chain?” JenniferOne quips.
They round toward our end of the bleachers, slipping in and out of pockets of light and shadow. Jake, ever so slightly moving his lips along with the song, Kristi popping a bubble and sucking it back in, her white-blond hair sprayed into a banana clip. As they move past us my eyes are caught by his free hand, thin fingers slightly curved, moving in time with the synthesizer.
“Are you so jealous?” Michelle Walker sticks her head between us, her Impulse body spray clogging my throat.
“You must be. Kristi can be pretty slutty.” Jeanine leans over from where she sits with the head-banger clique as Kristi releases Jake to his It friends. “I’d be jealous.”
I try to tap my wheels like I could give a crap, meanwhile allowing myself in the half-darkness to study this boy who has gone from nobody in stupid Jams to top tier in under a year, which is fine—I mean, whatever. But now to become a couple-thing right in front of me….
The lights flicker back to full wattage as the opening bars of “Lean on Me” drown out the last beats of the slow song. As if hearing a whistle blow, the boys blast out of the moving circle, skating where they please, owning the floor, snapping bra straps as they fly past. What would it be like to be so…not-caring?
At the reggae bridge Kristi awkwardly tries to move her hips in a way she must think looks Jamaican and just as the boys are about to laugh Jake loops around her and smiles. She grabs the hem of his shirt and trails him to the drinks table.
Yes. It would be amazing to have a boy beside me. Everyone watching as I’m transformed from a desk-scaler into someone enviable, fabulous, free. It would be…
“Well,” Jeanine scowls, her split-end inspection completed. “Are you?”
I nod. I am.
Laura tiptoes in her ankle-socks, pivoting side to side under the buzzing lights of the Lord & Taylor dressing room. I automatically do the same, pulling the almost extra foot of bodice satin behind me, struggling to fist it all tightly together where the zipper drapes away from my spine. “You don’t think it looks just like the new wallpaper in my dining room?” she asks, lifting her boobs up in the snug corset.
“Uh, no.” I clench the tent with my elbows while I hook the flat fan bow over her butt. “It’s really pretty.” I drop my heels and step back to lean against the Formica wall. “Who are we going with that we have to be so tall?”
“Katie?” Dad beckons from where he’s trapped on the threshold and I hoist up the voluminous folds to follow his voice. “There you are.” He steps back into the racks of evening suits crowding the dressing room entrance, holding an armful of V-neck sweaters, corduroys dangling off his elbows and a peach dress swinging from his hooked finger. “I found this. Any good?”
“I’ll give it a whirl.”
“Great.” He looks me up and down. “Because I know you’re fond of large and shapeless, but I think you may be rather taking it to extremes with that one.”
“I know, Daddy. It’s headed for the reject pile.”
“Your mother’s rifling the sales racks in the men’s department. We’re going to play Lions Romans Christians with these jumpers. Holler if you need a third and fourth opinion.”
I point at my head, my sign for him to smooth his hair, which has duck fluffed in the mall static. Carrying the peach candidate, I find Laura flopped on the carpeted pedestal in a pitiful flowery pouf.
“Who do you think I should ask?”
“Michael J. Fox?”
“In school,” she completes our routine as I turn sideways, wondering what I’d look like with cleavage.
“You gonna ask Jake?”
“Uh, no.”
“Don’t get defensive.” She lifts her palms. “And your mom’s busty—they’re coming.”
I crouch on the floor in front of her. “I can’t ask Jake. It took forever for all that to die down. Besides, he’s always hanging out with the Kristi girls. Are you asking Rick?”
Her
They round toward our end of the bleachers, slipping in and out of pockets of light and shadow. Jake, ever so slightly moving his lips along with the song, Kristi popping a bubble and sucking it back in, her white-blond hair sprayed into a banana clip. As they move past us my eyes are caught by his free hand, thin fingers slightly curved, moving in time with the synthesizer.
“Are you so jealous?” Michelle Walker sticks her head between us, her Impulse body spray clogging my throat.
“You must be. Kristi can be pretty slutty.” Jeanine leans over from where she sits with the head-banger clique as Kristi releases Jake to his It friends. “I’d be jealous.”
I try to tap my wheels like I could give a crap, meanwhile allowing myself in the half-darkness to study this boy who has gone from nobody in stupid Jams to top tier in under a year, which is fine—I mean, whatever. But now to become a couple-thing right in front of me….
The lights flicker back to full wattage as the opening bars of “Lean on Me” drown out the last beats of the slow song. As if hearing a whistle blow, the boys blast out of the moving circle, skating where they please, owning the floor, snapping bra straps as they fly past. What would it be like to be so…not-caring?
At the reggae bridge Kristi awkwardly tries to move her hips in a way she must think looks Jamaican and just as the boys are about to laugh Jake loops around her and smiles. She grabs the hem of his shirt and trails him to the drinks table.
Yes. It would be amazing to have a boy beside me. Everyone watching as I’m transformed from a desk-scaler into someone enviable, fabulous, free. It would be…
“Well,” Jeanine scowls, her split-end inspection completed. “Are you?”
I nod. I am.
Laura tiptoes in her ankle-socks, pivoting side to side under the buzzing lights of the Lord & Taylor dressing room. I automatically do the same, pulling the almost extra foot of bodice satin behind me, struggling to fist it all tightly together where the zipper drapes away from my spine. “You don’t think it looks just like the new wallpaper in my dining room?” she asks, lifting her boobs up in the snug corset.
“Uh, no.” I clench the tent with my elbows while I hook the flat fan bow over her butt. “It’s really pretty.” I drop my heels and step back to lean against the Formica wall. “Who are we going with that we have to be so tall?”
“Katie?” Dad beckons from where he’s trapped on the threshold and I hoist up the voluminous folds to follow his voice. “There you are.” He steps back into the racks of evening suits crowding the dressing room entrance, holding an armful of V-neck sweaters, corduroys dangling off his elbows and a peach dress swinging from his hooked finger. “I found this. Any good?”
“I’ll give it a whirl.”
“Great.” He looks me up and down. “Because I know you’re fond of large and shapeless, but I think you may be rather taking it to extremes with that one.”
“I know, Daddy. It’s headed for the reject pile.”
“Your mother’s rifling the sales racks in the men’s department. We’re going to play Lions Romans Christians with these jumpers. Holler if you need a third and fourth opinion.”
I point at my head, my sign for him to smooth his hair, which has duck fluffed in the mall static. Carrying the peach candidate, I find Laura flopped on the carpeted pedestal in a pitiful flowery pouf.
“Who do you think I should ask?”
“Michael J. Fox?”
“In school,” she completes our routine as I turn sideways, wondering what I’d look like with cleavage.
“You gonna ask Jake?”
“Uh, no.”
“Don’t get defensive.” She lifts her palms. “And your mom’s busty—they’re coming.”
I crouch on the floor in front of her. “I can’t ask Jake. It took forever for all that to die down. Besides, he’s always hanging out with the Kristi girls. Are you asking Rick?”
Her
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