Stupid People

Kylee gathered the white laundry basket in her arms and headed outside with the wet clothes, suddenly anxious to talk to her mom. She strung up the wet items and started pulling the dry things off the line as quickly as she could. She stopped short when her mom walked into the yard, holding one hand against her head.

“Mom? Are you well enough to be up?”

“We have to hurry,” Theresa said, stopping next to the line. “I heard on the radio that we’ll be getting rain this afternoon.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Kylee said, swatting at a gnat that buzzed near her eyes. “Is Bill working today?”

“Not good enough. It’s just not good enough.”

Conversations with her mom were frequently like this. Sometimes Kylee feared her mother was losing her mind.

“We need more money, is that it? So he’s working?”

Her mom slid the clothes along the line to make room for more. Maybe she doesn’t know the answer, Kylee reasoned. So she’s not sure how to respond. Lame excuse, but it was all she had. She spotted her bra on the line and jerked it off, dropping it into the basket. “A boy moved in next door.”

Her mom took down a shirt, smoothed it, and pinned it back up. “Careful, Kylee.”

“Careful of what?” Kylee snapped, irritated again. “Is there something wrong with talking to a boy?”

“Yes. Always trouble.” Her mom began to hum.

Kylee hated the sound of it. It usually meant she was checking out of reality. Kylee finished with her laundry basket and sighed. “Thanks, Mom.”

In just three short years, Kylee would be out of here. College was on the horizon, and she didn’t care where she went, as long as it was too far away to visit. She’d run away if she had to. Bill couldn’t keep her here forever. She had dreams, plans, so many things to do with her life. Maybe she’d study art, or literature. Maybe she’d become a great cook who could make something that didn’t involve chicken or rolls.

And she’d have friends. So many friends and admirers that she would have to carry a pocket calendar everywhere she went.

She pictured herself as an adult, strolling down the sidewalk in a glamorous dress, stopping to greet all the people who adored her. All the handsome men who wanted her company. “I’d love to do dinner, Andrew. Oh, Friday? I’m so sorry, Friday doesn’t work for me. Lunch is taken on Saturday, also. I can do dinner on Saturday!”

She giggled at the idea. “I’m going in now.” Kylee picked up her basket again. “Mom?”

Her mother sat down in the grass. “I’m so, so tired.”

“Come on, Mom.” Kylee took her hand and helped her up. “Back to bed.”

Theresa stood. She looked a bit steadier on her feet now. She let go of Kylee’s hand and walked in front.

Kylee put away the folded clothes, checking that her mom had made it back to bed first. The dough was rising. She had some time before she needed to roast the chicken. She picked up the phone and dialed Jessica’s number.

The line made a funny clicking noise, but it never rang. Bill probably hadn’t paid the bill. Irony. She put the phone down and locked herself in her room, settling on her stomach on the bed, textbook in front of her.

She read back over the information about the Spaniards settling the Americas, but before long her mind started to wander. Homeschooling expected the student to be self-motivated, to learn the concepts without someone handing out homework assignments. Maybe that worked for some people, but Kylee struggled with it. She needed the accountability of a grade, the competition of her peers.

She tossed her textbook aside and fished under her bed for The Story Girl. The title had worn off, she’d read it so many times, but Kylee never tired of the main character and her stories and travels. The library had given up trying to get it back years ago, and Kylee just kept reading it.

Bill was gone again before Kylee got up on Sunday morning. She couldn’t believe her luck. He must’ve picked up a weekend shift at the shipping yards at the docks. If he wanted to beat traffic, he had to leave early. Kylee spied on the new family as they drove away in their fancy black car, everyone dressed for church. With nothing else to do, Kylee focused on getting through her history homework.

The rooster crowed, and Kylee opened her eyes to a dark room. The pinkish glow of sunrise filtered in through the naked window. Morning already? She couldn’t even remember falling asleep. Her book lay next to her, folded open where she’d been reading.

Kylee stood up with a yawn. At least Mondays were predictable. Bill would be at work by now. She picked up the egg basket and headed outside.

The sun was up, a mellow orange coloring the sky as the yellowish orb started its climb on the horizon. Down the road, the bus’s air brakes squealed. Kylee paused by the chicken coop to watch the long vehicle pull to a stop. Kylee waved at her old school friends Amy and Michael, trying to catch their eyes, but neither looked at her.

“Lisa! Move it!” a male voice hollered.

Kylee turned her head to see the new kids running down the road.

“Wait!” the boy shouted toward the bus, stopping it just before it started to pull away.

The hens were clucking at her, anxious to get their feed. She forced her attention away from the departing school kids and focused on the small feathered animals.

~*~

Kylee kept her eyes on the oven clock while she peeled potatoes. The afternoon bus would be here in five minutes. Four.

She put down the potato and wiped her hands on her apron before grabbing the laundry basket.

The bus had already pulled up to the stop sign, and kids scurried around the front and down the street like ants leaving the anthill. Kylee went to the edge of the yard next to the mailbox, still holding the basket. She hesitated when she saw Amy, her brown hair pulled into a high ponytail while she strutted down the street in short white pants.

“Just say hi,” she murmured to herself. It could only help her to look friendly. More like a normal neighbor instead of a recluse. “Amy,” she called.

Amy turned her head, and Kylee’s heart skipped a beat. But instead of looking at her, Amy shouted, “Hey, Michael. What are you guys talking about?”

Kylee followed her gaze and narrowed her eyes at the two boys who approached behind Amy.

Michael called back to her. “Just telling Price about that house.”

Amy shuddered. “I can’t even stand looking at it.”

“Which house?” Lisa, the younger sister, asked, swinging her backpack and turning her small face up to her brother.

“That one,” Michael said, pointing at Kylee’s house.

“It’s haunted?” Lisa squealed.

“No,” her brother said, shooting an annoyed look at Michael. “It’s just an ugly old house.” His eyes darted toward the yard and then landed on Kylee. He jerked to a standstill.

Kylee held his gaze a moment, hoping he felt thoroughly embarrassed for being caught talking about her house. Her own face burned. She lowered her eyes and walked away from them. Let them talk. She didn’t belong with them, anyway. Maybe Bill was right to keep her away. They were better than her.

She waited until she was at the clothesline behind the house before she let the tears fall. Her whole life, she and Amy had walked to and from the bus stop together. But Amy had stopped responding to Kylee’s greetings, even avoided looking at her shortly after Kylee started homeschooling. Instead, Amy scurried past Kylee’s house, head down, as if she thought no one would notice her if she didn’t look up.

“Stupid people,” Kylee sniffed, folding a shirt and dropping it into the basket. Stupid neighbors.