Read Ugly Girls: A Novel for Free Online Page A
Authors: Lindsay Hunter
that. She went back to the computer.
Jamey had left a comment on her newest profile picture. Haha your beatifull even with that hat on!! She had read one of Travis’s papers once during a group activity in English. He was a good speller.
Outside, Jim pulled up, honked once. Ever since he found out Perry had skipped a few times, Jim didn’t allow her to take the bus. “Jim, let her find her own way,” Myra had said, “trust me.” Perry could hear them through the wall. “Not when it comes to this,” Jim said. The next day, he’d driven her to school. And all the days after that.
Which didn’t mean Perry wasn’t still skipping. But at least Jim felt better.
PERRY’S HAIR WAS WET, she was neatly dressed, she had her book bag. Jim knew if he checked she’d have made it look like her bed was slept in, had probably even punched a dent into her pillow, but the deep purplish lines under her eyes told a different story. He knew she hadn’t slept at all.
She got into the car riding a wave of gray morning light. When the door shut, the light was gone. He felt sad about that, which meant he was just as exhausted as she must have been. “How was work?” she asked, but immediately turned her head to watch herself in the side mirror.
He wanted to tell her how he’d watched an inmate swallow mouthfuls of his own bright blood after he got in a fight with his roommate over toilet rights. Just gulp, and then his mouth would fill again, and then gulp. How Jim had held a roll of toilet paper up to the man’s mouth and it got half soaked. But he knew he’d never say things like that to her, and he knew it wouldn’t matter if he did.
Instead, in his usual quiet way, he said, “It was fine. Glad it’s over. How was your night?” He said it in an I know you weren’t in bed not one single second kind of way.
“Fine, glad it’s over,” Perry answered.
Now what did that mean, Jim wondered. Was she being cute? Or was she in trouble? But of course she was.
“You see your momma this morning?” Jim asked.
“Sure didn’t,” Perry said. “She was still in the bedroom with the door closed when I came—when I got up.”
Jim let the slip go. “I’ll check on her when I get back,” he said. “I probably forgot to set her alarm.”
They sat in silence the rest of the way there, and Jim was grateful for it. The prison was an ocean of sound. If you worked one of its cinder blocks out of the wall and held it up to your ear you’d hear waves and waves of men—men shouting, crying, moaning. After that, even silence was a roar.
“Hey,” he said. “You want McDonald’s?” This was something they did on special occasions. Fridays. Or when Perry got a good grade. This morning was the opposite of a special occasion, but that seemed to Jim even more of a reason than a B + .
“Hell yes ,” Perry said. She finally turned and looked at him. He could see what she’d look like as a grown woman: still pretty, but worn. Like a lily left on a tabletop for too long. Her green eyes were red in the corners. Then she smiled a little, her funny tooth resting on her lower lip, and she looked like a kid again. He filled with love for that kid.
“I could eat a whole hog,” she said.
“Don’t say hell,” Jim said.
WHEN MYRA FIRST STARTED bringing Jim around, Perry thought he was some kind of scary giant who’d crush her like a soda can under his fist. This was after Myra’s other boyfriend, Donald, had finally gone on his way. Donald was a scary toothpick type who’d crushed her with his mean mouth and his needle teeth and his beer breath.
But Jim was different. Looked Perry in the eyes the whole time she’d be talking. Cooked dinner, brought Myra flowers. Cheesy red roses, not a lot of creativity there, but it’s the thought like they say. And he never drank. Perry was eleven when he came around, twelve when they got married. They moved into his trailer because it was a double and in a nicer park than the
Jamey had left a comment on her newest profile picture. Haha your beatifull even with that hat on!! She had read one of Travis’s papers once during a group activity in English. He was a good speller.
Outside, Jim pulled up, honked once. Ever since he found out Perry had skipped a few times, Jim didn’t allow her to take the bus. “Jim, let her find her own way,” Myra had said, “trust me.” Perry could hear them through the wall. “Not when it comes to this,” Jim said. The next day, he’d driven her to school. And all the days after that.
Which didn’t mean Perry wasn’t still skipping. But at least Jim felt better.
PERRY’S HAIR WAS WET, she was neatly dressed, she had her book bag. Jim knew if he checked she’d have made it look like her bed was slept in, had probably even punched a dent into her pillow, but the deep purplish lines under her eyes told a different story. He knew she hadn’t slept at all.
She got into the car riding a wave of gray morning light. When the door shut, the light was gone. He felt sad about that, which meant he was just as exhausted as she must have been. “How was work?” she asked, but immediately turned her head to watch herself in the side mirror.
He wanted to tell her how he’d watched an inmate swallow mouthfuls of his own bright blood after he got in a fight with his roommate over toilet rights. Just gulp, and then his mouth would fill again, and then gulp. How Jim had held a roll of toilet paper up to the man’s mouth and it got half soaked. But he knew he’d never say things like that to her, and he knew it wouldn’t matter if he did.
Instead, in his usual quiet way, he said, “It was fine. Glad it’s over. How was your night?” He said it in an I know you weren’t in bed not one single second kind of way.
“Fine, glad it’s over,” Perry answered.
Now what did that mean, Jim wondered. Was she being cute? Or was she in trouble? But of course she was.
“You see your momma this morning?” Jim asked.
“Sure didn’t,” Perry said. “She was still in the bedroom with the door closed when I came—when I got up.”
Jim let the slip go. “I’ll check on her when I get back,” he said. “I probably forgot to set her alarm.”
They sat in silence the rest of the way there, and Jim was grateful for it. The prison was an ocean of sound. If you worked one of its cinder blocks out of the wall and held it up to your ear you’d hear waves and waves of men—men shouting, crying, moaning. After that, even silence was a roar.
“Hey,” he said. “You want McDonald’s?” This was something they did on special occasions. Fridays. Or when Perry got a good grade. This morning was the opposite of a special occasion, but that seemed to Jim even more of a reason than a B + .
“Hell yes ,” Perry said. She finally turned and looked at him. He could see what she’d look like as a grown woman: still pretty, but worn. Like a lily left on a tabletop for too long. Her green eyes were red in the corners. Then she smiled a little, her funny tooth resting on her lower lip, and she looked like a kid again. He filled with love for that kid.
“I could eat a whole hog,” she said.
“Don’t say hell,” Jim said.
WHEN MYRA FIRST STARTED bringing Jim around, Perry thought he was some kind of scary giant who’d crush her like a soda can under his fist. This was after Myra’s other boyfriend, Donald, had finally gone on his way. Donald was a scary toothpick type who’d crushed her with his mean mouth and his needle teeth and his beer breath.
But Jim was different. Looked Perry in the eyes the whole time she’d be talking. Cooked dinner, brought Myra flowers. Cheesy red roses, not a lot of creativity there, but it’s the thought like they say. And he never drank. Perry was eleven when he came around, twelve when they got married. They moved into his trailer because it was a double and in a nicer park than the