Bobby held up a hand. “That is . . . if we can raise enough money for a bus and some of our lodging. We’re going to need to have a fundraiser. Any ideas?”
“I hate to say it, but candy bars?” Tina offered.
“Everyone is sick of candy bars,” Wendy countered. “The tennis team ruined them.”
“Homework help?” Dana suggested. She looked at everyone like this was a great idea.
“No one wants my help with their homework, believe me,” Arlene said.
“We could have a bake sale, or the boosters offered us the chance to work the next football concession and take a share, but I don’t know if either of those things will be profitable enough,” Bobby said.
“Well,” I said, “the cheerleaders hold a spring car wash to raise money for the next football season. But no one does a car wash in the fall. Why not us?”
“That’s brilliant,” Bobby said, drawing a frown from Dana that I enjoyed a little bit. “Who’s in?”
“I am!”
“Me too!”
“We don’t know how to wash cars,” Dana said.
“Soap, water, sponges,” Tina said. “How hard can it be?”
“Wisconsin, here we come,” I said.
Thirteen
Powell Park Girls’ Soccer Car Wash
Saturday, October 6
Doesn’t Matter If It’s a Boss Ride or a Beater,
If It’s Got Wheels, We’ll Wash It!!
When the day of the car wash arrived, we showed up looking less like a girls’ soccer team and more like we were working a kissing booth that sold a lot more than kisses. It was mostly the result of Marie’s advice the day before. “We need girl-next-door . . . meets lady of the night . . . but during the day.”
So even though the morning was pretty chilly, Arlene and Joanie had on suntan pantyhose under their short shorts and Wendy’s red bikini top looked dangerously close to popping open. When Tina pointed this out, Wendy said, “And if it does, we’ll charge extra.” She winked a blue eye, looking annoyingly like Suzanne Somers.
Dana had even departed from her usual button-up blouses to wear a tight tank top and Daisy Dukes. I noticed with some irritation that her boobs were bigger than mine, which I’d never realized. “Perky headlights, Dana,” Marie said. “Good work!”
Franchesa, who always struck me as somewhat mousy, had removed her thick glasses and let her hair down from its ponytail. She had on a short yellow cheerleading-style skirt and a halter top that looked good against her naturally tan skin.
“Wow, Franchesa, where’d you find the sexpot clothes?” Marie asked. “And the bod?”
Franchesa grimaced. “They’re my mom’s. As I was leaving, I heard my dad say, ‘You’re lending her the outfit?’ This thing had better be a success, because I think I’m wearing my mom’s sex clothes.”
We all shuddered. I had a thin white shirt on over my bikini top because I hardly needed some guy to point out my mosquito bites. But I wore a pair of denim cutoffs even shorter than my Sportmart shorts and had tested the outfit in the shower to make sure it looked good wet.
We’d gotten permission to use the school’s overflow parking lot for the wash, the same spot the cheerleaders used in the spring. There was a three-way intersection in front of the high school, and we were positioned in view of all the traffic lights, giving a lot of drivers plenty of time to spot us.
At ten a.m., we officially cut the ribbon for our car wash, and Dawn—who’d actually put on makeup and was showing her curves in basic cutoffs and a T-shirt—said, “Here goes nothing.”
After all the plastering of flyers and reminding our families, I think we all expected a line of cars to be waiting for us when we opened up shop, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, we were greeted by the roar of traffic as it passed us by. My hope started to evaporate as I stood there freezing with my shorts riding up my butt.
“What do the cheerleaders do to get customers?” Joanie moaned. She adjusted one of her auburn pigtails.
“Wear cheerleading outfits,” Tina said. She had on a jumpsuit that hit high on her thighs with the zipper pulled halfway down. “And probably cheer and shit.”
“And raise money for a team people actually care about,” Dawn said, her tone sour. We all knew what she meant—a boys’ team.
We tried yelling at cars stopped at the red lights. We jumped and waved the two signs Joanie had made with her perfect bubble letters, and we shot a stream of water from the hose into the air. If people looked our way at all, they pretended they hadn’t seen us.
“Cheap-asses,” I muttered.
“Are we deformed or something?” Joanie asked, checking her reflection in Tina’s windshield.
Just as we all seemed ready to call it quits, several cars filled with guys pulled up. Some of them were the more unsavory players on the football team. My disgust at seeing them mixed with relief that we finally had some customers.
“Three cars, guys!” Dawn said.
“That’s nine dollars!” Franchesa said.
“At least nine dollars!” Arlene chimed in. “Push the Turtle Wax.”
Keith Barnes hopped out of a Buick, which had to be his dad’s. “You, you, and you,” he said, pointing at Marie, Franchesa, and Wendy. “If you do a good job on mine, then my buddies will get a wash, too.”
“It’s a fundraiser, Keith,” I said. “We’re not looking to start an official business.”
“Klintock, the customer is always right,” he said, casting a glance at my chest that made me feel self-conscious. “Now, I want to see how these girls stroke my ride.”
Wendy looked like she wanted to kick him in the nuts, but we needed his stupid three dollars.
The girls started working on Keith’s car, and the other guys in his car got out to watch. The guys in the second car also got out. Michael, the St. Mark’s guy who I’d blown off, was standing there, sneering at me. Tina gave him a sarcastic, waggle-fingered wave. “Guess he’s not used to being rejected,” she said to me.
“Definitely don’t let those chicks wash your ride, Stan,” he said to one of the other guys, pointing out me and Tina. “If they do it for free, you overpaid.”
“Lean into to it, sweetheart,” one of Keith’s buddies was saying to Franchesa. “I want to see those hands working.”
“Hey, Marie, feel free to use your tongue if you want,” Keith said. Marie gritted her teeth but didn’t lob one of her usual insults at him. We were at their mercy until we had their money.
“Are we seriously going to have to deal with this kind of shit all day?” Dawn asked me. “These fucking guys are assholes.”
“I know,” I said. “But if we want to go to Wisconsin . . .”
“All I know is, if they hold a car wash, I’m getting payback,” Tina said.
“Ugh, I do not want to see them in short shorts,” I said.
When the girls finished, Keith shoved three balled-up dollar bills at Marie. “What do you say, fellas? Get some grub?”
“What about the other cars?” Marie asked.
“Got places to be, sunshine,” Keith’s friend said.
“Fuck you,” Marie said. She kicked Keith’s tire.
He waved a scolding finger in her face. “Cute girls like you shouldn’t be so angry. This is why chicks shouldn’t play sports.”
They drove away, and we put the three bills with the bit of cash our parents had chipped in that morning. We had twenty-six dollars. “The rest of the customers might not be so shitty,” I offered.
“What customers?” Marie asked, gesturing to our lack of a line.
The next hour passed too slowly. A few more cars pulled in. One was an old couple who needed directions to the expressway. Franchesa’s brothers each came by in a muscle car, and while they were much nicer than the football players, they managed the entire process, giving us tips for how we could do a better job. Tom Meyer came by to flirt with Arlene, who practically rolled her body over the hood of his car and gave him a discount
in exchange for his promise to take her out that night. Fortunately, Joanie coaxed Sal Mondello to pay extra for his wash to make up for their date the night before, when he’d dragged her to a horror movie after she’d thought they were going to see 10.
“Where’s Bobby?” Tina said. “Shouldn’t he be helping us?”
He’d told us he’d be a little late, and I’d hoped it was for a Personal Best customer, not a date who he had to make breakfast.
With two hours to go, we had $66. Even if we made that much each of the next two hours, it wouldn’t be enough.
A car pulled up next to me. It was coated in bird poop and the inside was loaded with greasy fast-food bags and random junk. The man inside rolled down his window. His face was oily and he smelled awful. “Are you cheerleaders?”
“No. Soccer players,” I said.
“Never mind,” he said, rolling up his window and driving away.
I let out a long sigh. We had to make this money. Bobby would be so disappointed if we couldn’t go.
Three p.m. Southwest Highway. Susan counts the money from the car wash one last time . . . yep, it’s all there, $750, more than enough for their trip to Wisconsin. She’s sent the rest of the team home—they worked hard—and waits for Bobby to come pick up the metal box of cash. When he arrives, he’s astounded. “How did you do this?” I smile. “I knew how important it was . . . for us.” “You sure did,” he says, taking me in his arms. “Now, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”
“You look like you’re trying to think of a way to end world hunger.”
Joe’s voice shook me back to reality, and as I mentally filed away my grammatically unsound fantasy to use for later, I gave him a smile, surprised he’d shown. When I’d told him about our game and the car wash at last week’s practice session, he’d been excited for me. I’d teased him that we’d probably have to charge extra to wash his beast of an old Nova, and he’d contested that I owed him a discount, if anything. But I hadn’t called to remind him about the car wash, figuring he was helping me out enough already with the practices.
“Hey!” I spun around and saw several of the girls already tackling his Nova. I also saw that he was with a girl, someone I hadn’t seen before. So he must have been officially over the babe from Sportmart. This one had shorter black hair, like Janet on Three’s Company. Together, she and Joe looked like a matching set: Punks Who Are Cooler Than You.
My surprise caused the smile to slip from my face, but I tossed out an upbeat “Thanks for coming!”
“A promise is a promise,” he said, even though he hadn’t promised to come. His left eyebrow and the corner of his mouth raised in equal degrees as he smirked at my outfit, like he knew how many I’d tried on to get the right look. He nodded sideways to the girl. “This is Lizzy. We’re going to go see Rock ’n’ Roll High School.”
“Yeah, even though he’s seen it about forty times. The Ramones are in it.” Lizzy raised her eyebrows at Joe as she nudged him in the ribs. He blushed. Their familiarity made me feel like I’d been caught eavesdropping.
“I’m Susan,” I said to her. “Joe’s friend.” I don’t know why I needed to clarify this, and Lizzy didn’t seem to care.
“How’s it going?” Joe asked me, as he slung his arm around Lizzy’s shoulder.
I shook my head.
“It’ll pick up,” he said, as if he could know such a thing. I was embarrassed that he had to feel sorry for us. “You’ve got more people than the Watergate Tapes gets at a lot of our gigs.”
“I should help with your car,” I said. “You got interior and exterior?”
“And the Turtle Wax. Plus, I tip.” He squeezed Lizzy’s arm as he looked at her. “We’ll still have time to get some food before the movie, right?”
“I think so,” she said. “Otherwise we can double up on popcorn.”
I wondered if I should ask how long they’d been going out, or some other question to show Lizzy I would definitely not be trying to steal her boyfriend, if that’s what Joe was. But I couldn’t think of a graceful way to do that. So instead I said to Joe, “At least someone supports us. Thanks.”
“Wisconsin’s your destiny,” Joe said. “Now get to work.”
I got into his Nova, vowing to spend extra time Turtle Waxing Joe’s now-familiar car, when I heard the rattle of Bobby’s Datsun as he pulled up.
“Finally,” Wendy said, using a clean rag on Joe’s steering wheel. “Coach is here.”
“Yeah, maybe he can help with this massive line of cars we’ve got,” Dawn commented sarcastically as she Windexed Joe’s rearview mirror.
Bobby hopped out of his car and rubbed his hands together eagerly. He was wearing a track jacket over his usual shorts and had a towel slung over his shoulder. We all stopped working on Joe’s car for a second to drink in the sight of him.
Joe stepped away from Lizzy to peek in at me in his car. “That’s your coach?”
“Yeah, that’s Bobby,” I said. A giggle slipped out of my mouth, like I was introducing Joe to my adorable new kitten. “I mean, that’s Coach McMann.”
Lizzy was making no effort to hide that she, too, was devouring Bobby with her eyes. “Shit, I hate organized anything, but he could get me to play soccer.”
Joe glanced at her. “Hmm,” he said, with a wry smile, first at Lizzy, then me. “Interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, giving his dashboard a final wipe. It looked brand-new.
“Nothing,” Joe said, turning away from Bobby.
“Voilà.” I flung the rag over Joe’s shoulder into a bucket as I struggled to get out of his car in my tight shorts. I headed toward the team, who’d gathered around Bobby.
“All right, ladies, how are we doing here?” Bobby asked, taking in the pile of extra supplies that we still hadn’t touched.
“Great,” Dana lied, ever the authority-pleaser.
I shook my head, with a look at her. “We’re not on track to make what we need for Wisconsin.”
Bobby surveyed our setup and said, “Maybe one of the signs needs to be closer to the curb.” He looked up. “Sun’s coming out.” He unzipped his track jacket and tossed it on the hood of his car, then picked up the bigger sign and jogged toward the light on Ninety-Fifth. He leaned the sign against the traffic pole just as the light turned green.
A woman in a Chevelle who’d been doing her best not to look directly at us during the red light suddenly swung her wheel right and pulled in. “I was just thinking that I needed a good car wash,” she said to Bobby.
Meanwhile, the traffic on Central had stopped as a woman in a Firebird swung out to make a U-turn and entered the parking lot from the other direction.
“Hey, two customers,” Bobby said, looking from the brunette who’d emerged from the Chevelle to the redhead scrambling out of her Firebird. He flashed them both a radiant smile.
Franchesa started to hose off the Chevelle, but Bobby stepped in. “No, no, I showed up late. I’ll do them both.”
“I’ll bet he will,” Franchesa mumbled.
He started to hose off the Chevelle, and the Firebird woman gave the Chevelle lady the evil eye. My teammates and I looked at each other, not in astonishment, but maybe confirmation. We’d talked here and there, theorizing whether Bobby knew how hot he was. But now it was clear.
He knew. And he was going to make it work for him. Or, really, the team.
The girls had finished with Joe’s car and Joanie asked me, “Where’d the cute weird guy go? I’ve got his keys.”
I looked over to where we’d been talking and didn’t see him. “He’s at the pay phones,” Lizzy told me. She still hadn’t taken her eyes off Bobby.
I brought the keys to Joe as he hung up the phone. “Hey, champ, I called some of the guys in my band and told them to get out here.” He pointed toward the line of fresh cars, all driven by women, that were causing a jam at each entrance to the car wash. “Although I don’t know if you need it now.”
“So
rry, I didn’t mean to disappear on you,” I said. Had he really been calling his friends for me? “All these customers showed at once.”
The wry smile again. “Eh, I get it,” he said as we walked back toward his car, where Lizzy was waiting in the passenger seat. Joe glanced at Bobby again, who had no less than five women thrusting money at him so they could go first. “Hey, do you have Columbus Day off? Maybe we can practice?”
“I do.” I paused. “But I have to get a dress for my dad’s wedding in the morning.”
“That’s okay—we can do it in the afternoon,” he said. “I think you should come to my house. I have a lesson plan.”
“Sure,” I said. I peeked at Lizzy, but her bored expression indicated she wasn’t threatened by Joe and me hanging out. Good.
“Nice wash, ladies,” he called to my team. He handed me a twenty.
“I’ll get your change,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, keep it.” He smirked. “Told you I tip.” I watched him put his arm around Lizzy as he pulled away.
Tina tapped me on the shoulder. “So you’ve been talking to the guy from Dan’s party? And didn’t tell me?”
I looked at my feet. “He’s been helping me with soccer,” I said.
“So you’re getting private lessons and you didn’t tell me?” Tina repeated. She flicked me above the elbow.
“Ow,” I said, not flicking her back, because she was right, it had been kind of shitty to keep it a secret. “I was going to. He’s just a friend. So it didn’t seem important.”
“A guy doesn’t have to be your boyfriend to be important,” Tina said. “That’s cool, he’s helping you.”
“So you agree, a guy showing you how to play a sport is a friendly thing?” It seemed weird that it hadn’t even crossed Joe’s mind that our friendship might put Lizzy off. I had zero interest in Joe, but was I really so lacking in the sexiness department that I didn’t make her nervous at all? Or that Joe wasn’t worried I would?
“If that’s what you say it is, then why wouldn’t it be?” Tina said. I’d been expecting to have to list the reasons why Joe wasn’t right for me—too much of a flirt, a little cocky, a never-ending stream of sexy punk rock girlfriends, overpays for subpar car washes—but apparently it wasn’t necessary. “Besides, if he saw the way you just ate up Bobby with your eyeballs, he knows he doesn’t have a chance.”
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