by Claire Kann
“You must really love your brother.”
“Not to be dramatic, but I’d risk my life for him.”
Which was exactly what I had just done.
Kara (Kara Kara Kara Kara) Chameleon
Kara: YOU
Kara: DID
Kara: WHAT
Winnie: I did it for Winston!
Kara: It’s like you WANT me to jump through this phone and attack you
Kara: GOD how am I supposed to keep you safe!? She knows where I live!!
Thirty-Two
I stood in front of the drive-in screen alone. Okay, not alone alone. Dallas stood at my side. The gentle, reassuring pressure of his hand lay across my lower back.
Mostly to keep me from running away.
“Hi. Some of you may know me. Or all. I don’t know, I feel like my name gets around more than I would like anyway. I’m Winnie. I work at my granny’s diner, Goldeen’s, and I get to wear this nifty crown for the summer but am also being forced to do a lot of not-so-nifty things. Well, some of it’s nifty. Not all of it. This is not nifty. This is terrifying.”
A smattering of polite laughter rolled through the crowd. Some people sat in the trunks of their cars or the flatbeds of their SUVs, others posted up on the roof of their cars, but most had sprawled out on blankets.
Dallas whispered in my ear, “Roll back on the nifty usage. You’re doing fine.” Before I’d started he’d given me a few public-speaking pointers to help me along, and I’d rightly blown him off. Comedic politician-speak wouldn’t work for me. I had to be myself—nervous rambling and all—or there wasn’t any point to this exercise.
I was doing this for me.
My life-endangering audition taught me something. If I could talk on camera/stand in front of crowds in a tiara/do a choreographed dance and lip sync/wear a goddess dress to a pool for someone else’s benefit, I could do it for me, too.
Correction: I could try to do it for me, too.
I appreciated his hand, though. Like a five-finger weighted security blanket to keep me warm and calm.
“Since he, Dallas, usually does all the talking when we come to these things, I thought I would try it tonight. Clearly mistakes were made.” I laughed at myself, staring at my feet, and the crowd continued to humor me, laughing along.
The sun had gone down a few hours ago. I couldn’t tell if I was sweating because of nerves or the residual summer heat mucking up the air. It helped that I couldn’t see any individual faces other than the cluster of kids up front sitting with Sam, who kept giving me a thumbs-up any time I glanced in her direction. How she could wrangle more than three kids at one time was pure magic and worth a metric ton of money. Her playdate parties were rarer than leprechauns, capped at twelve, and parents fell over themselves to get a spot.
“But Dallas is really great and supportive and nice—he’s a genuinely nice person. I don’t know if any of you have ever tried internet dating, but that’s super rare and hard to find, so, uh, thanks for the hookup.” I shot a finger gun at the audience, clicking my tongue.
Sam dropped her head in her hands, shaking it back and forth, but when she looked up again, her smile was so wide it gave me an immediate shot of confidence.
“My queen, ladies, gentlemen, and gentlethems,” Dallas said.
Someone in the crowd shouted, “WOO! YEAH!”
“For the record: I don’t call him ‘my king.’ That’s not a thing that happens.”
“We’re working on it.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Fine. We’re not. That was a lie.” Dallas pouted for a second. “But I have been trying to come up with a nickname for her because ‘my queen’ is so formal and we’re definitely past that stage. Problem is, Winnie is just so cute on its own. Maybe we should hold a contest. Let the kids pick.” He nodded at the cluster in the front row, who immediately began cheering.
“No, no.” I smiled, trying not to let my annoyance show. “Not doing that.”
“Sorry, kids. Queen Winnie is just no fun. Oh!” He looked at me, surprised. “Queen Winnie. Queenie. That’s a good one, right?”
The kids did what kids do and started chanting, “Queenie! Queenie! Queenie!”
I looked Dallas dead in the eye. “Why are you like this?”
He shrugged, grinning at me.
“Settle down, settle down,” Sam whispered in a kind, firm voice. Eventually, they all quieted.
I let loose a long-suffering sigh. “I think we’ve taken up more time than we were allotted. I hope you enjoy the movie.”
Dallas held out his hand for me to take, which I did. The crowd clapped as we walked away—I darted back to the center. “Oh, and please start locking your doors at night. It’s really weird and unsafe that no one does that here.”
Small-town life made people gullible. Made them more trusting and more likely to be a mark. During Drive-In Movie Night last year, Winston convinced Ms. Irene to let him play The Strangers for their own good, and not even that could change their minds. “It’s just a movie,” she had said. “That wouldn’t happen here, Winnie. Stop.”
You can lead a zombie to a school, but you can’t make them think.
Someone had to protect them.
“Queenie.” Dallas maneuvered me away—playfully lifting our joined arms in the air and using my surprise as momentum to spin me around into a tight embrace. “Sorry about that,” he said to the crowd. “Enjoy!”
I ducked and twisted around, turning his embrace against him, holding him at his sides from behind. “No one can call me Queenie! I mean it!”
Kara stood next to our blanket, clapping as we approached our spot, in a quiet corner of the park, just to the left of the screen. “Beautiful! Just beautiful! Did y’all write that beforehand?” She had wanted to sit up close.
“No. He didn’t want to sound stiff.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. That bit at the end? Winnie totally stole the show, as expected. I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” I let her hold on to my cheeks. “Woo woo woo.”
“Mmkay. How long are you going to be like this?”
“I’m done.” She dropped her hands, turning to Dallas. “I’m not really a beat around the bush kind of girl, you know. If I’m ready and I have something to say, I say it, so I’m going to say it. She likes you.”
I sputtered. “O-okay!?”
“It’s true. She does. We both know it, and I shouldn’t have stood in the way of that. If it means anything to you, I’m sorry, and I hope someday you can forgive me.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay.”
Oh shit.
“She likes a lot of people because that’s her thing. But once she cares about you? You’re in for life. I, on the other hand, do not care. At any given time, outside of my family, I like two to three people tops. I will tolerate up to an additional five.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Dallas said without a hint of emotion. I knew this would happen. When I told him she wanted to come tonight, he had gotten this strange look on his face and said, “If you want her there,” and then shrugged. Shrugged. The unaffected kiss of death.
“But then everything changed when the Winnie Nation attacked. I super aggressively wanted to be her friend. I needed to. I had no choice. I was obsessed and honestly still am.”
“You don’t say.”
This just wasn’t going to go well at all, was it?
“When you’re like me, you get used to losing friends,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m used to losing friends. The second they start dating someone is the second I start to disappear from their lives. And it’s like, cool, I get it. Sure, I’ll totally cry myself to sleep every night because no one thinks friendship is as important as I do, not that they care. But her”—she grabbed me into a bear hug, squeezing extra hard—“No. Not her. This is different. She’s my ungirlfriend. I did something I shouldn’t have because I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling. I don�
�t think that makes me a bad person. It makes me human. I’m allowed to make mistakes.”
“Yes, you are,” I affirmed. “Everyone is.”
“You don’t have to accept my apology,” Kara continued. “I don’t need you to forgive me to learn from this and move on. That part is up to you. I can’t tell you how to feel. But if you even think to fix your mouth to say the words ‘it’s me or Kara’ to try to manipulate her into choosing, I will go full-on Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd on you.”
“Sweeney Todd?”
“Look it up. Respect my boundaries and time with Winnie, and I’ll respect yours. She has good taste in people, so if she sees something in you, I’m willing to see it, too. No, I want to see it. We should be friends in our own right. Not just because we have Winnie in common. I understand if you don’t want to or if you think you can’t trust me, but I’d like to work towards earning that from you.”
That was a wild ride, from start to finish. Only Kara could flip from I will murder you and bake you into my pies to Let’s be friends, okay? Holding grudges truly was not in her. I kissed her cheek because I could, and she ducked her head to the side, smiling.
“See?” I said to him. “That’s how we’re able to make it work.”
He didn’t know it, but that was a near-perfect demonstration of what being an ungirlfriend meant. No secrets, no hiding, and constant communication. Kara had found her way again—being honest, faults and all.
And I was so damn proud.
Dallas looked at us. He focused on us as a whole, the way we stood together, united. And then our eyes met. “I don’t really like texting.” He shrugged. “But Winnie says you do, so I guess we could start there?”
Kara gave me an extra squeeze. “But you don’t like it. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do. That’s not how friendship works.”
“Yeah, but I like reading. Send me book recs? Tell me stories? Send me recipes? I love cookies, by the way. Fully willing to be your taste tester.”
“See?” I gave Kara a light headbutt. “Told you he was great.”
“I guess he’s all right.” She let go of me, crossing her arms over her chest. “For a boy anyway.”
I rolled my eyes. She’s as bad as Winston sometimes.
“Thanks? Do you not have guy friends?”
“I prefer girls. Less drama and way less hostility. Until they leave me, anyway.”
“From what I can tell, it seems like their loss.”
“See?”
“Yes, I see. Calm down.” She glared at me. “Now you.”
“Don’t be mad.”
“I’m very mad.”
“Side note,” I said to Dallas, “she’s also very motherly.”
“And this one is determined to get herself killed.”
“Don’t bring him into this!”
“Maybe we should sit,” Dallas said. “Get some snacks for you two and some background information for me.”
“Done.”
I’d seen the potluck table when we first arrived. Appetizers had been pushed to the front: deviled eggs, a veggie and cheese platter. The smoky tang of charred meat and barbecue sauce became more distinct the more dishes showed up—ribs, turkey wings, hot and mild links. Grilled corn on the cob, baked beans, and salad for sides. A giant pot of spaghetti and meatballs. For dessert, there were two pies, apple and sweet potato; a cake covered in chocolate frosting, most likely yellow cake because it was always yellow cake; and a regretfully watery peach cobbler.
Kara had already raided it, mixing the food she picked with the standard movie snacks she’d brought from home: popcorn, candy, and soda. She sat across from me, next to Dallas, who was between us, forming a tight triangle.
Interesting.
“You know about the Starlight competition, right?” Kara asked. Dallas nodded and she continued, filling him in on how she had entered and how me asking to enter didn’t go as planned.
“My granny doesn’t really tolerate talking back.”
“Asking why you can’t enter is talking back?”
“It can be.”
Kara continued, explaining about how Winston wanted to enter, why Granny had said no again, and that she was seriously worried about my future on this Earth.
“She went behind all of our backs and not only entered the contest, but thanks to whatever she said during her interview, they’re going to feature Winston. This level of defiance is unheard of. We can’t even guess what’s going to happen when Granny finds out. Didn’t she tell you no like four times?”
“I had to do it. I don’t care. If it’s for Winston, I’ll do whatever. Like I’ll die if I don’t. Die. Just wither and die.” I grabbed a can of soda and popped a straw in after opening it. “It’s my job. I’m supposed to take care of everyone, make sure they’re happy, do everything I can to make sure they’re living their best life, overthrow corrupt governments, and save the world.”
“Um, nope,” Kara said.
“Yes. Yes. It’s what I do. That’s who I am.”
“Wow.” Dallas laughed.
“What?”
“I’ve never seen you like this. You always seem so on top of things and kind of serious but in a playful way. This is different. You’re different.”
“Not really. I’m always like this. Desperate. Frantic. Emotional,” I said with a twinge of disgust. “I just don’t show it to the general public. Welcome to my inner circle, by the way.”
“Maybe you should. It’s cute.”
I ducked away, trying to hide my face while pretending to sip my soda.
He leaned toward me. “It’s very cute.”
“Iheardyouthefirsttime.”
“Damn near adorable.”
“Enough. Okay. Let me live.”
“Hey, hey!” Kara snapped her fingers. “No distracting her with compliments. We’re supposed to be a combination of concerned, stern, and partially angry here.”
The screen reflected a blast of white light as the movie started. Bass pounded through the speakers while the production company’s bumper played. Respectful silence surrounded us—Kara got in one last squinty-eyed look at me before turning away.
“I wish Winston was here,” I said sometime later to no one in particular. “He loves this movie.”
When it was over, Sam stopped by to say hi before leading her little ducklings away for the night. Kara yawned dramatically before locking eyes with me. “You should probably sleep at my house tonight.”
“That seems wise.”
“Do you want to come over? You can’t spend the night, but my dad won’t mind if you visit.”
“Me?” Dallas looked as shocked as I felt.
“I’m trying okay?” Kara’s cheeks flushed.
“Hey, Winnie!” A girl approached our blanket. My brain wanted to call her May but wasn’t sure if that was 100 percent correct. “How are you?”
“Fine.” I’d definitely seen her around town—her long, black curly hair; chubby face; and blue eyes were a hard combination to miss. But I really couldn’t figure out precisely who she was.
“Did Sam leave already?” May asked. “I wanted to ask her something.”
“Oh. Yeah, she did. You just missed her.”
She continued to stand there waiting for something, chewing on her bottom lip. “So she’s like helping you with—stuff—right? It looks like it’s working.” Her eyes flicked to Dallas. “Could we maybe talk in private?”
“I don’t think so,” Kara interrupted. “I feel like I know what you’re about to say, and you better not.”
May blanched. “It’s just I saw her up there before the movie, with him, and she seemed so different, so I thought…” She trailed off.
“Wait, what did I do?” Dallas asked.
“Oh no.” The light bulb didn’t just click on. It shone so bright it shattered. With more kindness than I thought I possessed, I said, “Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with this. There’s literally nothing to talk about
because whatever you’re thinking isn’t what’s happening.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Could you just—if you could give Sam my number and ask her to text me?” Her eyes pleaded with me to understand. “It’s my mom. She made me come over here.”
“Okay. Sure.”
I refused to watch her leave. I didn’t want to see her go back to her family. I didn’t even want to remember the last five minutes.
“I think I missed something,” Dallas said.
“Yeah, you did. Keep on missing it,” Kara said.
“Except I’m not stupid.” He frowned. “I got most of the pieces. Sam. May and her mom. Winnie. The jogging. I get it. I just don’t see how I fit into it.”
“Because you like her.” Kara sighed. “And they think you shouldn’t.”
“I know about that,” he admitted. “What does that have to do with Sam and Winnie?”
I seemed so different. With him.
My confidence, my ability to be in front of crowds without visibly and slowly dying while my stomach tried to turn itself inside out wasn’t because of him. I did that. I was learning to conquer my fear on my own because I was ready. He had helped me up there just like any friend would, but that’s not what any of them saw.
Dallas was teaching me how to put myself out there.
Dallas was making me better.
Dallas was my everything now.
Dallas was the reason I was jogging—I had to make myself worthy to stand beside him.
Bullshit. All of that was mine.
“You know,” I said, voice harsh. That girl was breaking my heart and I hated it. “I am really tired of people thinking I have low self-esteem and don’t love myself just because they think I’m too big and don’t deserve to be happy.”
A voice in the back of my mind wailed bloody murder. I’d just called myself big in front of Dallas. The voice hissed that I should be ashamed, that girls never talked about their weight in front of boys and now he would never fall in love with me because boys didn’t want fat girls who stayed fat. They didn’t like the ones that never planned to diet, that never planned to look good for them the way they wanted and deserved. I would never be arm candy. They would never be proud to be seen with me. Never. Never. Never.