Page 4

she’d figure something out. The library excuse might work. She offered a tremulous smile. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” He started toward the exit.

“Okay.” She ducked into the bathroom, feeling almost light-headed. The idea of going to the movies with a boy was so new,

an adventure plopped right into the middle of her boring little life. Bending over a stainless-steel basin, she splashed water

on her face and dabbed at it with a paper towel, wishing like she always did that she could dab away the freckles. But all

the lemon juice and Noxzema in the world couldn’t make them fade.

At the other end of the room, two of the warehouse clerks were leaning toward the mirror, putting on makeup and listening to the radio.

Gina and Carla. Mairin didn’t really know them because they were older.

Warehouse girls. They sat at their stations all day, fingers with polished nails flying over the keyboards of adding machines and typewriters.

They were dressed in tight clam diggers and midi blouses, and wore their hair in chin-length flips held in place by clouds of Aqua Net.

“Was that Flynn Gallagher?” Carla asked, glancing over at Mairin. “God, he’s so dreamy.”

“Total stone-cold fox.” Gina flicked a mascara brush at her eyelashes. “Too bad he’s going around with that hippie girl.”

She swayed her hips to “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter” and echoed the chorus along with Herman’s Hermits, who were almost as cool as the Beatles: “ Daaaaw-ter.”

Mairin shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t sure what a stone-cold fox was, but it was clearly a compliment. “He came to pick

up Fiona. She had to go home sick.”

“Sick.” Carla scoffed, then traced her mouth with crimson lipstick. “Girl’s not sick. She got herself in trouble, betcha dollars

to donuts.”

Mairin balled up the paper towel and shot it into the wastebasket. She was pretty sure she knew what in trouble meant. “Nuh-uh,” she said. “She’s got a flu or something.”

“Right,” Carla said. “You wait and see. She’s gonna end up with the Good Shepherd nuns.”

Mairin frowned. She was only vaguely aware of the gloomy edifice up on Best Street. It was a gray hulk of a building, its

brick walls topped by coils of razor wire. She’d heard it was some kind of reform school and workhouse for unwed mothers.

When Mam got mad at her about something, she’d sometimes threaten to send Mairin to the nuns if she didn’t behave.

Fiona couldn’t be in trouble. Not like that. They had been best friends since the beginning of time. They’d done everything

together. They were still just kids. Only last week, they had a sleepover, wearing their babydoll pajamas and using their

hairbrushes as microphones while belting out “Angel of the Morning” until Fiona’s dad begged for mercy.

“You’re wrong about Fiona,” she muttered, but the very idea gave her a weird feeling in her gut. How could a girl who was

a kid only yesterday suddenly be in trouble ? No one had explained to Mairin exactly how it worked. She knew it was something to do with going steady, riding around in cars, and parking at the spillway. Making out and heavy pet ting, the progress likened to advancing around a baseball diamond.

It all sounded like too much fun, not trouble.

The sun was beginning to set as Mairin slid into the driver’s seat of the old Nash Rambler, which Colm had left parked in

the side driveway. Liam had promised to help her practice left-lane turns and parallel parking. Friday was Colm’s league night

at the Eagles Lodge bowling alley, so he wouldn’t be home for a while. It was always better at the house when Colm wasn’t

around.

She flexed her hands on the steering wheel, her eagerness mingling with a small dart of anxiety. Liam got in on the passenger

side. “Okay, squirt,” he said with a grin. “Ready to roll?” He tossed the car keys over to her. The keys were on a Niagara

Falls key chain, which she had bought for Mam after a school field trip to the Falls last year.

Mairin always felt unsettled when she visited the Falls, a giant raging cataclysm of rushing, tumbling water between two of

the biggest lakes in the world. Her dad had worked at the power plant, and he’d been killed on the job. She didn’t like to

think about that, but whenever she stood staring into the mesmerizing crash of water, she was both repulsed by fear, yet felt

strangely close to her father.

She caught the keys, feeling the weight of them in the palm of her hand. She silently went through the checklist Liam had

drummed into her, explaining that leaving out any of the necessary steps could lead to failure. Adjust the seat. Key in the

ignition. One foot on the brake pedal, the other on the clutch. Gear in neutral. Check the rearview mirror... she went

down the list from memory.

“Ready to roll,” she said, turning the key. The engine grumbled to life. “Where to?”

“Let’s go down to Rotary Field on Bailey,” he said. “The college has a good parking lot for practicing.”

Mairin took a deep breath and nodded, steadying her hands on the steering wheel and gear box as she tried to mask her nerves

with determination. She shifted the gear into reverse and eased up on the clutch, hoping it wouldn’t pop and kill the engine.

It had taken her dozens of tries to figure out just the right move.

“Hey, not bad, sister,” Liam said.

“Thanks to you,” she said. She checked all the mirrors and swiveled around, then backed out onto the brick-paved street. “I

want to get as good at driving as you are.”

He laughed, and she could picture his lean, tanned face, although she kept her eyes on the road. Liam was eighteen now, and

starting to look like the old pictures of their dad. “You think I’m good?” he asked.

“I know you are.” She felt a rush of excitement as she eased along the street. “Can we have the radio on?”

“Nah. One thing at a time. Besides, the dial keeps getting stuck on Colm’s crappy polka music station anyway. Nobody wants

to listen to that bullshit.”

His swearing made her feel grown up. “Okay, stop sign,” she said, inching up to the intersection.

“Cool, you’re getting the hang of it.”

She flicked a glance at him. “You think?”

“I know.”

“Mam and Colm don’t think I need to know how to drive. They want me to take the bus.”

“So take the bus. But learn to drive. You’ll be on your own one day. You should know how.”

“I think so, too. But Mam thinks I’ll find some boy to marry right out of high school, and he’ll drive me.” She maneuvered the car through the Fruit Belt—or what was left of the neighborhood after the expressway had slashed

it into two sections.

“That’s dopey,” said Liam. “Times are a-changin’. You know, like the song says.” He sang a few of Bob Dylan’s words in his

mellow baritone voice. He had always been one of the best singers in the church choir. “Chin up. Don’t look at the hood of

the car. Look farther ahead. Into the distance.”

“Oh, right.” She adjusted her gaze. “I’ll work on that.”

“Just keep doing it, and it’ll be second nature pretty soon.”

His calm confidence was reassuring. She relaxed, and her driving became more assured as they made their way through the UB area.

The college was one of the best in the state, according to Miss Baxter, one of the lay teachers at school.

She encouraged all the girls to go to college, even when their parents said it was a waste of time and money.

Colm always said the University at Buffalo was a hotbed for a bunch of commies and ought to be shut down.

Colm was famous for making broad statements regarding things he knew nothing about.

With remarkable patience, Liam had her spend some time in the empty parking lot, practicing backing up and pulling forward.

“Let’s try parallel parking,” he said after her movements smoothed out. “Head for those two cars over there.”

Mairin nodded with determination. She studied the empty space and listened as Liam coached her through lining up with the

front car and backing into the space. “I’m horrible at it,” she said after the first few tries.

“Take it easy. I had to practice a bunch before I got the hang of it,” said Liam.

Eventually, she managed to ease the car into a parking spot without any bumps or scratches. “Just do that a few times every

day,” Liam said, “and you’ll be a pro.”

“How’d you get so smart about this stuff?” she asked him.

“When I worked last year at the Kendall station. I wanted to keep working there, but Mr. Banfield put it up for sale.” He

gestured at the parking lot exit. “Try going toward downtown. Remember where to keep your eyes. And don’t hold the wheel so

tight.” He flexed his hands.

She realized she was tense all over, and she forced herself to relax. As they wended their way through the angled grid of

streets toward downtown, he pointed out the signs and signals along the route, advising her to watch for other cars and especially

pedestrians. She was getting better at making smooth turns and knowing just the right moment to switch gears.

“Downtown can be crazy,” he said. “Take your time.”

“Got it.”

“You do. I think you’re a natural.”

Mairin concentrated on remembering everything as she steered the car, stopped at traffic lights, and wended her way through the streets to the lakefront, a jumble of industrial warehouses and silos and shipping wharves, the Cheerios factory emitting a strange, grainy smell.

They passed the giant federal building and then the Greyhound bus station on Main Street, bustling with travelers under its curved art moderne awning.

“Where’s everyone going?” she wondered.

“Anywhere the road takes ’em, I guess,” said Liam. “Take the road east along Buffalo Creek. It’s a nice drive, and you can

practice getting into passing gear.”

It was a quiet, winding stretch of road surrounded by farms and hamlet villages. Even though Gardenville and the towns along

the creek were only a few miles outside the city, the farmland area seemed like it was worlds away. Some of the places had

quaint names, like Blackberry Ridge and Maple Acres. “I love farms,” she said. “Everything seems so peaceful on a farm.”

“Farms are a lot of work.”

She nodded. “Everything’s a lot of work.” Something ahead caught her eye—a hand-painted sign with a peace symbol flag by the

side of the road. “Oh my gosh, that’s Heyday Farm.”

“Hey-what?”

“Fiona’s brother is going with a girl who lives there. Haley Moore.” She slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder. There was

an old school bus painted in psychedelic colors with flowers and slogans, like “Mother Earth sustains us” and “Turn on, tune

in, and drop out.”

“It’s one of those communes,” Liam said. “I’ve heard it’s mostly a bunch of strays and misfits and runaways.” Then he surprised

her by adding, “Sometimes I wish I could join them.”

“Seriously?”

“Better head back now. Mam’ll want help with supper,” he said.

She navigated the few miles back to the city. The lowering sun cast a golden glow over the houses and trees lining the street.

Parking the car in the side driveway, Mairin felt a sense of accomplishment, but for some reason, she could sense something

weighing on Liam’s mind.

“It’s really nice that you’re doing this, Liam,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Dad would have wanted me to teach you.”

Dad. Maybe that was why Liam seemed to be in a strange mood. He had more memories of their father than Mairin did. He’d had a dad for thirteen years, not just ten. Even now, with their father five years gone, Mairin could tell Liam was seized by sad moments every so often, same as she was.

“He’d be proud of you,” she said. “And... oh, hey, Kevin Doyle asked me to go to the movies.” Just like that, she blurted

it out. Probably not a good idea, but she couldn’t stifle herself.

“Kevin Doyle, eh? Altar boy. Plays center at St. Joe’s. I guess he’s okay.”

She flushed. “Mam’s not gonna let me, but I really want to go.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “She might. Remind her he’s an altar boy at church. And isn’t he in the processional at high mass

sometimes?”

“Good point.”

“Just make sure he treats you right. And by right, I mean nice. Respectful, you know?”

She nodded, even though she wasn’t quite sure she did know. “He will,” she said.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass. As long as I’m around to kick his ass.”

She heard a strange note in his voice, and she turned to study his face. He wore an expression she didn’t recognize. “What’s

the matter?”

He paused, took a deep breath. “I’m being drafted. Got my induction notice from the Selective Service office in the federal

building.”

Drafted . Induction . “Liam...” Her voice trembled. They had just driven past the federal building, and she hadn’t even realized what went

on there. “ Liam ,” she said again. “I don’t know what that means.” But in her gut, she did. And judging by his expression, it wasn’t good.

“After graduation, the draft board changed my status from II-S to I-A.”

She pictured the draft board as a bunch of old men randomly picking out young men to explode their lives. “What’s that?”

“II-S means student. I-A means cannon fodder.”

“What? Liam, I don’t get it. Are you really drafted? Like, drafted?” She pictured all the raging protests that showed up every night on the news. And the daily paper riddled with terrible images

of burning villages and guys on stretchers being rushed off the battlefield.

No. No no no no no. She couldn’t imagine life with Liam gone. She had no idea what she would have done without him after their

dad had died.

“Drafted,” he said with quiet resignation. “Yeah.”

“You have to go fight in Vietnam?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “I have to report for duty. For a physical and training camp after that.

I think I’m being ordered to Fort Dix, New Jersey, for Basic Training and AIT—that’s Advanced Individual Training. It’s the

law. There’s no getting around it. If I’m lucky, maybe I won’t have to go where the fighting is.”

She could tell he didn’t believe his own words. There was only one reason guys kept getting drafted into a war nobody understood

that was happening halfway around the world.

And that was to go where the fighting was.