by Kayt Miller
Actually, the memories of that make me kind of pissed now. How many favors did I do for that guy? All he had to do was lean in a little bit, smile his pretty smile, and twinkle those baby blues at me and I was putty in his hands. I’m such a pathetic idiot I’d have done anything for that guy. He played me like a fucking piano and I let him.
As the taxi pulls up to my house, I reach out to give the driver my $100 bill. He pats my hand and says, “Things will get better sweetheart. You’re a beautiful girl and whoever hurt you tonight doesn’t deserve you. Just remember that, honey.”
I nod and attempt a smile as fresh tears fall. I thank him and slide out of his taxi. He was a nice man. I drag myself up to my front door and see the lights inside are all out. Good. That means my family is asleep. I won’t have to explain to anyone why I’m home so early and why I’ve been crying.
I know I should check my phone. I heard it ping and buzz when I was in the taxi but I turned it off. I’m sure Margie discovered I was missing soon after I left. It makes sense she’d try to call and text me but I didn’t want to talk to any of them, not even Margie. She’s my best friend but she’s guilty by association tonight. She’d never choose me over her own brothers; her own family, and I wouldn’t expect her to.
As soon as I get to my bedroom, I tear out of my dress and toss it into the corner, put on my comfy pajamas, pull all of the pins out of my hair and wash off my make-up before even looking at my phone. As soon as I'm settled on top of my bed, I turn my phone back on. When I do, I see at least eight text messages from Margie and even a few from Max. They’re both wondering where I am. I don’t reply.
If I never speak to Maxwell Dill again, it will be too soon. If he hadn’t gone over to tell his brothers all of the things I’d said about Lisa’s dress, none of this would have happened. As for Margie… I’ll talk to her, but not tonight and hopefully not tomorrow. I need to regroup. I turn my phone back off and slide underneath my covers.
I’m exhausted having my emotions run from one extreme to the next––from the excitement of getting ready for Prom to the devastation and tears of the last couple of hours. Because of that, sleep comes over me quickly and I fall into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning I awaken to someone staring at me. I jump with a start until my eyes are able to focus. It’s Margie. “What the fuck happened to you last night? You had us all freaked out. We hunted for you all over the hotel for over an hour. I texted you like twenty times and tried to call you a bunch too. What the fuck, Abby?” says Margie, loudly.
“Um. I was sick?”
“Um, you were sick?” she mimics me snottily. “You aren’t sure?” Margie says, mockingly.
“Yes, I was sick. I threw up in the bathroom but didn’t make it in time and ended up puking all over my dress. I think I ate some bad crab dip or something.” Ha! That will convince her.
She looks over to the crumpled heap of sparkling baby blue in the corner of my room and her nose scrunches up with disgust. “Why didn’t you come get me?” Margie actually looks concerned now. Thank God.
“You were having a great time with Tim. I didn’t want to ruin that. So, I just went outside and caught a cab home.”
“A cab? You took a fucking cab home and you couldn’t send me a text message?”
Margie’s pissed. I know she is. That’s when I pull out the big guns and the tears start falling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, Margie. I was sick. I fell asleep in the cab on the way home and didn’t think about anything but getting home.” I know. I’m going to hell. I’m lying to my best friend but it’s okay. I would rather lie to her about this than tell her about her asshole brothers. She adores them. I wouldn’t want her to take sides here. Actually, I don’t even want them to know that I overheard their hurtful words. I’ll go to the grave with that information. It’s too humiliating to repeat to anyone anyway.
“Oh, Abby-girl. I’m sorry. I really am. You must have been really sick. God, I’m such a bitch. I’m so sorry,” she says, sympathetically.
“It’s ok,” I murmur. “I just feel like shit. My head is pounding and all I want to do is sleep.” That wasn’t a lie. Crying for hours has given me a major headache.
“I understand. I’ll let Max know what happened. He was pretty freaked out last night.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff.
“He was! Why would you think he wouldn’t be worried?”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant. I just know Max. He’s not the kind of guy to worry about his date, err, I mean Prom friend.”
“Well, he was. I’ve never seen him so upset.”
“Yeah, right,” I mutter to myself. “I’m still queasy, Pickle. I’m going back to sleep. I’m sorry I worried you. I’ll do better next time. I swear,” I say as I yawn and feign sleep.
“I’ll call you later,” she whispers.
I don’t answer. I’m supposed to be asleep, after all. Best friend crisis averted, thank God.
At school on Monday, I avoid Max and Jake Dill like the plague. I saw Jake from a distance in the morning but he didn’t see me. Even if he did, he would probably just ignore me. That’s his usual modus operandi unless he needs something from me. Idiot, I’m such an idiot!
When I see Max in the hall, though, he sees me too and he makes a beeline to me. “Are you feeling any better, Abby?”
His concern sounds real but I know it’s not.
“Yes, thank you. Um, I’m sorry about the other night. It all happened so suddenly. I sort of freaked out and just reacted. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I was leaving.” Damn, I should win an academy award for this performance. Lying is easier than I thought it would be.
“It’s ok. I understand.”
“Ok, well, I’m off to class. See you. And, um, thanks for taking me to Prom,” I say, even though I don’t mean one damn word of it.
Chapter 2: Abby
Two weeks have passed since the I dubbed the Worst. Night. Ever. and things are back to normal. Well, as normal as they can be. I haven’t been to Margie’s house since Prom. She keeps asking me over to hang out like last Saturday. She asked me to a sleep over but I told her I had to help my mom clean out the closets. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold her off but I’m going to keep doing it as long as I can. I don’t want to see any of the Dill’s yet.
All of this time on my own gives me a chance to reflect––to think back to the first time I met Jake and Max and the rest of Margie’s brothers. I remember being completely humiliated; thinking that was the Worst. Day. Ever. After that day I should have known things wouldn’t end well with those boys.
Nine Years Earlier
It happened the summer before fourth grade. My family and I had just moved to Pleasantville, Iowa from an even smaller town close to Cedar Rapids. We were relocated to the Des Moines because of dad’s job so we all had to pick up and move. It was terrifying being the new kid in the neighborhood but Margie Dill took one look at me and made me her best friend on the spot. She said exactly that.
She said, “Abby. You’re going to be my new best friend.”
She chose me even though I was chubby (still am) and prone to sunburn (still am). I have a face covered in freckles (still do) and my hair is always a snarled, rat’s nest (still is). The only thing good about my hair is the color. It’s the same as my mom’s, a shiny, auburn-brown. If it weren’t for the fact that it was completely unruly, it would be pretty.
In any case, Margie Dill took me under her wing and helped me acclimate to my new neighborhood, my new town, and then, my new school that Fall. Since it was summer time we spent the entire time getting to know each other playing outside, swimming, and just generally being silly. Margie’s always good at being silly. There wasn’t a day that Margie and I didn’t spend together. It was like we’d been friends forever. We liked the same books, music, and we both loved the movie Grease! Margie knew the words to every single song and she taught me most of them in only a week.
When her parents bought
a Karaoke machine for her family we were both super excited. Excited because we both liked to sing and ham it up but also because one of the cassette tapes that came with it was the soundtrack to Grease! I hadn’t been to her house yet because it was always so hectic with so many kids running around all of the time. How could it not be hectic with eight kids in her family? Margie’s the baby but she has a twin, Max, but he’s three minutes older that Margie so technically, that makes her the youngest. In total, she has two older sisters and five brothers. Yep, five brothers!
Margie kept telling me not to worry––she’d plan a time when they were all out of the house so we could sing as loud as we wanted in her basement family room without getting bothered by her annoying brothers. The day finally came when Margie told me her sisters were out of town with friends and her brothers were all at a baseball game with her parents. We had the entire house to ourselves! It was time to sing about Greased Lightenin’! It was supposed to be epic. But, it didn’t all go as smoothly as we had hoped…
“Margieeee,” I whine. “It’s my turn to play Sandy. You’ve been Sandy this entire time. Why do I always have to play Danny? It’s not fair.”
“Oh, alright, you big baby. I’ll be Danny this time,” Margie huffs.
Finally! I get to dress up and sing Sandy’s part in Grease. I carefully dig through Margie’s box of play clothes and pick out a white tube top and some shiny, black, stretchy pants. We are going to sing the song from the last scene of the movie, ‘You’re the One that I Want’.
“Thanks, Pickles, this is going to be so much fun!” I exclaim. Pickles is my nickname for, Margie. I know, it’s not very clever since her last name is Dill. It fits her though.
As Margie gets the music ready I grab my outfit and head to the bathroom to change. Margie just stripped naked and changed right in the middle of her basement family room but I don’t change clothes in front of anyone. Not even my mom. Once I’m in their tiny half bath, I strip off my own clothes and start to pull on the shiny, black pants. Holy smokes, they are so snug the side seams are pulling apart a little bit. I’m not sure why because I don’t have any hips but I guess my tummy is another story. My stomach always looks like it’s full of marshmallows. I don’t know why because I don’t eat that much. My mom says it’s my dad’s fault. His side of the family is known for their big, round bellies.
In any case, the darned elastic band of the pants keeps rolling over onto itself until it sits under my stomach. I pull and pull until they sit up really high super close to my chest. Next, I grab the tube top and take a deep breath trying not to jostle the black pants because I don’t want them to roll back down again. I slip the tube top on and it fits okay. It is a little tight around my stomach and it’s practically see-through. But, I’m not going to worry about it because no one else is around.
I exit the bathroom to see that Margie has donned a fake, fringed leather vest thing and she’s brushed her hair back like Danny’s in the movie. We don’t have any hair gel so she pinned it back with a clip so it sort of looks like a pompadour hairstyle. She looks hilarious but not as funny as I look. Margie took one look at me and started laughing so hard she’s crying now. Her face is red as a beet and she’s pointing at me.
“Oh, zip it, Pickle,” I mutter. I know I look ridiculous but I wanted to dress up for this. It’s my moment to shine. I, Abby Finnegan, finally get to sing Sandy’s part!
“Just start the music and get ready. I’m going to blow your socks off, sister,” I say, laughing.
Margie is the most fun of any one of my friends, past or present. She’ll play any make-believe game I want. Since I was an only child for seven years, I have always loved to play make believe games. That is until my twin brothers, Caleb and Christopher or Topher, as I like to call him, were born. They are two now and they are my parents sole focus. I guess it’s hard raising twins––especially twin boys who get into everything. When I was the only child, I had several imaginary friends and I’d play alone for hours and hours in my room pretending to be a princess or a knight or a veterinarian to my mass of stuffed animals. I liked to play all sorts of parts. It was awesome. Now my baby brothers have taken over the house. The only peace I get now is when I spend time with Margie.
Margie and I make our way toward the makeshift stage. i.e. a sheet placed on the floor in front of the couch, in case you were wondering. Margie starts up the music and we stand facing each other. She holds the microphone first and croons, “I got chills, they’re multiplyin’, and I’m loooosin’ control. Cause the power you’re supplyin’, it’s electrifyin’!”
Margie is so good at this. She’s really emphasizing the words just like Danny Zuko in the movie. She makes me giggle. Oh my gosh, it’s my turn now. “You better shape up, cause I need a man, and my heart is set on you…” I say that part pointing at Margie swinging my hips back and forth. Man, I’m good at this. I’m really getting into it now. Watch out Olivia Newton-John! I’ve so got this. “You better shape up, you better understand, that my heart I must be truuu….uuuu…uuuue.”
I’m singing with all of my heart. My eyes are pinched shut and I’m belting out my part of the song. I’m in heaven. When it’s Margie’s turn, she doesn’t take the microphone, she doesn’t sing either. When I open my eyes to look at her, she’s standing completely still, completely silent. She’s looking at me then toward the basement stairs blinking rapidly, and then at me again. My back is to the stairs. I’m scared to turn around. I have a feeling I know what’s behind me, or should I say, who is behind me.
I slowly turn my upper body toward the stairs to see five people––five, sweaty, male people. And they are each standing on a different step like they were coming down to the basement but stopped in their tracks. I do not want to meet them like this––Margie’s brothers. I can’t resist and I look at them one-at-a-time. Margie clears her throat and says angrily, “Hey, I thought guys were at a ball game!”
The tallest boy chuckles and says, “Obviously. It was rained out. So we came home early. And boy, am I glad we did.” He has a smirk on his face. Ugh.
Margie isn’t finished with her angry rant. “Can’t I ever get any privacy around here? Geesh, you guys are always here. I never have any peace. Just leave us alone.”
“No can do, Margery. We want to watch the TV and mom said we had to come down here. So, you either need to leave or you’ll have watch the game with us.”
I’m not sure which bother was talking but he seems like he’s the oldest. I look at Margie, still stunned by the recent events. I know I look confused…
Margie sighs and says, “Guys, this is my bestie, Abby. Abby, these are my stupid brothers.” She starts pointing at the top of the stairs and says, “That’s Joe,” her finger moves down one, “That one is Adam, the oldest boy in the family.” Moving further down, “The blonde one is Jake.”
When I look at Jake my heart stops. He is the cutest boy I’ve ever seen in my entire life and Oh! My! Gosh! he just winked at me. He winked at me! He has the prettiest blue eyes too. They’re like what I’d imagine the ocean looking like. They’re that blue. He’s the only one of them all with blonde hair and it’s sort of messy on the top like he runs his hands through it a lot. Holy moly, now he’s smiling at me. I know, I’m staring like an idiot, but I can’t help it. He’s so nice. I think I honestly love him. Sorry, not to make an Olivia Newton-John reference here since I’m never, ever singing a Grease song again, but it’s true. I honestly love him. My thoughts of love are interrupted as Margie continues.
“Next is Ben. He’s eleven and thinks he’s the boss of everyone,” Margie deadpans. She then points down to the ground and mutters, “That last one there is my super-embarrassing twin, Max.” Max is literally on the floor rolling around holding his stomach with one hand. He’s laughing so hard he’s got tears in his eyes. For a split second I wonder what’s wrong with him. Is he having some kind of seizure? No, he’s just laughing. Why is he laughing so hard? It wasn’t that funny was it? It’s t
hen I realize that I’m standing in front of all of these boys, I mean Jake, and I’m wearing the tightest, silliest outfit in the entire world.
“Oh my gosh! Margie and Abby, you guys are so hilarious,” says Max between spastic laughs.
I wasn't trying to be funny. I was seriously channeling Olivia. She’s da bomb. But, I keep those thoughts to myself and just pretend to laugh a little at his comment because I don’t want Jake to think I’m a wet blanket.
“Yeah, great job, and oh, love the outfit… Abby, is it?” asks Ben.
“Don’t pay any attention to Ben, Abby. He’s just being rude. He’s always belching and farting and pulling down everyone’s pants, anything to get a laugh. Ignore him.”
Ben pays no attention to Margie’s barbs and continues, “I can’t help it. That outfit is about to explode it’s so tight on her. We all need to get back before we’re killed by her flab. Oh wait, that’s perfect…I dub thee “Flabby Abby” from now on.”
I know my face just turned bright red because I felt the heat immediately. Embarrassment and an Irish ancestry is a curse. I must have had a look of utter shock on my face at that comment too because the next thing I hear is, “Knock it off, Ben,” Jake says, warningly.
What a jerk! I look at the rest of the brothers and they aren’t laughing. Not even Max. Instead, he’s looking at Ben like he wants to murder him, but Max doesn’t say anything. I take this opportunity and run into the bathroom to get away from Margie’s brothers. I’m horrified and humiliated all at once. I can hear them all yelling at each other from the bathroom. How am I going to get out of this basement, out of this house now? I put my ear to the door hoping they all went back upstairs when and hear Margie and Max yelling at Ben.