If I Was Your Girl

by Meredith Russo

  “I miss him,” Mom whispered, her eyes cast to the side.

  “Dad?” I said.

  “No,” Mom said, and I heard her throat clenching. A tear streaked down her cheek, but it wasn’t followed by any others. “No, I miss my son.”

  “Oh!” I said, dropping the page I was holding. “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mom said, shaking her head and swallowing. “I’m sorry, really. I thought you were asleep.”

  “I’m still me,” I said, trying to catch her eye again.

  “It ain’t that simple,” Mom said, opening her watery eyes and returning them to me. “I know I’m supposed to say it is, but it ain’t. You look different, you act different, you sound different, your hands feel different when I touch ’em. Hell, you even smell different. Do you know how important smell can be, how the way your baby smells when you hold him gets locked in your head?”

  I clenched my fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You tried to kill yourself,” she said, rolling her eyes up to heaven and biting her knuckle. “Andrew Hardy was gonna die one way or the other, and one of the choices gave me a daughter in exchange while the other left me with no one.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” I said. “I never thought about—”

  “It ain’t your responsibility to comfort your parents,” she said, shaking her head. “’Least, not until I start needin’ my diapers changed.” She started closing the albums again. “And anyway this ain’t the first time I mourned my baby.” She took a shuddering breath.

  “What do you mean?” I tried to help her stack the albums back up and put them away, but she slapped my hands and quickly did it herself.

  “No strenuous activity!” she said, and then she lowered herself into an overstuffed chair by the bookshelf and closed her eyes again. “When you were a year old I looked at your baby pictures and cried. When you were three I looked at the pictures from when you were one and cried. When you went to kindergarten I looked back and cried. Kids constantly grow and change, and every time you blink they turn into something different and the kid you thought you had is just a memory.” She rubbed her face and sighed. “Five years from now you’ll be a grown woman graduatin’ college and I’ll look at photos of you now and grieve my teenage daughter.”

  “So I shouldn’t feel guilty?”

  “’Course you should!” she said with a broad smile. “You got any idea what you’ve done to me? Between the labor pain and the stretch marks and the loans I had to take out for this surgery, you’ve bled me dry!”

  “I’ll make it up to you one day,” I said resolutely as I braced myself against the bookshelf and stood again.

  “When you’re rich and famous?” Mom said, smiling now.

  “Yup,” I said as I turned and headed back to the bathroom. I looked over my shoulder as I entered the hallway. “Rich, anyway. Famous is for chumps.” I got to the bathroom and yelled, “I love you, by the way!”

  “Are you in the bathroom?” she called in response. I didn’t answer, but Mom quickly said, “Gross, Amanda,” anyway.

  22

  “Where are Layla and Anna?” I asked as I took my seat at our regular lunch table. I was lucky enough to have the same lunch period as all three girls on most days, and they always saved me a seat. For the first time in my life I actually looked forward to walking into the cafeteria.

  “Homecoming committee,” Chloe replied through a mouthful of tater tots. She swallowed and gave me a bashful look. “Sorry. Manners.”

  “It’s cool,” I said, pulling out my Tupperware. “I mean you were raised in a barn.”

  “Whatever!” she said, lobbing a tater tot at me. It bounced off my collarbone before tumbling into the front of my shirt. “Deserved it,” she said. I fished the tater tot out of my bra and laughed.

  Chloe rolled her rectangular piece of cafeteria pizza up and took a bite as if it were a burrito. This time she waited until after swallowing to talk. “Grant asked you to homecoming yet?”

  “No!” I said, stabbing at my salad. The posters had been up at school for weeks now, and every time I passed one, I felt tiny pinpricks all over my skin. Grant cared about me, I knew he did, so I didn’t understand why he hadn’t asked me. All my old fears were stirring just below the surface, threatening to rise. “I’m starting to think he doesn’t want to go with me.”

  “Better man up soon,” Chloe said, but there was a strange pitch to her voice.

  I started to respond, but then she shot up and called out, “Here she is!” I turned just in time to see six guys in football pads and black-and-white paper Stormtrooper masks rushing toward me. Years of bullying made me panic as they lifted me from the ground.

  “Easy,” one of the guys whispered. I recognized Grant’s friend Rodney’s voice. “Easy. We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

  Chloe swept into view with her camera held out, recording. I forced myself to relax—she was clearly in on whatever was happening. The guys hoisted me onto their shoulders and hustled me out of the cafeteria to a din of confused laughter.

  My captors kicked in the double doors to the gymnasium to reveal Grant in a white long-sleeve shirt and black pants with white stripes up the side. On one side of him stood a guy in a paper Darth Vader mask with a cheap-looking black cape, and on the other, someone wore the Boba Fett costume I had given to Grant after Halloween.

  “Leia!” Grant said. He rushed forward, pretending to be restrained when Vader and Fett grabbed his arms.

  “Han!” I said, laughing as the football-players-turned-Stormtroopers set me down before him.

  “What if he dies?” Boba Fett said, his voice raspy and his delivery stiff.

  “The Empire will compensate you if he dies,” a goofily deep voice said. I thought I recognized it as Parker’s, but I wasn’t sure. “Any last words, Solo?”

  “Leia!” Grant said, really hamming it up in his attempt to break free. “Will you come to homecoming with me?”

  “Of course!” I cried, stepping forward and clasping my hands over my heart. I started to say “I love you!” since that was the next line, but paused. We hadn’t said those words yet, although I couldn’t help thinking it all the time lately. Instead I declared, “I … like you! A lot!”

  “I know,” Grant said, donning a perfect Han Solo smirk all the same. I wondered what was going to come next, since a carbonite freezing chamber seemed out of the question, and then the Stormtroopers pulled out aerosol cans, shook them, and sprayed both of us with Silly String.

  * * *

  Darth Vader was waiting for me outside the bathroom when I finally got the silly string off my hands and face.

  “Lord Vader,” I said. “I should have known. Only you could be so bold.”

  “Uh,” Vader said. He pulled the mask down to reveal Parker’s confused face. “I don’t know the next line. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, forcing a smile. Parker was often at parties with us, or on the outskirts of smaller groups, but hadn’t said much to me since my early days in Lambertville. “Thanks for helping with that whole … thing.”

  “Promposal?” Parker said, scrunching up one side of his face. “I think that’s what we’re calling it now.”

  “‘Homecomingposal’ doesn’t really roll off the tongue,” I noted. He chuckled and shook his head.

  “That it don’t,” he said. He frowned at his feet and rubbed the back of his neck, then made eye contact with me again with what looked like effort. “I’ve been meanin’ to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “Bein’ a dick at that party, like a million years ago,” he said, looking away again. “I was feelin’ … shit, it don’t matter how I felt. I’m just sorry.”

  “Oh,” I said, cocking my head, surprised. “Thank you.”

  “It ain’t … you’re welcome.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I wondered what could possibly be on his mind. “Can I walk you to class?”

  “Sure,” I
said, and we fell into step beside each other. He walked beside me in silence for a while, the struggle to say something clear on his features.

  “I got a question,” he said eventually.

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” Parker said, his voice strangely soft.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “What’s Grant got that I don’t?”

  “Ohhhhh.” I chewed my lip and looked down at my feet. “I’m not sure I know how to answer that, Parker.”

  “Was it just ’cause he was the first one to talk to you?” Parker asked earnestly. I shrugged and gave him as tender a look as I could. “How come girls don’t like me? How come you don’t like me?”

  “Me and Grant just clicked,” I said, “and me and you just … didn’t. I don’t know how else to explain it.” We reached my classroom, and I leaned on the wall to face him. He was still staring straight ahead, and I could see a muscle working in his jaw. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “This is me,” I said, pointing to the chemistry lab I was officially late to now. Parker put his hands in his pockets and started to walk away. “Parker?” I said. He turned, both eyebrows raised. “I’m glad we talked.”

  He gave me a small smile and nodded before turning away.

  23

  It was time to find a dress.

  I had never bought a dress for homecoming before, of course, and when I suggested we just buy something from Walmart, the very idea nearly drove Layla to hysterics. She insisted that we order our dresses from some website based out of New York she used for all of hers, but it was way too expensive. As a compromise, we drove half an hour southeast to the nearest mall and ventured into JCPenney.

  Layla wore a pea coat and opaque Jackie-O glasses, as if afraid someone might see her and undermine her fashionista cred. The rest of us, anticipating a lot of time spent in dressing rooms, had stuck to zip-up hoodies and jeans.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” I announced as we passed through the food court.

  “Okay,” Layla said grudgingly, “but don’t overdo it. And nothing salty! If you get all bloated the dresses won’t fit right and you’ll end up looking frumpy at homecoming.”

  “Say it ain’t so,” Chloe said, pulling out a chair next to me.

  “I’ve been waiting eight years to get you in a dress,” Layla said, locking her gaze on Chloe determinedly. “You’re in my world now.”

  “Whatever,” Chloe replied. “I want Taco Bell.”

  “I said no salt!” Layla yelled, hurrying after her as she left to get our food.

  “You okay?” Anna chirped as she sat across from me.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, taking two deep breaths and forcing a smile. This was the first time I had been in a mall since that day in the bathroom, and I was trying not to think about it. “I’m really excited, actually.” It wasn’t a lie, really; I was with my girlfriends, shopping for a dress for an actual dance with my actual boyfriend. I had been excited all the way there, and I would probably be excited again once we were in the store. “You?”

  “A little nervous,” she said, twisting her fingers in her shimmering curtain of hair and pinching her mouth in worry.

  “Your parents?”

  “Yeah,” Anna said. “I’ve been skipping lunch for a year, saving the money they give me without them knowing. I feel really bad for lying.”

  I wanted to say, Your parents are jerks and they don’t deserve you, but what I said instead was, “You’re practically eighteen, and it’s just a dress.”

  “It’s not, though. You should hear what they say about Layla for wearing clothes that, like, show her collarbones.” Anna buried her face in her hands and groaned. “This is a mistake. What if they find the dress before homecoming?”

  “It’s not a mistake,” I said. “It’s your life and it’s your body. Dress it however you want.” I caught Chloe coming back with a bag of tacos, Layla following with her shoulders sagging in defeat, and smiled. “And you can keep the dress at my apartment until homecoming.”

  “Thank you,” Anna said with a grateful smile.

  “It is literally the least I could do,” I said before Chloe and Layla sat down and three out of the four of us dug into our delicious sodium-filled tacos.

  * * *

  “Okay, listen,” Layla said, pulling us into a huddle in the middle of the women’s section. “This is a huge oversimplification but, no offense, I’m starting from square one with you guys. Amanda is a spring, Chloe is an autumn, and Anna, you’re a summer.”

  “I’m also a Scorpio!” I said, giving her a cheesy grin.

  “Don’t sass me,” Layla said, but then paused and added, “Wait, really? Your birthday must be soon.”

  “You guys know astrology’s a form of witchcraft, right?” Anna said, frowning.

  “Anna,” Layla said, “I love you, but shush.” She closed her eyes, took a breath, and resumed. “Chloe, the words I want you to keep in mind are ‘earth tones.’ Stick to greens and browns. You can maybe get away with a blue or a red, but it has to be really muted.”

  “You can mute colors?” Chloe said.

  Layla sighed and turned her attention to Anna next. “Anna, I want you to bring me anything in sort of a light purple—lavender, fuchsia, mauve, you get the idea.” Anna nodded seriously and strode off on her tiny legs to begin her quest. “And Amanda, you’re looking for jewel tones and sunset colors. Deep sunset colors. Does that make sense?”

  “Got it, Coach!” I barked before turning and jogging off into the racks.

  “What did I say about sass?” she called after me.

  Ten minutes later I arrived at the dressing rooms with a half dozen options draped over my arm. Chloe shuffled out of one of the stalls looking miserable, swapping a pile of brown and green dresses for another dozen.

  I entered a stall adjacent to Chloe’s. She just groaned. I stuck my tongue out at an orange dress that had seemed promising on the rack but made me look like a traffic cone.

  We were quiet for a moment, me intent on what I was doing and Chloe probably wishing it were spring so she could wear a softball uniform instead. Then she said, “Where were you last weekend? We missed you.”

  “Last weekend?” I said, my voice cracking a little. I froze in the middle of picking up my last hope—a purple dress with a dramatic cowl neck. “A friend from Atlanta came into town and we hung out…” I paused. I didn’t want to lie to her. “With Bee.”

  “Oh,” Chloe said flatly. The purple dress was gorgeous, but somehow I didn’t feel as excited anymore.

  “Chloe—” I began, but she cut me short.

  “Don’t,” she said. “It’s fine.”

  “Chloe, wait,” I said as I hurriedly put the dresses back on their hangers and left the dressing room. “I’m Bee’s friend too—I have been since before I knew you two were a thing.”

  “Whatever,” Chloe said, emerging from her dressing room. “She likes you, you know.”

  “What?” I said. “We’re friends.”

  “As more than friends,” Chloe said flatly.

  “C’mon, Chloe,” I said, shaking my head. “She knows I’m straight.”

  “I’ve had crushes on straight girls,” Chloe mumbled, her voice low enough that it was hard to hear.

  “Just … no,” I said, shaking my head to dispel the thought. “We’re just friends, Chloe. And we were just hanging out. It didn’t occur to me it would hurt you at the time,” I said.

  “Well, it did.” She looked so lonely all of a sudden, standing there under the fluorescent light, next to that pile of rumpled dresses. I moved toward her, wanting to hug her but unsure if she would let me, when Layla rounded the corner, hangers dangling from her hands.

  “Whoa!” she cried, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the mirror, taking in the purple dress. “Spin,” she ordered, and I obliged.

  “Does the cowl neck
make my shoulders look too big?” I asked as I came to a stop. I gazed at my profile in the mirror, grateful to have somewhere to look other than Chloe’s hurt gaze.

  “No, it minimizes the shoulders,” Layla said with an eye-roll, but she was smiling. “Honestly, it’s like starting from scratch with you two. I ought to teach a class called ‘How to Be a Girl.’” She grabbed my discarded dresses to return them, and Chloe retreated back into her dressing room.

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, Layla’s words ringing in my ears. I had never been good at being a boy, and I didn’t enjoy it very much, but there were parts to it that made a certain kind of sense—when boys were angry, they showed it with their fists, and then it was done. With girls, I knew, it was different. I had hurt Chloe without even realizing it, and unlike a bruise, it would take more than a few days to go away.

  24

  “Happy birthday!” Layla grinned and waved from the booth she shared with Chloe a few days later.

  “Thanks,” I said as I sat down next to Chloe. She offered me a small smile. We still hadn’t talked much since our fight in the dressing room, but it felt like the hurt was fading. Eventually, I hoped, there would be no sign it had been there at all.

  “So how’s it feel being eighteen?” Anna asked. I froze, remembering that they didn’t know about my year off. I’d already been eighteen a year, but there was no way to explain the truth. It was strange to have such normal friendships for the first time, but still have so many secrets.

  “Yeah,” Layla said. “Have you bought cigarettes yet?”

  “I don’t smoke,” I said with a shrug, my stomach twisting from yet another half-truth. Smoking cigarettes on my hormones could cause fatal blood clots, but I couldn’t tell them about that either.