The Queen of Kentucky

by Alecia Whitaker

  “Ooh, I’d like to get her alone in the locker room,” he says, licking his lips and looking out the window at a senior girl in the parking lot.

  And then he says things like that.

  “Ricki Jo!” my mamaw yells.

  That woman has the loudest voice from here to Timbuktu, and she trills my name at the top of her lungs. She is waiting for me when I step outside of school at the end of the day, her sturdy frame standing by the passenger door of my papaw’s small truck, waving. Yes, waving—wildly, with both arms in the air, and catching herself on the door when she loses her balance.

  Mortified, I attempt a nonchalant wave to the other girls on my squad. Practice actually went well today. I like the girls and I’m on top of all the pyramids, which is cool.

  What is not cool is my grandmother shouting my name and motioning at me like an escaped mental patient who has taken a day job landing planes. I sprint over to their truck, which is parked diagonally across two handicapped spots, as quickly as I can.

  “I’m here, gosh! Stop yelling,” I say.

  “Come here, baby,” she says, and before I know it, she’s pressing me against her massive bosom in a bear hug, slapping my back and cooing into my ear. “You’re Mamaw’s baby, ain’t ya? Yes, Mamaw’s sure happy to see you.”

  There is no escape. Because I am too short and scrawny and no match for her brute grandchild-love strength, I wait it out. As soon as I feel her loosen up the tiniest bit, I pull away and throw my backpack in the bed of the truck. Since it’s not an extended cab, it’s a tight fit. I slide onto the bench seat next to my papaw, a thick, quiet man who has both hands on the wheel, even when the truck is in park. Once Mamaw’s eased her body onto the seat, pinning me in so tightly that a seat belt would just be redundant, we head out of the parking lot and onto the open road. Mamaw and Papaw have agreed to take me shopping for Mackenzie’s birthday present, and we’re heading out to The Square at the breakneck speed of thirty-four miles per hour.

  “Slow down, Frank,” my mamaw commands, patting my knee. “We’ve got precious cargo.”

  He eases up on the gas and I throw my head back and close my eyes, anxious and frustrated. I have to find the perfect gift and I have to find it today. The party is in twenty-four hours and it’ll probably take that long just to cross town!

  I begged my momma to take me back to Lexington, but there was no way. By the time she got off work, picked me up, and drove me up to the mall, it’d be closing. Short notice doesn’t work in this town, but I guess Mackenzie will catch on soon enough. ’Til then, my grandparents are my best bet.

  As Mamaw starts singing a little a capella Hank Williams Sr., I focus on the task at hand. Against the backs of my eyelids, I use imaginary chalk to calculate just how much money I have and how much I can afford to spend on a gift for Mackenzie. I blew most of my savings on the shopping spree of the century last Saturday, so my cash situation is a little tight. I’ve got forty-five dollars to show for an entire summer of breaking my back in the hot sun. JV girls don’t cheer at away games, so cheering won’t cost me anything, but as a member of the student body, I totally plan on supporting our school at all the Varsity games, which means I’ll need moolah for tickets and concessions. Plus, if I keep making friends (or even snag a boyfriend!), I’ll need an emergency fund in the event of their birthdays.

  Friends are expensive, but important. I decide I can spend fifteen dollars.

  As Papaw deftly pulls into The Square’s parking lot, I look around at our meager selection. Walmart is the shopping center’s anchor, while a long strip mall juts out from either side filled with a Fashion Bug, a stromboli shop, a bank, a Sally Beauty Supply, and a few locally owned shops. There are also some clothing stores, but I don’t know Mackenzie’s size and, let’s face it, I’m no fashionista. I could probably find something at Sophie’s Candle, but a candle seems so… anybody. And at Linda’s Card Shoppe, I could get a pretty picture frame, which promises the hope of future photo ops together, but that may be presumptuous.

  “You wanna just go right to Wally World?” Papaw asks, steering the pickup in that direction. Walmart is his favorite store of all time. He power walks the large aisles every morning and then makes excuses throughout the day to go back, always running into people he knows and keeping his finger on the pulse of small-town life.

  “Um, I don’t know,” I answer, looking around The Square.

  I am starting to sweat. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t move or because I have no idea what I should buy for my new BFF. Seems like Best Friends Forever should have an idea of each other’s interests, but I was only just informed of this development in our friendship a few days ago. I’m sure we’ll learn all about each other at the sleepover, but in the meantime, I’ll have to get creative with what I know so far: She likes cheerleading, she has pierced ears, and she is from Minnesota.

  It’s not a lot to go on.

  Finally, I give in to my papaw’s longing gaze and we head over to Walmart. Right away, Mamaw chats up the greeter and Papaw makes a beeline for the fish and tackle department. I head straight to electronics, my stomach in knots. I see Mrs. Wilkes waiting for her photos and duck behind a video-game machine so she doesn’t see me. Whenever I see my teachers out in the real world I clam up, get a sort of weird feeling, and look for the nearest exit.

  “I love this movie! Oh my god, it’s a classic!” I hear a girl squeal from behind me. She’s in electronics, holding up a copy of Mean Girls and waiting for her friends’ reactions. I see college girls, a whole gaggle of them in matching sorority sweatshirts, giggling over by the DVDs. College girls! Experts in all things cool! They’re like a light at the end of the tunnel. I wander closer, feigning interest in the new releases but staying close and taking notes.

  “No, what about this?” another girl answers, grabbing Dirty Dancing.

  “Ladies, we need something dramatic, maybe something we all saw together, but with lots of eye candy,” says a beautiful girl who is obviously their ring leader. She stares at the movies, concentrating fiercely, and then picks up a movie with Channing Tatum on the cover. They all squeal and jump around. I smile. That’s the exact reaction I want from the birthday girl.

  Once they’re gone, I fly over to the stand and grab the last copy of the very same movie, Dear John. I heard this movie was actually kind of sad, but I also read that Channing Tatum is shirtless most of the time, so I guess that’s the appeal. Maybe we’ll even watch it after the party when I sleep over, although I’ll totally act like I saw it in the theater.

  Skipping through the store to the birthday-card section, I grab a gift bag and find a great card: a sexy lifeguard with oiled-up abs. Perfect! I search the store for my grandparents and then wrangle them back to the front, confident in my mature, yet fun, gift—a college-approved movie.

  “Twenty-one-oh-nine,” the checkout girl slurs, going to town on a huge wad of blue gum.

  The total is a tad out of my budget, what with the DVD, card, and gift bag. I hesitate a second before grabbing a few more bills from my billfold. “Never thought I’d say this,” I say to my mamaw, who is hovering over me, “but I can’t wait for strippin’ season.”

  The girl gives me my change and I grab my purchases, keeping both hands full in case Mamaw tries to hold one as we head for the parking lot.

  “Mamaw thought you hated workin’ in tobacco, honey,” she says, third person being her favorite point of view.

  “Yeah, well, Mamaw’s right,” I say. “But Ericka doesn’t like being broke.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  The outside of the rink is plain; it’s an old building with white paint peeling off. The sign out front is faded from the sun and doesn’t look to have been repainted since this place opened in the seventies. But the inside…

  I walk through the front door and feel butterflies swarm through my stomach. Pop music blares from the speakers, and kids are everywhere. I get in line with Luke to wait for our skates and
stare out at the roller rink, checking out the competition. I don’t know if Mackenzie invited Luke because he’s my friend and therefore hers, too, or if it’s because Laura has a crush on him. Either way, I’m glad he’s here.

  “You know, you clean up nice,” I tease him. He’s wearing a pair of distressed jeans that look like they were bought that way, but I know they were actually worn in by long days working on the farm. And he’s wearing a button-up, albeit a really casual one, but the pastel blue looks really nice with his eyes and light hair. I hardly ever see him in anything other than a T-shirt of some kind, so I can’t help but rib him just a little.

  “Yeah, I just hope the ladies can keep their hands to themselves,” he says, popping his collar.

  I roll my eyes and fake gag, and he blushes a little and shakes his head. We both crack up.

  “Ericka!”

  I turn at the sound of my name as Mackenzie hobbles over to me on her skates.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” she says.

  She hugs me and almost falls. I steady her, while trying to keep my own tennis-shoed feet out from under her wheels.

  “Happy birthday!” I say. “It looks amazing in here!”

  The space has been completely transformed. Pink streamers stretch from corner to corner and wind around the rails of the rink. Giant columns of pink and white balloons are tied up outside the skating area, and the entire ceiling is covered with more balloons. Blown-up pictures of Mackenzie are taped up on the walls, and the cake is definitely not a grocery-store job. This party is the real deal.

  Mackenzie grabs my shoulder and rolls forward with me as the line we’re waiting in for our skates dwindles. Her head is on swivel mode as she takes in the party and her guests, flashing a perfect smile at anyone who makes eye contact.

  “There’re a lot of people here,” I comment, absorbing the scene with a little more awe.

  “Get your skates!” the overjoyed birthday girl squeals.

  I giggle and turn to the counter.

  “Six and a half,” I say to the owner, who I’ve known since I was little.

  “Try not to be a show-off, kid,” he says with a wink, and passes me a cute white pair of roller skates with pom-pom shoelaces.

  “Wait, are you good?” Mackenzie asks, looking almost worried.

  Before I can answer, though, an older girl from her cheerleading squad rolls up a few people away and yells her name. Mackenzie screams and hobbles toward her, grabbing every shoulder waiting in line to pull herself forward until she finally dives into the girl’s embrace.

  The truth? I’m magic on eight wheels. My momma and daddy met at this roller rink and bring us skating about once a month for “family time.” I can skate backward and spin around like a ballerina in a jewelry box, and I always win the limbo. (It helps that I’m already the closest to the floor at my full height.)

  I settle down on a wooden bench that skirts the rink and feel my adrenaline pumping. I can’t get my skates on fast enough, but Luke looks a little worried.

  “I hope I don’t break my neck,” he says, eyeing his skates dubiously.

  I smile encouragingly. “You’ll be great.”

  From the looks of our fellow classmates, he’s not the only rookie in the room. Some kids are getting around okay, but I can see the fear in their eyes. A couple of girls look like they’re on tiptoe, walking around on their front wheels and brakes. Lots of kids skate with their arms out wide, poised to catch themselves in case of a fall. I make a mental note to avoid those particular skaters, ’cause those are the ones who will take the closest kid down with them.

  “What’s up, Ricki Juana?” my favorite Spanish partner asks as I finish lacing my skates. Wolf leans against the rail and looks down at me with his full-on sexy grin. He’s wearing a classic plaid shirt under a vintage A&F hoodie, looking ultra-fine and somehow managing to pull off cargo shorts with roller skates. I get a whiff of his cologne and my hands shake a little. “You gonna save a skate for me later?”

  Luke grunts as he pushes himself up off the bench, gives Wolf a curt head nod, and wobbles out into the throng looking a little bit like a baby giraffe taking its first steps. Usually, I’m self-conscious around Wolf, all nerves, but today the nerves feel more like adrenaline. I’m in my new dark boot-cut jeans and a flirty pink tank with sheer petal details around the neckline. I feel pretty and know I can skate, so I stand and put a hand on my hip, looking up at Wolf with more confidence than I’ve ever had around him.

  “Think you can keep up?” I tease and circle around him in a flash, my skates pointed outward.

  “Whoa!” he exclaims, looking over his shoulder and losing his balance a little.

  “Let’s really get this party started!” the owner yells over the speakers. “We’ve got a room full of teenagers, so let’s do some Hokey Pokey!”

  I scream. “The Hokey Pokey! Wolf, let’s go!”

  I tug at his sleeve and take to the floor, forgetting to be nervous and awkward around him for the first time since we met.

  “Wait, you’re excited about the Hokey Pokey?” he calls, his hand still hesitantly holding on to the rail. “Isn’t that kind of lame? Like a kid’s game or something?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say, rolling back toward him with a smirk on my face. “Me totally showing you up out there today is going to be bad enough, but if I schooled you at something as lame as the Hokey Pokey, your reputation would never recover.”

  “You’re going to school me?” he asks haughtily. “On what planet?”

  “Okay, guys and girls. Time to par-tay!” the owner yells again over the microphone, starting the Hokey Pokey song… which, yeah, is actually kind of silly.

  “Ericka!” Mackenzie yells from the center of the floor, motioning to me with her megawatt smile and bobbing blond head to join her. I beam at her. If the Hokey Pokey’s lame, the super-pretty birthday girl didn’t get the memo. She’s holding on to a wobbly Laura with one hand and a cute boy with the other. “Come on!”

  The music starts and I look back at Wolf. “So, how ’bout it, Wolf? You gonna Hokey Pokey, or are you too scared?”

  “Yeah, right,” he says and starts to move out onto the floor. “Let’s do this.”

  I clap my hands and jump, then twirl around and race to the middle, leaving him to stare after me.

  “Did you just jump in those?” an incredulous Wolf calls after me, slicing his arms back and forth in an effort to propel himself forward. He looks like the sexiest idiot I’ve ever seen.

  I backward scissor skate around a few kids and stop right in front of him as the chorus starts. I mimic his signature “Wolf Wink” and he cracks up. I can’t help but show off. Finally, he and everybody else can see that Ricki Jo Winstead—um, make that Ericka Winstead—is really good at something.

  With Wolf right next to me, I shake it all about like my life depends on it.

  “Happy birthday, dear Mackenzie. Happy birthday to you!”

  I sing at the top of my lungs along with a huge crowd of fellow well-wishers. This is, by far, the best birthday party I’ve ever attended. Mackenzie blows out the candles and we all cheer. Her dad cuts the cake and her mother passes slices around. I’ve already had two Cokes, but I grab another. It’s a celebration!

  “Dude, this cake is crazy good,” Luke says.

  “Yeah,” I agree, my mouth full. “I’m definitely gonna get another slice if there’s extra.”

  Flashbulbs have been going off like crazy all afternoon. As I stuff my face with a too-big bite of cake, smearing chocolate icing all over my mouth, Mrs. Watts captures the moment.

  “Cute!” she trills.

  Meanwhile, Mackenzie’s dad has been making a dent in the gift pile by passing beautifully wrapped presents her way. She reaches into bags and peels open envelopes and appears to be thrilled with each present. Plus, Mrs. Watts snaps a photo of her with each gift-giver, which is going to make for one thick scrapbook.

  “What’d you bring?” I
asked Luke.

  He shrugs. “I gave her a card at school yesterday. Good thing, too, ’cause now I can avoid the paparazzi.”

  “Oh my god! I love it!” Mackenzie squeals, turning my attention back in her direction. She’s holding a movie up for the camera and hugging Sarah. “Thank you so much!”

  I gasp.

  “What?” Luke asks.

  “Well,” Sarah is saying to Mackenzie, “I know you got a Blu-ray player, so you have to have this for your collection. Did you see it? It’s so good and, seriously, Channing Tatum is so hot.”

  All the kids laugh, and a few girls giggle in agreement.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper in horror. “I got her the same thing.”

  And, as if on cue, Dr. Watts passes a gift bag covered in smiley faces Mackenzie’s way.

  “It’s from Ericka!” Mackenzie yells. “Come over here, girl!”

  “What’d you get her, Ericka?” Wolf calls playfully. “Skating lessons?”

  Everyone laughs and the sea of partygoers in front of me parts. I roll forward weakly, feel sweat form on my upper lip, and fidget next to her as she digs into the tissue paper.

  “Oh my god!” she squeals, holding up the movie and hugging me. “How funny! It’s the same one I just got from Sarah. Great minds think alike, huh, girls?”

  “Yeah, but that’s a DVD,” Sarah points out, and the gets crowd quiet. “Not Blu-ray.”

  I cringe.

  Which is, of course, the moment Mrs. Watts takes the picture.