Laura Lippman - Every Secret Thing

They were barefoot when they were sent home, their dripping feet leaving prints that evaporated almost instantly, as if they had never been there at all. Had it been possible to retrace their literal steps, as so many would try to do in the days that followed, the trail would have led from the wading pool area, where the party tables had been staked out with aqua Mylar balloons, past the snack bar, up the stairs, and to the edge of the parking lot. And each print would have been smaller than the lastlosing first the toes, then the narrow connector along the arch, the heels, and finally the baby-fat balls of their feetuntil there was nothing left.

At the curb, they sat to put on their shoessneakers for Ronnie, brand-new jellies for Alice, who used whatever money came her way to stay current with the fifth-grade fashion trends at St. William of York. Jellies were the thing to have that summer, on July 17, seven years ago.

The parking lots macadam shone black, reminding Alice of a bubbling, boiling sea in a fairy tale, of a landscape that could vaporize upon touch.

Its like the desert in Oz, she said, thinking of the hand-me-down books rescued from her mothers childhood.

Theres no desert in Oz, Ronnie said.

Yes, there is, later, in the other books, theres this desert that burns you up

Its not a book, Ronnie said. Its a movie.

Alice decided not to contradict her, although Ronnie usually ceded to Alice when it came to matters of books and facts and school. These were the things that Alice thought of as knowledge, a word that she saw in blazing blue letters, for it had stared at her all year from the bulletin board in their fifth-grade classroom. A wise man is strong; yea, a man of knowledge increases strength. The A papers of the week were posted beneath that proverb, and Alice had grieved, privately, any week she failed to make the board. Ronnie, who never made it, always said she didnt care.

But Ronnie was in one of her dark moods today, long past the point where anyone could tell her anything.

I should call your mothers, Maddys mom had fretted, even as she banished them from the party, from the pool. You shouldnt cross Edmondson Avenue alone.

Im allowed, Ronnie said. I have an aunt on Stamford, I go to her house when my parents are working. Shes this side of Edmondson.

Then, with a defiant look around at the other girls, their faces still stricken and shocked, Ronnie added: My aunt has Doublestuf Oreos and Rice Krispie treats and all the cable channels, and I can watch anything I want, even if its higher than PG-13.

Ronnie did have an aunt somewhere nearby, Alice knew, although Stamford didnt sound right. Neither did the Oreos and Rice Krispiesthere was never anything that good to eat in the Fuller house. There was all the soda you could drink, because Mr. Fuller drove a truck for Coca-Cola. And Ronnie was telling the truth about what she watched. The Fullers didnt seem to care what Ronnie saw. Or did, or said. The only thing that seemed to bother Mr. Fuller was the noise from the television, because the only thing he ever said to Ronnie and her three older brothers was Turn it down, turn it down . Or, for good measure: Turn it down, for Christs sake . Just last week, on a rainy afternoon, Ronnie had been watching one of those movies in which teenagers kept getting killed in ever more interesting ways, their screams echoing forever. Alice had buried her head beneath the sofa cushions, indifferent to the stale smells, the crumbs and litter pressing into her cheek. For once, she was almost glad when Mr. Fuller came through the door at the end of his shift. Jesus, Ronnie, he had said on a grunt. Turn it down. I swear theres just no living with you.

Youre blocking the set, Dad was Ronnies only reply. But she must have found the remote, for the screams faded away a few seconds later, and Alice popped her head out again.

Maddys mother didnt believe the story about Ronnies aunt. Alice could see the skepticism in her parted lips, painted a glossy pink, and in her squinty, tired eyes. Maddys mother seemed torn between wanting to challenge Ronnies lie, and wanting to get away from Ronnieaway from them, although Alice had done nothing, nothing at all, except get a ride to the party from Ronnies brother.

Maddys mother licked her lips once, twice, removing some of the pink and most of the gloss, and finally said: Very well. Later she told everyone Ronnie had lied to her, that she never would have let two little girls leave if she had known they were going to be unsupervised, if she had known they were going to cross Edmondson Avenue alone. That was the worst thing anyone in Southwest Baltimore could imagine at 2 P.M., on July 17, seven years agocrossing Edmondson Avenue alone.