’t have any practical knowledge. Every now and then someone would bring some moonshine to a party, but it felt to me, the nondrinker, like it was simply an excuse to act even stupider than usual.

  Ollie said, “All Malones are in the business, one way or another.”

  “Hoo-boy. A jar of that stuff can lose you a week of your life.” Randy smacked his lips.

  “That’s a good thing?” I asked.

  “Depends on the week.”

  Then Sal charged into the trailer, and all the Muscles scattered. Ollie, on his way out the door, said, “Hey, Lulu, if you have a connection with your not not not whatever you’re doing or not doing, I’ll trade you a month’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches for a jar.” He and Randy giggled their way down the stairs.

  Sal grabbed his deodorant from the bottom drawer and lifted his shirt, revealing his incredibly hairy stomach in order to spray his pits. There are some visions that can never be e
rased from your mind, no matter the amount of drink or therapy. He turned to us and said, “You girls did good work with that load-off. Here’s a bonus.” He handed us each a stack of bills.

  “Thanks.” I thumbed the money. “Sal, you think I could borrow—”

  He cut me off. “I’m happy to give you extra shifts, Lulu, but you’re too young to start owing. If you need money, figure out a way to earn it.”

  I was more surprised by my asking than by his answer.

  “You know you’ll have a job here as long as you want it.”

  He meant that nice enough, but for me it sounded like a threat or a curse.

  I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed that I’d missed your junkyard visit. Especially now that I’d heard you might be wrapped up in the moonshine business.

  That’s when I checked the inventory for radiators and realized I’d never logged the still’s arrival. I’d been so hungover and dazed from the heat, I hadn’t followed through on the paperwork. Then the phone started ringing and Sal dumped a ton of files on my desk and, well, I didn’t do it that day either. I can hear you saying it’s because deep inside, I already knew what I was going to do.

  Roni came by my house after dinner. “You look awful, Lulu-bird.”

  She told the truth. I wasn’t wearing makeup, and my hair was a tangled mess. I wore cutoff sweatpants with a stained yellow tank top and was eating from a bag of gummy bears for comfort. I looked worse than old Mother Hubbard, who preaches outside the Supermart ever since the Baptists chased her off their lawn.

  “Come on, Lulu. I’m taking you out.”

  I shook my head. “I’m too pathetic.”

  “That’s never bothered you before,” she teased. “Besides, we have to go.” She danced in place and said, “Lullaby Breaker is playing at Monty’s. It’s a secret bonus concert to thank the fans who got them started. They didn’t even post it on their website.” She rummaged through my closet. “Put this on.”

  The red sundress she’d picked out was cute. Loose enough to hide my gummy-filled gut. “Is Bucky coming?” I wasn’t going to be a third wheel.

  “He’s working. The club pool needed an after-hour cleanup.”

  I slipped into the dress, put on makeup, and ignored my curls. Sometimes it’s better to let my hair be wild. It’s like fighting fate, anyway. It’s going to do what it wants.

  Turned out Lullaby Breaker was playing in the bar part of Monty’s restaurant. We heard them as soon as we stepped out of the car, but we couldn’t see the band from the doorway, no matter how we turned and peeked around the tramped-up ladies in front of us. Roni leaned to the side. “I wish I could see something other than old people dancing.”

  One of the ladies gave us a dirty look. I pulled Roni back in line, giggling.

  The tattooed bouncer took one look at us and said, “Sorry, girls. Gotta be twenty-one.”

  Roni pouted. “We promise we won’t drink.”

  Curtis Matthews, one of Paul’s friends, peered out the door then. He said, “Hey, aren’t you a little Mendez?”

  Roni tossed her hair and said, “She’s not that little.”

  His eyes ran all over both of us. “Yeah. I’d say you’ve grown up real nice.”

  The bouncer said, “But not enough.”

  Curtis asked, “Where’s your brother been, Lulu? I haven’t seen him all summer.”

  “He stayed at school. He’s working in Charlottesville.”

  “He didn’t come home to Mommy?”

  Curtis laughed, and the bouncer gave him a high five. I didn’t know if that was simple trash talk or if he was actually talking about Mom. Either way, fact was Paul had escaped. The unfairness of it made me grit my teeth and step away from the door.

  Out in the parking lot, Roni steamed. “We have to get in there somehow.”

  “Wouldn’t Bucky be mad if you were in a bar without him?”

  “He trusts me. We keep each other plenty happy. There’s no reason to fool around with anyone else. That’s why I know we’re ready to get married.”

  “You aren’t even old enough to get into a bar, Roni. What if you get tired of him by the time you can?”

  “I’m not like you, Lulu. You’re the one who always wants something bigger and better.”

  She was right, but I wasn’t sure why it felt like an insult.

  We found the back door, where a pile of wooden pallets and crates full of empty beer bottles were stored. Roni said, “Let’s wait here for someone to open that door and let us in.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Well, hopefully it will be some big stud. Named Sven or Oyvind.”

  “Oyvind?”

  She waved my doubts away. “He’ll have thick blond hair and gorgeous eyes, and you’ll… convince him.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Why me? You’re the expert at convincing.”

  We didn’t have anywhere better to be, and we could hear the band pretty well through a small cracked window above our heads, so we sat on the cement step, trying not to notice the stink of stale beer mixed in with something worse from the Dumpster, and listened.

  Roni said, “I swear Grungie’s voice is so deep it makes my toes curl.”

  “He’s the ugly one, right?”

  She frowned disapprovingly while I laughed. “Like Sal says, homely can keep you happy in the dark.”

  Roni grabbed my arm. “Listen. Do you hear that deep kind of echo? That has to be the wooden box Troy found. I think it’s some kind of Peruvian—or maybe African—instrument.”

  “All I hear is harmonica. Sounds kind of hillbilly to me.”

  “More like completely new and alternative,” Roni defended them. “They’re very experimental. I read on their blog that Grungie wants a harp for a new song called ‘Angel’s Share.’”

  “Which one has those ridiculous sideburns? The ones that look like some kind of pet.”

  “That’s Johnny,” said Roni. “He’s the one who writes all their love songs. ‘River Lullaby’ is so pretty it makes me cry. I’m going to have it at my wedding.” She stomped her foot. “I really wanted to see them play tonight.”

  “Let’s hear you sing.” I handed her one of the empty beer bottles from the crate. “Here’s your microphone.”

  Roni shook her head but took the bottle, grinning.

  “And I’ll play the bottle-rocka.” I picked up some pebbles and put them in a second bottle so they’d jingle against the brown glass. “It’s an alternative African-Peruvian jingle bell. Very hip. Very big city. Very new style.”

  She laughed.

  I yelled, “One, two, three, hit it!”

  “Wait. I actually know this one.” She bobbed her head in time and then started singing. Soft at first. Then louder. Pretty soon, she got into it. Me too. I shook my bottle-rocka and danced beside her while she sang. We couldn’t hear the band’s next song, so she went on to some other song she liked. It was like being in fourth grade again, when we used to pretend we were making music videos. I’d always been her backup. Even though we were major dorks acting even younger than we were, I know that was so much more fun than being in that crowded bar, where we’d have to act cool. Or at least normal. Which we were nowhere near when the door suddenly opened.

  Startled, Roni shrieked, long and piercing.

  I—as pure reflex—threw my glass instrument. Fortunately, it hit the wall and shattered glass in a million directions, rather than hitting Grungie, the lead singer of Lullaby Breaker.

  We ran. Ducking behind Roni’s car, I peered through her dusty windows to where the rest of the band had joined Grungie. He pointed in our direction, laughing.

  “I can’t believe you threw that bottle,” she gasped. “Is he all right?” Then she groaned. “I’ll never be able to watch them play again.”

  I’m not sure what came over me then. I felt restless and agitated. Tired of wanting something out of reach. I stood up and walked around her car.

  “Lul
u,” she squealed. “Where are you going?”

  “Sorry about that,” I called to them, waving. “You scared us.”

  Grungie laughed, waving his cigarette. “Not the first time I’ve had a bottle thrown at me.”

  “See, we were sitting and listening to you play. They won’t let us in, since we’re not quite twenty-one yet.”

  They shifted their feet and grinned. They’re used to love-crazed girls.

  “You need to meet Roni McAllister.” I gestured to where Roni hid. “She knows all your songs. In fact, she can sing them as good as you can. Better, maybe.”

  “I am going to kill you, Lulu,” Roni growled, not moving.

  Grungie said, “All right. I’m listening.”

  I stared down at Roni. She glared back, something fierce. “Sing for them, Roni.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes you can. You sing all over the place. And you’re good.”

  “I’ll help you out,” said Grungie. I still think he’s ugly, but he’s genuinely sweet too. His voice really is thunder-rumble deep. When Roni joined in, it was obviously not the first time she’d sung along to his voice. There in the parking lot she sang clear and raw, high to his low, but right. Oh so right.

  When they finished a verse, he grinned. “Fellows, I think we may have found what we’ve been looking for.” He moved across the lot and handed her a card. “Call me to try a set.”

  Roni nodded, clutching that card against her chest.

  Someone opened the back door, and they all tossed their cigarettes and moved to head back into the bar. Grungie called back, “Roni McAllister, right?”

  “Right!” I yelled, since she was still frozen.

  When she thawed, she said, “What the hell is wrong with you, Lulu?” Then, “Mother-of-a-miracle, I sang with Grungie Johnson. I can die now and go to heaven.”

  “That’d be a waste,” I said. “At least try that set before you croak.”