Page 39 of Rock Bottom Girl
“Old single ladies are so mean,” one of the girls complained.
18
Marley
“What in the hell are you guys doing here dressed like freaking ninjas?” I was standing at center field in the high school’s soccer stadium at 9 p.m. facing almost the entire varsity team—Lisabeth Hooper was missing, thank God—and Vicky. All of whom were dressed in head-to-toe black.
It was dark except for the flashlight apps on our phones.
“When you and Coach Vicky whisper, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are,” Phoebe announced.
“Where do your parents think you all are?” I demanded.
“My parents think that I’m studying at the library with Morgan G., Morgan W., Sophie S., and Leslie,” Angela said.
“Mine think I’m at a stage crew meeting with Ruby,” Natalee said.
“My parents are getting a divorce. They don’t really care where I am as long as I don’t come home pregnant or with tattoos,” Chelsea chirped.
I sighed heavily.
“All right, ladies,” Vicky said, rummaging around in what looked like a diaper bag. “Since you’re here, let’s go over the plan.”
This was quite possibly the worst decision I’d ever made as an adult. Involving high school students in trespassing and vandalism. It was a wonder I wasn’t already fired.
“Fine,” I said. “But if I get arrested, you all showed up here to stop me, not participate.”
They nodded solemnly.
“So, what we’re doing is inserting these baggies of dye in the head of each sprinkler,” Vicky said, pulling out a small plastic bag. “Donotpuncture the bags until you’ve installed them in the sprinkler heads.”
“Try not to get any dye on you. It’s not permanent, but we don’t want anything tying us to this,” I insisted as the girls collected the bags.
I watched them jog off into the dark, giggling.
Vicky grinned at me and held up two red packets. “Ready to have some fun?”
We tackled the closest sprinkler head, unscrewing the cap, inserting the baggy, and carefully poking a hole in the very top of the bag.
“Should we be wearing gloves? You know, fingerprints?” Vicky asked, wiggling her fingers.
“Not unless the sheriff’s department budget quadrupled since we were in high school,” I said dryly.
We moved on to the next sprinkler head and repeated the process.
“Come on.” Vicky nudged me. “You’re enjoying this. You don’t have to be all Droopy the Clown.”
“Droopy the Clown is my new persona,” I insisted.
Vicky put her hand on my arm. “Babe, we all go through shitty periods. I’m the mother of three. Rich and I haven’t had sex in four months. I am so far behind on the dishes that I gave up and we only eat off of paper products now.”
I dropped my ass onto the ground while she screwed the sprinkler head back on.
“I lost my job when the start-up I worked for shut down, taking all of the savings I invested with it. That was the day after Javier gently told me I wasn’t passionate enough for him and that he wanted something more than a lukewarm relationship. Meanwhile, Zinnia was just named a 40 Under 40 to the Do Gooders annual list. Her youngest is a violin prodigy. And her husband operated on the Speaker of the House last month.”
“I really want to hate your sister,” Vicky said, flopping down next to me.
“I know. But we can’t because she’s so…”
