Sandwiched. Jennifer Archer

      “You have a thing for muddy brown?”

      She makes a face. “It’s chestnut.”

      “Whatever you say.”

      Suz picks up an insert. “Quit being so negative and just have some fun with these, why don’t you?” She tosses it at me. “At least try them on with the clothes.”

      Five minutes later, I strut back and forth in front of Suzanna’s full-length mirror laughing like a crazy person. “Hey, dressing like a slut is sort of fun.”

      “Ohmigod! You’re so not slutty-looking. I swear! You look like a model. You have to buy some of those thingies to wear all the time. They look real!”

      Jumping up and down, I watch them jiggle. I laugh so hard tears run down my cheeks. I admit to Suzanna that I think I might like pretending to be the girl in the mirror for just one night.

      “Then let me change clothes and we’ll get out of here,” she says, clapping her hands together.

      My stomach twists. I wipe my eyes. “I want to, but I can’t.”

      “What now?”

      “My mom. She’ll freak if she finds out I went to The Beat.”

      “We won’t be drinking. If you’re under twenty-one, they put a band on your wrist so the waiters won’t serve you.”

      “I’m not eighteen yet. I can’t get in.”

      “My cousin Trevor works there. He’ll be taking cover at the door tonight. He’ll let you through.”

      “I don’t know. I could be eighteen and swear not to drink, and Mom still wouldn’t let me go.”

      “Come on, Erin. Please? All the college guys go there. When I went with Trevor last weekend on his night off we had a blast.”

      “I want to….”

      “Then do it! I like your mother, but she’s so strict. You’re not a little girl anymore, and if you don’t stand up to her and make her see that, you’ll never get to have any fun. What does she expect you to do? Sit around with her and your grandmother on weekends? You might as well just skip the next twenty years of your life and go straight to the old folks’ home.”

      “I can’t stand up to her. I know my mother. I’ll lose.”

      “I think you should try. It’s either that or go behind her back.”

      I imagine telling Mom I’m going to The Beat. After she gets over the shock of it she’ll forbid me to leave the house. I imagine saying that she can’t stop me. Then I think of my car, which she bought, the gasoline, which she pays for, the allowance she puts in my pocket. She has plenty of ways to make my life miserable.

      “I choose going behind her back.”

      Suz raises her brows. “Ooh-kay.”

      “It’s my only chance of going.” I glance at my watch. “We’re not going to have much time. I have to be home by eleven on weekends, and it’s nine now. By the time you get ready and we drive out there, we’ll have to leave again.”

      “Eleven? Your Mom is strict.” Suzanna frowns. “Things don’t really even get going until after eleven. But don’t worry.” She thinks for a few seconds then smiles. “I have a plan.”

      It’s easier than I thought to sneak the sack of new clothes into my bedroom.

      “Erin? Is that you, Sugar?” my grandmother calls from the den when the front door slams.

      “Hi, Nana. Be right there.” I stuff the sack under my bed.

      Even before I get to the den, I hear music playing. The kind with a lot of brass and piano, with some guy’s silky voice weaving through it. I’m sort of weirded out when I find Nana on the floor with Maxwell tucked up beside her. Leaning against the sofa, she scratches his belly, her eyes closed, her glasses on the coffee table beside her. Socks cover her feet, and her toes tap the air to the beat of the song. I don’t know why seeing someone her age sprawled out on the floor with her shoes off seems strange, but it does.

      For a minute, I just stand and stare at her, afraid to break the mood. It’s like her mind is someplace besides this room, in a different time, a happy one if the smile on her face is any clue. It may sound stupid, but I almost feel like I’m spying on something private, something I shouldn’t disturb. Deciding I should just tiptoe away, I start to turn.

      Nana’s eyes flutter open. She squints. “Oh, Erin.” Lifting her hand from Maxwell’s belly, she places it on the sofa. “Come sit and talk with me.”

      Maxwell raises his head and whimpers until she touches him again. I understand. I remember the comfort of being cozied up to her. When I was little, we’d sit together in the rocker and she’d read to me. She smelled soapy clean.

      Suzanna waits outside for me, three houses down the block. The excitement she offers tugs me one way at the same time Nana’s warmth pulls me the other. I hesitate then cross the room, settling on the sofa beside where she sits on the floor. “I thought you might be asleep.”

      “No, just resting my eyes.” She sits up straight, reaches for her glasses then slides them up the bridge of her nose. “How was your evening? Did you have a nice time with your friend?”

      “We just talked and tried on clothes.”

      “Your mother said you rented a movie.”

      “I did, but we didn’t watch it yet. Maybe tomorrow.” I glance toward the door to the kitchen. The lights are off. “Where’s Mom?”

      “She turned in early to read.” Nana covers her mouth and yawns. “I think I’ll take a quick soak in the tub then do the same. I’m having some trouble settling down after all the day’s excitement.” She reaches up to me. “Would you give me a lift?”

      I stand and face her. Nana’s hands are dry and powder soft. As I pull her to her feet, I try to figure out what excitement she’s talking about. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

      “Happen?” Nana’s brows pull together. “Your mother and I just ate pie and watched television. I couldn’t have stood much more after all the unpacking and putting away. And then there was the trip to the grocery store. And the cooking.” She pats my arm. “Mind you, I’m not complaining. It’s a joy to be busy with my family.”

      I hug her, realizing the excitement she talked about was just the move. Shame tightens my throat. This day meant a lot to Nana. I guess I should’ve known that, but until now, I didn’t. I probably should’ve stuck around instead of going to the mall with Suzanna.

      Ending the hug, I stand back and look at her. “I think I’ll go to bed, too. I’m sort of tired.” I almost choke on the lie. What started out smooth and clear is all twisted and cloudy now. I didn’t expect my escape route would have ruts, guilty feelings to dodge along the way.

      “I love you. Sleep tight,” Nana says. “Stay warm.”

      “Love you, too.” Heat creeps up the back of my neck. My heart beats too fast. “I’ll put Maxwell out.”

      Max trots toward the front door, his bottom twisting in the prissy way that always used to earn him a rude comment from Dad. “Oh, no you don’t.” I hook a thumb in the direction of the backyard and lead him that way. Once outside, he squats to pee, then lifts his head and sniffs the air, as if he smells freedom beyond the fence and wants to explore. I watch him a minute, thinking of Suzanna waiting out front, of the night ahead. Then I go back inside.

      I decide I better cover all my bases. A light shines under Mom’s bedroom door so I knock and tell her I’m home. Usually, she tells me to come in and we talk for a while. By some miracle, this time she doesn’t. She sounds sort of funny, like she’s startled or something. We speak through her closed door for a few seconds then say good-night.