Dillonâs back.
âNo way,â Emma mouthed back at Charlene.
In the alarming glare of the gymnasium lights, after seven whole minutes of âStairway to Heaven,â Fraser said, âUh, thanks,â and then popped the big question: âHey, like, you wanna go around with me?â
âSure, I guess so,â Emma said, looking at her shoes.
âWell, I guess Iâll be seeing you then,â he said, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek.
âSure, see ya,â she said, still standing there staring at her shoes.
He walked off with his hands in his pockets and Charlene came running up to Emma and squealed, âScore!â
âCharleeeene,â Emma protested.
âDid he ask you to go around with him?â
âYeah. So?â she shrugged.
âI knew it!â Charlene shrieked.
âItâs no big deal,â Emma said, taking a stab at sounding dismissive.
âOh, yeah,â Charlene groaned, rolling her eyes. âLike, Miss Snotty-big-tits Brenda Tailgate doesnât even have a boyfriend. Sheâll be so mad!â she giggled. âSo, is he a good kisser?â
âHow should I know?â Emma said defensively.
âWell, didnât you?â
âNo. Gross.â
âWell, youâre going to have to kiss him.â
âWhat for?â
âElse heâll think youâre a lezzy,â she declared.
Ugh. Emma was now obliged by the perverse protocol of junior high to let him be a disgusting boy. But only the once. She and Fraserwalked home together awkwardly after school the following Thursday. They sat in the park on swings opposite each other as he blathered on about his drum set and the band he was going to form. Emma stared at her hands and picked at her cuticles. Fraser asked her if she wanted to do backup singing on one of the tracks he wanted to lay down. âYou know, you look a little like Karen Carpenter,â he said, nodding his dopey head.
Emma wasnât sure if that was a compliment, but she blushed anyway, and that was when Fraser made his big move. He stood up, stumbling over his big flat feet, and lunged across the sandbox with his tongue outstretched. He plunged the purple splatter into Emmaâs mouth and she felt the horrific sensation of peanut butter over bristly taste buds. She thrust out her arms like an automatic weapon and pushed him and his purple peanut splatter about seventeen feet across the park.
After that, Fraser did start calling Emma a lezzy. In fact, so did Charlene. âI donât know if we can be almost-best friends any more,â she said one day after school. âYouâre ruining my reputation.â
So for the next three months it was Charlene and Fraser holding hands in the schoolyard, Charlene rolling her eyes melodramatically every time they walked by Emma and claiming that Brenda Big-tits was her new best friend.
But Emma didnât care. She had Blue. And Blue had her. With Oliverâs disappearance, theyâd lost whatever had remained of Elaine. It seemed he had dragged Elaineâs entrails with him: she was the vessel of their mother, but with the contents poured out. She put a brown casserole dish into the oven every morning before she went to work and didnât return home until late. She slammed the door when she got back, gave her children a refrigerated glare that collapsed into a frown, and made her way straight to the liquor cabinet.
Emma and Blue, hungry for her, buzzed around like flies. She greeted their frenzy with bitter silence and switched the lights off in her head. She was too tired, too angry to be Mother, but they gravitated toward her, sticking against her flypaper skin, flailing their limbs, struggling frantically.
âMa?â pleaded Blue.
âLlewellyn, not now,â she groaned, putting her palm to her forehead and squinting under a headache as dense as concrete.
âBut when then?â
âIf you could
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