"Mosquito Bites"

Stephanie paid the taxi driver with what was left of her babysitting money and stepped into the desert heat. She couldn't believe that she had made it, that she had actually come all the way from La Habra to Las Vegas on her own bank roll, on her own guts. Granted, the taxi and Greyhound ticket had cost all the money she'd saved in her vinyl wallet, but she had made it. Not bad for a fourteen year old girl. Anxious about what might or might not happen next, Stephanie stepped up to the torn screen door of the trailer and knocked on the frame.

There were muffled sounds from within, but Stephanie couldn't see in the small, dingy windows to know what they came from. And then, Shelley was standing there.

Stephanie hadn't seen her sister in over a year. They talked on the phone once in a while, but visits were seldom. Shannon and Steve, Stephanie's other siblings, lived in Orange County. But Shelley, who was her favorite, had moved to Vegas and become a blackjack dealer when Stephanie was only ten years old. Shelley went right after she got out of juvie, because their parents wouldn't have her back. She tried stripping, but they said she was too fat. So she starting dealing cards at the Flamingo for a living, and there's worse ways to make a living than that.

It was true that the two looked little, if anything, alike. Some might say that they didn't even seem like sisters. But that had more to do with chemical processes and age than anything else. Stephanie's mousy brown hair was stick straight to the shoulders. She liked to think of the shade as dirty blonde, and put peroxide in it whenever her mother wasn't around. But Shelley's hair had been platinum blonde since the day she left home, and kinky curly, too. The hair was brittle from bleach and permanents, it broke off in her ponytail holders. Shelley had also become much heavier than Stephanie remembered her. When they hugged hello, Stephanie felt as if she were hugging a bag of marshmallows in a satin robe. Her breasts were enormous, which was unusual for a woman in their family. The younger sister felt unnecessarily self-conscious of her own development. Though Stephanie was just entering adolescence, and still plump with the meat of girlhood, her figure had already begun to emerge. Her wide torso held the growing B-cups that ached at night, and her hips no longer fit in the jeans she'd worn just last year.

But in their faces, the two were very much alike. They both shared a delicately upturned "pug" nose that pulled the upper lip away from the lower. When the mouth rested, the lips stayed slightly parted. When they spoke, bringing the upper lip down to form closed sounds, the nose came down too-almost imperceptibly. The sisters also had the same eyes; the eyes were steel gray at the outside of the iris, blue in the center. There were other things they shared: small moles, clear skin, high foreheads-but these were not so noticeable.

"Girl, you're crazy!" Shelley exclaimed as she held Stephanie at arm's length. "How the hell did you get way out here? Come on in, don't just stand there! How the hell did you get here, you crazy thing?!"

"I ran away." Stephanie answered as somberly as possible.

"Oh, shit. What's wrong with you? Don't you know they're just gonna be bigger assholes when you get back?"

"I'm not going back, Shelley, never. I want to live out here, I want to get a job and be on my own-"

"Now hold on. You're just a little girl, Steph. I know that Mom and Dad can be dicks, but you're not ready to be on your own." Stephanie's face became red as tears of embarrassment fell from her eyes. She had thought Shelley would understand, be receptive to her.

"You did it, Shelley, how come I can't?"

"Because you just can't, that's all. Now come in and we'll talk and have some breakfast and we'll figure somethin' out."

Stephanie sat down at the table in the tiny kitchen while Shelley fried up some eggs. The smell and sound of the splattering grease filled the small space, and Stephanie wished that Shelley could have been her mom. A thumping came from the bedroom, and then the sound of water. Stephanie had been waiting for this.

She knew that Buddy was still dating her sister, but wasn't sure if he was living with her or not. They broke up and got back together so often, it wasn't even worth keeping track of. Every time they had a fight, he'd give her a black eye, she'd kick him out, and they'd be back together a week later. He was a sponge. And he was hateful. A real redneck, he grew up in the desert, and he had a tattoo of Yosemite Sam on his arm. Shelley also had a tattoo, but it was on her ankle. It said "Led Zep" because she was in too much pain to let the burly tattoo artist finish. Buddy made fun of her for it, and said she was a pussy. He always pinched Stephanie, and socked her in the arm like it was funny. But it wasn't funny. It hurt.

He came out of the bedroom wearing only dirty, baggy jeans.

"How the hell did she get out here?" he asked Shelley incredulously.

"Go put somethin' on for chrissakes, Buddy. How do you think she got here? Walkin'?" Buddy walked back into the bedroom and slipped on a deteriorating wife-beater. Then he sat at the table next to Stephanie and started teasing her.

"Look who got some little boobies! Look, Shel, she got little skeeter bites just like you used to."

"Stop it!" Stephanie growled as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Buddy, can't you be civil to my sister for once?"

"Oh, I ain't doin' nothin' wrong. Steph don't mind, do ya Steph?"

Stephanie didn't answer, and when Shelley gave her the plate with two fried eggs on it, she just pushed them around until they burst. Shelley kept asking her questions: How did you make the money to get out here? Babysitting. What did you tell Mom and Dad? That I was going to Monique's house to spend the weekend. Stephanie wanted to talk to her, to tell her how terrible things were, how confused she felt, about the boy who was trying to get her to give it up. But Buddy was there, contributing his sarcastic remarks, and he made Stephanie want to hide everything.

After they ate, Shelley added the three plates to the existing mound in the sink and they went into the living room. Buddy spread himself out in a beige, corduroy recliner. Stephanie and Shelley sat together on the velour sofa that was made to look like it had pastel paint streaks on its cushions.

"We just rented this 007 movie." Shelley held the box in her hand. "Do you want to watch it?"

"Sure," Stephanie said, and thought how weird it was for Shelley to have rented a spy movie. Shelley had never liked action films. She preferred romantic comedies-"When Harry Met Sally," was her and Shel's favorite movie. On the phone, she and Stephanie said lines from the film to each other and laughed. It was their inside thing. "Don't you have 'When Harry Met Sally' here?" Stephanie asked her.

Buddy snorted. "Shelley made me watch that mushy piece of shit on our first date. Lucky thing I was still trying to get in her pants then," he laughed, grabbing Shelley's bottom.

"Jesus Christ, Buddy!"

"Just shut up and put on the movie," Buddy commanded as he took a joint from behind his ear and fingered it. She hadn't noticed it before then, but Stephanie knew what it was. Shelley had shown a joint to Stephanie before leaving home, explained that she wanted her little sister to know what weed looked like so nobody could make a fool of her. And Stephanie had smoked pot once, with some other kids from school, using a soda can with holes poked in it for a pipe. But she had only taken one puff, and she started coughing before the smoke even made it to her lungs. Now she looked at the joint in Buddy's hands, and prickled with curiosity.

Shelley crossed the room and put in the videotape, then returned to her seat. As the FBI warning went up on the screen, Buddy mumbled "Yeah, yeah, like I'm worried about you cocksuckers." He lit the marijuana cigarette, and Shelley jumped to her feet.

"Goddammit, Bud, what the hell is wrong with you? This kid's only fourteen years old! Put that shit out right now!"

"Relax, Shel, it's just pot," he said, taking a long puff. "She's probably seen a million."

"I don't care if she has. That's not what I want her to see in my house."

He exhaled.

"Psh! Your house. Whatever, Shel, I don't see why you're getting' so uptight. It's a special occasion, isn't it?" Buddy said, handing the joint to Stephanie. Shelley didn't say a word. She stood, frozen.

"Go on, kid," he insisted, "try some of the good stuff!"

"I have smoked it before, Shelley," Stephanie tried to convince her sister, "Please, Shelley, be cool."

Stephanie looked at the wisps of smoke rising from both ends of the cigarette, and smelled its musty aroma. She saw Shelley's expression, the same expression that their mother wore just before she was going to give in. Buddy wiggled his hand impatiently.

"Don't just let it burn out, for chrissakes!"

Stephanie uncertainly reached for the joint. As she put it between her lips and sucked, she watched the paper yellowing at the other end. The smoke was dry in her mouth, and irritating to her throat. She held it in, like Bud told her to, and began coughing as she exhaled.

"Ha, ha! That shit'll fuck you up!" he laughed.

Shelley sat down again, and took the joint from Stephanie. She had her hit, and passed it back to Bud.

By the time they were through smoking the roach, Stephanie already felt light-headed. The explosions and chases on television became humorous, the dialogue laughable. Stephanie looked over at her sister when she laughed. She almost felt like a kid again.

"I'm gonna fix some chips!" Shelley said, rubbing her hands together. She went into the kitchen and was rooting around when Bud asked her to get him a beer.

"We're out," Shelley called back. When she came into the living room again, she had a bag of Lays potato chips and a small bowl of flecked ranch dip. Stephanie couldn't think when she'd tasted anything so good. She rolled the creamy, salty mixture over her tongue until it was churned into a paste, and swallowed it.

"Shelley honey, why don't you run to the corner and get me some Millers?"

"Come on, Bud, I'm comfortable here."

"Don't be mean, baby," he cooed, and set his imploring eyes on her. "Didn't I fix that belt in your car this morning?"

"Yeah, but you waited three days! I had to ride to work with that Christy bitch."

"But I took care of it, didn't I?" Bud's voice lost its sweet, manipulative tone. He went on. "You don't never do nothin' around the house anyway. Look at all the dishes in the sink. It's fuckin' disgusting! And-"

Shelley stopped him. "Fine, fine! Just shut your mouth. I'm going." She went into the bedroom and came out wearing a Guns 'n' Roses T-shirt and blue jeans.

"Come on, Steph. let's go." Stephanie rose to go with her, but stumbled over her own feet and fell back again onto the sofa.

"Oh, you're all fucked up-if you go walking around like that, we'll both get busted." Stephanie watched Shelley in a fog as she opened the front door and evening light poured in. Shelley put on her sunglasses.

"Fuck, it's bright out here! Okay, I'll be right back. I'm gonna leave this open so the place airs out." She shut the screen door, and walked down the driveway to her El Camino.

Buddy sprang from the recliner and ran to the screen. "And get me some beef jerky, too!" he called after her. Then, under his breath, "She should be walkin'. Her fat ass needs the exercise." He sauntered back to the coffee table, grabbed a handful of chips, and shoved them into his mouth. Bits stuck in his mustache, and he wiped his hand on his jeans.

Stephanie knew she had to go to the bathroom. She put it off until she thought she was going to pee her pants, and then got up to go. Inside the pastel room, she found some solitude. That bus ride had been long and exhausting, and she longed for a shower. She washed her face using Shelley's Noxzema, enjoying the tingle it sent through her pores, thinking that people in movies who took drugs never really seemed to be having a good time. But this wasn't so bad. After she had rinsed and dried her face, she heard a knock on the door.

"Hurry up in there! Christ, did you fall in or somethin'?" She opened the door and glared at Buddy.

"No, I didn't 'fall in' Buddy."

"Don't be a wiseass. I'm your elder, you know." She tried to walk past him, but he stopped her with a single finger pressed in the middle of her chest.

"You do know that, don't you Stephie?"

"God, you're such an asshole, Bud," Stephanie spat, swiping at his arm with her hand and passing by. She was walking down the small corridor back to the living room when she felt a pull on her ponytail.

"Don't fucking talk to me that way." There was something of a smile in his words, but also something sinister.

"Ow, Bud, let go you cocksucker!" He pulled the handful of hair tighter between his fingers, and Stephanie's own hands were trying to pry them away.

"What did you call me? Cocksucker?" He pulled her to where he stood, and bent her back with his strength. "You little tramp. I bet you have been suckin' cock, too, haven't you? You gonna be a whore, just like your sister?" Stephanie's tears streamed down over her temples and into her ears as she tried to maintain balance. He put his other hand over her neck, squeezing it tight.

"Stop it, Bud, stop it!" Stephanie screeched, frantic.

The sound of Shelley's car in the driveway broke Bud's hold on her, and she fell to the ground, crying and coughing. He calmly returned to his seat. The door opened, and Shelley came into the room.

"Hey, you guys-what the hell? What the hell happened here? Bud?" Shelley dropped her paper bag and the bottles of beer rolled out.

"Aw, Shelley, I can't drink it now, it's all shook up."

Shelley went to where Stephanie sat on the ground, and touched her reddened neck.

"Bud, you asshole! Stephanie, go into my room and shut the door. Bud, what the hell happened?"

"Nothin', Shel. We was just wrestling, and I pinned her, and she got all upset for nothing'. The big crybaby."

"I don't believe you, Bud. What were you thinking, laying your hands on her her?" Shelley advanced toward him, pointing her finger.

"She called me a name, Shel. You say it like I was getting' off or somethin'." He remained calm, unmoving, seemingly guiltless.

"Are you sure you weren't, you freakin' pervert?" At that, Bud rose slightly from his slouch.

"Shelley, you better watch your mouth."

"Why don't you make me, you freakin' bully asshole? Get out. Get out!"

Stephanie crawled toward the door of the room, her vision blurred by tears, and only partially heard the struggle going on behind her. Once inside the room, she closed and locked the door, and sobbed out loud. She wailed without restraint, knowing what was happening outside the door but not truly understanding, or wanting to understand. She stuffed her face into one of the pillows from Shelley's bed, and cried into that.

She kicked her legs out wildly, screaming, "No, no, no, no!" Refusing to believe what had happened only moments ago.

By midnight, Stephanie's parents had arrived in their Cadillac to retrieve her. Shelley, with her swollen and rapidly darkening black eye, walked out to greet them. From the bedroom, where she still lay with her face stuffed into the polyester fill pillow, Stephanie could hear very little. Only bits:...your eye...kicked his ass out...locked herself in...won't talk to me. They all came inside to the bedroom door and spoke to her.

"Steph, it's Mom and Dad. Don't make any more trouble for yourself. Just come on out and we'll see what happens."

"Steph, it's Shel. I'm real sorry for what happened. I kicked that SOB right out. For good this time. I mean it. I mean it. Nobody's gonna treat me and mine that way. Steph, please come out."

Stephanie thought of the things she shared with her sister. She thought about their eyes, and "When Harry Met Sally," and their pug noses that moved when they talked. Her sister was giving her up, didn't want her. She had let Buddy hurt and use them both. And they both knew he would be back.

As the car pulled away, Stephanie watched her sister and the trailer through the back window. Shelley stood out front, smoking a cigarette and waving goodbye with her other hand. Stephanie looked, and looked at the black eye, and looked at the shabby home, and the bleached hair. And she thought, we are not so much alike.