Valiant Read Free

she’d left them weeks ago. Her mother had wanted Val to throw them out, but she’d forgotten. She could see the stems through the glass vase, the lower portion of them immersed in brackish water and blooming with mold.
    Valerie’s mother made a choking sound and fumbled to stand, tugging her shirt closed.
    “Oh fuck,” Tom said, half-falling onto the beige carpet.
    Val wanted to say something scathing, something that would burn them both to ashes where they were, but no words came. She turned and walked away.
    “Valerie!” her mother called, sounding more desperate than commanding. Looking back, she saw her mother in the doorway, Tom a shadow behind her. Valerie started to run, backpack banging against her hip. She only slowed when she was back at the train station. There, she squatted above the concrete sidewalk, ripping up wilted weeds as she dialed Ruth’s number.
    Ruth picked up the phone. She sounded as if she’d been laughing. “Hello?”
    “It’s me,” Val said. She expected her voice to shake, but it came out flat, emotionless.
    “Hey,” Ruth said. “Where are you?”
    Val could feel tears start to burn at the edges of her eyes, but the words still came out steady. “I found out something about Tom and my mother—”
    “Shit!” Ruth interrupted.
    Valerie went silent for a moment, dread making her limbs heavy. “Do you know something? Do you know what I’m talking about?”
    “I’m so glad you found out,” Ruth said, speaking fast, her words almost tripping over each other. “I wanted to tell you, but your mom begged me not to. She made me swear I wouldn’t.”
    “She told you?” Val felt particularly stupid, but she just couldn’t quite accept that she understood what was being said. “You knew?”
    “She wouldn’t talk about anything else once she found out that Tom let it slip.” Ruth laughed and then stopped awkwardly. “Not like it’s been going on for that long or anything. Honestly. I would have said something, but your mom promised she would do it. I even told her I was going to tell—but she said she’d deny it. And I did try to drop hints.”
    “What hints?” Val felt suddenly dizzy. She closed her eyes.
    “Well, I said you should check the chat logs, remember? Look, never mind. I’m just glad she finally told you.”
    “She didn’t tell me,” Valerie said.
    There was a long silence. She could hear Ruth breathing. “Please don’t be mad,” she said finally. “I just couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t be the one to tell you.”
    Val clicked off her phone. She kicked a stray chunk of asphalt into a puddle, and then kicked the puddle itself. Her reflection blurred; the only thing clearly visible was her mouth, a slash of red on a pale face. She smeared it, but the color only spread.
    When the next train came, she got on it, sliding into a cracked orange seat and pressing her forehead against the cool plastiglass window. Her phone buzzed and she turned it off without looking at the screen. But as Val turned back toward the window, it was her mother’s reflection she saw. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at herself in makeup. Furious, she walked quickly to the train bathroom.
    The room was grubby and large, with a sticky rubber floor and hard plastic walls. The odor of urine mingled with the scent of chemical flowers. Small blobs of discarded gum decorated the walls.
    Val sat down on the toilet lid and forced herself to relax, to take deep breaths of putrid air. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her arms and somehow that made her feel a little better, a little more in control.
    She was surprised by the force of her own anger. It overwhelmed her, making her afraid she might start screaming at the conductor, at every passenger on the train. She couldn’t imagine lasting the whole trip. Already she was exhausted from the effort of keeping it together.
    She rubbed her face and looked down at her palm, streaked with burgundy lipstick and shaking