Mistakes
I drive slowly on our way back to Third’s, trying to give him the chance to sober up before his curfew. Not happening, but I do it anyway. “Mrs. Cruz is going to freak when she sees Third,” I say nervously tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.
“I will take care of it,” she says. I don’t ask how. I have the feeling she has more experience with this than I do. My head is swimming with thoughts of Barbie. She is not at all what I thought she was; she is different. Every time I form an opinion of her, she has crushed. Tonight started out with the Barbie I expected, short skanky dress, drinking, and dancing like she does it for a profession. But then there was this other side to her. The way she took care of Third, nursing a drunken seventeen-year-old guy was the norm. Most girls would be disgusted with Third. I was even grossed out by him. Having a sweaty fat kid hang on you is not my dream of the way to end your first party. Not only did he manage to puke on her shoes twice, missing mine entirely. He even puked down the front of her dress. The girls I know in this town would be running for the hills, but Barbie… She just patted him on the back, encouraging him to “Get it all out.”
We pull up to his house. He is no better shape than before. Heavy snores are coming from the back seat. My stomach is turning with the stench of his vomit.
“Let’s do this,” Barbie gets out of the van, unfazed. We pull him out of the van and half carry. Together we half drag him up the stairs to his kitchen. Hopefully, Mrs. Cruz will be asleep and we can get him in the house and up to his bedroom undetected.
Mrs. Cruz drops the wooden spoon she was using to stir something sweet and buttery on the stove. She gives the term Momma Bear a whole new meaning, a momma bear in curlers and a pink house robe. She scoops up Third, like he is one of her collective ceramic dolls and not a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound boy
“What happened to him?” she looks at me accusingly. Of course, she blames me and not the girl half-naked in combat boots. Before I can answer, Third vomits again, this time on his mother’s fluffy pink house coat, “Mommy,” he whimpers before passing out again.
“They always want their mommy,” Barbie says under her breath…
“Food poisoning,” she shrugs.
Mrs. Cruz looks from me to Barbie. “Food poisoning?”
I nod my head like a bobble-head doll.
“I warned him not to eat the raw oysters, but you know boys. Always needing to show off.” Barbie’s lies are as smooth as honey dripping off her lips. I just stand there, letting her pour them on thick and sweet. I have never lied to an adult before in my life. The back of my neck itches at how effortless it is for her.
“Well, you two better be getting home,” she says a little more relaxed. “Third will give you call you when he is better.” She turns away, pulling Third along with her. My hand is on the door knob when she calls out to me. “Dylan…” I turn to see her glaring at me. Maybe she doesn’t believe the food poisoning bit. “You see that Barbie gets home safely now.”
I shake my head again. “Yes ma’am.”
We stop around the back so Barbie can attempt to wash her boots off with the water hose. We walk in silence down the dark street. “That…was…umm, pretty cool of you back there. I mean I was about to spew the truth, but you just lied so effortlessly back there. Like a pro.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you shocked?” she asks, her pace picking up. I have to pick up mine to match hers. I insulted her and I don’t even know how. “Didn’t you know, Dylan that is what I do? I lie, cheat, steal, drink, and do drugs. But you know what I am really good at Dylan?” She stops walking and spins so we stand toe to toe. I want to back away from her. She feels dangerous and sharp and I don’t know how to get out of the trap that I jumped into. Her face hardens into a mask. She steps closer, so close now I can feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine. I try to show no fear and stare back at her. Her eyes flash fire in them and I can feel the heat from them licking into my body. My eyes travel down her body. I can’t help it. After all, I am a guy. No matter how much I don’t want to look, I can’t stop myself. She is hot. Really hot.
“What?” my voice comes out thick. I stare down the barrel of a loaded gun and I just pulled the trigger.
“I am really good at fooling around. You know, having sex,” she whispers in my ear. The heat from her breath mixed with the chill in the air sends goose bumps down my back. She reaches up on her toes and trails a line down my neck. My head is spinning. I barely make out the lights and a honk from a passing car that goes by.
“Barbie, stop.” I grab her hand that is snaking up my shirt. I don’t want her to stop I want her to keep setting me on fire like she is now. “Stop,” I say more firmly to myself than to her.
“Why, Dylan?” she yells. Her hair is whipping around her wildly now. “Is it because I am not the perfect Katie Bloom? Is it because I dress like this, or is it my reputation? Why Dylan? Why do you not want to feel this way with me? Because I know you do.”
I run my hands through my hair, trying to remember why I am turning her away. “This has nothing to do with Katie. This is not right.” I gesture to her. “What we are doing is wrong.” I exhale, “What we are doing is fake, remember?” I run a hand through my hair again. “Why do you do this? Throw yourself on any willing guy… It’s not you, not the real you.” I am the one shouting now.
“You don’t know me; don’t even pretend you have the faintest clue about me.” She takes a step back as if I slapped her.
“Maybe not, but what I saw back there with Third… There is more to you than some slutty girl.” The fire that was flashing in her eyes smolders out and is replaced with hurt. Damn, I wish I could take those words back.
“Fuck you,” her voice cracks and she takes off running.
Chapter 16.
Unraveled
“I wanted to thank you for what you did for me Friday night.” Third stares down at his Nike Trainers, embarrassment written all over his face.
“Don’t even think about it,” I brush him off.
“No, really. My mom said that you told her I had food poisoning…and I think I remember puking on your shoes.” Red creeps across the bridge of his nose.
“Anyone would have done the same thing,” I lie.
“No…I don’t think they would.” He slides down the locker so he that he is sitting next to me on the floor. “It is stupid, but I actually thought that Byron and I could be friends. I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. I thought if could just impress him and his friends…but, really, they were just laughing at me.” He tilts his head back against the locker, “I wanted to just once feel like I was accepted. I didn’t want to be the fat kid anymore.” He looks at me. His pale, watery, blue eyes are begging for me to understand. I do. “Stupid I know. I will never be anything but a fat loser to them.”
An ache for him buries itself deep inside me. I hate them for making him feel like this. Like he can never belong, “Who cares what they think? Fuck them.” Third looks up at me blinking in surprise, my anger boils over. “Fuck them, Third. Who gives a shit what they think? Who are they to judge you? Be yourself and if they don’t like it…”
A smile spreads across his round face before he finishes my sentence “…Fuck them.”
I smile back, “Yeah.”
He sits down next to me, “So you still avoiding Dylan?”
I glare at him, but quickly change it to a smile, “Like a plague. Why?” I have been avoiding Dylan. His words hurt the night of the party. What hurt more was the concrete fact that we could never be together. I was trying to deny it but I can’t anymore. I do have feelings for Dylan. But my life is too screwed up for him to be a part of it.
He shakes his head. “He has been searching for you like crazy. He even got detention for being late to class.” Third laughs.
“Well, I hate to be the one to tarnish his perfect reputation.” I say a bitter edge to my voice.
“He needs it. The kid is my best fr
iend, but sometimes he can be a total douche bag. It is like he only sees black and white. He never sees any other colors.”
I walk down the red and white halls of Central thinking about what Third said. How Dylan can only see black and white. I am every color but black or white. I am a kaleidoscope of colors merging into a disoriented picture. I know what I have to do. A feeling of emptiness enters me. How could one person unravel me so? I so carefully made sure that I did not have any room left in my heart for anyone. I carefully built a fortress around my heart, but somehow he managed to slip in undetected. This is going to hurt. I have never let anyone hurt me before and now I am opening myself up for him to shatter me. I find Dylan at his locker. Katie is leaning against the neighboring one. Her foot is perched behind her against the locker. Her perfectly pressed white shirt is tucked into a pair of designer jeans. Black and white. My bracelets clink together, signaling my arrival. They both look up at me. Dylan’s eyes darken, angry for my interruption again, another perfect moment ruined by me. Don’t worry I will not be around to ruin any more of them. This is the perfect time to do what I am about to do.
“Barbie,” he says my name with relief. Katie’s smile turns in to a thin pressed line. He steps away from her, closer to me. Too close. I take a step back. “Look, I am sorry. I was a real ass. I should have never said those things to you. I was wrong,” he apologizes.
I wrap my arms around my middle, holding myself together. Oh God, let me get through this. Please. “Don’t.” I stop him from speaking. My resolve will falter with the sincerity of his words. I cannot hear them. I have to do this. I want to step into his arms and have him hold me to whisper the words I desire to hear.
“No. It was not right. Nobody should ever speak to you that way. I was feeling something that scared me, confused me. Barbie I think…”
Please, don’t say it. I cannot hear it. Please say it. Please. The bell rings at that moment. A wave of students pour out of classroom doors, filling the halls, grabbing things out of lockers, slamming locker doors, talking with friends. They are oblivious to the sound of my heart breaking I want to disappear into the crowd. I want to be swept away into the sea of people. I want to find the numb feeling I used to walk around with. Katie is watching us. If I am going to do this, it has to be now. “Dylan… we can’t do this anymore,” I raise my voice. It sounds hysterical over the crowd noise. A few people stop to watch. Most just push past me.
***
Barbie stands in front of me, I don’t know how I didn’t recognize this before, but she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Her hair falls in a long blond curtain around her shoulders. She is wearing a long black skirt that brushes the ground and a child’s Big Bird T-shirt that reveals the golden skin of her stomach. Her right hand is covered in blue ink with elaborate writing. Her words. I want to read each one, untangle the meaning behind them. The hall fills with the recently dismissed students. But all I can see is her. Everyone else fades into the background. My heart is beating so loudly I cannot hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears. She is saying something but I can’t hear her. I am captivated by the movement of her mouth. If I can only concentrate on what is she saying. Barbie shakes her head as tears spill out of her beautiful, ocean blue eyes. I want to hurt whoever it was that made her cry. It was me. I hate myself for hurting her. There is too much space between us. I want to close it. I need to touch her, to feel her, breathe her in. I step toward her, closing the distance. I wrap my hand around her wrist, electricity shocks me. Does she feel that? Her eyes go wide, but my other hand is in her hair, pulling her to me before she can protest.
***
I am melting. Dylan is kissing me fast and desperately and I am kissing him back just as desperately. Sparks travel down my body to my toes. I curl them up, trying to hold them in. The world around us has faded away and there is nothing left but the two of us. I grip onto the front of his shirt holding on tight, afraid to let go, afraid that I will wake up to find this all a dream. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close. Not close enough.
“Mr. Knight! Barbie!” Gregor’s shocked voice says behind us. “You two will be serving detention with me today.”
I feel Dylan’s lips spread in a smile undermine. “You are turning me into a rebel, two detentions in one day.”
I laugh. “Yes quit the rebel,” I say ignoring the glare coming from Gregor.
“I want to earn detention with you,” he laughs, pulling me off my feet. His mouth finds mine again.
“This is not what I meant by tutoring,” Gregor admonishes, “and I expect a passing grade on the next exam from you, Miss Starr.”
“You can guarantee my girl is going to pass,” Dylan answers as he sets me down. His girl, my heart flutters erratically at his announcement.
Gregor escorts us into the classroom while separating us appropriately. He sends me to the back of the room and Dylan to the front. But that doesn’t keep Dylan from looking back at me, a cocky smile plastered on his face.
“Mr. Knight eyes forward.” I cover my mouth to stop the laugh that threatens to spill out of me.
“Sorry! Just a neck kink, Mr. G.”
I place my head down on the desk so I don’t get him in any more trouble than I already did. I run my finger over my swollen lips, exploring them. They are still alive with sparks of electricity dancing on them.
“That was so hot!” The Goth girl from algebra leans over and whispers. “When you told him you didn’t deserve someone like him that you two were just too different for things to work out… I thought I was going to die.” She lets out a sigh. “But then the way he pulled you to him, kissing you like you were the last girl in the world. That was so romantic.” A dreamy look fills her eyes. “I thought that redhead was going to have an aneurism watching you two.”
Now I laugh. I forgot all about Katie, apparently, so did Dylan. I smile at the thought. I am so happy. I don’t think I have ever been this happy in my whole life. These last few hours I have been on an emotional rollercoaster. I still feel high from riding it. “He is so hot, you are so lucky.” I look at the front of the room were Dylan is looking back at me, a crooked smile plastered on his face. “I am lucky.”
***
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, holding a stick of black eyeliner in my hand debating whether or not to put it on. I hear a crash and a high-pitched laugh coming from my mother. I drop the liner in the sink to go see what sort of intoxicated state she is in. I walk in the kitchen; Everett sits at the table enjoying a waffle, his feet swinging back and forth under the table. Ronnie is sitting to him, his hands carefully chopping white powder on a plate.
“What are you doing?” I storm over and pull Everett out of the chair, trying to put as much space between him and Ronnie.
“Barbie, I have a headache,” my mother chastises me.
“So you need to do this in front of Everett?” I spit, gesturing where Ronnie continues at his task.
“Barbie, you are overreacting. Taking it this way only helps it get in my system faster.”
Ronnie looks up at me, the snakelike leer of his on his face. He and I both know she does not have a headache. I back out of the kitchen before I can hear my mother’s next excuses. Going back to my room, I snatch a hoodie off the back of the door. So much for meeting up with Dylan. My stomach knots at the thought of Dylan waiting for me. “Ready, buddy? It’s time to go.” What does Everett make of all this? I wish he could talk, tell me what to do. A few minutes later, I knock on Ms. Sophie’s back door. It takes her to a while to get out of her chair to open the door. “Coming,” I hear from the other side. The first time we came over to Ms. Sophie’s, I was so scared she was going to call child protective service on us, or that someone would call the cops on Momma. In our neighborhood, however, the unspoken rule is to mind your own business. My mother had been drinking more than normal. She said it was the stress of having two fatherless children. I tried to stay out of her way, to be helpful
as much as I could. Nothing seemed to help, so I took Everett out. We went to the park and I got him an ice cream cone from the McDonalds down the street. It was almost midnight when I headed back home. I carried Everett, who was dead on his feet. My mother had all the lights on in the house. She was throwing out anything that would break on the street. I stood there watching, I did not know what to do.
“She has been at it for hours,” Ms. Sophie said, pink slippers shuffling up the driveway. I shift Everett to the other side. Ms. Sophie gave me a good long look. “Well, come on in. He ain’t getting no lighter,” she finally concluded. I followed her slowly into her small house. We slept on her couch that night. It started to become a regular thing for us. I would cook whatever little food she had in the fridge for her, dusting things she could not reach or see. Everett seemed to really enjoy Ms. Sophie and her ten cats who were all named after a member of the royal family.
“Barbie,” Ms. Sophie opens the door.
“Hi Sophie. You mind if you keep an eye on Everett for me?” I hope, bouncing on the heels of my feet.
I walk briskly through the park. The night is warm, but I keep the hoodie zipped up to my neck. I am wearing old sweat pants and a sports bra. My body buzzes with anticipation at seeing Dylan. I asked him to meet me at the park behind my neighborhood. Tonight reminded me just how different we are. I don’t know how things are going to work between us. We live in two very different worlds. Today, things changed so fast between us. I can barely wrap my head around it. I did not think clearly, letting the happiness of being with him cloud my judgment. I can still call things off. It would be for the best. Dylan sits on the hood of his old Ford Ranger. Any doubt I have disappears when I take him in. He slides down when he sees me.
“You look amazing,” he pulls me to him kissing me. Now I feel amazing. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 17.
Moments
We break apart, both gasping for air, my chest rising and falling with each breath. We lay in the back of my truck as we listen to the music that plays from the radio. I have never felt this way before, like I do when I am with Barbie. Like the world could end right now and I would be happy to watch it go, as long as I am with her. Why did I fight these feelings for so long? How could I ever think anyone else was my perfect girl? She sits up and I trace patterns on her skin where the moonlight touches her. She is mine. My finger stops resting on a tiny scar on the small of her back. I don’t know her. I want to know her.