by Heidi Acosta
“Because you need to see something.” I guide him among the empty soda bottles and trash that littler the ground. “Look,” I gesture in front of me.
There are a few kids standing sharing a cigarette between them, but that’s not what I brought him here to see. Just past the group of smokers sits Tyler in the same chair we sat in yesterday with a certain red-headed princess.
“What…” he starts, before seeing what I brought him here for. I watch his face trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicker with confusion, then anger, followed by hurt. His eyes show how he is feeling. I can read the darkness in them. His face hardens and he turns and starts to leave. Now it is my turn to chase after him.
“So you brought me out here to try to hurt me. To show me that I will never be good enough for her, that I will never be Tyler Smalls. Well, you win Barbie. I don’t want to play your fucked-up game anymore. We are done. Find someone else to tutor you,” he storms forward.
“This is not a game,” I call out to him. Hurting him was not what I wanted. I just wanted him to see that there can be more to people than what he thinks he sees. “I brought you here to show you that just because you think you have us figured out, wrapped in these perfect parcels, me a skanky, crazy girl or her, the perfect girl, you are wrong… There is more to me, more to her than what you think, more than the people at this fucked-up school think.” I push him in his chest hard. Why can’t he just see that? Why can’t they see that? I slam my hand into his chest again, anger pouring out of me.
He grabs my wrists to stop me from pummeling him again. “I get it. kay,” his words sound harsh. “I get it. I put her up on a pedestal, and she is not perfect like I want to believe. I get that you might not be what you seem. Okay.” My chest heaves as I look in his eyes. “I get it,” he repeats again before dropping my hands I leave them at my side.
That desire to feel numb hits me again like an iron fist. We stare at each other for what seems like forever, his dark eyes consuming mine, his mouth slightly parted, breathing heavily . Would kissing him have the same effect on me that I need? The bell rings, making him look up at the gray cement building.
“Let’s leave,” I say.
He shakes his head “I can’t. I have a class.”
He leaves me. He stalks into the building, leaving me behind. He leaves me battered. I leave to find what I am looking for. Maybe I do fit into the box he created.
Chapter 5.
Misery
“So you and Barbie are a thing now?” Katie leans against my locker. She smells amazing, like jasmine. I close my eyes, breathing her in. I would have given anything to have her here standing this close to me thanks to Barbie I now have the image of her straddling Tyler, with her shirt unbuttoned and his hands on her breasts, burned into my temporal lobe.
“It is complicated.” I sigh it is complicated, everything about Barbie is complicated.
“Oh,” Katie clutches her text books to her chest. Each book is covered in a navy blue and pink cover, her signature look. I used to love that look, now I am not sure how I feel. “It seems like she really likes you,” she bites at her lower lip. Yeah…like a shark likes baby seals.
I run my free hand through my hair, not knowing what to say. Barbie has me questioning my feelings. But this is the girl who won the state championship in academic games, the girl who ran for student body president as a freshman. This is the girl who has never gotten below an A in her life. I want to tell her how I feel. I am confused, that what is going on with Barbie is fake, all a con to get Katie to notice me. That I am deeply in love with her. I want to get on one knee and beg her to go out with me. Marry me. I want to tell her I saw her with Tyler and it is killing me. But none of that matters because, I love her.
She takes my silence for an answer, “Look, just don’t get hurt,” she warns.
“What do you mean?” I slam my locker shut. Is she worried about me?
“It’s just that she has been…” she pauses, “around a lot. And you…well, you are really sweet.” She looks down at her shoes before taking a step closer to me. We are standing toe to toe. My heart is beating erratically. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and licks her lips.
“Hey, there you are.” Perfect timing. Barbie bounces up and laces her fingers in mine. “Hey, Katie. What are you guys talking about? Me?”
I am breathing hard. Katie steps back, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. Was she about to kiss me? The dream of us together slips through my mind like water running down a grate. Barbie interrupted on purpose. How could she not see that I was about to kiss her? I know she is mad at me, but really was she going to try to get me back for what I said? I already apologized to her. Go away. Go away. Go Away.
“No,” Katie squeaks.
“Was he telling you how we got together?” she leans her head on my shoulder. “How he rocked my world under the bleachers?” she continues. She is making this the most uncomfortable conversation in my life, even topping the time my mother had the “talk” with me. My mom is a nurse so there were lots of graphic pictures on what could happen if I had unprotected sex. I gasp as all the air leaves the room. My head spins as I search for an escape route from the disaster that is becoming my life. I open and shut my mouth, trying to suck air down my constricted wind pipe. “Just kidding,” she hits Katie playfully on the arm, but hard enough for her to stumble. “I don’t make out under the bleachers with random boys.” Yes, she does, but so does Katie. Katie’s face pales.
“He is tutoring me in Math, and, well…just look at how cute he is. Couldn’t you just kiss him?” She grabs my cheeks with vise- like fingers. I try to pull away from her but she continues to squeeze my cheeks with surprising force.
“Umm…” Katie fumbles.
“I know…” Barbie continues oblivious to the uncomfortable situation she just created. She finally lets go of my face that I am sure has little purple bruises forming on it, and winds her fingers in my hair. “He was like ‘you wanna go out?’ And then I was like ‘totally, and then he was like ‘really?’ And I was like ‘yeah’, and then he like really did rock my world.” She looks longingly up at me batting her freaky big eyes. Yessh.
“Yeah well…I got to go,” Katie says and starts to back up.
I watch Katie disappear before turning on Barbie. “God,” I yank free from her grip, “laying it on a little thick don’t you think? Do you know what you just interrupted? What you just ruined? She is never going to talk to me after this.” I run my hand through my hair. Why did I let her talk me into this? “Rocked your world?” I say, shrugging her off.
“If you kissed Katie just now, that would be it. You have to let her see that you are desirable. Wanted,” She snaps, swinging her head to glare at me. Her hair is in two braids down her back, and I am six again chasing her. God help me, I want to tug on them. It has only been two days and she has already created a tornado of emotions inside me.
“Trust me,” she says, but I don’t trust her. How can I trust a girl who is so out of control?
“Look, just chill out with the PDA, okay?” I say.
She laughs, “You are kind of cute when you get flustered.” She reaches up and messes up my hair. “For this thing to work we really need to act like we can’t get enough of each other.”
***
A week goes by without too much more of a catastrophe. Barbie has become a permanent fixture at our lunch table. She waits for me in the morning and we walk in holding hands, playing the part of the happy couple. It makes my stomach turn into knots, because I cannot tell what this means to Barbie. Sometimes I wonder if she actually enjoys this act we are putting on. She lays it on heavy, flirting when no one is around, and cuddles up to me during our free time while I am trying to teach her anything that will stick in her head. I don’t know what Katie thinks, either. She has not tried to approach me since the incident in the hallway, she has been ignoring me ever since.
Barbie meets me at my l
ocker in-between classes, telling me funny things that happened to her in class, or some story that she thinks I will find amusing. She is actually pretty funny, making it easy to be around her. That of course is when she is not prancing around in miniskirts and flirting with any male figures that crosses her path. I wonder which of the rumors about her exactly are true. I find them hard to decipher. She continues her flirty banter with Third. He is really into it, and he has even begun to come up with witty comebacks. I have never seen him act this way with a girl before. I even think he is losing weight, thanks to him sharing half his lunch with her every day. Sometimes I feel like I am the third wheel.
Chapter 6.
Fairy Tales
I knock on the door then ring the doorbell. Once, twice, three times. Annoying, I know. That’s point is to bug the crap out of him. I like how he looks when he gets frustrated and all pouty. He sighs through his nose, and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up. I am late and I know this will agitate him, too. I am not late on purpose. I had to wait for Ms. Sophie, my elderly neighbor, to get back from bingo. She has a gambling problem that she denies. She watches Everett for me when I need her to. She even lets us crash at her place if Momma is really bad. I hear feet pounding behind the blue door. I pose, hands on the hips, chest out, all for the pleasure of seeing the look on Dylan’s face. The door swings open and a little girl stands barefoot staring up at me. She has big brown eyes that match Dylan’s. She also has his dark, deep set eyes. Her mouth hangs open at the sight of me. I tend to have that effect on people.
“Emmy, who is it?” Dylan calls to her.
“A really pretty girl, with cool hair.” Her tongue sticks out between her missing teeth with each word. I lean against the door frame, waiting for him to enter. He strides into view. He is wearing a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. He looks good. When he takes notice of me, his look turns hard. Just the reaction I was hoping for.
“You’re late!” He comes up and stands behind the little girl who is staring up at us. This is most likely the most entertainment the poor kid has ever had.
“Sleeping off a hangover,” I smile.
He snorts. Well, annoying him was part of my plan. “Emmy, go to your room,” his words come out clipped.
“But…But” her lower lip sticks out.
“Now!” She sticks out her tongue at him. I really like this kid. She is not going down without a fight. He points to the wooden stairs behind him, “Go.”
She crosses her skinny little arms in the same stance as Dylan, “Fine,” she stomps down the hall making sure she is heard all the way up the stairs.
His arms cross tight across his broad chest and he stares down at me. His shirt tightens, over his chest displaying each indentation of his chest. I try not to notice, but I still feel the butterflies take flight in my stomach. He is waiting for me to elucidate, but I am staring. He is searching for something as he takes me in looking me up and down. I made sure to wear my shortest shorts just in case Momma Knight was home. “Well?” he asks.
What does he want, an apology? Well, he can forget that. I am not about to apologize. Sorry, buster, but you are going to be waiting a long time if you think I am going to apologize. “It was a really good party you missed.” There was no party, but I did stay awake late waiting for my mother to come home. He makes no attempt to invite me in, his large frame filling the door. “Look, are we going to study or not?” I ask. He is now starting to annoy me, not cool.
“Not,” he starts to shut the door. I didn’t go through all this trouble to have the door shut in my face. I had to hitch a ride with a very questionable man who gave me his phone number. I stick my foot in the door, preventing it from closing. Ouch. “That’s not fair,” I pout. “Come on, don’t be mad.” I reach out, placing my hand lightly on his chest. He cocks his eyebrow at me looking at my hand on his chest. He is about to break. I can feel it, but he just shakes his head at me. His jaw working, “Go home, Barbie,” and he shuts the door again. This time there is a loud thud when the door shuts. I am standing there, shocked for a moment. He did not just shut the door in my face. Jerk.
I push open the door. He didn’t lock it, so that must mean he wanted me to follow. Boys, they love being chased. I step into a bright yellow hall. It is lined with black and white family photos.
“I can have you arrested you know, for breaking and entering,” he says.
I can’t see him, I only hear his voice. “I did no breaking, I just entered.” I continue to make my way into the house. A large living room, same bright yellow walls, is to my right. It is lined with big, blue, plush couches. SpongeBob plays on the biggest TV I have ever seen. I make my way over to more portraits on the wall. A man in his late forties clutches the hands of a woman with dark hair and the same dark eyes as Dylan’s. I think I am going to puke. I look at another picture of the man and woman with Dylan and his little sister sitting on rocks at the beach. They are all wearing matching white shirts. How sweet.
“You are pretty.” Dylan’s little sister is staring up at me.
“I know,” I smile down at her.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“Barbie.”
Her eyes get huge. “Are you the real Barbie?” She whispers, “You look like her.” She looks at me with star-struck eyes.
I kind of like this kid, “Yep, the one and only.”
The little girl’s smile grows until it reaches her eyes.
“She is not the Barbie. She is more like those dolls you are not allowed to play with.” Dylan is standing in the doorframe with the same glare and stance he wore before, arms folded tight across his chest.
Emmy’s eyes wrinkle up like she’s trying to think really hard about something. Then she relaxes and smiles again at me. “Bratz!” she squeals. “I love those dolls, they are so cool!” she skips off.
I smile after her. “Smart kid,” I say.
He sighs through his nose. “Don’t flatter yourself, she is only six. What do you want?”
What do I want? That’s the question of the day. “Um, you are supposed to be tutoring me, remember the deal? I hook you up, you get me an A.” I close the distance so we stand toe to toe. “I am also going to pick your virgin flower,” my finger trails up his chest. I am trying to make him nervous, but it is my heart that is beating erratically.
“Yes, tutoring was at ten o’clock this morning. It is now two thirty,” he looks at his watch on his wrist.
“So…” I say. That nerdy cuteness of his is starting to wear off.
“So this is not going to work out.”
I stare at him. I am the one who calls the shots.
“Me tutoring you,’’ he says, like I am too dense to understand. Images of no diploma fill my mind. My mother never graduated.
“Look, I am late. Sorry, it will not happen again.” Now my arms are crossed. I am pissed that he got an apology out of me.
“Sorry is not going to cut it. You are an irresponsible spoiled brat. I don’t want to deal with it,” he snaps.
“I am not irresponsible!” I yell back. He has no clue of the responsibility that weighs on my shoulders every day.
“What do you care if you pass anyway? “This comes out as more of an accusation than a question. I am not going to quit like my mother. God, I don’t want to end up like her. That is why I want to graduate and get the hell out of Dodge. I take a deep breath. Making him angrier is not going to help me, and he is oddly immune to my womanly ways, maybe he is gay and is in denial, Katie does have the body of a thirteen-year-old boy.
“Will you pleassse tutor me?” I bat my eyes, trying to change my approach with him. “Please,” I try again.
I can see his façade begging to falter. “I will agree to it…only if you agree to my rules,” he says walking into the kitchen.
“Yeah, like what?” I follow him, jumping up on the kitchen counter, and swing my legs.
“No more getting high,”
he says like this might be a deal breaker.
“Done,” I say.
“And no more cutting classes. You have to be on time and stay until they end.” He raises his eyebrows, testing me.
“Anything else, Dad?”
He sighs, again dropping his hands to his side. “And you cannot be late to your tutoring session anymore,” he says, his hair falling into his eyes.
“Fine,” I push my chest up so my boobs look bigger. His eyes dart to my chest, then back to my face. Definitely not gay.
“And you have to wear something more conservative around my impressionable little sister,” he says, trying to stay focused on my face.
“I have a Liberian costume I wore for Halloween. I can dig it out,” I tease.
He lets out a long breath. “No! Just cover up,” he says, his cheeks a bright shade of red.
“So are we going to do this thing or what?” I ask, jumping down off the counter so that I am standing close to him again. He smells like freshly cut grass and Irish Spring soap. He looks down at me.
“Can’t. I have to watch my little sister, and I am late to her tea party.”
Okay, now I am laughing. I grip the counter so I don’t fall over from laughing. “A tea party…wait are you serious? This I have to see!”
He glares at me again. “Fine, but you can’t say anything…or do anything inappropriate around Emmy.”
I follow him upstairs into a very pink room. It is little girl’s dream room. A twinge of jealousy plucks at me. A fluffy leopard bedspread sits on a brass canopy bed. Dolls and toys spill off white tall shelves.
“Emmy, I brought the doll to the tea party,” he calls.
Emmy sits at a small white table dressed in a yellow princess dress. “Another guest,” she says in an English accent, clapping her small hands together. “How delightful.” This kid is a riot.
“Why, yes, I thought so.” Dylan tries to copy the accent but it comes out more Australian then British. Cute.
“Why, Lady Rose Petal, you have no hat!” Emmy gasps.
I look around to see what she is talking about. Oh, she means me. “Well yes, I wasn’t prepared was invited at the last minute by a very rude boy.” I say, matching her English accent and shooting Dylan a smug smile.