The A Girls Archive

“That guy. The one over there in the red shirt. He’s been in here every day this week.” Alma noted and deliberately looked away from the man.

“What are you? A spy? Point to him, Ugly, or I will ignore you.” April said through an lemon pound cake binge.

“Over there,” Alma tilted her head. “But he could be a grape for all that matters. The point is that he’s shown up here all week. Taken up residence at the best table for prospective cute guys to gather within easy eyeshot.”

“The freak.” Alice said this loud enough for the man in the red shirt to hear and waited for him to look up at her rudeness. “No reaction. If he’s not even fun to play with, then I see no advantage to his continued presence.”

“You are so easy. And I do not mean that in a sexual way. Well, not only in a sexual way. Tramp.” Alma slid a notepad over for April to read, but before she could focus, Alice appeared table side and, like a good chaperone, took the note pad.

Nodding, Alice finished reading the plan and returned it to April’s hand in a dual purpose gesture to conclude April’s display of her middle finger as well as to get her up to speed with the plan itself.  “It’ll work. Still, Alma, resorting to something as simple as fart spray is a little disappointing coming from you.”

“It is beautiful in its simplicity. There’s a can in the emergency kit at home. How long will it take you to get there and back?” Alma asked April who had just finished reading the plan.  April responded coyly, “Don’t know. If I get stopped by the mother or the father, it’ll be hard to explain why I am heading back to a coffee shop I just left. See, they know I’m broke and questions, questions…”

“It would take less time if you just put your hand out to take the money.” Alma said.

“I’ll chip in five bucks. Bill and I are experiencing a cooling phase and I need to make him jealous.” Alice seldom admitted her machinations and even more seldom addressed anything so dirty as money. This uncharacteristic coupling made Alma’s plan seem an immediate priority. April took the five dollars and stood to leave.

“Two spritzes when you come back in and pass him. I’ll do a couple on my way to the bathroom after.” Alma instructed before April walked to the door.

Alice sat down in the vacant seat and tilted her head with curiosity. “Why didn’t she wait to get money from you too?”

“Alice, everyone knows you and Bill are fighting. Guys are going to be lined up for you to use at that table.” Alma explained.

“I see. April certainly is confident in her ability to usurp the spotlight isn’t she?” Alice said.

“You say ‘usurp’ like it’s a bad thing. And anyway, the accurate word is ‘exploit’. Want to bet on the length of her skirt when she returns? My money is on micro mini.” Alma resumed reading her magazine but stopped briefly to look at the man in the red shirt. “You know, if there was some cool graphic on that shirt or if he had some weird tick or even a grubby side kick, he’d be worth keeping.”

“Says you, Scary. Cute guys trump social oddity every time.” Alice asserted.

“I have been called Ugly and Scary in less than twenty minutes and my chosen role as a social oddity has been disparaged. If you are not immediately more careful, I may have to go over there and make a friend. Do not make me talk to the red shirted man, Alice.” Alma raised an eyebrow that seemed to lift Alice’s side of the table.

“Oh Alma, the last thing I want is for you to make that man your personal cause du jour. By the way, how are we going to make this stick? He’s been sitting there every day this week.”

“You have noticed how the guys around here behave when April decides to look at them, right? Now say ‘oh’ again. It’ll make me happy.” Alma instructed.

Alice envisioned several eager young men after drinking espresso, “Oh.”

“I’d say we’ll have at least a week before there’ll be any need to repeat the odor strategy.” Alma guessed.

“If you’re right about the micro mini, I’d say that estimate is on the conservative side.” Alice corrected. “Let’s not share that with April. She already thinks it.”

“There you go with that imprecise word choice again. Switch out ‘thinks’ for ‘knows’ and you’d be accurate and ironic.” Alma added.

“How long has she been gone?” Alice asked.

Alma, consulting a stop watch in her purse, replied, “If she takes longer than fifteen more minutes, you’ll get your five back.”

“Remind me never to wager with you when I do not know all of the circumstances.” Alice grumbled.

“No. I will not reiterate information that you should have acquired thirteen years ago.” Alma smiled waving at April as she entered the coffee shop in a red micro mini skirt and then stretched her hand out and over to Alice for her winnings.

The light wafting of fart followed April as she arrived back at the table, “Like the color? It’s an homage.”

“The school called. Where have you been?” The mother was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her second daughter to return.

“Really? What did the school want? I was at the park. Met a new kid in town. His family just moved here. He’s adorable.” Alma tossed her body into a chair across from her mother and reluctantly their eyes finally met and unglazed.

“You know good and well what they wanted. You know I loathe that man. Why do you have to get in trouble when your principal is the biggest jackass in town? Do you get some pleasure out of making me have to see that man? What did I ever do to you that was so horrible?” The mother had risen from her chair to retrieve a plate of food from the oven. She sat the plate in front of her daughter and waited for a response.

Alma, looking at the plate decided not to go for the obvious bad cooking joke this time, “I spoke the truth only. Mr. McMutron is mildly retarded in his leadership capabilities. An observation of his decision making and performance bears that out.”

The mother unconsciously nodded as her youngest daughter, April, entered the kitchen. “I heard that. Murty Murt is totally without clues in this world. I feel bad for him and his really bald head.”

“Well, Alma. You must come with me to the principal’s office tomorrow at noon. There you will explain yourself and take whatever punishment is reasonable.” The mother clapped her hands toghether and left the room to resume her reading.

“He’s going to ask you if you want to be paddled or if you want a detention. I heard that is what all the kids get when their parents have to come too. Total perv.” April took a seat next to her sister curious to see if any sign of nervousness would dawn upon the wily one.

“Did you meet Presto? I saw him at the park.” Alma toyed with her food cautiously.

April bobbed her head and drank orange soda, “No. But I heard of him. His family just got here. He’s got a sister too. Your age I hear. Shoud see her in school tomorrow.”

“I know. I asked Presto to tell her to meet me at the office tomorrow so I could introduce her around and show her the ropes.” Alma took one tentative bite.

Alice, the oldest and an inveterate eavesdropper, stood behind her sisters. “Take the paddle. I will be so embarrassed if you are seen sitting in detention. Unseemly especially with a new student in town.”

April was young but had caught on very quickly and orange bubbles of soda came out of her nose as she laughed, “What did you pay Presto to get her to meet you at noon?! And how did you know?!”

Alma had stopped rolling her eyes in the second grade due to migraines so she stared blanky at the table, “I checked with his secretary before I left today. And I need a pair of your underwear.”

It was Alice’s turn to guffaw, “That could be difficult. From all accounts I hear April is running short on those.” She paused and tilted her head, “What could a little boy want with April’s legendary knickers?”

“Some magicians pull a rabbit out of a hat, but that isn’t going to fill the benches at a quarter a pop. Presto knows a good draw when he hears one. I like that kid. He is going to fit right in.”  Alma finally smiled as she made her proclamation to add another conspirator to their ongoing cabal.

April wiped her nose, “He’s in then. Okay, I will get him the red striped ones. That ought to bring a lucrative second showing. Are we in for a cut of this?”

Alice hushed her with a hand, “Shh, April. You never know when a magician could come in handy. Alma, is Presto available for parties?”

“I suspect he will be if April’s drawers can pull in a tenner.” Alma guessed.

“You must be joking. I will pay you a tenner if he doesn’t make twenty after the second show.” April challenged.

“It’s on.” Alma and Alice answered her at once.

April stretched her arms and looked quite satisfied, “Oh ye of little action.”

“Girls!? Where are all the spoons? And the cheese grater!? Girls?” The mother making her way to the open back door had her confusion doubled when she got there. “What is going on?! Who died? WHAT died?!”

From their positions in front of ten small dirt mounds in the back yard grass, one tall head and three tiny ones turned to her at once. “Do you mind? This is a solemn occasion” Snubbed Alice through her makeshift black veil. “Yeah! Show some respect!” April chimed in and gruffly turned back to face the mounds. Her sisters and most remarkably, the father, all turned their heads back as well. The services continued as the mother quietly stood, arms folded, and waited on the back porch.

Alma spoke to the mounds in the mourners united voice: “We are gathered here . . . and one over there on the porch too, but she doesn’t know it and is being rude, to honor and commemorate the passing of these kitchen utensils. May they rest in peace. Or peaces. It could be plural and then it would be like a funny pun too. Pieces and peaces. You get it? Okay. Amen.”

The foursome turned to the house and began to walk heavily toward it. “You didn’t deliver that joke very well. No solid punchline.” Alice criticized and April agreed, “When you try to be funny I get sleepy.” The Father put a hand out and stopped his daughters with one motion, “Girls. Have you forgotten why we came here? This is a funeral.” The three black clad bowling pins stood still, heads lowered as the father went inside followed quickly by the mother.

“I thought I had it all figured out until I saw you had joined them. Why did you get out of bed and into your good suit to mourn over what are apparently all of my cooking tools? And if you think I want to hear a joke about my cooking, you have another think coming.” The mother plopped down on the bed while the father returned to his night clothes.

“What did you make for old Ed’s funeral reception?” Questioned the father.

“Potato salad. Why?” The mother looked at him intently waiting for the joke.

“And you make something for every funeral reception. That’s nice but it’s been a busy year. How many potato salads have you had to make?”

“Five. Oh. I see. Five. They think . . . nope. I still don’t understand.”

The father sighed and explained, “They really liked old Ed. The other funerals we’ve gone to were for people the girls did not know. Ed used to give them pennies to throw into the wishing pond at the church park. He did that for all the kids but I guess we adults never caught wind of it. So without our knowing, our girls have experience death for the first time. But true to form they did not shed a tear but went searching for the killer. Alma wasn’t buying the heart attack story she read in the obituary. They came to the conclusion that right after each time you make potato salad, we have to go to a funeral like Ed’s. Apparently generosity won the day and they decided that you were innocent but that your utensils needed to learn a lesson about being dead. I made sure they kept them all wrapped and they can dig them up later. No harm done.”

“Oh. Okay then. What did they say when they woke you?” The mother asked clearing up one last question mark.

“April pulled up my eye lids and Alma said that you were a murderer. Alice nodded behind her so I thought I better check things out. After a bit of talking, they concluded that I would never marry a death dealer.” The father trying very hard not to smile got under covers and asked the mother, “Could you turn the light out on your way down?”

The mother headed back downstairs where the girls were still mumbling in the lawn.

“Her shoes were much shinier. And she had a matching purse and a bracelet.” April noted gravely examining Alma’s shoes. “No. You will not do like this. We may have to have a do over. Your socks are inside out and your hair is a mess.” Alma’s brows creased with anger, and just in time Alice jumped in, “Shhh you two. The mother is watching.” All three girls resumed staring at their feet and walked past their mother into the house. April being the smallest took the longest to climb the stairs. She stopped to face the mother. Looking up to make eye contact, April confided, “You know the only problem with the fashion at funerals is the lack of color. They’ve got the accessories down well.”

The mother raised a single eyebrow, “I thought you were all sad about Ed’s dying?”

April put a finger to the air as if to add something and turned running up to her bedroom. Pausing briefly at the head of the stairs she called one last observation down to the mother, “Now if jeans and t-shirts were good for funerals we would not have to change right now! You see my point?!”

“When are we going to take action? I need a game plan. Alice? You have any ideas?” Alma yanked at the hem of her skirt and examined her fingernails while Alice looked at clouds.

“Why do we have to do anything? She got herself into this mess. Let her get herself out.”

Alma pounded the grass next to Alice’s head, “We cannot let our sister endure such a blemish on her character. It is unseemly and it will not go unaddressed.”

“Listen, all he did was call her a slut. And he’s kind of got a point. She kissed all those boys. You saw her. I saw her. What can you say about a girl who does that when a perfect gentleman who is smitten with her is watching?” Alice did not move during her comments except to brush a string of golden hair from her brow.

“I realize that. But if he were a perfect gentleman he would have waited to rebuke her until they were alone. Am I going to have to do this myself?”

Alice sighed and finally sat up. The milky sun blended down into their presence as if it were a garnish and accessory on their day. “Fine. We’ll go to his house and demand a retraction. He’s a moron anyway.” She looked to Alma who smiled at her knowingly.

“Take rocks,” chimed in April who had not moved and lay spread eagle face down in the thick grass.
“Of course, what are we? Amateurs?” Alma hoisted herself and offered a hand to Alice who beat leaves of grass from her behind. “See you in twenty.”

April’s muffled shout followed her two sisters as they began their march, “I want to hear crashes! Plate glass crashes!”

“Where are my keys! You girls are always moving my things!” The mother frantically roamed the tossing up paper and coloring books.

“I didn’t move them,” Alice offered but did not get up from watching cartoons to help.

“What about you Alma? Have you seen my keys?” The mother snapped sharply at the most likely girl. “Uhm, no. I don’t drive. I am not allowed remember. Only eight over here.”

April came in the back door covered in mud. Trying to be helpful and avoid a smart alec backhand Alma asked her, “Have you seen the mother’s keys?”

April said, “I don’t know where the bloody keys went.” A tiny pause of assimilation fell into the room and all looked to the tv as if to credit it for April’s European cursing.

The mother went out of the room and Alma, not convinced that Sesame Street had taught April a darned thing much less how to curse like a Britain, probed further, “Where are her keys, April?”

Still tiny but already filling a void, April said, “I threw them at Joe Joe and when they hit his face his nose got ‘em all bloody and they fell down the sewer. I don’t know where they went after that.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.” Alma nodded satisfied at her predictive accuracy and moved over on the couch so that April could watch cartoons too. “Probably should keep that to yourself from here on out okay?”

April looked at Alma and then at Alice to be sure. Alice did not remove her eyes from the cartoons as she lifted a finger to her lips and shushed in agreement.

“I will not sit next to you Alma. You told them you kissed a girl.” Alice’s intolerance would have been shocking were she not excruciatingly complicated so Alma took a sip of her Pepsi before asking, “What have you got against gay girls?”

“Nothing. You aren’t gay. You are a liar. I have qualms with your lying.” Alice’s back was stiff and the waitress asked if she needed more tea even though her glass was full.

“I had to lie. Those people were being homophobic buttwipes. I had to put them in their place.” Alma took another sip of her Pepsi and noticed that April’s head was bouncing a little on her forearms. “What is up with you now?”

April raised her face from the other side of the booth and slurred out her words between sloppy giggles, “I just realized that the most interesting thing about your life is that lie you told. Why couldn’t you be a lebanese? You would be so much cooler that way.”

“Kiss my ass April.” Was out of Alma’s mouth before either of them realized that Alice was pert near at her breaking point.

“I have had just about enough out of both of you. Why do you two always have to get vulgar?” Alice’s hands now matched her back and the stiffness was tempting to spread across the booth to April.

“Vagina.” April said it fast but pronounced it plainly as a verbal shield against propriety.

“What did you say?”Alma took on Alice’s tone.

“I said, vah jie nah.” April and Alice looked each other and it seemed quite like high noon in the diner.

The waitress brought their food and reluctantly the sparring partners looked to their fries. Peacemaking Alma contributed her culinary expertise, “These fries are the best aren’t they?”

Both Alice and April rolled their eyes at her. Alma stuffed a fry into her mouth and spoke while chewing, “Sssssssalty.” She smiled wide and both her sisters threw food at the common foe.

The mother hung up the phone and screamed her normal line up cry, “Girls! Get down here!” She waited and then screamed, “Right this minute!” After thirty more seconds passed without noise she added, “I will ground your butts!”

The girls lined up ready for any number of things. The mother, exasperated and confused, slumped into a desk chair and plead, “Why did you three pee on Mr. Hoagard’s porch rug? What could you have been thinking?”

Alma immediately asked in response, “Why should he get special treatment?”

April chuckled at that and added, “Cause he a fucked up bastard that’s why. He was askin for it! Do it again in a heartbeat muthas!” And she raised both arms to the ceiling as if she were at a rock concert.

A quiet came across the room as Alice began to shake and cry. “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to do it. I don’t know what’s wrong!”

The mother looked at Alice and was as disconcerted as the sisters at this stoic girl’s collapse. Alma shifted her feet and admitted, “It’s that medicine you gave her. Since she’s been taking it she has to pee more.”

Alice snapped her head to stare a hole into Alma, “What the hell? You keep track of when I pee? Sicko!”

The mother grabbed the prescription and read the bottle. “Yeah. I guess that is a diuretic. Wow. Sorry Alice. I didn’t realize. Your little body just gave out on you! Oh poor girl! That had to be embarrassing.”

April had been looking at Alma since the term “sicko” had been stapled to her, “You notice all that shit don’t you?”

Alma sighed heavily, “Yeah. It sucks.”

“How long were you gonna let her pee like that?” April asked starting to laugh and Alice began to ball a fist hearing the question.

“I didn’t know it was that bad. Do you think I’d sympathy piss on a rug for kicks?”

April shrugged, “I did.”

The mother stood and walked across the room to look out of a window and think. “You are so ready to fight each other but when something hurts one, you pull together like magnets. You are weird children but you are right, he is a real ass. I cannot believe I am saying this but girls please do not pee on people’s rugs anymore.”

The mother went out of the room and April, building a case for squatters’ rights with profanity, whispered to Alma, “I totally got an F-word for free outta this. You catch that? Keep track of that for me will ya?”

“Hey, uhm, Messy Sally? I am not trying to ruin your fun or anything but I have to ask, why do you have my sister up against that wall?” Alma had taken a seat in the booth next to which Alice was being suspended by one man of a woman about two inches above the ground.

“Snotty girl looked at me and she think she’s better ‘n me. Well,” Messy Sally never took her eyes from Alice’s but moved closer to drive her point home, “she ain’t better ‘n me.”

“Look Sally, our Aunt Bea just died okay? Cut her some slack with the facial expressions. She’s mourning for Pete’s sake. And look what your doing to your jack and Coke hand, Sally. Do you really want to put a strain on that?” Alma wished she had a drink to sip instead of drumming the table.

“Oh. Okay. Sorry about that. Bea was a great old bat.” Sally stopped pushing Alice up the wall and walked to the bathroom shaking her drinking hand in an effort at resuscitation.

“She did not apologize for her horrific behavior, “ Alice noted, “She only said she was sorry about Aunt Bea’s supposed dying.” Alma rolled her eyes at Alice but before they were to the whites she heard a murmur from the restroom.

“Hell yeah! Alright! Drinks on me everybody!” April just leaving the mistaken condolences of Messy Sally was overcome. “Aunt Bea done kicked it people! Whachoo drankin’!?”

Alma raised a finger to the dual purpose of quieting Alice and ordering, “I will have two double long islands.”

Alice gave Alma a sterner than usual look. “When are you going to tell her that Aunt Bea is alive and that you were just getting rid of that brute?”

“I suppose after you order something. That okay with you?” April delivered Alma’s drinks and caught the tail end of the question and looked inquisitively to Alice.

Alice looked at her fingers, acknowledged a certain wisdom and coughed a little before ceding, “I’ll have a Michelob Light. Thanks.”

The two sat on a large piece of sandstone and looked out at the waves that were fading.

“Pretty soon it’s going to be glassy and then it’ll get quiet and then bugs will get us. Wanna go?” She leaned over nudging his shoulder with hers.

“No. I want to stay here for a while if you don’t mind. I don’t get to do this often.” His eyes stayed forward and he looked for the world like he was making a decision of great importance.

“Well, I do it all the time. Take a word and keep it will you? It’s all nothing but this everywhere if you’re doing it right.” She shoved her feet up under her bum and began to lift herself.

He put a hand up to her forearm to give her pause, “No. You stay too.”

“Okay. I’ll warn you right now that I won’t shut up, not with another living soul here. Not with everything that can happen.” She settled back down and he looked to her a bit offended.

“I would never touch you, you know that.” His defense was mistaken.

The wind was giving up its last big effort for the night and she enjoyed the way it made her hair tickle her arms, “No you. No and no again. I have all the time that is to be alone and so do you and so do we all. When it is that we are not and know it, then that moment shall be spent in communication and proof of the fact that we are alive. Anything less is profanity and I will not tolerate it. Verbal or non, I will not be silent. And you cannot make me. And what the hell? You would never touch me? Thanks a lot. What the heck is wrong with me? Bastard.”

He drank up her silliness, looked back at the water and pulled her head to his shoulder to rest. “Just rest now. I can hear you breathing. That is enough for me. Is that enough for you?”

She padded her hands against his shoulder to make it comfortable and stuffed herself into the crook of him, “Yeah, it’s enough. And I wouldn’t have you anyway. Just so we are clear on that.”

“We’re clear.”

“I saw you kiss him. Somebody took a picture too.” Alma was dipping cheese puffs into her chocolate milk pretending that she wasn’t needling Alice.

“No way did somebody get a picture of that. I didn’t . . . well, he kissed me first!” Alice shifted defensively in her chair.

“It is surprising to me. All the evidence seemed to point to April being the first to be kissed by a boy.” Alma shoved a soaking bit into her mouth as she and Alice looked out of the kitchen window at April holding her dress up to show her new underwear to the cars that passed by the house.

“It was no big deal. He likes me that’s all. So, who took that picture anyway?” Alice was pretending to be nonchalant.

“Don’t panic, Alice. I doubt anyone cares that you kissed the stupidest boy on our street.” Alma pricked away, “And the ugliest, and wow, he is the smelliest too isn’t he?”

“No. J.J. is smellier.” Alice kept good track of such things.

“That’s right. I guess you have nothing to be embarrassed about then.” Alma got up to rinse her glass and hands, “I wouldn’t worry about that photo.”

Alice got up to go outside and see to April who had finally achieved her goal of getting a car to pull into the driveway and was explaining her theory that daisies are better than roses on underwear and before the screen door snapped behind Alice she called back, “Oh! The mother is going to the store in a few and wants to know if we need anything. You have to tell her. I don’t know what we need.”

Alma waited at the sink and the mother hurried through to find her purse. “What do we need Alma? I am in a hurry. Can you write it down?”

Alma handed her mother a complete list of her sisters and her needs for the week and an long envelope.

“What’s this? Film? Okay, I’ll drop it off. Thank you for filling out the envelope form. You are such a good girl.”