The Fall of Alice K.. Jim Heynen

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СКАЧАТЬ they come,” said Lydia. “You get the taller one.”

      They approached at a quick pace, arms swinging and grins getting bigger. These two were more than confident, they were cocky: big-city boys ready to show their stuff to the small-town and country girls. They made Alice feel like a piece of divinity in a candy bowl.

      The cuter one with the dimpled chin spoke first. “Hi there.”

      The taller, athletic one with big teeth was right behind him: “Wow, you’re something.”

      He was looking at Alice when he said that.

      The two stopped only a few feet from Alice and Lydia and flung out the lasso of their smirky smiles, but it was the noose of their aroma that caught Alice’s breath short—something so sickeningly sweet that both Lydia and Alice’s nostrils flared in defense.

      “Good grief,” said Lydia, “have you guys been at the cologne sample table at Walmart?”

      The big-city boys, or whoever they were, withered like thistles under a good blast of 2,4-D. It felt great to see how Lydia had nailed them, but Alice was just a bit disappointed that she couldn’t hear what complimenting line might have erupted from their lips. The whole awkward scene with these wannabe Romeos was saved by the voice of Rev. Prunesma, who bounced across the parking lot with the whole Vang family following him.

      “Alice and Lydia,” said the Rev, “I want you to meet the Vangs.”

      “Nice meeting you,” said big teeth as the two walked away.

      “Meeting us?” said Lydia, but the Rev was already upon them with the three newcomers.

      “Hi! It’s you!” said Mai.

      “You’ve already met?” said the Rev.

      “Sort of,” said Alice.

      Actually, Alice had known more than she had let on when she had met them at the scene of Ben Van Doods’s slaughtering pen. Alice knew the Vangs were living in a small house across the street from their church and that they were something of a church missionary project. They had come to Dutch Center because Mai had gotten a scholarship to Redemption College. The son, Nickson, would be going to Midwest Christian High School where Alice and Lydia went. Alice knew very little about the Hmong other than that they supposedly had a big thing about family—and that America owed them gratitude for taking sides against the Communists during the Vietnam War.

      The Vangs and the Rev were within hand-shaking distance when Alice noticed the bumper sticker on a van a few feet away: “If You’re Not Dutch, You’re Not Much!”

      Alice felt the sharp edge of the Rev’s sermon cutting into her again—and then she felt resentment. How would this stodgy Dweller handle the little bumper-sticker message to their guests? Some missionary project: to slap them with an insult right from the get-go.

      The Rev saw the bumper sticker too, but Alice had already covered for him by standing in front of it and putting her legs together. Lydia picked up on what Alice was doing and sidled close beside her.

      The Rev wore his big missionary smile, his glad-tidings smile, his everything-is-beautiful-in-its-own-way smile. His huge cheeks mushroomed with good will.

      Before the Rev could say anything, Mai held out her hand toward Lydia. “Hi, I’m Mai,” she said.

      “I’m Lydia Laats,” said Lydia. “I am so delighted to meet you.”

      “And this is my mom, Lia, and my brother, Nickson.”

      “Mai? Nickson? Lia?”

      “You got us,” said Mai, and then she turned to Alice: “You know, if you told me your name out there in Dead-Hogville, I forgot it, silly me.”

      “Alice,” said Alice. “Alice Marie Krayenbraak.”

      “Wow, that’s a mouthful,” said Mai.

      When Alice had first seen the Vangs sitting in their station wagon, they had looked small—but not as small as they looked now. Straightening up to greet them had been a mistake. Alice felt like a giraffe, but Mai’s eyes were so bright and confident that she could have been six feet tall.

      “This is my mother, Lia, and this is my younger brother, Nickson,” she repeated for everyone. The Rev stood by, nodding.

      “Wassup?” said Nickson and did a little hand wave that Alice recognized as the same one he had given from the passenger seat in their station wagon. He shuffled a little toward his sister’s side, grinned and nodded. He was maybe two inches taller than Mai, about five-five, but his shoulders were broad for his height. All of them had heavy eyelids that lifted their eyebrows high on their foreheads. The mother’s face was round, but Mai and Nickson were narrow faced with full lips.

      Mother Lia held out her hand and looked somewhere in the area of Alice and Lydia’s knees. She was even shorter than her children.

      “Thank you,” she said.

      “So pleased to meet you,” said Lydia.

      “Same here,” said Alice, “I mean to really meet you.”

      Alice and Lydia stood in place as sentries in front of the humiliating bumper sticker, but Mai moved in closer to Alice and Lydia as if she thought they were the shy ones.

      “Are you at Redemption?” she said.

      “No, we’re still in high school,” said Lydia.

      “We’re both at Midwest Christian,” said Alice.

      “Oh, just like Nickson.”

      Mai’s eyes looked past them and directly at the bumper sticker. She cocked her head. She read the bumper sticker aloud, but with a question-mark lilt at the end: “If You’re Not Dutch, You’re Not Much?”

      There was a stiff silence.

      Alice tried to take a breath but couldn’t. “We’re kind of weird,” came her voice from somewhere.

      Alice looked down into Mai’s bright eyes and felt ridiculously tall and awkward, but Mai’s eyes did not shift and her friendly expression did not change. Their height difference didn’t bother her one bit, and neither did Alice’s blushing face.

      “If you’re not Dutch, you’re not much? Not much what?” said Mai.

      “Good question,” said the Rev—and they all joined in a relieved ripple of chuckles.

      Alice saw a trace of farm dirt under her fingernails as they peeled back the edge of the bumper sticker with its white background and blue printing that imitated the colors of Delft china. “I’ll just get rid of that thing,” she said and gave it a quick yank. It stuck together on itself as she rolled it into a ball in her palm.

      “Good job. Good riddance,” said Lydia, and gave Alice a gentle punch.

      “Hey, that was the Vander Muiden’s van,” said the Rev in the voice of Jeremiah.

      “Still is,” said Lydia.

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