Chapter 5 - The Velvet Dress Said She Was Kidding
The marble didn't warm up under my knees. I could feel the cold coming right through my pants and into my bones, and Dad's arm was so tight around my shoulders I could hardly breathe. Maya was on his other side, her face pressed into his denim shirt, her sheer sleeve snagged on one of his buttons. Nobody in the circle moved to pick up the bat. It just lay there, dark against all that white.
The woman in burgundy pushed herself up on one elbow. Her long hair had fallen forward over her face, and she shoved it back with a shaky hand. One of her heeled sandals had slipped half off. She looked around at the faces watching her, at the phones held low, and she tried to smile. It didn't work.
"Come on," she said. Her voice was hoarse, too bright. "I wasn't going to hit them. I was only scaring them."
The words landed flat on the marble. An older man in a tux near the sconce shifted his weight. A woman with her hand still over her mouth glanced down at the bat, then back up. Nobody laughed. Nobody nodded.
I kept staring at the bat because I couldn't look at her. I remembered the way it had gone up. Not once. First when Maya knocked the glass of ginger ale off the display table by the double doors and it shattered. The woman grabbed it off the charity auction rack where it wasn't supposed to be touched. She lifted it high over us, both hands on the handle. Maya screamed and grabbed my vest. Then Dad yelled from the doorway and she hesitated, lowered it a few inches — and then she raised it again, higher that second time, her mouth twisted. That was when we both ducked.
I hadn't imagined that second lift. My neck still hurt from flinching.
Dad didn't raise his voice. He kept one hand on the back of my neck, the other around Maya, and he looked at the woman on the floor. "You raised it twice," he said quietly.
She blinked fast. "I didn't—"
"You did," he said. He didn't say it mean. He said it like he was just setting a cup down on a table and didn't want it to spill. "They flinched twice."
The hall was so quiet I could hear the chandeliers humming. Somewhere behind the circle a staff guy whispered into a radio and then went silent. My dad's stubble scratched against my temple when he bent his head a little closer to us.
The woman sat up fully now, pulling her velvet dress down over her knees. Her cheeks were red. "They're exaggerating. You know how kids get at these things. Tired. Overdramatic. I just wanted them to stop crying before they ruined the whole gala."
Maya lifted her head just enough that I could see her wet eyes and her mouth trembling. She wasn't looking at the woman. She was looking at Dad's shirt pocket like if she stared hard enough she could disappear into it. Her fingers twisted in my vest and wouldn't let go.
The circle felt smaller. The air smelled like perfume and spilled ginger ale and floor polish. My ears were ringing.
Dad started to answer, then stopped himself. He breathed in through his nose, slow. I felt his chest move under my cheek. He glanced down at me, just a quick check, like are you okay, and I gave a tiny nod even though I wasn't.
Then Maya tugged on his shirt with both hands.
May you like
"Please take us home."
It was barely louder than a whisper. Nobody in the outer ring pretended they didn't hear it. The woman in burgundy froze with her hand on her dress. Dad closed his eyes for half a second and pulled us both in tighter, and the bat stayed exactly where it had fallen, between her and us.
