The Devil and Danna Webster Page 10

  Gar was very close to me, looking down into my eyes. "I don't know if someone like him even wants to change. He'll just drag other people down with him."

  "I think you're completely wrong about Kevin. No one really understands him."

  "And you think you do? He'll just use you to get what he wants and then toss you away."

  “Thanks so much for the cheerful thought.”

  “I’m just trying to be a friend.”

  I did my best to hold down my temper. “I guess you think I’m naïve?”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  “I think Kevin’s been treated unfairly, even by his own sister.”

  “If that’s what you want to think.”

  I turned my back on Gar. We didn't talk again. For Joyce's sake, I controlled my anger. When we parted back at my house, Tom asked Joyce for her phone number.

  He promised to call soon. After the boys left, Joyce and I went into the house. I felt miserable, but I had never seen Joyce so happy. She babbled on happily about Tom until her mother picked her up.

  Kevin phoned me shortly after Joyce left. We talked for quite a while. I told him how much I liked the Quan Yin statue and how I had put it in a place of honor on the nightstand beside my bed. That seemed to please him. He asked if he could come over, but I told him my parents wouldn't approve. I don't think he understood. Still, he didn't push it, much to my relief.

  That week, I was busy with schoolwork and working on the painting of Caron. I can't say I was too crazy about the subject of my work, but I really liked the idea of earning my first fee as an artist. Ms. Meade let me work on the portrait after school.

  "I'm afraid of doing this in oil," I told her.

  She studied the picture thoughtfully. "Would they mind if you worked in pastels?"

  "I think so. Kevin said his mother prefers oil paintings."

  "Then give it a try. I'll help you mix the flesh tones and get the right kind of strokes." And she did. It was amazing how much she knew. Every day after school we worked on it together. It was a wonderful learning experience for me.

  "Did you ever think of being a real artist instead of a teacher?" I asked her on Friday.

  She opened her eyes wide and let out a low, soft laugh. "Oh, I've thought about that a lot. And I do some painting still. The truth is I'm not nearly good enough. I have a fair knowledge of technique, but I rarely feel inspired."

  "Maybe because you give so much of yourself to us kids."

  "Maybe so," she agreed. "Teaching is a demanding job. Still, it does have its rewards, like seeing you give life to this painting. I think you've managed to give your subject a kind of vitality that the photo didn't capture. Is she like that?”

  "Caron? Yes, there's something about her."

  “She's got an unusual kind of beauty. You’ve captured her essence here. It's very good work, Danna. Who in your family has artistic talent?"

  Ms. Meade's question threw me.

  "I don't know. My mother doesn’t draw at all."

  "Ask her about it. Talent generally runs in families.”

  “I will. I’m kind of curious myself.” Had my real dad been artistic?

  “We can work on this some more next week."

  "Think I'll be done by next Friday? The party is only a week away."

  "Of course," Ms. Meade said in that encouraging way she had. "That is, if you are willing to settle for less than a masterpiece."

  “Oh, I don’t think I could manage that regardless.”

  Kevin arrived as we were cleaning up. He wanted to look at the painting. I don't know why I was uneasy about letting him see my work, but he persisted, and so I finally showed it to him. He stood back and stared at it speechless.

  "You hate it, don’t you? We’re still working on it though.”

  “Are you kidding? This is terrific. I can't believe you got her! It's Caron, just the way Caron really is. You’ve caught her essence, totally captured her. But this is different from the photograph."

  "Not flattering enough? Your mother won't like it, will she?"

  Kevin was thoughtful. "She'll love it. All we have to do is buy a glitzy frame. That'll be our job for Saturday. We'll go down to the Village and check out the art shops. The frame will be my present to Caron."

  ****

  Kevin and I spent Saturday in New York City. We did everything, from feeding peanuts to the pigeons in Central Park to visiting the art museums and lunching at an elegant French bistro. And we found a frame for the portrait. As always, Kevin's taste was impeccable. The frame was hand-carved wood painted in white and gold and terribly expensive.

  We went for a ride on the Staten Island ferry. The sun was just setting. I stood beside Kevin and watched the Manhattan skyline, the great tall buildings, outlined against the darkening sky. I turned and saw the Statue of Liberty in the distance.I knew it had to be the greatest city in the world. I decided I would try and paint it one day soon.

  "Isn't it beautiful?" I asked Kevin.

  "Beautiful," he repeated. He put his arms around me and we kissed.

  I felt so happy. It was such a perfect moment. There were tears of joy in my eyes.

  “Absolutely awesome,” he whispered. And we kissed again.

  ****

  On Sunday, Joyce phoned me with some news. Tom had asked her to come to Saturday's home football game. He'd taken her out afterwards.

  "We had such a good time," she exclaimed. "I met some of his friends. They were celebrating because the team won again. I still don't like Caron by the way."

  "I gather she was with Gar."

  "She hangs onto him like crazy glue. I don't think he's that crazy about her though. He barely speaks to her."

  "It's hard to tell with Gar what he thinks or feels. I guess he has a high opinion of himself."

  "I disagree," Joyce said. "I’ve been observing him. I don't think it's that at all. I did think it at first, but now I know better. Would you like my analysis?"

  I cut her short. "Let’s not discuss him any more. Okay? I can see we'll never agree about Gar Hansen or Kevin Moore."

  "Let's stick with Tom then," she said, "at least we both like him." So Joyce told me all about her date with Tom and how her parents liked him too — even her little brother thought he was cool.

  "Want to go shopping with me to the mall today?" I asked her.

  "What are you looking for?"

  "A dress for Caron's party. I'm Kevin's date."

  "I hear that's going to be a splashy affair."

  "Whatever it is, I promised to go, but Kevin says the place is pretty fancy and I think I need something dressy. I've got fifty dollars. I ought to be able to find something."

  We met at the mall. I must have tried on thirty dresses and looked through every single store before I found one dress that seemed right. It was white with black and silver threads running through it, scoop neckline and fullish skirt, and a little on the sheer side, but I figured it would be fine with a slip underneath. It really was a pretty dress and, best of all, it was on sale for forty-five dollars, a real bargain. By the time we stopped for sodas, Joyce was looking tired and I confess that I wasn't feeling so great myself.

  "Are your parents getting to like Kevin any better?" Joyce asked. For some reason, she just couldn't let that topic go, which I found annoying.

  "Not really." I took a long drink of my soda. "My stepfather especially doesn't like him."

  "Maybe you should stop seeing Kevin."

  I shook my head. "My stepdad doesn't especially like me either."

  "I don't think that's true."

  "Your dad likes me better than he does."

  I didn't want to tell her that I really dreaded being home these days. If I wasn't having problems with my stepdad, than it was Mom. I didn’t feel they were ever going to warm to Kevin, which meant they didn’t trust my judgment. Sure enough, as soon as I got home, my mother started in about my new dress.

  "I don't understand," I told her. "Don't you think it'
s pretty?"

  "That's not the issue here. Where did you get the money to pay for it?"

  "Oh that! I earned it, that is, I am earning it." I told her about how Kevin's mother had commissioned me to do Caron's portrait. I thought she'd be impressed. Was I ever wrong! She was actually angry. And so was my stepfather when she told him.

  "Give them the money back," my stepfather demanded. His face was mottled an odd shade of purple.

  "No, way, I earned it, and I already bought my dress with it." I placed my hands on my hips in a gesture of stubborn defiance.

  "Return the dress and get the money back!"

  "Why should I? Besides, it’s a final sale. I can’t return it. And I've been working on the painting. It's almost done. Ms. Meade says it's very good, and she ought to know." I’d never spoken back to him before but I needed to do it now, to stand up for myself.

  "Don't you see that those people are trying to buy you?"

  I hated his angry, accusing tone. "No, I don't see that at all. They're buying my services, my time. Isn't that what people do when they go to work?"

  "It's not the same thing."

  "I don't see the difference." I found myself trembling.

  My mother stepped between us then. "Your father is right," she said. "I'm surprised you don't see what that boy and his mother are up to. You're too easily impressed by wealth."

  I ran my fingers through my hair. "I think you should be happy for me. I don't understand either one of you. Kevin is great and so is his mom. They really like me. Just because they're different from us doesn't mean they're bad people."

  "Forget about going to that party," my stepfather shouted.

  I couldn't believe his cruelty. "I don't understand you. Joyce's dad is just the opposite. He's always on her side. He actually trusts her judgment, and he's a policeman. You’re not my real dad and you don’t care about me!"

  I ran out of the living room because I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. I didn't want to give my stepfather the satisfaction of seeing me cry. At that moment, I hated both my parents.

  If they wouldn't let me go to the party, maybe I would just sneak out, tell Kevin to pick me up somewhere else. Joyce's house? No, she'd never go along with it. Joyce would tell my parents. Some friend! I hated her too! I would tell Kevin. He'd understand, and he'd think of something. Of course, he would! I was tempted to pick up the phone and call him immediately. But then I was struck by an awful realization. If I asked Kevin for help, it would mean I owed him. It would put me in his power. Did I really trust him that much? I wanted to be able to trust him completely, but somehow, I couldn't. Maybe it was all those people warning me about Kevin, even Kevin himself. He'd never been anything but good to me, yet I knew I wouldn't call him. I had to take care of this problem with my parents myself.

  I didn't come out of my room when my mother called out that supper was ready. I could hear my stepfather telling her to leave me alone. I tried not to think about them or my problem any further. Instead I started working on my paper for English.About eight o'clock that evening, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and my mother came in.

  "You ought to have something to eat," she said.

  I shook my head. "I'm not hungry."

  "Come away from your desk," she said, "I want to talk to you."

  "Thought we already talked," I said, not budging an inch.

  "We only want what's best for you, you know."

  She pushed back a few strands of graying hair from her forehead, frowning at me. "Why don't you go out with that boy Gar instead of Kevin Moore? Your dad and I both like Gar. He seems like a decent, sensible boy. We wouldn't worry so much if you were seeing him."

  "Gar is dating Kevin's sister. He just comes over now and then to tutor me. That's all! He doesn't even like me, and I don't like him either."

  "I think you're wrong on both counts. I've watched him look at you. I think you like him too, even if you won't admit it. As for this Caron, well, we'll just see."

  "You don't seem to understand, Mom. I really like Kevin a lot. He's very kind and generous to me. Sure, he's got faults, but everyone does."

  "Well, I'm going to let you go with him to that party."

  I threw my arms around her neck and kissed her cheek.

  "Thanks, Mom, I love you!"

  "Don't love me for that. I don't know that giving in to you is such a good idea."

  I had a sudden chilling thought. "What about Dad?" Our eyes met.

  "I'll talk to him, and I'll square it. But on one condition."

  "Anything," I promised.

  "That you apologize for being rude to him. The man has his pride. He deserves your respect."

  “Oh, all right, if I must.”

  “You do.”

  “Thanks for being cool about Kevin.”

  Mom pursed her lips. “You don’t have to thank me. I realize if I forbid you to see him, you’ll just go behind my back. No, don’t even bother trying to deny it. I know the truth. Forbidden fruit is always sweeter. But I do have faith in your common sense. I know eventually that boy will show himself for what he really is. You’ll see his true colors and have the good sense to walk away.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. In the meantime, I believe you were about to have some words for your father?”

  “You mean my stepdad.”

  Mom’s eyes met mine. “He’s your father in every way that counts.”

  I knew it was something I had to do. I found my stepfather drinking a cup of black coffee at the kitchen table. "Mom says I should apologize to you. I guess she's right. I'm sorry I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. I suppose I just don't see things the same way you do."

  He put down his cup. His eyes were shadowed. "I’ve lived a lot longer than you have. I know more about people than you do. There's some boys you can trust and some you can't," he said. He wheeled his chair around and faced me. His arms were very strong, as if to compensate for the wasted legs. I wanted to touch his hands, but I just couldn't.

  "If you would just trust me a little more. I know how to judge people."

  "There was a girl we knew once who thought the same thing and it brought her nothing but grief. Your mom and I are just trying to watch out for you. It's our duty."

  Duty? I hated that word! He often used it. Why couldn't he just once say he loved me? But, of course, he didn’t. I wasn’t his daughter, so why should he have any real feelings for me? He probably thought I just got in the way.

  "I want to go to the party," I told him. "And I want to keep the dress because I believe I earned the money. I'll be bringing the portrait home from school next Friday. You can see it then and judge for yourself. If you don't think my work is worthy, then I'll give Mrs. Moore back the money. I still have some money I earned from babysitting this summer." I didn't have the heart to tell him that Mrs. Moore had promised me a hundred dollars more. What would he have said to that? I shuddered inwardly. I vowed not to accept another cent for the portrait, no matter what.

  "Our girl is showing character, isn't she? She wants you to decide. What do you say?" My mother was acting as peacemaker. I appreciated her efforts.

  "All right," my stepfather responded grudgingly. "I’ll take a look at the painting. But I'm not an artist. I won’t know how good the work is or isn’t."

  "You know what looks right to you. Danna will trust you to be fair." My mother winked at me as if the matter were settled, but I wasn't so sure.

  I didn't say a word to Kevin about what happened. When we talked, he was in high spirits. I knew that he was looking forward to the party just as much as I was. Every day, I went to the art room after school and worked some more on the portrait. On Friday, Ms. Meade even let me put aside my regular work in class so I could finish up. I also came in during study hall. By five o'clock on Friday, it was as done as it ever would be. Ms. Meade was kind enough to trust me to close up the art room for her. I don't think there was a single soul left in the school
besides me and the custodians. It was an eerie feeling, walking those big, deserted corridors by myself. Then, I heard the sound of footsteps behind me and I turned in fear. I sighed in relief to see Kevin.

  "So it's done," he said. "Can I look at it?" I had covered it carefully, so none of the paint would smudge. It wasn't fully dry.

  "Not yet."

  "Can’t even sneak a peak?”

  “No.”

  “At least let me carry it for you."

  "I have to be very careful with it for now."

  "Okay, have it your way."

  “How did you know to come for me?"

  "You said you'd finish around five. I figured I'd hang around Sal's until you were ready to go. I'm driving you home."

  "No argument."

  He smiled showing his perfectly even white teeth. "Good. Are you all ready for tomorrow night? I'll pick you up around six. Don't eat much because we're having an outstanding meal."

  I didn't answer. What if my father still refused to let me go? I swallowed hard.

  "Want to stop off for some pizza or ice cream now?"

  "No thanks." All I could think about was getting the portrait safely home.

  “I’ll take your backpack for you.”

  Kevin did most of the talking on the drive to my house, telling me of the fuss his mother was making about the party.

  "Yesterday evening, she insisted on going to the mall to look for a pair of shoes for the party."

  "That doesn't seem too unusual," I commented.

  "My mother has more pairs of shoes than most movie stars. Believe me, she could have found something to match her dress. And my sister is no better. The two of them had to have their dresses made to order. I'm glad the old man is springing for this bash. Otherwise, Sheila would be broke."

  I finally agreed to let Kevin carry the painting into the house for me. My hands were actually sweating. Why should I care so much about going to some silly party, I asked myself? Especially one for Caron Moore. Maybe my parents were right; I really didn't belong with that crowd. And yet, I did want to go to the party, if only to see how the other half lived.

  "So can I bring the painting over to the gallery for framing tomorrow?" Kevin asked.