Mary Jane, Jessica Blau [diy ebook reader TXT] 📗

this,” Sheba said. “Is this from that one time you went to sleepaway camp?”

“It’s from Camp Fire Girls. Ready? Repeat after me: FLEA!”

“FLEA!” they all repeated.

“FLEA FLY!”

“Flea fly!”

“FLEA FLY FLOW!”

“Flea fly flow!”

“Kumala!”

“Kumala!”

“Vista!”

“Vista!”

“Kumala, kumala, kumala vista!” I sang in the melody.

“Kumala, kumala, kumala vista!”

“Oh, no, no, no not sevista!”

“Oh, no, no, no not sevista!”

When we got to the end, where you pretend to scratch your body all over, Dr. Cone came into the living room. He sat on thecouch and watched us as if we were monkeys in a zoo, his head tilted.

Everyone laughed when the song ended. It was Izzy’s turn to pick the next song and she said, “I want to do ‘Kumala Vista’ again.” And so we did.

 

Mrs. Cone, Sheba, and Jimmy all wore wigs that night to go out to dinner at Morgan Millard, the only restaurant in RolandPark. Jimmy put on one of Dr. Cone’s suits. It was blue and had wide lapels and bell-bottom pants. He didn’t wear a tie, buthe did wear a starched button-down, with the top three buttons open.

“What do you think?” Jimmy asked me as we walked to the car. “Anyone gonna recognize me?”

“No.” But I did think people would look at him. His wig was black and straight, with bangs across the front. And he was wearing leather sandals. I’d never in my life seen anyone wear leather sandals with a suit.

Mrs. Cone and Sheba were wearing the Swedish sister wigs again. Dr. Cone looked just like himself with his fuzzy, irregularsideburns eating up half his face. I put Izzy in a flouncy pink dress and white patent leather shoes. Just for fun. And Shebagave me one of her dresses to wear. Also just for fun. It was red with a pattern of black spiderwebs all over it. The dresswasn’t cut low, but the straps were thinner than my bra straps, so it felt like I was being a bit risqué. Sheba was so muchtaller than I was, the dress probably fell to her upper thigh. On me, it modestly hit my knee.

Dr. and Mrs. Cone got in the front seat, and the rest of us got in the back. Sheba sat by one door, Jimmy sat by the other.Izzy and I squished in the middle. Everyone was talking at once, happily, excitedly. We had finished the bookshelves. Jimmyhad recommitted himself to sobriety. And we were going out to a restaurant so no one would have to make dinner or clean upafter it.

The car was warm and dark; streetlights cast moving shadows over us like ghosts dancing across our laps. Sheba leaned in closeand whispered in my ear, “I think you should just take off the bra.”

“I’ve never done that,” I whispered, even lower. I really didn’t want Dr. Cone or Jimmy to know what we were discussing.

“The dress will look better. Here. Lean forward.”

I leaned forward and Sheba reached down the back of the dress and unhooked my bra. I quickly slipped my arms out of the straps and then pulled the bra out from the neckline. I was definitely being risqué now, though no one seemed to notice. Jimmy and Izzy were singing “Kumala Vista” again, and Dr. and Mrs. Cone were talking about what to do if they ran into someone they knew.

Sheba grabbed the bra and shoved it into her shiny pink handbag. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh. It felt funny to bebraless in public: loose and airy. For a second I imagined my nipples having mouths, breathing in oxygen for the first time.I giggled. Sheba did too.

“Our secret.” She pinched my knee.

 

Beanie Jones and Mr. Jones were leaving Morgan Millard just as we were walking in. He was as handsome as she was pretty, butthere was a waxiness to his skin and a rubberiness to his lips. Even his thick light brown hair looked fake. It was partedto the side and as neat as a wig.

“Hi, Beanie Jones!” Izzy said. And then she gasped and turned her face into my belly as she remembered the secret of Jimmyand Sheba.

“Hi!” I nervously waved.

“Hello, hello!” Beanie Jones had a too-big smile and she nodded as she examined wigged Sheba, then wigged Jimmy, and lastly,wigged Mrs. Cone.

“Tommy Jones.” Mr. Jones stuck out his hand and shook Dr. Cone’s hand.

“Richard Cone. We’re up the street from you,” Dr. Cone said. He seemed stiff, uncomfortable. Jimmy wandered away and stoodat the maître d’ podium with his back to us.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you in person!” Beanie Jones said. “It’s taken a while to meet all the new neighbors, what with people gone for the summer.”

“Thank you so much for the angel food cake!” Mrs. Cone’s voice was higher and more singsong than usual. As if she were overactingin a church play.

“Are you neighbors too?” Beanie Jones put her face so close to Sheba’s, she could have licked her.

“Jenny Johnson. We’re visiting from Newport, Rhode Island.” Sheba’s voice was nasally, low, and filtered through pinched lips.It reminded me of Thurston Howell III’s voice on Gilligan’s Island. Izzy’s head bopped and her lips made a little pfft sound as she tried not to laugh.

“Jenny Johnson, so nice to meet you!” Beanie Jones grinned. Mr. Jones was talking to Dr. Cone, who kept glancing away at Jimmy.“And your husband is?”

“Johnny Johnson,” Sheba said.

The maître d’ approached us with menus. Jimmy lurked behind him. Sheba said to Beanie Jones, “Dahling, it was lovely to meetyou and your husband. Do let us know if you’re ever in the Newport area.”

“Yes, I’d love to visit—”

“See you around the neighborhood!” Mrs. Cone cut off Beanie Jones with her overacting voice.

Izzy and I both waved and Dr. Cone shook Mr. Jones’s hand before he followed the rest of us to the table.

After being seated, we looked at each other with pursed lips or big, gaping smiles. No one spoke for a few seconds as Mrs.Cone leaned toward the window and looked out to make sure Beanie and Mr. Jones were gone. When