Annie's Baby Read online

  Maybe I’ll just stick a note through the little slot in his locker. What have I got to lose at this point?

  “Your dignity?”

  Get out of my face…rather, my head!

  “Your self-respect?”

  SHUT UP! It’s about time I started living my own life, without you and Mom always telling me when to breathe in and when to breathe out. I’m going to do it and I’M going to write it right now! So try to blow that out of your paper nose!

  October 27, Friday

  5:57 p.m.

  Dear Daisy:

  I’m soooo, sooooo sorry about last night. I guess I’m rude and mean to you because you…you’re you! I’m more mad at myself than I am at you. You know that don’t you? And I NEED YOU! You’re better than anyone on the Internet by about a billion-zillion-kat-tillion times.

  And I’m soooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! scared! I left a dumb, stupid, groveling, tear-soaked note in Danny’s locker, and now I’m mortified. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to show my face at school again. Oh why, why, why didn’t I listen to you? I can just see him showing off the idiotic note to all the guys on the team and them laughing at me, the dumbest dunce of all time.

  I shouldn’t ever have told him that the only thing I wanted in my life was for him to be my Pygmalion. Remember the Greek sculptor who carved the statue that he fell in love with, and it became real? The movie My Fair Lady was made about it, only this time I want it to be Danny who makes me, an ignorant girl, into the grand and important person that he wants me to be.

  We studied about Pygmalion in English, and it seemed so sensitive and beautiful. Now as I think it over, it seems just stupid and dumber than dumb!

  How could I have ever done it? How could you let me do it? But then HOW COULD YOU OR ANYONE HAVE STOPPED ME?

  6:03 p.m.

  I wonder if Mom could change me to another school. I don’t care how long I’d have to be on the bus or in what kind of a horrible area it might be.

  9:31 p.m.

  Be still my singing heart for just a sec while I tell my beloved Daisy the wondrous news: DANNY CALLED! And he isn’t mad or disgusted at me or anything. He said he thought I was mad and disgusted with him, and that he was even more mad and disgusted with himself…and sooooo sorry…. He certainly didn’t act that way in the hall…but maybe he was just embarrassed then because…well, because we’d both been so…you know. I hope you know because I’m sure I don’t! Anyway, the past is all over, and he wants to forget it, pretend it never happened, erase it, which we have! And we’re going to start all over as though we’re just meeting again, except the dandelions! I insisted that we keep the rooms full of dandelions and roses in our forevers. He called me his “Earth Angel” and said he “needs me” more than I’ll ever know. Isn’t that beautiful?

  He’s coming over tomorrow night at 8:30, and everything will work out exactly like in my dreams. Mom is going to see her friend Melba in Concord, so she’ll be home really late and—

  Oh, Daisy, I’m so filled with love and joy and laughter, I feel like…like a dandelion that has reached its full ethereal potential and is ready to explode its lovely little softies into all the universe.

  I’d better go to sleep now, so I’ll be rested and as attractive as it’s possible for me to be for tomorrow. Maybe Mom will let me have my hair trimmed and if I’m superduper lucky, get that ever-so-cool outfit I saw at the mall. It’s kind of expensive, so I think not. But who knows since this seems to be the luckiest of all my lucky days?

  October 28, Saturday

  8:26 p.m.

  Oh, Daisy, I can’t believe it—Danny just called and said they’re having a big banquet at the restaurant, and two of the waiters have called in sick. He’s really upset with his dad for making him work, but he’s stuck. I tried to make him feel better about it, but all the time I was crying on the inside of myself. I’ve spent the whole live-long day trying to get ready for tonight and now…blah…

  Jenny invited me to go to Hot Springs with her family and spend the day, but I turned that down; now there’s just boring you and me.

  It would have been fun to go the Springs with Mr. and Mrs. Jordan. They’re the kind of family everybody wants! A cool mom, a funny dad, two little boys, and a “Jerky Jenny.” That’s what Todd and Terry call her when they’re mad at her. Anyway, I guess she’s my very best friend. She was the first person I met when we moved here. I didn’t know up from down at the school till she came by and saved me. I’ll always be appreciative of that. I guess I’m really fortunate to have friends like Jenny and Deanna and Molly and Meg. We’re a bunch of tomboy-girl dorks, and basically we don’t get in trouble.

  All of us, except Meg, went to the Methodist Christian three-day Youth Conference both this year and last, and we’re all dedicated to being ethical and God-fearing and kind and honest, and all the other things we were taught as we swam and hiked and sang and built tepees, and all the other stuff that is supposed to make us well-rounded, caring-for-our-fellow-man-and-woman types of people. Meg’s dad wouldn’t let her go because they’re Catholics, but my mom and Deanna’s folks let us go even though we’re not Methodists. My mom says goodness and truth are goodness and truth no matter where we find them.

  Wouldn’t it be positively heavenly if I could get Danny to go with us to the youth conference next summer? There’s no “messing around” up there, but it would be a good chance to learn everything about each other from the inside out.

  Jenny met Doug there last year and they’re still writing letters and communicating on the Net as often as they can, which isn’t often because he doesn’t have a computer at home.

  Well, at least daydreaming in writing has made me feel better. I’ll just continue to think about Danny and me at the youth conference together in the open piney woods by the lake and the two creeks. It would be sooo positively wonderful. Maybe he could be a junior counselor because he’s older. I love daydreaming!

  I think I’m going to make some chocolate chip cookies, turn on my kind of music, cuddle up, and just let my mind wander.

  ‘Night, sweet dreams, Daisy.

  I love you! I hope you can still love me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  October 29, Sunday

  2:30 a.m.

  I woke up wondering how it’s going to be with me and Danny. He’s such a wonderful, sweet person when he’s not drinking and using. I hope he never does that again. Maybe it will be my job to keep him straight and sober and virtuous. I feel that’s what he wants to be, as I know it’s really what I want to be. Maybe it’s my calling to help him be strong and resist all the negatives in life, so he can make the very best and most of himself! I know he can do anything and be anything he wants, particularly if I’m by his side and helping him!

  I’m sooooooooooo grateful for my mom, who has always taught me to strive for good and right things. Now maybe I’m going to have the opportunity to help Danny with those things. I am sooooooooo happy, I’m just bubbling and purring inside. Now I know how a kitty feels in front of a fireplace or on someone’s lap.

  11:21 a.m.

  Danny called. His dad’s letting him take off the afternoon and he “wants to be with me if I want to be with him.” Do birds want to fly? Do fish want to swim? I gotta go do my hair and my nails and decide what to wear and try to magically cover up the rotten volcanolike zit that’s popped up on my face. Why now? Why, why NOW!

  I wonder if boys are as embarrassed by zits as girls are? I don’t think so—they couldn’t be.

  10:18 p.m.

  Oh, dearest-friend-in-the-world Daisy, I’m so glad I have you! I want to talk to someone! I need to talk to someone! I’ve got to talk to someone!!!!! But I’m sooooooo embarrassed! So humiliated! So hurt! I mean hurt both physically and mentally—as well as emotionally! I don’t think I’ll ever recover. I don’t see how I can. It’s like a hideous nightmare, and I want to tell you about it, but it’s so depraved…I can’t.

  But I’ve got to unload. I feel like the horror
of it all is building up inside me until I’m physically stretching out like a balloon and will soon pop into smithereens. I still can’t believe it happened. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I’ve just gone crazy. Some weird little part of me wants to think that. It would be easier to handle than the truth.

  “Tell me. It will make you feel better.”

  Oh Daisy, it was soooo terrible. Though not at first. Danny picked me up on the corner by Bigbee’s and I sat way on my side in case any of the neighbors were around. He teased me about that, and we laughed like we’d done when we first met. I was goose bumpity—it seemed so wonderful. Then he told me he had to stop by his place to get something. I’ve forgotten what it was—I was so excited to see inside the old Pederson mansion.

  We walked around the yard and the humongous old, old, old shady trees beckoned me to play hide-and-seek with them, but I resisted, and suggested Danny be not Prince Arthur but young, handsome, perfect Prince Danny. I would be his Guinevere. It was true fairytale stuff; the whole place, and time, and feeling.

  After a while he took my hand, kissed it, and led me into the house. I almost swooned—it was so appropriate to our pretending. I could hear the heralds playing their horns for us while my heart galloped around inside of me like a white steed.

  Danny took me into their study, which had a stone fireplace big enough to be a child’s playhouse. The walls were covered with books, many in glass cases, and the big old, red, soft leather chairs and couch were giant sized. Danny sprawled out in a huge, huge Daddy Bear chair and I curtsied to him. He laughed, threw out his arms and yelled, “Dance for me, wench.”

  I wanted to explain to him what “wench” really meant, but that would have broken the mood, so I picked up a cloth that was over a little end table and gigglingly started swaying around.

  After a minute or two his mood changed, and he ordered, “Take off your clothes.”

  I stopped, dumbfounded.

  “Take off your clothes and dance dirty for me,” he commanded.

  I looked at him with unbelief. Before my eyes he had changed from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.

  In slow motion I watched him jump over the coffee table toward me. It was like HE was a stranger, and I wasn’t ME anymore. I was just a thing. I started crying, and he called me vile names. When I tried to fight him off, he slapped me across the face. I couldn’t believe what was happening, and I was so scared, I started screaming for help. He hit me hard then and put his hand over my mouth, calling me a bitch and a “ho” that was just trying to get him into trouble, but to forget it because no one was around.

  Despite my tears and pleadings, he raped me vilely. It had nothing, nothing, nothing to do with LOVE. It was doglike, primeval…everything that would forever remind me of rape and deception and debauchery. I staggered to my feet and fell against an end table. He grabbed the beautiful big lamp in time to save it, then hit me in the back with such force that I crumpled to the floor. And then he yelled at me to “get up and get out,” that a baby like me needed to “get home to my mommy.” He said I knew why I’d come there, that I was just a blank, blank, forever blank, blank tease and stuff.

  I can’t believe what happened next. I found myself kneeling at his feet telling him how sorry I was and sniveling on about my love for him. Thinking it would have been completely different if I hadn’t led him on unknowingly—I tried to explain, but he pushed me away and said he needed and wanted someone who really wanted to, and knew how to love him. Then he half-dragged me to the door and shoved me out.

  It was beginning to get dark, and I was scared because his house is halfway across town from ours, and I had no money.

  By the time I’d stumbled down his path to the street, I’d convinced myself I’d have to go back, apologize, and get him to take me home. But at that moment his car roared out the driveway, down the street, and around the corner. I started shaking and realizing that the streets got meaner as they got darker. I started running.

  It was thirty-one blocks from his house to ours. I know, because I counted every single one of them to keep my sanity.

  About halfway home I heard a police car coming toward me with its siren on. My first instinct was to go into the street and flag it down so they’d safely take me home, then I realized that I obviously looked like I’d been raped, and they’d probably accuse Danny of it! Then Mom…and the whole world would know what had happened. I couldn’t handle that. So I hid behind some bushes until the police car had passed.

  As soon as I saw its lights disappear in the distance I started running again faster than ever. I had to go through a bad part of town and expected to see gangs of boisterous guys hangin’ and looking for trouble on every corner, as well as prostitutes hawking their wares at each streetlamp, but it was really quiet, almost deadly quiet. It must have been too early or eating time or something because I’d seen pictures on the news of complete bedlam in that area.

  Once a dog started chasing me, and I had an adrenaline rush that practically took me flying off the sidewalk. It must have been a big, old, fat, lazy dog though because he just chased me about a block, but by that time the blood was gushing so hard in my ears that I was about to pass out.

  I wanted with everything in me to turn back and go sit on Danny’s front porch steps till his dad or someone got home, but I figured that I must be more than halfway to our house. As they say, I was past “the point of no return.”

  Well, anyway, as you can see I finally made it here and thank goodness Mom wasn’t home because when I looked in the mirror I almost shocked myself silly. I don’t know what she would have done. Perspiration had kinked my hair up into tight little knots and her mascara I had put on had run down my cheeks until I looked like I had two black eyes. They matched the big bruise on my face. My blouse was torn and one pocket was practically ripped out of my new linen pants.

  Suddenly I became frantic! How would I ever explain to Mom? She’d probably call the police, and it would be headlines in the paper, and everybody in town would know, and I’d have to quit school from embarrassment, and Danny might be sent away to a juvenile hall somewhere, where he’d be viciously and sadistically abused by drug-crazed thugs. Maybe maimed or killed.

  I quickly washed my face, got out of my telltale clothes, put on Mom’s old robe, and hurried down to the carports. I remembered having seen an old can of grease behind the Knotts’ parking space. Sneakily I walked past it, and dipping a stick in the gook, swiped it back and forth a couple of times on my clothes, then bundled them up and took them back into the house.

  Spreading my pants and shirt out in the bathtub, I tried to make them look like I’d been hit by a car and knocked down in a grease puddle. The whole story sounded pretty good to me, but I wasn’t sure Mom would buy it. I couldn’t think though of any other way I could explain my bruised cheek and my swollen eye to her.

  I then had to clean the grease out of the tub, which took forever. Every minute I became more and more scared that Mom would come in, and my story wouldn’t fly. But thank goodness, by the time she did get home, I’d cleaned the tub, showered, washed my hair, and had my soiled clothes all piled on newspapers on the washer with a pathetic little note: “PLEASE, MOM DON’T EVER MAKE ME LOOK AT THESE THINGS AGAIN. IT WOULD BE LIKE RELIVING THE ACCIDENT.”

  Mom was cool. She came in and said immediately, “Baby, what happened to your face?”

  I gulpingly explained about the make-believe accident (but the gulps were real)!

  She held me in her arms and sobbed how glad she was that I wasn’t hurt worse.

  I begged her please to not report the accident, as I’d been jogging, and I was sure I was the one who kind of ran into the dusk-colored car in the dusk, and that I was almost positive the driver wasn’t even aware that he/she had hit me, and also that I wasn’t even sure which corner it was on because it had stunned me a little…no, a lot!

  Mom hugged me even tighter as I begged her never to mention the foolish accident again and swore I’d be much more careful and
aware in the future.

  Mom promised.

  I feel so dishonorable and dirty about lying to her, almost more despicable about that than about what actually happened at Danny’s. I was partly responsible for that in a way, but she didn’t do anything…. I’m such a bad, lying, finagling, hypocrite!!!!! Mom would probably be better off if I hadn’t been born, or if I had died when I almost drowned in the pool when I was four, or ate the aspirin when I was three, or…but I didn’t, and she’s still burdened by me and probably will be the rest of her life. I’m sure I’m the reason she hasn’t married again! Who would want to be saddled with me?

  I think I better go to bed, I’m completely cycled. I don’t know when I’ve ever been so twisted and drained in my whole life.

  Maybe I’ll be lucky and there won’t be a tomorrow!

  October 30, Monday

  11:57 a.m.

  Mom sat by my bed and scratched my back and sang me to sleep. As I finally drifted off, I remember I was slipping back into my no-cares childhood: dolls, tricycles, little red-and-blue plastic swimming pool on the front lawn. Now it’s reality time again, and it’s unbearable, positively, absolutely, without question unbearable.

  11:46 p.m.

  I’ve slept practically the whole day.

  November 1, Wednesday

  10:06 p.m.

  I can hear Mom getting ready for bed in her room, and I’m glad. I can’t stand to talk with her anymore. She’s trying to be so loving and helpful and I’m being so…what is a word for someone as deceitful and fake as I am? Maybe there isn’t one. Anyway, I’m glad for sleep. It’s the only way I can escape, not have to face it, not have to decide what to do, not have to pretend and lie. I’m trying to blot out the whole Danny thing and not think about it, trying to deceive myself into believing that it’s all a disgusting dream that didn’t ever really happen.

  Mom’s really worried about me. She thinks I’m in shock or something, or that I had a little brain concussion or…who knows?…who cares?