The Spring Girls

“Ready?” Laurie asked with a smirk that was a challenge wrapped in a big red bow.

“Yep.” I began the climb a second before him, and I didn’t need his help over the steel fence. I made it over and down by myself and only ripped my pants in two places. The jeans were a worthy sacrifice to my cause of self-sufficiency.

We were silent as we walked among the graves. Laurie told me that if we disturbed the dead, they would disturb us, too.

I knew he was just talking shit to me, but I still shivered and walked a little closer to him, making sure my steps were as light as possible until we reached a paved road again. We were almost to the gate. I could see it in the distance, only a few minutes’ walk ahead.

Laurie had only just moved here—how did he know more about my town than me?

“So, Jo. What are you passionate about?”

“What a random thing to ask.” I laughed, trying to keep up with his long strides.

“Not really. I’m curious.”

Laurie shoved his hands in his pockets and slowed to walk just a little behind me.

“I want to know yours, Laurie.” I stretched my back as high as I could. “You tell me something about you. I’m not into games.”

“Hmm, Jo. Somehow I don’t believe that.”

He smiled and the moon shone brighter.

13

“I’m not going to let you walk with me if you’re going to be obnoxious,” I replied.

I didn’t want to spend the entire walk home playing guessing games and having him make cryptic and not-even-close-to-productive comments about everything I said.

“I won’t be. I promise only my best behavior from here on out.” He lifted his hand and drew a cross over his heart.

It was cute. I laughed.

“Let’s talk,” he said, and began firing question after question at me. By the time we reached the gate of the base, I had talked to him so much that the walk had flown by.

Where did I get my name?

Why did I like to be called Jo instead of Josephine?

Which of my sisters was the oldest? Which was the youngest?

I had learned little to nothing about him, besides that I thought I wanted to be his friend.

When we approached the gate, I wasn’t sure which lane to go through. One of my nonmilitary friends once told me that the gate was like a toll gate. Laurie seemed to know which way to go, so I followed him to the far-left lane. The lights above us were so bright, and the military police guarding each lane were holding big guns strapped to their uniforms.

Meg’s friend Coleman was the gate guard, whose job it was to check our identification and welcome us to the “great place” that was Fort Cyprus. He didn’t give us a hard time at all before he let us through. He didn’t even check our IDs. He probably wanted to sleep with my sister, like the rest of the soldiers we knew.

“Tell me why you always scowl, Jo.”

When I informed Laurie that I did not always scowl, he asked me again and I glared at him. I wondered if all boys were interesting like him. My dad was, but some of the boys in my school, and even older ones that Meg dated, seemed less stimulating than plain yogurt.

“So, Jo, can I assume you have a temper to go with that glower?” Laurie asked when we passed the Shopette just beyond the gate.

The Shopette was always crowded and had the best hot food and tastiest less-than-a-dollar cappuccinos, which came pouring out of the machine within thirty seconds. Whenever we checked out, I would look at the receipt as a big reminder of all the money we’d saved by not paying taxes on our cappuccinos, Tornados, and Krispy Kreme donuts. My dad would say that we should always use the resources the Army provides for us. During the school year, my dad would fill up his big jug of coffee there every morning. I loved the days when he could drive us to school. It was usually only once a week, but he talked the whole way.

For a second, I forgot that I was standing with Laurie while my dad was seven thousand miles away. A line of cars pulled out of the parking lot, and we waited on the curb.

Laurie looked like the type of boy who stayed out late.

“My dad says I do have a temper. He says that my quick temper, sharp tongue, and restless spirit always get me in trouble.”

Laurie laughed at that. “Your dad seems to know what he’s talking about.”

Laurie sniffled and pulled a tissue from his pocket. He wiped his nose and waved for me to walk in front of him. I stepped down off the curb and made a joke about not falling that time, but I don’t think he got it.

“So, Laurie. You’ve asked me all the questions. My turn.” I didn’t look back at him, and I made sure to keep my pace a few steps ahead.

“What is there to do for fun around here?”

“Nothing. I’m always trying to figure that out, too. But there’s nothing,” I told him, distracted from my turn to interrogate him.

“You have to make your own adventures, Jo.”

When I looked over at him, I felt like he could read my mind.

He creates his own adventures, I thought.

“Do you want me to come inside?” Laurie asked when we reached my driveway.

The curtains were open and I could see Meredith sitting in Dad’s armchair and Aunt Hannah sitting on the couch. Amy was on the other end of the couch with her phone in her hand. I didn’t see Beth, but I was sure she was in the kitchen. I checked my phone, and it was only ten forty-five. Meg still hadn’t answered me.

“Sure. My family can be . . .” I looked inside and wondered if my mom and aunt would yell at each other before or after midnight. “But you can come on inside. We have a lot of food and stuff.”

I looked over at Old Mr. Laurence’s house, which was pitch-black. I gestured to the house. “Do you need to tell him or something?”

“No.” Laurie laughed. “He’s in bed. He won’t even notice.”

“Is he as awful as everyone says he is?” I blurted out.

Laurie stopped walking for a moment, and we stood in the middle of my driveway.

“Do you want to hear how our morning went today?”

I nodded and tucked my long hair behind my ears on both sides.

“This morning the driver took us down to the Quarter, to this little place where my grandpa likes to get his pies for the holidays. There was this little fish shop, and while we were waiting, a

homeless woman came in begging the owner to let her scrub some fish in exchange for some scraps for her family to eat. She had a little boy with her who looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.”

My stomach turned.

“So, the owner of the fish shop says no and shooed them out of there. So my grandpa tells the guy off, buys a whole bag of fish, and takes them outside. He handed her a wad of money, the fish, and a bottle of water.” Laurie looked down at me. “He even smiled at the toothless little kid, and that man hardly ever smiles. He’s tough, but he’s a good man. Don’t listen to rumors that bored women make up about him.”

I was stunned . . .

But I loved the plot twist. I loved the entire idea that people were never who we thought they were. It was silly to think that the first impression or even the tenth was enough to know an entire human being. I wasn’t buying it; besides, it made it more fun when Old Mr. Laurence turned out to be a Care Bear, not a grizzly.

“Is that your mom?” Laurie pointed to the house.

I saw Aunt Hannah standing in the window.

“No, that’s my aunt. That one is my mom.” I pointed to Meredith, sitting on the chair. She had on an old cotton dress, and her hair was wrapped up in a floral cloth.

“Let’s go.” I tugged on Laurie’s jacket and he followed me through the creaky door.

Amy sat up when we walked in, and I saw her little hands fly up to her hair to fluff the blond strands.

Meredith watched us quietly, but didn’t move from the chair.

“Uh . . . Hi, everyone,” Laurie greeted the awkward room, and waved his hand in the air.

“Laurie is going to spend New Year’s with us, okay?” I told everyone.

I didn’t wait for anyone to respond before I led him into the kitchen. The lights were on the dimmest setting, so I turned the knob up. Laurie squinted a little, but I kept them on high.

I pointed to the food. “Eat.”

With a little smirk, Laurie grabbed a handful of chips from a bowl. Leaning over the counter to look inside the tops of the Crock-Pots, he lifted the lid on the barbecued sausages and scooped a ladleful onto a styrofoam plate. Those were my favorite before I stopped eating meat.