Barbie Girl (Baby Doll Series)

by Heidi Acosta

  No I never do. I cannot afford it, when I do get money it is to buy things like milk for my little brother. “Diet,” I sing.

  Third pushes fries back in my direction. “Please, you need to diet like my pinkie finger needs to diet.” I smile at him and pop a fry in my mouth.

  “So we are still on for this afternoon,” Dylan says staring at the P and J sandwich he just pulled out of his brown paper bag. Regret is written on his face. His mood swings have me backpedalling, trying to remember what I did wrong.

  “Yeah,” I say nonchalantly trying to not let my voice betray the hurt I feel. I reach for the other half of Third’s turkey sandwich. He sighs and hands it over, mumbling about dieting his foot. I do not want to be Dylan’s regret. I need to show him that the kiss was just part of our plan that it did not mean anything…even when it means everything to me. I can pretend. Besides I can’t have feelings for him, this act. It is all to get Katie. I have to remember Katie.

  “So,” Third says trying to fill the awkward silence that is obviously present. We both look at him. More awkward silence, “don’t mean to bring this party down anymore, but Katie is walking over this way.”

  On cue I scoot my chair closer to Dylan and slip my hand in his. He stiffens from my touch. Rigged.

  “Hi Dylan,” Katie stands in front of us patting down an imaginary stray hair. Just once I want to snatch that perfect bun out of her head. See her undone, not the perfect act she puts on. “Mrs. Rita said to talk to you about getting in some extra stage time. She said that you might be able to stay after today and run the lighting cues for me.” She smiles her perfect, white teeth gleaming.

  “Yeah of course, you don’t mind Barbie, do you?” Dylan turns to me. Katie glances nervously in my direction. He is challenging me, seeing what I am going to do. No. I want to scream. “Right babe? You don’t mind me giving Katie some help.” He searches my eyes. He wants to know if this is what he has been waiting for, if it could be the cue for him to work on what I have been tutoring him on.

  “No, not at all,” jealousy is coursing through me. I lean over and kiss him on the check. “It is fine with me.” I say against his cheek and I ache with the touch of him.

  “Great,” she smiles and walks back to her table. I hate her. Dylan gets up and leaves us without a word. I am forgotten. This is for the best, I tell myself.

  Chapter 13.

  Haunted

  I sit in the same seat that I was sitting in when Barbie walked into my life. I cannot seem to get a grip on things, on what I want. She is doing exactly what I was afraid of; she is screwing up my life. I knew what I wanted, where I was going. Now I question everything. Exposing parts of me that I don’t want exposed. I thought I wanted Katie, now I am sitting here comparing her to Barbie. Katie’s red hair hangs in a long pony tail and down her back. It is not as long as Barbie’s. It is not bleached with a stupid pink strip in it. Katie does not twirl a piece of hair around her fingers when she is nervous. What the hell, now I am comparing girls’ hair. I am turning into a teenage girl. I groan.

  “I know I sound horrible. I know.” Katie drops the script in her hand by her side.

  “No you sound great,” I say, even though I didn’t hear a word she said.

  “I just can’t seem to grasp Juliet,” she sighs. “Maybe if you read the part of Romeo,” she says.

  My heart slams into my chest.

  I stand and robotically move up to the stage.

  “Here,” she jogs over and grabs another script flipping through the pages to the spot she was reading from.

  “There is a reason I am behind the curtains and not on stage,” I warn.

  She smiles, “I bet you will do just fine.” Warmth fills me when she smiles. This is right. Being with Katie is right. “Just start at the first passage,” she points to the spot on the page, the smell of jasmine makes me feel dizzy.

  I start reading “Let me stand here till thou remember it,” I read clumsily. “I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.” Her words are a melody clearing my confusion. “And I’ll stay to have thee still forget, forgetting any other home but this.” The words sound wrong coming from my mouth. But Katie sings into her next passage, running to the front of the stage holding her hand out to an invisible audience. “Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no farther than a wanton’s bird.”

  I drop the script to the floor with a load thud. Katie turns and looks at me wearing a shocked expression. I cross the stage and pull her to me. I kiss her, needing her to erase the girl I was seeing while she was reading. I need her to replace that girl. I kiss her, desperate for her to make her go away. I need her to make me forget Barbie.

  * * *

  Kissing Katie was amazing; there were no fireworks just a warm burn in my chest. It felt right. I knew what I wanted and what was right, and it is Katie. I was lost in her. I had a glimpse into her perfect world. Until I started seeing Barbie, the way she laughs with her head tilted back, her huge eyes trying to capture me. The way she smells, the way she tastes. Kissing Katie did not help anything. It only made things worse. I know what I want now, and it is Katie. But Barbie is haunting me. I just need time and space.

  “Whatcha wanna do?” Barbie is lying on Third’s bed, her chin propped in her hands, combat-booted feet swinging back and forth. Third is watching her, the only girl who has touched his bed besides his mom and he is plastered in the corner just staring.

  “It is Friday, pizza and a movie, predator all three of them to be exact.” I say as I stalk Katie’s Facebook.

  “Pizza, yes! Movies, no!” she gets to her knees.

  “Who invited you anyway,” I swivel in my chair to face her. My bad mood slowly increasing. It is going to be impossible to ignore her with her here. She commands attention. I made up my mind there will be no more holding hands, no more tutoring during free period. I will use the excuses of needing to work on the lighting for the upcoming play.

  “Third did.” She shoots death rays at me from her eyes. I shut down the laptop. “We are supposed to be a couple, and that’s what couples do, hang out, go to parties, get busy in their best friend’s bed,” she winks.

  I roll my eyes at her. “Well we are not a real couple,” I point out.

  “Well what kind of boyfriend would you be if you let me show up at Byron’s parents ‘trying to rekindle their romance in Tennessee’ party alone?” She hops off the bed and examines the poster of the girl in a skimpy bikini. “This is degrading,” she says.

  I snort; this is coming from girl who is wearing a skin-tight T-shirt dress that leaves little to the imagination, and a pair of red and blue striped gym socks up to her knees in her combat boots. She glares at me again. I am about to explain to her why we will not be attending. On top of the list is how just last year Bryon’s favorite game was called how many juiced-up football players will it take to stuff a fat kid in a locker, when Third pipes up, “A party?”

  A light goes off in Barbie eyes, “Yeah with beer, music, and girrrls,” she sings, crossing the room to poke Third in the stomach.

  “See ya later, Mrs. Cruz,” Barbie says around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies. Third’s mother was so excited that he was going out that she packed us goodie bags and handed him a fistful of cash, she even gave him the keys to her new minivan. “Third, your mom freaking rocks,” she licks her fingers. “What the hell does she bake into these cookies? Little pieces of heaven? Crack?” She licks the side of her mouth that has chocolate stuck to it. “No I think just sugar and vanilla,” her laughter fills the car.

  Cars are lined around the block; we park a block over and walk. I watch nervously as a pair of senior girls stumble down the street. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. This is the first party I have been to that did not have a piñata and cake. “Now boys,” she drapes her arms over us as we make our way up the walkway. “The only piece of advice I have is be yourselves, and try to have fun.” Now it is my turn to laugh. B
arbie disappears after informing us the beer is out by the pool. She probably went off to go find her drug dealer.

  I have only seen parties like this in movies and I have to say they portray them quite accurately; the house is crammed with bodies holding plastic red cups, bad music pumps through speakers. There is a makeshift dance floor in the living room where girls are grinding with each other as if they moonlight as exotic dancer after high school and cheer practice. Light spills out onto the back porch where a few of the football team and cheer squad are skinny dipping. We make our way over to the beer; we give the kid three bucks for a foamy half cup of bear. We go back inside not wanting to seem like pervs, but I do take a double take. Third’s mouth is hanging open, real girl boobs that are not on a computer screen. Third’s mouth has not shut since our arrival. Barbie is dancing with a girl with short hair, rainbow-colored hair and a dress shorter than Barbie’s.

  “Can you believe this?” Third shouts over the music head bopping.

  “No actually I can’t,” I say annoyed. I do not want to be here, drinking crappy beer, listening to even crappier music. This only confirms I should be with Katie would never come to some— “Dylan.”

  Katie wraps her arms around my middle. She has on khaki pants and a pink sweater; her eyes the same red color as the cup she holds. “Katie.” I am shocked. I have not spoken to her since we kissed. I have been trying to figure what is going on with me. We stare at each other as awkward silence adds to the tension between us. Does she regret the kiss or has she been thinking about it like me.

  “I am going to get another beer,” Third slips into the crowd. “So what are you doing here?” I ask nervously.

  “The same thing you are.”

  Oh yeah. I am the king of lame. “So did you come with Barbie,” she takes a step toward me. She is so close I can smell her perfume and it is over powering my senses. Did she always wear this much perfume?

  “Barbie?” I ask my heart pounding from the closeness. She nods and I point to where Barbie is dancing on the dance floor. She has her hands above her head and she shakes her hips back and forth in her way too short dress. She swings her hair back and forth. A group of guys are staring at her hoping to get a glimpse of something more. Possessiveness flares up inside of me, she is going to not only take me to my first high school party, but she is also going to get me in my first fight.

  “Yeah,” I spit out. “I am here with Barbie.” She is supposed to be my girlfriend, a shiver runs through me. She is supposed to be mine.

  “She is…umm…interesting.”

  I glance at Katie out of the corner of my eye. She is looking at Barbie with disgust written all over her face. Barbie spots us and waves me over; I shake my head in defiance. She can keep dancing for those guys. She is not my girlfriend. She starts to dance over to us, her eyes lock on mine and I am frozen locked in place I am like the praying mantis right before his mate chops off his head and eats him. Nature is cruel. I can sense Katie stiffen next to me. Barbie is killing me and it’s clear with the seductive smile she wears she is taking great pleasure in doing so. I am crashing and burning She has me drowning. I forget all about the rigged Katie who stands next to me. I am transfixed on this odd creature in front of me. I can’t look away.

  The music changes to some pop song; she stops dancing and claps her hand. “You have to dance with me. This is my favorite song,” she squeals and pulls me out to the makeshift dance floor. Funny when I picture her dancing around her room it is to death metal not a Britney Spears song. I have no choice in the matter, my body no longer mine to command, I follow her.

  Chapter 14.

  Dilemma

  The song is the most annoying song I have ever heard. Part of me asked Dylan to dance to make Katie jealous, to play my part. The other part of me was jealous watching him talk to her. I have been trying to give him space, let my head clear from the current state of fog I have been drifting through. But feelings aside, I got asked today if I dumped Dylan. Not good for his rep if he wants to bag the hag.

  “Loosen up,” I say through a smile. Dylan is as stiff as one of his number two pencils he carries in his Star Trek pencil case. He jerks around in weird jerky movements next to me.

  “Excuse me for not being America’s next best dancer,” he says grumpily.

  “So you think you can dance,” I correct him.

  “Huh?”

  I shake my head, “Never mind. Look just relax. Here give me your hand.”

  Now he shakes his head at me. “You love to ruin any moment I am having with Katie.” He does not seem upset. I give him a small smile. I don’t give into temptations to make crying noises at him like a baby.

  “Why can’t you see brilliance to my madness? I have it all planned, you will have her by the end of the week.” I grab his hand and try to help him move. Once he stops fighting me he is not half bad, not great but not that bad. I dance around him. “I can’t believe my eyes. Dylan Knight at a party dancing with a girl,” I poke him in his side. He looks at me with a look of contempt on his face. I dance around him. Getting him the attention of Katie is in the corner giving me the stank eye with her minions. A small flutter of victory flutters inside me.

  The song turns to a slow dance. We stop, standing amongst couples coming together to dance. I look up in his deep chocolate eyes. The ball is in your court. What are you going to do?

  “It is a slow dance.” He tosses the ball back to me, his eyes bearing down at me, challenging me.

  “Dylan…” I hesitate teetering on doing what my body screams for me to do and what my heart is pleading me not to do. I disregard both. “And I am supposed to be your girlfriend, you want to slow dance with me.” His face becoming a mask I cannot decipher. “Let me guess, you never slow danced before either. Gissh” I try to change the somber mood between us.

  He looks at me, “Yes I have.” Then he mumbles something incoherent.

  “What?” I lean in closer.

  “I said with my mom at my cousin’s wedding.”

  I burst out laughing taking a step back.

  “I am not doing this,” he turns and tries to walk off the dance floor but I grab his hand and pull him back.

  “I am sorry okay, now will you just dance with me. Pretend like I am your mom,” I snicker. “Okay I am sorry,” I say, his scornful look falling on me, I give him a grin. “Here,” I place his hands on my waist and wrap my arms around his neck. “It is easy just sway with me.” Katie is glaring at us from the distance. Those types of girls are all the same, dangle the bait just out of their reach and they will be chomping at it trying to get a bite.

  I lay my head on his shoulder as we rock back and forth. I close my eyes listening to the sound of his heartbeat, steady, strong.

  “Barbie?” my name rumbles deep in his chest.

  “Hmmm,” I say not wanting to move and break the slow current of electricity that is stirring within me.

  “Nothing,” he rests his chin on top of my head and pulls me closer. The song changes back into a techno beat, but we stay like that swaying to the sound of his heartbeat.

  “Holy shit balls!” Third drapes a heavy arm over us, pulling us into a sweaty hug. Third’s pants are hanging lower than normal; his Batman boxers are exposed for everyone to see. People clear away from him. He is soaking wet with sweat and beer. “Where have you guys been?” Third lays his head on Dylan’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “I love you guys,” he slurs. Great, Third has turned from geek who has not seen this much fun since he went Comic Con. Except this time his fun was with beer and not trying to sneak into Stan Lee’s dressing room. I have seen this phase before often he is in ‘I love you stage.’

  “Do you know that if you drink beer in a head stand, it’s like you’re flying.” His eyes open and he spots me. Joy. “Barbie!” He leaves Dylan’s now wet shoulder and leans into me. I stumble under his weight. “I think you are the best. Dylan is a dumbass he should forget about that… that…” he stumbles.

 
“Katie,” I help.

  His mouth drops open like I am the smartest person, not just finishing a drunk’s stammering statement. “Yeah Katie,” he scrunches up his face. “Hey! Doyoulike…beer?” a sloppy smile pulls on his mouth. “Come flywithme….” He slurs.

  I am now almost supporting all his weight and my knees feel like they are about to buckle. Okay time to get this big boy moving, party over. “Sure,” I pat him on his stomach. “I like to fly.” Then it happens, he skips right over the flying phase, leans over and pukes.

  Hauling Third outside is no light task. We try to guide a him over the cobblestone walk way, without him falling because if he falls there is no way we are getting him back up. We make it to his mother’s minivan basically unharmed except for my back which I don’t think will ever be straight again.

  “Barbieee,” he slurs. “You are really cool giiirrrlll…and…” I wait for another string of I love you’s. He looks at me, his eyes glassed over. Shit. He vomits twice on my shoes then crawls into the back seat for the final phase, he passes out.

  Chapter 15.

  Mistakes

  I drive slowly on our way back to Third’s trying to give Third a 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 what I thought she was; she is different. Each one of my opinions 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 like taking care of 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 idea of a good time. Not only did he manage to puke on her shoes twice, missing mine entirely. He even puked down the front of her dress. Most girls would be running for the hills, but Barbie… She just patted him on the back telling him to “Get it all out.”