by Kasie West
“Absolutely no idea,” I said.
“Shouldn’t all the girls in the group be able to answer the question as well?” he said aloud, calling me out.
“I assure you every girl will know the answer to that.”
I tried to give Amber wide eyes, telling her not to make any such assurances.
“Then if all of you can’t, we win by default?” he asked.
“You are such a punk,” I said, and he smiled, his eyes lighting up.
“Yeah, okay,” Amber agreed to his addendum.
I raised my hand in shame. “I don’t know the answer.”
The guys cheered, and Savannah huffed playfully and threw a wadded-up napkin at me.
“Sorry,” I said, holding up my hands to fend off the other napkins that came flying my way.
“So, what do we win?” Hot Guy asked.
“We get to hang out for thirty minutes,” the first guy said. “They weren’t going to give us the time of day.”
Hot Guy met my eyes. “Now we get the time of day?” My heart gave a flip.
“Apparently.”
“What does the time of day entail?”
I shrugged.
“Names, definitely names,” the first guy said. “And phone numbers,” he seemed to add on a whim.
“No way. You earned thirty minutes . . . and names. I’m Amber.”
“I’m Dustin,” the first guy said. Dustin had floppy blond hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. He looked like a guy I played softball with a few years back.
“Antonia,” she said with a small wave.
“Savannah.”
I gave a head nod that I stopped short. “Charlie.”
Redhead waved. “I’m Luke and . . .”
He pointed to the guy sitting next to me and was about to say his name when Hot Guy looked straight at me and said, “I’m Evan.” Evan had beautiful olive skin and deep brown eyes.
“So where are you ladies coming from?” Dustin asked, and I turned my attention away from Evan and back to him.
“A makeup session,” Amber said at the same time I said, “Work.” I did not want to tell these guys what we’d been doing. I was embarrassed. If I could’ve convinced them we had been playing soccer with that much makeup on, I might’ve.
“We work with makeup,” Antonia said, covering for me.
It took a second to realize that these were guys, not my friends. Guys who were trying to pick us up, not ask us if we were interested in a pickup game. They weren’t looking to make fun of me.
“That’s what I meant,” I said. This brought lots of questions about what exactly we did. My eyes kept drifting to the game on the television as the guys asked the stupidest questions ever. The Cubs were down by one and it was the bottom of the ninth. I groaned when Castillo struck out, leaving only one more chance to score. And everybody knew Borbon was not a clutch hitter. Most people in this area were Giants fans, but we were A’s all the way, which was why I was voting for the Cubs.
“This is their last chance to score,” Evan said, pointing at the screen. “They have two outs.”
I almost said “Duh” but bit my tongue. Jerom’s voice echoed through my head: How hard is it to let a guy feel useful every once in a while? So instead I just nodded, because I couldn’t bring myself to say “Please tell me more.” But for some reason he must’ve thought that’s exactly what I meant, because he started explaining the game to me in layman’s terms, saying things like “The guys in the white shirts really need to put that ball over the fence and then they’ll be a shoo-in for the playoffs.” I almost said “Actually, they aren’t anywhere near making the playoffs this year, but at least it will end their three-game losing streak and let them win back a little dignity and some much-needed confidence.” But again, probably not letting him feel useful.
“There, now the coach is telling the pitcher what to throw.” The camera had focused in on the coach.
I knew for a fact that Posey, the Giants’ catcher, called the games. And even if the manager was calling the pitch, as many did, he’d be giving the signals to the catcher, not the pitcher. It was killing me not to correct him, but my brothers would’ve been so proud that I didn’t. The inside of my mouth tasted a bit salty from my teeth clenching down on my cheeks, though.
“You like to watch baseball?” Evan asked.
“Yeah.”
“My dad has four season tickets to the A’s. Maybe we could double sometime with one of your friends.”
I tried to contain the rush of joy that burst in my chest. “Yeah, I have a friend who would love you forever if you took us,” I said, thinking how Braden would owe me big for this. Then it occurred to me, quite suddenly, that Evan probably meant one of my girl friends sitting at the table, not one of my guy friends.
“Yeah?”
I crossed my arms in front of me, realizing I had gripped the edge of the table in my excitement. “Um. I mean, yes, I can probably find a friend to come.”
He grabbed a napkin from the holder. “I guess maybe I should get your number then so I can arrange that.”
I told him my number and he wrote it down, then tucked it in his jeans pocket. Amber gave me a head tilt that seemed to say I gave that away too easily. But she was too busy talking to know I’d just scored A’s tickets. Sure, I’d have to go with Mr. I Will Impart All My Mediocre Knowledge of Baseball to You, but considering he was hot and nice, that was definitely a sacrifice I was willing to make.
Chapter 17
It was midnight. I didn’t think Evan would call at midnight, but I sat at my desk in my room staring at my phone anyway. I should’ve gotten his number so I didn’t have to give up all the control like this. I rubbed my eyes, now makeup-free, and wondered if Evan still would’ve asked for my number if he could see me now: sweats, tangled hair, tired eyes, and all.
My phone chimed and I gasped.
Are you up? It was Braden.
My arms tingled with goose bumps and I rubbed them. Yes. I switched off my lamp, silently accusing myself of leaving it on for Braden in the first place, then made my way outside.
“Where were you all day today?” Braden asked from the other side of the fence.
“I had to work.” If I wanted to tell anyone about my makeup sessions, it was Braden—but I didn’t want to tell anyone.
“All day?”
“I went out afterward.”
“You did?” The surprise in his voice made me realize he thought I meant on a date.
“No, with some girls,” I said quickly.
“You did?” He sounded even more surprised.
I laughed. “Yes. And it was weird.”
“How so?”
“Well, I thought maybe they wouldn’t like me, but they did.”
“Why wouldn’t they like you?”
“Because I don’t know anything about shopping or hair or whatever.”
He laughed. “And you think that’s all girls like to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I thought that’s what normal girls liked.” I didn’t have a frame of reference.
“What do you mean by ‘normal girls’?”
“Girls that aren’t into sports. The only girls I’ve ever hung out with are a lot like me. Big and burly,” I added to lighten the mood that suddenly seemed heavier than I wanted it to.
“You are not big or burly, Charlie. You’re tall and strong. There’s a big difference. And maybe you’re the normal one and those other girls are un-normal.”
I laughed at that as I thought of Amber—the pinnacle of every guy’s dream. “Whatever. It doesn’t bother me. It was just how I felt today. Weird.” But not necessarily bad. I actually liked Amber, and maybe that was weird too. “What about you? What did you do today?”
“Watched an NBA classic.”
“Ugh. I hate watching those.”
“I know.”
I smiled. There was something comforting in that moment about Braden knowing me so well. Maybe it was because
I’d just hung out with a bunch of people who didn’t know me at all. “Really? You know?”
“Yes. You hate them because you already know who wins. But sometimes it’s fun to watch a game when the winner is already determined.”
“Where’s the excitement in that?” I bit my lip, the smile still lingering there. “Was it Jordan?”
“Of course.” I thought I heard a smile in his voice. Maybe he was happy I knew him so well too.
“He is amazing to watch. That fade-away jumper.” I put my hand over my heart even though he couldn’t see me.
“And those are the kinds of things a normal girl should know,” he said.
I laughed. “In your dreams.”
“Then I should probably get to those.” He stood with a grunt. “Good night, Charlie.”
“Did those count as our facts tonight, then?”
“Of course. But if you need another one, you snore in your sleep.”
I gasped. “What?”
“Gage’s room is right next to yours. I think I’ll get you that snoring machine for your birthday.”
“Snoring machine?”
“You know, that machine that has a mask and you wear it at night and it stops you from snoring.”
I knew he was using his hands to try to describe it and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I laughed. I did. “Well, you drool in your sleep.”
“Only when I’m really tired.”
“I think I’m going to get you a drooling machine. It has this mask thing and these straps . . .”
“Funny.”
“I thought so.” I stood, brushed off my flannel pajama bottoms, and walked backward a few steps, my eyes still on the fence.
“Today was boring,” he said. “Don’t work all day again.”
My heart did a flip and I chastised it. He just wanted to play ball or something and had no one around to play with . . . except my brothers and everyone else. “Good night, Braden.” I whirled around and jogged to the house, trying to contain my smile.
I stared intently at the shirts lined up on the rack, their colors blending. Why was I having such a hard time telling Linda I had to quit? Maybe because I sort of liked my job. It was relaxing. The last customer told me I was easy to shop around because I was laid-back and no-pressure, but very helpful. I’d never been told something like that before and it felt good.
“Could you re-dress the window mannequin?” Linda asked.
“Sure.” I turned around and held out my hand, expecting her to have an outfit for me to dress it in. When she didn’t, I was confused. “In what?”
“Why don’t you pick something out? She’s been wearing the same thing for a couple weeks.”
“You don’t want me picking something out.”
“Sure I do.” She pointed to the outfit I wore. I had layered one of the sheer silky shirts she had me buy over a different-patterned tank top I had picked up on my own. I hadn’t been sure if they went together but I thought it looked nice. Was she about to tell me it looked awful? “You’ll do a great job.”
I sighed, then walked the store. I picked a lacy skirt off the far wall and matched it with a summery-looking shirt. As I undressed the window mannequin, I said, “Linda, every summer I go to basketball camp for a week.”
“How fun. I didn’t know you played basketball.”
“Yes. I do. And camp starts in a few weeks.”
“Oh.” She pulled out her purse and dug through it, coming up with a little planner. She flipped the pages. “So what are the dates again?”
“August first through the eighth.”
She wrote something down. “Sounds good. I marked you down for that week off.”
“Oh.” Time off. I liked that idea better. “Thank you.” I continued to unbutton the mannequin’s shirt.
“You may not think you have style, Charlie,” Linda said, appraising the clothes I had hung on the hook next to me, “but that clothing combination isn’t a basic one. You picked up on the lace theme, not the color scheme. That says a lot.”
That compliment shouldn’t have made me so proud. I had probably seen a customer buy this outfit or something.
“Did I tell you that our business is up ten percent since we started stocking the makeup?”
“No, that’s great.” I folded the removed clothes and slid the shirt I had selected over the neck of the headless lady. Then I stared at the white, unbending arm, wondering how I was supposed to get that into the sleeve.
“It is great.” She put her purse back beneath the counter.
“Um . . .” I tried to twist the arm up and it popped off and clanked to the floor.
Linda looked up and laughed when she saw my face. “It pops right back on. You’ll get the hang of it. I’ll be right back.” And with that she disappeared into the back, leaving me with a one-armed mannequin.
I eventually realized the arms had to come off to fit the shirt on, but I had no idea how the skirt would fit over her wide stance. I laid her on her back and kneeled beside her, shimmying the lacy skirt up her legs.
This is how Skye found me when she walked into the store. “Hey, Charlie.”
“Hi. Linda’s in the back.”
We both looked at the half-dressed dummy on the floor then back at each other. Skye laughed.
“Any tips on mannequin dressing?”
“Surprisingly, I’ve never done it before.” She stepped forward and grabbed hold of the legs, trying to shove them together. “Oh. They don’t move.”
“Yeah.”
“Here. I’ll hold her neck and you shove her skirt on.”
“This feels so wrong,” I said as we both took our positions.
“She has no head, so she doesn’t know she’s being violated.”
I laughed and finally got the skirt to her waist. We hoisted her to her feet and both stared at her.
Skye tilted her head. “Are her arms lopsided?” She tried to move the right arm up and it popped off. “I broke her.”
“No, it goes back on.”
She swung the arm and smacked me on the butt with the mannequin’s hand.
“Hey, I have a head and am fully aware when I’ve been violated.”
Skye laughed, and I popped the arm back on and shoved the mannequin into the window before we messed her up even more.
“Thanks for rescuing me.”
“No problem.” Skye headed for the back and Linda, but stopped. “Oh, remember that band I was telling you about? My boyfriend, Henry’s?”
“Yes.”
She pulled a flyer out of her purse and pointed to a picture of a flattened toad on the front. “It’s this Friday. Right up the street. You should come.”
“Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks.”
“No problem.” I watched her walk into the back room. I wondered what she and Linda talked about. How did they have anything in common?
The sound of crinkling paper made me look down. I realized I had the flyer in a death grip. Maybe I should go to this concert. I was a sporting-event type of girl, not a loud-music event one. At least that’s what I had always thought. But here I was standing in this store, in these clothes, hearing the sound of laughter in the back room, and realizing that maybe there was more to me than I realized.
Chapter 18
Just because I decided I would go to the concert didn’t mean I had to go alone. I impulsively called Amber to go with me. I figured she was more the rock-concert type than anyone else I knew.
She was on her way to my house, but I was up in my bedroom, trapped by the sounds of my brothers downstairs. It should’ve been easy for me to march down there in these clothes that I’d been wearing at work for weeks and tell them I was going out. It wasn’t. They still hadn’t seen me like this. And I felt like a fraud. Like this was just me playing pretend. Like they’d call me out on that fact.
Their laug
hter carried into my bedroom even though I had the door tightly shut. They were loud. I looked at my outfit one more time—a pair of skinny jeans and a shirt that showed more of my chest than I was used to showing. My hair hung down my back and actually looked shiny and full today with the help of some tips I’d learned from Amber.
I threw my shoulders back and headed for the door. I could do this. The door handle felt like a weight in my hand, too heavy to turn. Defeat wasn’t usually a feeling I let myself live with, but this time I knew I was beat. I walked to my closet, retrieved an oversized sweatshirt, and threw it on. Then I grabbed an elastic band from my desk, pulled my hair back, and went downstairs.
“Charlie!” Gage said the minute I’d reached the landing. “Hurry, get over here. I just bet Braden I could throw five pieces of popcorn into your mouth in under thirty seconds.”
“What?”
“Stand over there.” He pointed to a spot ten feet in front of him.
I looked at Braden, who was sitting on the couch, his feet on the coffee table. One side of his mouth lifted into a smile. Why did his smile make me want to do this? “He can’t do it,” Braden said.
“Why am I the person who has to be on the receiving end in this bet?”
Gage shrugged. “I don’t know. Braden said it’d be harder or something so I should get you down here. I was just about to text you.”
Braden wanted me down here. I looked at him again.
“I didn’t want grease on my face,” he said, but his cheeks seemed to brighten with a tint of pink. “Just open your mouth. There’s money on the line here.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t have time for you dorks tonight. I’m going out.”
“Where are you going?” Gage asked.
I wanted to tell them where I was going, and if it were just Braden, I might’ve. But I wasn’t ready for questions from Gage. “Work. Inventory.” It hurt me to lie to him like that. We were close. I usually told him everything.
“Have fun.” I started to walk away, thinking I should just turn around and tell them I was going to a concert. Maybe they’d even want to go with me. But then Gage said, “Braden, go stand over there. I can make five pieces.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to lose five bucks?”
