Chapter 11

11

L ibby looked from her aunt to Peter and back. "Out with a friend."

"You thought I wouldn't notice you snuck out, did you? You lied to me. I knew you would. First time I let down my guard, and you're off screwing some boy."

Shock didn't begin to describe how Peter felt. This woman was an unbalanced lunatic.

Libby looked to Peter, horror on her face. "I gotta go."

"Are you sure?" He grabbed her hand and held on tight, afraid to let her go.

She nodded. Her eyes filled with conflict as she pulled away.

"I'll call you," he whispered as Libby hurried out of the Jeep.

"What did he say?" her aunt badgered .

Libby closed the door, looked back at him, and mouthed, "I'm sorry."

Her aunt stalked behind her, yelling colorful phrases as Peter watched. He could tell Libby wanted the scene over with.

Aunt Marge paused her screaming long enough to glance back and see he hadn't left the driveway. She spun toward him.

"What are you waiting for? Get the hell off my property!"

Peter threw the Jeep in reverse, pulled out, and returned the way he came. It took all the strength he had not to turn around and go get her. Damn it! He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. How could he leave Libby here? He needed to find a way to get her out and soon.

Once out of sight, he turned the headlights off and parked the car so he could watch the house from a distance. A few minutes later, he saw an upstairs light go on. He continued to watch the house, to make sure Libby's aunt didn't notice the Jeep and come back with a shotgun.

He pressed her name on his phone. A moment later, Libby's sweet voice filled his ears. "Oh God, Peter, I'm so sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, don't worry," Libby whispered.

But he did worry. "Are you sure it's safe? Do you want me to come back and get you? I hate that you have to stay with her. "

"I don't think that would be the best way to go. Let's plan it out, otherwise we might have the police on our tail."

"Libby, she's scary." He wanted to say she was a psycho freak who shouldn't be allowed out in public, let alone near kids, but he didn't want to upset Libby more. She wasn't given a choice when her dad dumped her with the woman.

"I know. Usually, she's ultra-mellow and semi passed out. She must have been drinking all night. That's when she gets mean."

"God, Libby, you can't stay there. I don't trust her." He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration.

"It'll be okay. Where are you?"

"I'm pulled over about a hundred yards down the road.

I can see the light of your bedroom window."

"I'd ask you to flash your lights, but Lady Paranoia might blow a gasket."

"Can you stay on the phone for a while?" It was the next best thing to being with her.

"All night if you want, but you better get started back. Birthday or not, you don't need to get in trouble, too."

###

A couple of days later, Libby wanted to crawl under the dash of Miss Orman's car. Her counselor insisted she give Libby a ride home to talk to Aunt Marge about the homecoming dance. It was just the other day Aunt Marge had blown up over the Peter incident. The last thing Libby needed was more drama with her aunt. The tires crunched on the gravel as Miss Orman pulled in.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fine." Miss Orman shot her a reassuring look. Libby hoped she was right.

Miss Orman stepped out of her car and walked to the front of the farmhouse as Aunt Marge appeared from the barn, wiping her hands on her faded plaid shirt. She didn't look happy as she pulled the heavy door closed and secured it with a padlock. Libby didn't know if she should stay with Miss Orman or wait for Aunt Marge. She really just wanted to go hide in her room to avoid the inevitable scene.

Aunt Marge trudged through tall grass to the front of the house. Wet grass from a recent rain licked at her beat-up boots.

"What do you want?" Marge barked.

Miss Orman jumped, almost losing her purse in the process. "Oh, I didn't see you there." Collecting herself, she offered a slender hand. "Hi, I'm Julie Orman, we met last year when—"

"I know who you are. What do you want?" Rumpled Aunt Marge glared at the woman in the creased slacks and stylish heels.

"I wanted to speak to you about Libby."

"What'd she do now? I doubt she'd dare steal again, but if you like, I can punish her some more." Aunt Marge sneered at Libby, who wished she were invisible .

Miss Orman looked horrified. "No, nothing like that, and Libby has already completed her in-school punishment. Actually, what I'm here about is more of an opportunity."

Aunt Marge immediately lost interest. "I was working. Call me later." Her aunt turned to head back to the barn.

Miss Orman followed on Aunt Marge's heavy heels. "I've been calling for the past few days, and you never answer my calls or return my messages."

"Like I said, I have a lot of work to do and don't have time to chitty-chat about the girl."

"This won't take more than a few minutes. It's very important to Libby." Miss Orman cast Libby a hopeful look.

As they walked around the edge of the house, Miss Orman carefully stepped through the damp grass as they approached the barn. Aunt Marge stopped in her tracks.

"Do you work in there?" Miss Orman asked, indicating the dilapidated barn. "What do you do?"

Aunt Marge clenched her teeth.

Good question. Libby had never paid attention to what Aunt Marge did before. She just knew she disappeared a lot. She was always relieved when her aunt wasn't around and never thought more of it.

"I make soap," Aunt Marge barked, and glared at Miss Orman.

The surprise etched on Miss Orman's face matched Libby's .

"How wonderful! Libby never mentioned your business. Where do you sell it? I'd love to buy some."

Aunt Marge grunted in reply, then turned back toward the front of the house. They followed her like children wanting a favor from their parents. Aunt Marge pulled keys from her saggy denim pocket and unlocked the door. One good shove and it opened. She entered, then turned abruptly. "Get on with it. What do you want?"

"Oh," Miss Orman responded, gripping her purse. "Libby doesn't get a lot of interaction with other students."

"She's at school all day. What the hell do you call that?"

"Actually, Libby keeps to herself a lot, and she is carrying a very heavy course load with all her honors and AP classes."

Aunt Marge watched Miss Orman peer around the entryway and into the cluttered living room and kitchen. Libby could see her aunt's temper rising.

Even though Libby had cleaned up a few days ago, Aunt Marge's trash already littered the tables and counters. Her counselor's gaze took in everything.

"Get to the point." Aunt Marge pulled Miss Orman's attention back to her.

Miss Orman stood straighter and assumed an authoritative air. "Homecoming is next week, and Libby needs to attend."

"You came all the way out here and interrupted my work so that kid can go to a dance? "

"Yes, it's part of her high school experience. Every student should enjoy this rite of passage."

"I never went to a school dance, and it didn't hurt me a bit."

Libby doubted anyone ever invited her.

"Hey, I took the kid in. I think that's more than enough," Aunt Marge said.

"But Libby has been through a traumatic time. She's lost her family. She needs as many normal teenage experiences as possible. She doesn't have a job. She doesn't have a driver's license. All these things are important to a young person's development."

Libby slunk away toward the stairs and hopefully out of Aunt Marge's sight. Her aunt did not like to be told what to do.

"Driving costs money, and she's already a financial drain. Now you want me to give her money to buy a fancy dress?" Aunt Marge crossed her arms, clearly ready to shut Miss Orman down.

Instead of being intimidated, Miss Orman stepped into the kitchen, where a couple flies flitted around old fast-food containers. She opened the bare refrigerator, revealing dried-up food on plates alongside a few bottles of forgotten condiments.

"Don't worry about a dress. I'll take care of it." She shut the fridge door.

"You can't come in here and tell me what to do. I'm her legal guardian. I know how kids her age act. Once you let them loose, there's no stopping them. She'll end up knocked up, just like her mother."

Libby's jaw dropped. She wanted to scream "liar!" Her parents had been married a year and a half before Libby was born.

"I'll be chaperoning the dance, so she'll be with me the entire time. I'll pick her up that afternoon and return her home after the dance. You don't need to do a thing."

The two women stood their ground, Aunt Marge in her dirty work clothes and Miss Orman in her designer blouse and slacks. Both refused to look away.

"When was the last time the social worker completed a home visit?" Miss Orman's eyes lit in challenge.

Libby had never seen Miss Orman so tough. She liked having someone on her side like this. She wanted to cheer as Aunt Marge's blood practically boiled.

"You damn school people think you can intrude whenever you want, and all in the name of child welfare." She wavered. "Fine, take her, but I'm not giving her a dime."

A smirk appeared on Miss Orman's unblemished face. She moved to open the front door. "Thank you. Libby will be in good hands." She stepped outside.

Aunt Marge followed. "One more thing. Don't ever step on my property again." She slammed the aging door in Miss Orman's face.

Libby shrank against the stair railing .

"You think you're so smart, sending in the big guns so you can go to your little dance. Well, you better watch your step, missy. You're getting mighty close to the flame." Aunt Marge pierced Libby with a venomous stare. "Get out of my sight."