One of my favorite scenes from A CLEFT IN THE WORLD

 

[image error]

 

Did you have one of these?

 

Three days before the rally.

I awake from a disorienting dream in which Lacey and I were thirteen and messing around with a Magic Eight Ball she’d received for her birthday. I rub my eyes, practically poached from the crying I did in the privacy of the shower last night—so as not to alarm Laurel—before going to bed. The dream Lacey—in cut off blue jean shorts and a tank top—held the ball between her palms and said, “Now remember to ask it only yes or no questions.”

I grinned, and asked in the floaty voice of a medium, “Magic Eight Ball, how did I do on the math test? Wait that’s not a yes or no question!” I try again. “Did I do well on the math test?” Lacey nods and turns the ball slowly over in her hands, her short nails bubblegum pink. The triangle containing the message rises into view. Outlook good. “Yay!” I say, making a mock swipe of relief across my brow.

“My turn,” Lacey says, handing me the ball. “Magic Eight Ball, does Truman Parker like Georgie Bricker?”

I purse my lips over a grin, my eyes wide. I rotate the ball and hold my breath as the answer surfaces. You may rely on it. I collapse in rapture on the carpet between Lacey and Karen’s twin beds, planting smooches all over the clunky black ball.

“You know good and well he likes you, G.,” Lacey retorts, “He’s held your hand twice.” She wrestles the ball from me. Her face ages before my eyes, like one of those age progression videos. “Magic Eight Ball” she says, in her clipped adult New York voice, “Will Georgie rescue Willa Cather College?”

The Eight Ball turns in her manicured hands. Cannot predict.