by Marie Lamba
“And the dog bit you?” I ask.
Mom shakes her head. “No. Actually, the dog played with me. I cried and banged on the door, and the dog sat by my feet kind of protectively.”
“Aw.” I pat Poopsie’s head. “That’s sweet. So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’ve had this fear of dogs ever since. Fear doesn’t always make sense, you know.”
I look at Dad. “Yeah. I get that.”
For dessert there is a crate of delicious mangoes. I wipe mango juice from my chin and toss a peel into our trash bag. “Well this was a typical American picnic.” I roll my eyes at Dad.
“Tonight will be an all-American barbecue, I promise,” he says. He gnaws at the stringy fruit around the mango pit.
Someone announces the start of three-legged races and relays.
“Come on, everybody!” Doodles says.
“Can’t. I’ve got the dog,” I say.
“Hurry,” Doodles says. She grabs Raina and Hari and pulls. My parents follow.
I lie on my back and stare at the leaves overhead. Listen to parents cheering their kids on in the races. Poopsie snuggles under my arm, we both close our eyes, and I think about Cameron…
“Sang, look, we won!”
I crack open my eyes and see a blue ribbon shoved in my face. “That’s great, Doodles,” I say from my semi-conscious state. “How long was I out?”
“Sang?” Raina says. “Where’s Poopsie?”
My eyes fly wide open. “No!” I stand and twirl around. “I’ve lost her.”
“Now just calm down,” Mom says. “She hasn’t been gone for long. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”
“Poopsie!” I shout and run past the stage. Everywhere I look, I think I see her, but it’s only a Styrofoam plate on the grass or a child’s stuffed animal on a blanket. “Poopsie?”
People stare.
“Have you seen a poodle?” I ask a lady holding cotton candy. She shakes her head. Behind the castle, tents are set up where children are coloring pictures and decorating paper fans. I look under the table: nothing but human feet. Beyond this is a roped-off area where people are trying to walk on stilts. They’re falling off, laughing and trying again.
“I’ve lost my dog,” I say to them. “An apricot poodle. Have you seen her?” Everyone says no. I look around me at the woods in the distance. I think about the road beyond that. Tears prick my eyes. How could I have been so stupid? Mrs. Schnapps depended on me. Poopsie trusted me.
I race back to the front of the castle. My heart’s beating so fast that I can hardly breathe. I shade the sun from my eyes and scan the field alongside the entrance drive. Amid all the green I see something. It’s apricot and moving in a wide circle.
I take off after it, jumping over a picnic basket and stepping in a plate of coleslaw.
“Hey, watch it!” a man yells.
“Sorry!” I say but race on. Poopsie is like a bullet shooting across the lawn, her ears flapping, her leash flying like a cape behind her. She looks like the happiest poodle in the universe. She makes a quick turn and heads straight for the road.
“No! Poopsie, don’t!” I pump my legs and tear after her, even though I know I’ll never make it. She’s too far ahead. Too fast. A mini-van is speeding along the roadway.
I’m running faster than I ever thought I could. I’m closing in, but I know I’ll never make it. Poopsie is at the road. The van’s approaching.
Someone darts from the castle drive. Throws himself on the ground. Grabs for the leash. Poopsie is jerked backward.
I get there just as he stands, brushing gravel and dirt from his shirt and legs. “Yours?” Dalton says, panting, handing me the leash.
I take one look at Poopsie, who is sitting peacefully with her tongue hanging out. Not at all the road pizza I expected. “Thank you!” I throw myself at Dalton, practically knocking him down again.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Forget it.”
“No,” I say, squeezing even tighter. “Never. You saved her. If you weren’t here, that would have been it.”
“Sang.”
“Yes?”
“You’re choking me.”
“Oh. Right.” I loosen my grip, and he pulls me away from him and holds me at arm’s length.
I suddenly realize the awkwardness of this and let go completely. And I start to babble. “So I fell asleep and I had the leash in my hand and I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” I point at Poopsie. “Bad dog. You nearly gave me a heart attack. You nearly killed yourself. How could you do such a thing? Huh?”
Poopsie raises her ears and cocks her head to one side, but otherwise is unaffected by my scolding. “Dalton, thank you so much for—” I turn and see he’s heading back to the ticketing table. “Thank you!” I shout. He raises a hand but continues on his way.
I kneel down and hug Poopsie tight, and watch Dalton go.
Chapter 19
It’s Thursday morning, and when Mom’s car pulls up to the curb, I’m the first one out. I’m thinking that maybe after lessons I can ask Cameron to Anna’s party.
By the poolside, I set down my towel and kick off my flip-flops before Raina and Doodles even reach their class. Trish is already in the water with the little non-swimmers. I look around, but don’t see any sign of Cameron yet, so I sit on the edge and wait.
“We’re starting,” Trish says, joining hands with the other three non-swimmers for yet another round of “Ring Around the Rosie.”
I swirl my feet in the water but otherwise don’t move.
Trish says. “Girls, keep going without me. I’ll be right back.” The girls start skipping in a circle and singing. Trish wades over to me and just stares, her arms crossed.
“What?” I say after a long moment.
“He’s not coming,” she says. “He said he didn’t want to deal with you.”
I glare at her.
“Oh. Did you actually think that date was serious? Aw, you poor little kid.” She sits beside me and whispers, “Listen, Sang. It was all a joke, okay? He came back and told me and the other guards about it.”
I stare at some point in the distance. I say, “I don’t believe you,” even though part of me wonders if she’s telling the truth.
“Hey, just trying to look out for you,” she says like she’s my very best friend. “Oh well.” She stands.
“You know, Trish, Cameron told me he’s not into you,” I say. “He said he never was.”
Trish narrows her eyes at me.
“He likes your car, though. Hey, just trying to look out for you.” I get up, grab my towel and flip-flops, and go out to the playground.
Later, back at home, Raina says, “Don’t be so down. Trish must be lying.”
“I know,” I say, pacing the room. “At least I think I do. But what if for once she’s actually telling the truth?”
“Sang. Come on. Don’t do that to yourself.”
I sink onto my bed, staring at Jake Gyllenhaal and his sword. I feel like a knife is being slowly plunged into my heart.
“You have to stop this, Sang. You need to do something to get your mind off things.”
“You’re right.” Jake’s blade gives me just the idea. I grab Raina’s arm, pull her to the bathroom, and hold up a disposable razor.
“Oh no,” she says, covering her chin.
“It’s not for your face. Come on, Raina. It’s makeover time.”
At first Raina is uptight about using a razor and she nicks her ankle. But she soon gets the knack. “Now get in the shower and do under your arms.” I go back to my room. In my closet I find two of last year’s bikinis. When Raina comes back with a towel around her wet hair, I say, “Show.”
She lifts her arm a little.
“Like night and day. Here.” I hand her a brown and pink striped bikini.
“Oh no.” She hands it back. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not? There’s a pool party at Anna’s tonight. Remember? Do you really w
ant to wear that red granny suit?”
She bites her lip and takes the suit. “You are corrupting me, you know that?”
I laugh. “What will your Mummy and Papa say?”
That afternoon, Raina and I walk through downtown Doylestown. I freeze in front of the This Is It! boutique. The dress is still there in the window. I’ve never even tried it on. At least I can try it on.
So I do. I step out of the dressing room in front of a three-way mirror.
“Lovely,” the shopkeeper says and claps. She’s wearing cat’s eye glasses on a string and looks knowledgeable.
Raina emerges in a teal satin dress with black tulle. We both twirl.
“Perfect fits,” the shopkeeper says. “These really flatter your figures.”
I look into the mirror at three of me staring back, and can’t help but agree with the wise woman.
The bell over the shop door rings. “Excuse me, ladies. Just call if you need anything,” she says, hurrying to the front of the store.
“Raina,” I say, “we have to get these dresses.”
“So you are going to the dance?”
I stare at myself looking so much more elegant than I ever imagined. “Maybe.”
“But how much are they? I didn’t see a price.”
“I know. I haven’t seen price tags on anything. Change and we’ll ask the saleslady. Maybe she can hold them for us until I get paid.” I just hope Mrs. Schnapps comes back before the party.
“I do have some spending money back at the house,” Raina says.
We both reemerge from our dressing rooms in our boring everyday shorts and T-shirts, each of us holding our perfect dress on a hanger. We push our way through the narrow aisles toward the front of the store where I hear someone trying to convince the shopkeeper to carry a new line of belly jewels.
“Like for piercings, you know? I call them ‘Contemplate Your Naval.’ You can keep them on the counter. They’ll go great with your new line of jeans.”
“Well…” the shopkeeper says. “I guess we can put some out and see how it goes. You are one of my best customers.”
When we get to the counter, there’s the shopkeeper with Liselle, the Megan-David love buster. And beside her is Trish, the Sang-Cameron love buster. Both are wearing high-heeled sandals and cut off skirts cut way too short. We all glare at each other for a moment. “Looks like they’ll let anyone in here,” Trish says.
“Ignore them,” I whisper, and turn to the saleslady. “We were just wondering how much these are. I couldn’t find a price tag.”
Trish laughs. “Honey, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”
“Let’s see,” the clerk says, adjusting her glasses. “The one you’re holding is six hundred and seventy-five, and that one is five hundred and sixty.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Oh,” Raina says.
“Well, okay.” I hang mine on a rack. “Thank you.” Raina hangs hers up, too.
“Have you looked at our half-price rack?”
Why bother? Half of a fortune is still too much. Humbled, we open the shop door, making the bells ring.
“I hear there’s a sale at Kmart,” Trish calls after us. “Why don’t you try there?” Liselle snickers.
“Bitches,” I mutter, just before the door falls shut behind us. Striding up Main Street, I clench my fists. “God, I hate them.”
Raina scurries to keep up. “You shouldn’t let them get to you.”
“Believe me, I’d love to forget they even exist, but how can I when Trish and Cameron are probably going at it?”
“Now stop that. Have positive thoughts.”
“Okay. I’m positive Trish and Cameron are going at it. And poor Megan. That thing stole her boyfriend. I mean, why are guys so interested in them anyway? Because they dress like whores? Because they’re rich? Because they’ll do anything with anybody?” I stop. “Okay. Not real hard to figure out.”
“Not every guy is into that,” Raina says.
“I’m starting to wonder. You got any money on you?”
Raina pulls a bunch of quarters from her pocket.
“Could you possibly buy a chocolate bar? I could really use one right now.” Raina nods and we continue up the street. “You know, it’s just not fair. If we were rich, we could buy those dresses and every guy that saw us would fall head over heels in love. But we can’t even think of buying them. It’s like, what do you call it? Survival of the fittest?”
“Natural selection,” Raina says. “Only the most attractive, most adaptable of the species carry on their traits to the next generation.”
“Because they’re the only ones who are getting the guys. It all comes down to money, doesn’t it? Anybody with enough money can get boob jobs, nose jobs, hair extensions, bleached teeth, nail tips, and whatever eye color they want. Who says money can’t buy happiness?”
I think about Taoji and how his life may be saved because we were able to get the money. But what about other sick people in the world who don’t have money? What happens to them?
Money equals life.
And what about Raina and Sanjay? If Sanjay were really rich, perhaps her parents wouldn’t care that he’s Hindu.
Money equals love.
We buy two dark chocolate bars from Nuts Plus. We peel back the foil as we wander down the alley and through the back parking lot heading toward home. I take a huge bite, swallow and say, “We still need dresses.”
“Well,” Raina says, licking chocolate from the corner of her mouth, “I hear Kmart is having a sale.”
I laugh.
“And I hear there’s a special there on Telly Tubby underwear,” Trish says. She and Liselle stand in front of us arms crossed, hips tilted, and a “Contemplate Your Naval” belly button jewel hanging from each belly. “And I heard what you called us back at the store.”
“Whatever.” We move to pass them but Trish and Liselle shove us back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Trish says. “Kmart is the other way.” She slaps the chocolate bar out of my hand. It immediately starts to melt on the hot pavement. Wonderful dark chocolate going to waste.
“Now you’ve gone too far,” I say. I think it’s a line from a movie.
“What’cha gonna do about it?” Trish says.
Okay. That’s definitely a line from a movie. I laugh. “You can’t be serious. Are we supposed to rumble now?” Raina gives me a worried look. “Come on, Raina. Let’s go.” We turn and walk in the opposite direction.
“Sang, you were so brave,” Raina says.
I shrug. “That’s how you get rid of trash.” We laugh. Pain rips at my skull. Trish has grabbed a bunch of my hair and is pulling me backward.
“What did you call me?” she says.
I grit my teeth. “Stop.”
“Not so smug now, right?” Trish says in this satisfied way.
Liselle laughs. I feel a sting of humiliation as bad as the sting in my scalp.
“Let go of her,” Raina says, coming at us. Liselle pushes her back.
Trish pulls my hair higher. I stand on my toes.
I elbow Trish in her boob. No reaction. Fake like the rest of her. I punch at her hand that’s holding my hair. She lets go and howls, “My nail! She broke it!”
“No!” Liselle says, horrified. Like I threw acid in someone’s face. “Nobody does that to my girl.”
Before I know it, it’s a full frontal skank attack. Nail tips first, Trish comes at me, gouging my arms and slashing at my face. I push her away and see Liselle bending Raina’s arm behind her back. Raina is trying to kick her.
Trish pushes me so I land on my ass on the pavement. My hand is cut. There’s no one else in sight. Why doesn’t somebody come by and call 911 or something?
I start to stand but Trish pushes me again. I bounce painfully back to the ground. Trish laughs.
“What the hell is your problem?” I look at the cuts on my shaking hands.
“You. You think you’re so special, do
n’t you, TB? The truth is, you’re nothing. And you’re nothing to Cameron. At least that’s what he told me last night in bed.” She dusts off her hands. “Okay, we’re done here. Come on, Liselle.”
Furious, I scramble to my feet. Liselle shoves Raina against me and says, “Bye, girls.”
That’s when I notice that Raina’s cheek is raked with scratches and she’s teary-eyed.
I reach over and yank down Trish’s teeny tiny skirt to her knees. Not only is she not wearing Telly Tubby underwear—she’s not wearing any underwear!
Trish squeals.
Liselle dives for me but instantly Raina yanks down Liselle’s skirt to her knees. Again, no underwear.
There’s the beep of a car unlocking and I see an unsuspecting family walking to their mini-van. “Oh!” the mom says, covering her little boy’s eyes. It’s the same boy who stared at Liselle’s coin slot back at the library.
Suddenly Trish and Liselle try to grab us, but it’s kind of hard to move forward with a skirt around your knees and your wazoo hanging out. Trish falls over and curses. Liselle tries to help her up.
Raina and I turn and run as fast as we can in our flip-flops. Trish and Liselle are soon readjusted and clacking after us in their high-heeled sandals. But Raina and I kick off and grab our flip-flops, and flat out run till we are safely home.
We stand on the front porch sweating and panting. “I—I’m so sorry,” I say, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“No. It’s okay,” she says breathlessly. “It was great.”
I straighten up. “Great?”
“This proves Cameron really likes you, Sang. Why else would Trish be so aggressive? You threaten her.”
“You really think so?” My throat tightens as I wonder about the whole ‘in bed’ comment.
“Definitely. Plus, now your life is so ‘One Tree Hill.’”
“Well, cool.” I smile and put my arm around Raina. We go inside and find Doodles with her chuni, a golden scarf, draped over her head. “What happened?” she says, eyeing the cuts on our faces and our messed-up hair.
“Cat fight,” I say.
“Oh,” she says, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Well, you almost missed everything.”