Girls of July Page 8

  “Wait!” Britta stopped them. “Why am I standing here again?”

  “To make sure the bat doesn’t come out before we get back,” Meredith said.

  “Oh, okay. Wait. Do you think that will happen?”

  “No. Bats are nocturnal. It’s sleeping. This is just in case.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  They all started to leave again on their various errands.

  “Wait!” Britta interrupted them. “What am I supposed to do if it comes out?”

  “Scream and run away,” Meredith said.

  Britta nodded. “I can do that.” She fixed her eyes on the pantry door. They scrambled before she could ask any more questions.

  “Come on,” Kate said. “This bat isn’t going to catch itself.”

  14

  Meredith

  Essay topic: What is courage?

  BAT-CATCHING HADN’T BEEN on Meredith’s list of Relaxing Things to Do. Not at all. In fact, preparing to retake the SAT might have been more relaxing.

  But Kate, who had seemed like a spoiled rich girl with her perfectly streaked blond hair, was walking downstairs with an Eiffel Tower souvenir blanket and an expression that said, “Bring it on.” She wasn’t about to be the crybaby. She’d leave that to Britta.

  She followed Kate, brandishing a fishing net. They both wore plastic shower caps. “Get that bat!” Meredith felt weirdly energized as they tromped toward the pantry.

  Britta stood by the door, a pensive look on her face.

  “Anything?” Meredith whispered.

  Britta jumped, then whispered, “Oh! You scared me. But yeah, no. Nothing. Can I go hide in my room now?” She was already backing away.

  “Sure.” They were better off without her. “We’ve got this.” Even though she wasn’t absolutely sure they did.

  In the pantry, the bat hung, motionless.

  Kate backed out. “We need a ladder.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” Meredith reasoned, following her.

  “Maybe we should use the silly net after all,” Kate said.

  “Maybe so.” Meredith sighed. “Okay, new plan. I’ll try to get the net over it and gradually coax it down the wall where you can reach it. Then, you throw the blanket when it’s low enough.”

  Kate unfurled the cedar-scented blanket. They marched back into the pantry.

  The bat looked like a baseball glove, except with a face. This wasn’t going to be a big deal. It wasn’t. Meredith tiptoed toward it, net aloft. It was asleep, after all. She’d just sneak the net up the wall. That’s what she would do. Nothing to worry about.

  She raised the net, slowly, carefully, trying to ignore her pounding heart.

  She slid the net up the wall and positioned it over the bat’s small, brown body until she barely nudged it.

  “Oh!” She screamed. Suddenly, it was in her face, wings flapping, air against her ears. She stumbled back, dropping the net with a clatter. She staggered from the pantry, ducking. She hoped that shriek was Kate, not her, but her throat hurt from it.

  “Run!” Kate snatched up the blanket and ran. Meredith grabbed the net and fled too.

  Once safely in the kitchen, they stopped, glancing around, shielding their heads against an unseen onslaught. Meredith had a horrible thought. What if it was on her? She shuddered. Stop it! Stop being a baby! But she couldn’t help it. She noticed Kate was shuddering too.

  Just as Meredith was about to peek around to try to look at her shoulder, there was a shriek from the living room. Spider! And a cry, “My goodness!” from Ruthie.

  “Guess we know where the bat is,” Kate said.

  “Don’t suppose we can just stay here and let them deal with it?” Meredith said.

  “Good idea, except they won’t. Ruthie will probably invite it in for pancakes.”

  “Good point.”

  Another shriek from the living room. They both scrambled to their feet, took up arms again, and clambered out the kitchen door and into the living room.

  The scream had been Ruthie. She was on the floor in the fetal position, head in hands, with the bat swooping around her. Spider ran around, trying to chase the bat out the open door with a sofa pillow. When she saw Meredith, she yelled, “Get it! Get it with the net!”

  Without thinking, Meredith started chasing the thing too. Kate put up the blanket to shield herself against the swooping, diving creature.

  No luck. Once, she had it almost against the wall. She threw the blanket at it, her own body following. She shuddered, and dropped it. The bat flew up at her. Meredith screamed. Kate screamed. Ruthie (for she had risen too) screamed and dashed for the door and onto the front lawn. They all ran after her, and Spider slammed the door behind them.

  They stood in the sunlight, panting. Meredith could feel the bright, sticky sweat on her brow, her heart beating heavily. She almost felt like she might have had a heart attack, were she only old enough to have the necessary plaque buildup in her arteries.

  But she wasn’t, and she didn’t. She’d survive today at least.

  She looked at the other three girls, women. They all glanced toward the house, perhaps all thinking the same thing she was: Could they camp out here?

  Maybe they would.

  Then, she heard laughter.

  She looked out toward the road and saw a guy in a red-checked flannel shirt. Harmon Dickinson. The guy from last night. He laughed long, and he laughed hard, then looked at Meredith and Kate, who were standing side by side, holding the net and blanket.

  “Going fishing?” he asked.

  Then, he laughed again. Meredith pulled off the shower cap.

  Meredith did not like being laughed at. She’d arranged her life in such a way that no one would ever—ever—have any reason to laugh at her. His laughter made her want to stomp her foot, but that would be even more laughable. And she couldn’t go inside. The bat was there.

  “Harmon Dickinson, were you spying on us?” Spider’s hands were on her hips, and she pointed to the camera around Harmon’s neck. “Pervert! Don’t you dare trespass here!”

  He shrugged and walked closer. “No one’s spying or trespassing. I heard screaming, and I showed up—bravely, I might add—to make sure you weren’t being murdered. Who said chivalry was dead?” He smiled. Meredith noticed he had a dimple.

  And hazel eyes that shone when he laughed.

  She found her voice. “We’re fine.” She turned away. It did not escape her attention that this boy had seen her scream twice in the past twenty-four hours. Something she never did otherwise. “We’re fine,” she repeated, maybe more adamantly than necessary.

  “As long as you’re fine.” Harmon chuckled.

  “Y’all speak for yourselves.” Kate shook her golden tresses from her ponytail. “I, for one, am not fine, not fine at all. I came here all the way from Georgia, based upon the promise of rest and relaxation. But I have had neither, due to the presence of vermin in this cabin.”

  Harmon’s mouth twisted into an obnoxious little smile, not the cute, dimpled one from before. Yes, Meredith had looked back at him. “Vermin?” He laughed.

  The boy laughed too much.

  “Stop laughing!” Spider said. To Kate, she said, “We can get the bat ourselves.”

  “A bat? You’ve got a bat flying around in there?” Harmon looked interested.

  “I assume it has landed by now,” Ruthie said.

  “And you were trying to catch it with that?” Harmon gestured toward the net, his expression becoming a grimace. He looked at Meredith.

  Boys who thought they were smart were truly annoying. The net had obviously been a dumb idea, but it hadn’t been Meredith’s dumb idea. Spider had been coming here her entire life—you’d think she’d know something about bat extermination.

  “We chased it with the net,” she said. “Kate was supposed to get it with the blanket.”

  “That sounds way more sensible.” Harmon nodded approvingly at Kate.

  “Well, thank you.” Kate tossed her ha
ir. Was she flirting with him?

  “I can help you get it.” Harmon started toward the house.

  “No!” Meredith and Spider chorused just as Ruthie and Kate said, “Yes, please.”

  Harmon frowned at Meredith. “Aw, don’t let pride get in the way of asking for help.”

  “I want the satisfaction of vanquishing it on my own.”

  “Then you’re going to have to do it yourself,” Kate said, “because that thing was gross, and if someone is offering to take it out, I will politely say yes!”

  Meredith shook her head but didn’t speak. Harmon coaxed, “Come on. I really just want to see it.” He gestured to the camera hanging around his neck. “It’s hard to find them by day.”

  Meredith didn’t reply, but she thought, well, maybe.

  “You can help, since your friend doesn’t want to.” Harmon had reached the porch by now. “It’s a two-person job, and I’ll need someone to release it so I can take photos of it in flight. And I know Spider won’t help me.”

  “Release it?” Meredith asked. “Like, I’d have to hold on to it first?”

  “With a blanket.”

  Meredith swallowed hard and stifled a shudder. “Okay,” she finally agreed.

  Harmon started up the stairs. “Leave the net.” He called back to Spider and Kate, “Can one of you ladies man the door?” Kate had moved farther from the house.

  “I guess,” Spider grumbled. Meredith could tell she didn’t like being referred to as “you ladies,” or maybe just didn’t like Harmon.

  “We’ll just stay out here and watch,” Kate said.

  “Good idea.” Harmon turned to Meredith. “Into battle!”

  “We aren’t going to hurt it, are we?”

  Harmon laughed. “A minute ago, you just wanted to get rid of it.”

  “That’s not true. I am a very kind-to-animals person.” Was there a word for that?

  “I’m sure you are. No, we are not going to hurt the poor, sweet little ol’ bat. We are going to gently reunite him with his extended family who, hopefully, don’t all live in your attic.”

  “Ugh.” Now they were inside the house again. Meredith glanced around, instinctively putting her hands over her hair. It probably wasn’t a terrible idea to have Harmon’s help, as long as she appeared not to need it.

  “So, do you have much bat-catching experience?” she asked, hoping he did.

  “Ooh, yeah!” Harmon made his voice an exaggerated hillbilly drawl. “I been catching varmints since I was knee-high to a toadstool.”

  “Really?”

  “No, not really. You city slickers don’t know sarcasm when you hear it? I also hardly ever say ‘knee-high to a toadstool’ in my everyday life. Or ‘varmint.’”

  “You country folk don’t know an innocent question when you hear it.”

  “I prefer ‘mountain folk.’” Harmon grinned. He really was handsome when he smiled. Stop it! Handsome boys never noticed Meredith. She didn’t wear makeup or dress to impress. He was probably messing with her.

  Meredith pursed her lips. She looked around the living room. The bat wasn’t there.

  Harmon glanced back at her and pointed toward the kitchen. “This way?” When Meredith nodded, he headed for the kitchen. He turned on the light and glanced around.

  “Ah, here’s the cute little guy!” Harmon said. “He wants to cuddle.”

  Meredith tiptoed behind him. The bat clung to the corner between the cabinet and the wall, at her eye level. Harmon was right, it was tiny. Still, she backed up.

  “Don’t be scared of it. It’s probably been living here for months with no one noticing.”

  “That is not a comforting thought.”

  “Okay, I’ll get it,” he said. “But don’t you want to take a look first?”

  Not really, but Meredith didn’t want to look prissy either. It didn’t do anything to advance the cause of feminism to go around acting like you needed a boy to do everything. “You’re sure it won’t fly up again?”

  “I think he was provoked last time.” He smiled. That dimple again. “He doesn’t want to mess with you any more than you want to be messed with.”

  “Okay.” Meredith stepped closer. She leaned in. At first, it looked like a crumpled bit of paper bag, but as her eyes got used to looking, she saw that its pointy hands (paws?) were covered with purple-black leathery skin. Up close, the rest of its body looked like a wooly stuffed teddy bear. She almost wanted to touch it. Bad idea. It might get scared and take it out on her by giving her rabies. Still, she found herself reaching out.

  Click! And a blinding flash. Harmon’s camera. Meredith jumped.

  “Oh!”

  “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

  “What do you think? Are you always creeping around behind people?”

  “Hey, you invited me in this time.”

  “This time. What if the light had startled him?”

  “Do you want me to just get it?”

  Meredith looked back. “No, it’s harmless. It’s not the bat’s fault you’re creepy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Truth hurts. So I just throw the blanket over it?” she asked.

  “Yeah, and, um, bunch it up a little so it won’t fly back in your face.”

  “I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “You won’t. You’re going to be gentle.”

  “Okay.” Meredith took a deep breath. “Maybe back up a little.”

  Harmon did. Meredith drew back, then pounced, gently as she could, covering the bat with the blanket. She had it. She felt its bony little body struggling in her hands, its wings fluttering. She tried to hold it tight enough not to lose it, loose enough not to harm it.

  She backed toward the door.

  “Got it,” she whispered.

  “Good job.” Harmon held up his camera. “Let me get ready before you release it.”

  Meredith sidled toward the door. The bat was struggling less now.

  Harmon beat her to the door. Meredith improved her grip on the ball of blanket and followed. When she got there, Harmon was outside, camera raised. “Ready?” she asked.

  “When you are.”

  Meredith pushed aside the momentary worry that the bat would land on her. Or that she’d hurt it. What if it just fell to the ground when she released it? She felt it in the blanket, moving. It was still alive. Of course it was.

  She went back to worrying that the bat would land on her.

  Harmon was in place with his camera. She noticed it had a real lens, like old cameras, but she could tell it was digital. She raised the bundle high and let it unfurl. At first, the bat didn’t come out. She gave the blanket a shake. Finally, the bat emerged, tentative at first. It fluttered down, then up toward the trees and the noonday sun. She heard the shutter of Harmon’s camera, following it as it disappeared into the forest.

  She looked at Harmon. He met her eyes.

  “Thanks,” she said, “um, for helping. And . . .”

  “Yeah, don’t mention it.” He looked down, like he was suddenly shy.

  Meredith couldn’t wait to talk to Britta. This would make a great college essay. For the first time in her life, she’d actually done something brave, something that didn’t take the good, boring route but involved some risk. Maybe this whole trip was a risk.

  Harmon said something else, but Meredith didn’t hear it because she was so lost in her thoughts. She turned back to ask what he’d said. But just then, Spider approached them.

  “So let me get this straight. Big Mountain Man made the little girl get the bat?”

  Harmon scowled. “She did better than you could, City Girl.”

  Harmon started flipping through the photos on his camera. There were dozens, even though he’d only been snapping for a few seconds. He paused on one, the bat silhouetted against the sun, black wings spread like an angel.

  “That one’s good,” Meredith said. When Harmon saw her looking, he snatched the camera away.

  “I wish you’d lea
ve us alone,” Spider said.

  “Fine. I will. Don’t call me next time you’re in trouble.”

  “Ooh, I’m so scared!” Spider sounded like a six-year-old.

  And he turned his back and stomped away before Meredith could ask him for a closer look. She wanted to see the photo. She doubted he’d have let her, though, because when he’d been scrolling, she had noticed another one on the roll.

  Meredith walked away, remembering the feel of the bat’s body in her hands, the thrill of seeing it take flight, the gleam in Harmon’s hazel eyes when they’d met hers.

  And the photo Harmon had undoubtedly been hiding from her, the photo of her own breathless, fascinated face as she’d watched the bat take wing.

  15

  Spider

  EXT. CHARMING CABIN, DOORSTEP — DAY

  Meredith, Spider, Ruthie, and Kate are outside, having just released a bat. Picture the Three Stooges meet the cast of Clueless. Spider is justifiably perturbed, having just discovered that the only normal girl in her cabin group is secretly fraternizing with the enemy.

  SPIDER’S THOUGHTS WERE whirling like an old-fashioned film reel. Harmon Dickinson. The girl was talking to—flirting with, really—Harmon Dickinson. In their house!

  Spider loved just about everything about the mountains—the weather, the trees, the birds’ songs, even the crows’ caws. Mostly, she loved the fact that they were far, far away from everyone else’s annoying noise, from boys on skateboards, girls obsessing over their makeup, neighbors bragging about a new Lexus.

  One thing she didn’t like about the mountains were the Dickinsons.

  The Dickinsons were a townie family who lived there year-round. Their house was covered in peeling once-white paint and Keep Out signs and filled with dirty, barefoot boys, maybe five or six of them, running around, climbing trees, and splashing in the lake like the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, no parents in sight, and always with at least one, but sometimes as many as three, dirty, smelly dogs. Spider hated those dogs almost as much as she hated their owners.

  Once, when she was eight or so, she’d been walking with her brother, Ben, to the lake, wearing a new cover-up, of which she was especially proud. It had a picture of Ariel on it. One of their awful dogs, a spotted one, had come up behind her, and she’d run, screaming. When she’d stumbled, the dog had grabbed the back of the cover-up. Spider heard the R-I-I-I-I-I-P of the cloth. Then, she saw the swatch of teal fabric in the beast’s snaggletoothed mouth. She ran home and pounded on the door until Ruthie answered. Harmon—yes, it was definitely Harmon, with his curly hair and greenish-brown eyes—had explained, “He wouldn’t of chased her if she hadn’t of run.” Even Ben had laughed. Talk about blaming the victim! From then on, the Dickinsons had always treated her like a spoiled, prissy rich kid. But was it really prissy not to want dog spit all over your things?