Chapter Seven – Part 3
"I was discussing my career opportunities with Taz here, he thinks I might have a future as a cartoon." Allison unchained the door and let Macy in. "Enjoy the movie?"
Macy shrugged. "Just another of Ben's action flicks."
Allison sat on the sofa and perched Taz on the coffee table on top of an issue of The Economist. "Why do you let him drag you to movies you don't like?"
"Free popcorn? Milk Duds? Sitting up front to crick my neck?" Macy sat down and leaned forward. "You look better."
"Huh?" Allison felt her mind slip a gear. "I do?"
"The color's back in your cheeks, and you lost that crease." Macy tapped Allison's forehead with a long ebony finger.
"I can't think why. . ." Allison's befuddlement allowed it to dawn on her that she was feeling better. She'd been so preoccupied to notice that, after that horror last night, a weight had lifted from her body. It wasn't until then she realized that, for weeks, the headaches had never quite left. She had been living with a constant low level pain that she had learned not to notice. It was as if, for two months, she'd been on the verge of a sneeze that had happened when she wasn't paying attention.
"Hey," Macy said, "you're smiling."
Allison supposed she was.
"What happened to the old grump?"
Allison shrugged and said, "Ask Taz."
Macy picked up the stuffed animal and threw it at her.
Allison ducked and sat down, "Sorry I couldn't join you guys."
"It's all right," Macy took up position on the couch. "But I did want to talk to you, and you hung up rather abruptly last night."
Allison felt a wave of embarrassment, "Sorry about that."
"Like I said, no problem—" Macy leaned over and looked seriously at Allison, "But I hear you pulled a number on Chuck yesterday."
Allison, who had been feeling free of her personal problems for the first time in weeks, came crashing to Earth. "What do you mean?"
"David went on about Chuck in the library, hollering and bleeding, cussing you to high heaven. What happened, girl?"
Allison tried to think of a snappy comment to deflect the issue, but for once she couldn't find one. "I let him scare me too much."
"How?"
"I saw him in the library, and I ran." Allison waved her hands toward the ceiling. "I rushed, dropped one of my notebooks. And there Chuck was, holding it out. And he. Wouldn't. Let. Go." She had to stop because tears were welling up. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and blew her nose. "He wanted to apologize for what he did at David's party. No hard feelings he said. No hard feelings!"
She was breaking down now, tried to pull herself into a ball. Macy came over and sat next to her. Macy stroked her back and said. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to know what happened. Shh."
It took Allison a few minutes to pull herself together. She kept thinking about David's costume party. About her ruined costume. She couldn't even remember what he had said. All she remembered was the crowding presence, the hands, and the alcohol smell of his breath.
"I want my tail back." Allison muttered.
Macy chuckled. "He does have a talent for slapstick. Now tell me, girl. What'd you do that pissed him so much at the library?"
Allison snuffed and sat up, getting another tissue to wipe her nose. "He was baiting me with the notebook, and I ripped it out of his hand."
"Huh?"
Allison shrugged. "I must have been even angrier than I thought. I tugged a few times, and then it just— well— came loose."
"He let go?"
Allison shook her head. "No, he was holding on for dear life. Let me show you." She ran up and got her trigonometry notebook and came downstairs with it. She placed it in Macy's hand.
"No, palm up. Now the binding is here." She aligned the cover so the straightened wire was parallel with Macy's outstretched arm. "You see that hole? That's where the thumb goes."
"He was holding tight enough to tear the cover?"
"And the pages underneath. Now see?" Allison slowly drew the book over Macy's palm. The wire drew across slowly. "The corner of the binding hooked in his palm, cut him a little."
Macy sighed.
"What?" Allison asked.
"Wasn't a little." Macy took the notebook and looked at the wire. The end of it was hooked and it bobbed like a sheaf of metallic wheat. "David told us Chuck sprayed blood all over. Called an ambulance. David thought you knifed him."
"Me? A knife?"
"All David heard was Chuck screaming 'the bitch slashed me.' What would you think?"
Allison looked at her trigonometry notebook with a little more respect. "I didn't mean to do anything like that. . ."
Macy smiled and shook her head. "I know, girl. Chuck's such trash that no one'd care if you did knife him— 'cept maybe the cops and his folks. Then only because they have to."
"How badly did I hurt him?"
"David overheard one of the medics say something like two-dozen stitches an a lot of blood loss. He also said that Chuck keeled over before the medics showed."
Allison winced even though she thought Chuck deserved it.
"Hey," Macy said. "David's probably just exaggerating to make a good story. You know how he is."
"Too well."
"Want some advice?" Macy asked.
"What?"
"Go to the kitchen, right now." Macy tapped the cover of the notebook. "Put this here thing in a baggie and keep it safe."
"Huh, why?"
Macy sighed. "Think, girl. Chuck's pissed. He might be too he-man to call the cops on a girl who bit him. But he might not be. He might figure the embarrassment's worth it."
"But. . ."
"This proves your story. Don't lose it. Especially his bloodstains."
"Ok, ok." Allison felt really silly, but she went in the kitchen to package the "evidence." She couldn't find a Ziplock bag that'd fit her notebook, so she put it in a Hefty trash bag and put it up in her room.
Allison came downstairs and Macy assured her that she'd done the right thing.
