“A scholarship,” Velta hissed. “That’s all you ever think about.”
“Because that’s the only way I can afford to go to college.”
“Which in my opinion is a big waste of time for a pretty girl like you.”
Jade turned away from her closet and faced her mother. “Mama, I don’t want to have this argument again. I’m going to college, whether you approve of it or not.”
“It’s not a matter of approval. I just don’t think it’s necessary.”
“It is if I want a career.”
“You’ll waste all that time and money and then wind up getting married anyway.”
“Women nowadays can do both.”
Velta crossed the room, pinched Jade’s chin between her fingers, and angled her head back, exposing the faint red mark on Jade’s neck and showing contempt for both the mark and her daughter. “What chance will you have of marrying somebody decent if you get pregnant by that Parker boy?”
“Gary isn’t going to get me pregnant. And he’s the most decent person I know. It’s Gary I’m going to marry, Mama.”
“Jade, boys talk girls into doing things they shouldn’t by telling them they love them. If you give it to this boy, nobody worth having will want you.”
Jade sank down on the edge of her bed and, looking up at her mother, shook her head sadly. “I haven’t given ‘it’ to anybody, Mama. When I do, it’ll be to Gary, and it’ll be because we love each other.”
Velta snorted. “You’re too young to know what love is.”
Jade’s eyes turned a deeper blue, a sign of rising ire. “You wouldn’t say that if I were claiming to be in love with Neal Patchett. You’d be urging me to trap him any way I could… even if it meant having sex with him.”
“At least you would be somebody in this town if you married him.”
“I am somebody!”
Velta clenched her fists at her sides. “You’re just like your father—head in the clouds, idealistic.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having goals.”
“Goals?” Velta scoffed. “A funny word to bring into a conversation about your father. He never met a single goal in his life. For all the years we were married, he never did one worthwhile thing.”
“He loved me,” Jade retorted. “Or don’t you consider that worthwhile?”
Velta turned and walked stiffly to the door. Before leaving, she said, “When I was your age, I married the hero of the town. Right now, that’s your Gary. He’s good-looking, a star athlete, class president, everything a girl could want.”
Velta sneered. “Take it from me, heroes are temporary, Jade. They fade like cheap curtains. The only thing that really counts is money. No matter how many awards that Parker boy wins, all he’ll ever really be is old Otis Parker’s firstborn. I want better than that for you.”
“No, Mama,” Jade argued softly. “You want better than that for you.”
Velta slammed the door behind her.
* * *
Jade sat on a tall stool, nibbling a shortbread cookie. The heels of her shoes were hooked over the chrome rung that encircled the stool’s legs. Her chemistry textbook lay open on her lap.
After school and half a day on Saturdays, Jade worked in Jones Brothers’ General Store. During the week, she clocked in at four and worked until Velta picked her up on her way home from the factory, usually around six.
It wasn’t a long shift, but it gave Pete, the last surviving of three brothers, a chance to sit with his ailing wife, who was in a nursing home, and it provided Jade with a little spending money.
The store was one of a diminishing breed. The planks of the hardwood floor were covered with a waxy-looking film from the lemon oil used on dustmops for countless decades. On the coldest of winter afternoons, old men gathered around the potbellied stove in the back room and discussed the state of the world between chaws of Redman and games of dominoes.
Pitchforks hung, tines down, from hooks screwed into the ceiling. A customer could outfit his horse or his newborn. He could purchase a deck of cards, a pair of dice, or a Bible. The variety of merchandise and customers made the job interesting.