Dolphin Girl

by Shel Delisle

  “Me either.” I flip the last buckle into place and pull my hair back, twisting it into a ponytail.

  Lexie jams her purse and shoes into one of the lockers, reaching for my stuff. She feeds in quarters, pulls the key and hands it to me.

  I tuck it into my front pocket for safekeeping, and spy Sam walking through the automatic doorway from the public rink. He’s easy to spot because he towers over everyone and doesn’t wobble once as he walks on skates over to us. “Remember, I’m going to wave at you if we’re talking about the Winter Ball or if I’m inviting him to the preserve. So don’t skate up, okay?” I whisper.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You told me.”

  Be cool, be cool. I shiver and don’t know if it’s the rink or Sam.

  “Hey Sam!” I give a dorky little wave.

  That. Was. Not. Cool.

  “Janey.” Sam draws me into an embrace. My sweatshirt feels cozy against his sweatshirt.

  “Hi Lexie,” Sam says over my shoulder, still holding on. He lets go and bends over, giving Lexie a quick hug.

  The three of us clump from the lobby with me as the most unsteady member of our trio. At the edge of the rink, skaters fly by at an alarming speed. Lexie steps on to the ice, pushes off hard and merges.

  “Hey, I thought you said you couldn’t skate,” I yell at her back.

  She shrugs, palms up as she nears the corner.

  “Ready?” Sam asks. He steps aside to let me onto the ice first. Why is he hanging with me?

  My feet slip and I windmill my arms to stay upright. Somehow I manage to keep my balance.

  “I knock you off your feet.” Sam laughs. He has no idea. Grasping my elbow, he steps onto the ice next to me. “Have you skated before?”

  I take choppy baby steps as more experienced skaters fly by us. “Not since a scavenger hunt in seventh grade. Alana was the one who added skating to the list.”

  In the middle of the rink, Alana is entertaining a group of Trophy-Casers with a variety of spins. Instead of dressing like the rest of us — in jeans and sweatshirts — she’s wearing black tights and a fluffy white top that looks like she’s got the Easter Bunny hopping across her chest. I’m shocked Sam isn’t with that crowd.

  “I didn’t know you used to be friends with her.”

  I think about this. At least he understands we aren’t friends now.

  “Yeah, through middle school. We hung out all the time — sleepovers and stuff. But after we got to high school I guess you could say we drifted apart. We’re in different pods now, y’know?”

  “Pods?” Sam asks. It’s totally quiet for an extremely long, uncomfortable moment.

  “That’s what I call it. Like, you’re in the trophy case pod because that’s where you hang out when you’re not in class. Lexie and I are in the water fountain pod.”

  “So, what do you call this when we’re skating together?”

  Are we skating together? Sam’s much more comfortable on the skates, but his feet glide at my speed. It’s nice he’s going slowly for me, but I am holding him back.

  “Inter-pod mingling.” I laugh because it sounds so stupid.

  Sam wraps his arm around my waist for a second to help me keep my balance. “You have a different way of looking at things,” he says. “I hang there because Travis hangs there, and we’ve been friends since we munched glue sticks together. But right now, I’m hanging with you.”

  I try to make my feet glide the way Sam’s do, but they won’t cooperate. Lexie flies by me, her short blond hair ruffled by her speed. I want that kind of speed, especially tonight in my first night free from prison

  “It’s still inter-pod mingling,” I say.

  Sam snorts and rests his tongue on his chipped tooth. It’s quiet until he asks, “If Eminem married John Candy?”

  “Cute,” I say.

  We skate around and around. I try to make my feet glide again and it works — kinda.

  “You’re getting it.” Sam releases my elbow, and I smile at him.

  My shins ache because my legs won’t relax. It’s hard work trying to keep your balance. The bleachers are alluring and I’d like to take a break, but don’t want to leave Sam’s side.

  Alana flies across the middle of the rink and executes a little shoosh move to stop right in front of us. It startles me so much, I nearly fall. She grabs both of Sam’s hands and skates away — backwards — pulling him from me. My equilibrium is gone.

  Lexie zips up to me. “I think he’s gonna ask you. I swear, Jane, the way the two of you look together, it’s like you’re already a couple. It’s like, like you belong together.”

  I smile, but it’s skimpy, like the outfit Alana’s wearing as she skates Sam around. As they pass us, Sam lets go of her hands and grabs one of mine.

  Lexie winks at me before she heads to the far end of the bleachers to hang with Lucas, Willow and Tara, who are camping out there. All along the length of the bleachers are clusters of kids: a group from the bulletin board, a group from the trophy case, even a small group from the science lab.

  I wave at my water fountain friends. Lexie clasps her hands overhead in a victory move.

  Oh, God. She thinks I’m giving her the signal.

  Sam puts an arm around my shoulder. I lean into him; my shins are fine now. I could skate for days. Lexie’s pointing at us and doing a bootie dance. She definitely thinks we’re having a vital conversation.

  My internal chicken says, “Bwauck! What the cluck!” and I blurt, “Hey wanna see the place I escape to when I go all dolphin-esque? It’s this cool preserve no one knows about not too far from school.”

  Sam’s face is a question mark.

  “It’s really incredible. You’ll feel a million miles away. There are osprey and turtles and real ducks, not warty, parking-lot ducks.” I shut up before I really start blabbering.

  “Sure, okay,” Sam says. “When?”

  What’s my schedule? I hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Well, I’ve got yearbook stuff every day except Friday. Can you do it then? After school?”

  “Sounds good. A little inter-pod mingling.”

  Suddenly it feels like I am skating with Lexie’s swiftness and Alana’s poise. I can’t believe it was that easy. Why did I wait so long?

  CHAPTER TEN

  After Bio on Friday, Sam walks me to my locker before we head to the preserve. We pass a sign in the main hall for this year’s Snow Ball.

  He points. “Tickets went on sale today.”

  The Snow Ball is one more excuse for Trophy-Casers to mingle. As for me? I’ve never been.

  We walk three more steps before I manage, “Are you going?” I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

  “Probably. I mean, I think so. I haven’t actually asked anybody yet.”

  Who does he want to take? Who? Who? I spin the combination and try to focus on my book swap.

  “It’s just that the girl I want to take, um, I don’t know if she’d be into — you know — the Snow Ball or stuff like that.”

  I pause, my hand hovering over the math text. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Well, um, she’s kinda independent and not princess-y. I mean, the Ball is formal. I’m not sure. She might think it’s stupid or something.” Sam’s voice trails off.

  Is he talking about me?

  While facing him, I stuff the math book into the backpack. “I bet she’s into it. I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t want to go.” I hope, for a minute, I’m not boosting his confidence to ask someone else.

  “That’s good to know,” Sam says.

  I close the door and spin the lock.

  We walk out the school into the blinding afternoon sunlight — a perfect day for the preserve. I reach into my backpack for a pair of sunglasses.

  “Hey, Sam! Come check out my new ride,” Alana leans over from the driver’s seat to yell out the passenger window of a lime green Beetle. Chase stands next to the car, and Ashley sticks her head into the open passenger window.

  M
y heart turns a green several shades darker than the Beetle. It’s so unfair. Mom and Dad won’t give me a car until I’m a senior. Plus, if John’s car is any indication, mine will be an all-star candidate for Pimp My Ride.

  Bagging the preserve would be the right course of action because Alana hasn’t summoned me. I’m about to say, “See you Monday,” but Sam grabs my elbow and steers me toward her car instead of letting me drift away.

  Alana yells once more. “Sam, get in. It’s so hot. My parents just bought it for me as a combo birthday-early Christmas present.”

  Sam smiles at me and ducks into the car. Maybe he’s being polite. Inside the Bug, he’s cramped — legs compressed, knees poking up. Ashley hangs in the window while I hang back.

  This is a level of inter-pod mingling I hadn’t expected.

  Part of me wants to leave since Alana is making zero effort to include me and I feel totally out of place. But the other part wants to stay because Sam and I are going to the preserve once he’s done complimenting her wheels.

  The stay part wins.

  Ashley covers the passenger door lock and smiles at Sam mischievously. “Ask her.”

  “Ask me what?” Alana gapes, blinks slowly and grips the steering wheel. She’s so coy; too coy.

  “Yeah, ask her what?” Sam says.

  There’s something about this entire scene that feels surreal — I’m having an out-of-body experience. It’s really only an out-of-pod experience though, because I don’t get Alana and Ashley’s inside joke. What’s even stranger is that it seems like Sam is confused too.

  “You know, ask her.”

  Sam shakes his head slowly and gives Ashley, then Chase an evil eye.

  “Sam wants to ask you to the dance. He’s chicken,” Ashley says.

  No! That’s not what’s supposed to happen. He’s supposed to ask me. Sam has surprise on his face and there’s something else I can’t quite read.

  Alana reacts quickly, almost like she’d expected this to happen. “Of course I’ll go with you, Sam. Why would you be afraid?”

  “I wasn’t.” Sam glares at Chase while Alana and Ashley giggle.

  The sun beats down, and I feel dizzy, like I might lose my lunch in the parking lot. I’m thankful for the sunglasses, willing myself not to cry in front of them.

  Alana strokes her steering wheel. “Great. It’s settled then. I’ll drive.”

  This reminds me of the time in first grade when a kid walked up, took a lollipop out of my hand and just walked away. I couldn’t believe it then, and I can’t believe it’s happening now.

  Except this time, my lollipop is Sam.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a shape approaching us. It’s Travis. This makes it official. What should have been one of the best afternoons — Sam and I at the preserve — has turned into one of the worst, spent in the company of my least favorite Trophy-Casers.

  “What’s happenin’?” Travis asks as he struts up to us.

  Ashley bounces on her toes and hugs Chase. “Sam just asked Alana to the Snow Ball.” Her tone declares, “isn’t that just the best thing ever?”

  Travis pulls his head back like he’s been slapped and stares at Sam, who won’t look up from his own feet. Clearly I’m not the only one out of the loop here.

  I want to make my feet move but they won’t, which might be a blessing. If they had, I probably would’ve run away.

  Sam looks at Travis and lets himself out of Alana’s car. “See ya',” he says to all of us, and then he takes huge, rapid strides across the parking lot like he’s trampling something.

  Now my feet work. “See ya,” I say, hoping to catch Sam. But he moved too fast and is already crossing the street. To catch him I need to run, but I can’t make myself do that.

  “Hey Sam, wait up.” My voice isn’t loud enough, and he pulls away. Giving up, I slow my pace. The tears come.

  A flash of lime green catches the corner of my eye and I hear a screech of tires. I hadn’t seen the car and it barely missed me. Alana powers down the window. “Hey! Be careful Jane, I almost ran you over.” She speeds off.

  Almost? Isn’t that exactly what happened?

  ~~~

  Sam motions at me as I walk into the lunchroom on Monday. A creature of habit, I get tuna and juice then slouch to our table, setting the tray down harder than I intend. He raises his eyebrows and gives me a big chipped-tooth smile as if everything is hunky dory.

  I grunt and semi-smile.

  “How was your weekend?” he asks.

  It sucked, it sucked, it sucked. Rubbing my head to drive the thought away, I muster every bit of courage and say, “Hey, what happened on Friday?”

  “Sorry. I had to get out of there. I know we were supposed to go to that preserve.”

  “I went anyway.” I regret the words the instant they’re uttered. I sound angry and bratty.

  After Alana nearly squished me like a bug with her Beetle, my feet took over and led me directly to the preserve. With or without Sam I needed to go, because with my yearbook responsibilities and family stuff, I hadn’t been in what seemed like forever. Once there, I went straight to the end of the dock, skipping the way I usually admire all the changes along the path. I sat and surveyed the marsh.

  But the feeling of tranquility wouldn’t come.

  I pulled my sketchbook from the backpack and tried to capture the way the water flowed in and out of the wetlands on the far western edge. On the page, the wetlands looked spiky and sharp as spears, and the water looked solid — more like the ice rink than the preserve. Gently closing my eyes, I tilted my face toward the sky and took several deep breaths. When I opened them, black storm clouds were moving in from the west.

  “I didn’t stay long,” I say to Sam to smooth things over. “The weather turned bad.”

  He nods. We eat and don’t talk. In our silence I hear the clink of silverware, the hum of conversation, the sound of trays being dropped in the dishwashing chute. It’s awkward, so unlike typical lunches.

  Finally I say, “So you’re going to the Ball with Alana, huh?”

  Sam focuses on his tray, nodding. “Do you have a date yet?”

  “What do you think?” I maul my tuna.

  He plays with the food on his plate. “Travis wants to take you to the dance.”

  I stop chewing and cover my mouth as if someone has given me horrifying news about a mutual friend. In a way they have. I’ve spent more time with Travis this year than I want, and it’s only been ten minutes here or fifteen minutes there.

  “I know you don’t know him very well—”

  “I never said that,” I explain. “He’s actually the first guy I ever kissed.” The only guy I ever kissed.

  Sam’s brows crease. “I didn’t know you two, um, went out.”

  “Well, it was a long time ago — in first grade. At recess I cornered him by the jungle gym and planted a big one on his cheek.”

  “Lucky guy.”

  I swallow my sandwich, not responding because Sam just said Travis was lucky.

  “He’s a good person,” Sam continues his pitch. “Listen, Travis doesn’t have a date and neither do you. And, you are two of my most favorite people. C’mon.” He gives me a puppy dog look.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t think we’re—” I use my sandwich to push potato chips around on my plate— “compatible.”

  “I know, but I thought it might work out if we go together.”

  “Go together?”

  “Yeah. We’ll all go to dinner and sit together at the Ball. Travis actually wanted to take Alana and that way he can spend some time with her. And we’ll get to dance together, even if I’m not Elvis and you’re not Dolphin Girl.”

  I don’t know what to say, but my heart is doing a little cha-cha. Over the weekend, after I knew Sam was not an option, I tried to think of someone, anyone at all that I’d go with and came up with only two possibilities: Nigel Chang or Brendon/Brandon — as friends only.

  But Nige
l’s a burnout. Plus, I’d need to learn Brendon/Brandon’s name to make that option work. So it seemed more likely that if I attended the Snow Ball, it’d be as a photographer for the yearbook. A witness to the winter mating ritual of Western Everglades High.

  “We’ll go to dinner together?”

  “Alana and Ashley already picked Chez Antonio’s.”

  “Really?” In my mind’s eye, Sam and I are in this romantic, dimly lit restaurant, laughing and chatting. Alana, Travis, Ashley and Chase are only hazy images on the fringe. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and seal my fate. “Okay.”

  “You’ll go with him?”

  “Yes, I’ll go.”

  “Awesome!” Sam looks like himself for the first time today. “Travis is gonna ask you, probably before the end of the day.”

  I don’t actually share his excitement. Because even though this could be the perfect fix, the worry wart side of me is saying what if, what if? The answer always involves… Travis. If I’d had the freedom to choose how this all went it would have involved the preserve, a kiss from Sam and him all to myself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Why does it always feel like a battle to not crumble under the force of conformity?

  “Irwin, look how great these candid shots are.”

  “We always use group shots as the dominant photo,” Irwin says for the bazillionth time as he folds his arms in front of his chest.

  “I know we’ve always used them before, but they’re boring. I know you see this. Remember how you said my swim meet shots lacked excitement?”

  He relaxes a little when I say this. “It’s not my call.”

  “I know it’s not. I’m just asking you to back me on this when I present it to the page editors.” Never in a million years when I agreed to take this job did I anticipate caring about yearbook layout templates. “I just think the kids who buy the yearbooks would find a photo like this—” I hold up a candid of a service club member with his face painted like a clown— “more interesting than this.” In my other hand, I hold up a photo of some kids sitting on the floor in front of others sitting on chairs. Everyone’s legs are angled to the right.