Taming of the Shoe

by Rebekah Dodson

  Ms. Reynolds, the receptionist, watched us all with the same teary-eyed look I was sure I had. She pushed the phone toward me and asked if I needed to make a call. Despite knowing I could text Papa to pick me up, he’d probably answer faster if I called from the school number. I nodded and picked up the receiver and dialed the number.

  He didn’t answer, and it rang and rang until it went to voicemail.

  “What time is it?” I asked, realizing it sounded stupid as soon as I said it. It was twenty after twelve, according to the clock on Ms. Reynolds’ desk.

  “He’s in swimming lessons,” I muttered, “for the next hour. Looks like I can’t go home.” I nearly slumped against the counter.

  “I’m sorry,” Ms. Reynolds offered. “Do you want me to keep trying while you go to lunch?”

  Lunch. Angelica will be at lunch. “Yes, please,” I told Ms. Reynolds. My shoulders fell. I didn’t want to see her, see the giggles behind hands and full out laughs at my expense. I was so tired of this.

  Just under the counter, Ethan grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I let him.

  We turned away from the counter, and once we had got about twenty feet down the hall, Ethan whispered in my ear, “You don’t have to go to the cafeteria. We can go somewhere else.”

  I let go of his hand and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “We have an hour until choir, and it’s open campus. Let’s go get lunch. There’s a little sandwich bistro around the corner.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “I don’t care.”

  I glanced down the hallway toward the cafeteria then back at Ethan. The very thought of sitting in that room made my stomach flip, but then so did sitting in the car with Ethan – and risking an angry Papa at home.

  But did he even have to know? If he was going to go through my phone, what was my other option? Just stop seeing Ethan entirely? That wasn’t going to work; we went to school together. And that fact that Ethan was still standing here, after seeing the photo, meant something. He hadn’t run away; he hadn’t yelled at me. He was still here.

  Maybe I misjudged him; maybe he would understand after all.

  I hoped so.

  “Yeah, okay,” I told him. “Let’s go get lunch.”

  Chapter 11

  Ethan

  I couldn’t get over that picture as Taylor and I sat in the car back in the school parking lot after getting pastrami sandwiches to go. We decided to share a drink and chips, but our lunch sat between us, untouched. I didn’t even know what to say, especially with all the anger boiling up inside of me. If Graves didn’t expel that bitch Angelica, I was going to have to sic my mom on him. She wouldn’t stand for this, that was sure. My mom was the social justice warrior extreme and she wouldn’t back down until she got what she wanted.

  But then again, Mom didn’t know Taylor, and why would she fight a battle for my girlfriend?

  Is that what she was? Now hardly seemed like a time to put a label on what we were, especially if Angelica did this out of jealousy. Angelica never knew that the reason I’d broken up with her was Maeve. Maeve never liked her, in fact, they hated each other, and Maeve convinced me to break it off via text. I knew I’d crushed Angelica back then, but I didn’t care. There was nothing between us except for a solitary make out session in the back of a theater during a crappy movie over the summer, and that was one experience I’d like to forget as soon as possible. Honestly felt a little ashamed about it, but I wouldn’t tell Taylor that.

  I also really wanted to reach across the center console and grab her hand, but whatever she was going through, I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I also desperately wanted to tell her why I knew how she felt. Little did she know...

  A tear rolled down her cheek when she turned to me. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  You have no idea. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You sure?” She wiped about the tear absently. “I mean, it was really horrible. I can’t believe the whole school knows.”

  “Eh, it’ll blow over soon enough with some more tea someone has to dish out.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah, I know so. Especially in this school. Some girl will screw the wrong guy tomorrow and it’ll be over just like that. They’ll forget all about you.”

  She slumped in the seat as I said it.

  “Not like that! But I do have a problem you might be able to help me with.”

  Her eyes were wide, curious. “What’s that?”

  “Well, Angelica was the lead in my play. If she gets suspended, I don’t know how I’m going to find someone to do jazz numbers who can sing now...” I trailed off, hoping she saw where I was going with this. She blinked at me. “Someone cute and slender, with amazing blue eyes that look at everything like it’s the first time she’s seen it... someone who speaks fluent German...”

  She gaped at me then smiled. “I don’t know what German has to do with it.”

  “It doesn’t have shit to do with it, but I still need a lead, and I want it to be you.”

  “You want a ... cutter ... who can barely dance to star in your musical?”

  Without thinking, I blurted, “Yes.” I sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Not to mention, you’re a liar. I’ve seen you dance – you’ll out-dance everyone else in this performance – and I stand next to you in choir. You’re a natural for this part.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re...” as if she realized what she was saying, she clamped a hang over her mouth.

  A smile spread over my face. “I’m what?”

  She spread her fingers and whispered, “My boyfriend?”

  “Am I?”

  “Are you?”

  This time I did reach for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I suppose this makes it official?”

  “Papa will be so mad,” she muttered.

  “Then we don’t tell him.”

  She gasped. “Lie to him? But ... but that’s a sin...”

  “Is it?” I knew I was pushing her boundaries, but I didn’t care. “He took your phone over the weekend, didn’t he? And went through it?”

  “How did you know?”

  “My mother tried that shit with me once freshman year.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Know how I got her to stop?”

  She just stared at me.

  “Sometimes parents, or rather parent figures, don’t need to know everything. Are you going to tell your mom about the picture?”

  She squeezed my hand then. “Well, at first, I wanted to yell at her for even posting it. But now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t want to talk to her. I think she probably thought God wanted her to post it, and probably didn’t imagine that anyone would use it like Angelica did.”

  “So you’re not going to tell her about it?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s one more thing we don’t have to tell them? Just for now, that is. Until things ... settle.” I didn’t exactly know what I was talking about, but not talking to Taylor for two days had been torture. I didn’t want to go without contact ever again – but we had to figure this out. I knew the lying was wrong, and I hated myself for even trying to convince her to go along with my hair-brained scheme, but I didn’t know what else to do.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  She surprised me when she said it, but I should have anticipated it somehow. I nodded, agreeing with her. “So, we’ll keep this a secret? Even at school?”

  “If it means more girls will bully me, then we probably should.”

  “Ugh,” I protested, “this is going to be the worst. I can’t hold your hand in the hall or kiss you or anything.”

  “But,” she smiled, “you can take me to dance lessons if you want. That way we can still hang out, and Papa would think I’m still walking.”

  “As long as you don’t mind picking up my sister first, then okay, it’s a deal.”

  Her phone dinged and she turned i
t over. “Oh, that’s my Papa. He’s on his way.”

  “You’d better eat fast, then,” I told her as I threw her sandwich in her lap.

  She chuckled, and man I was glad to hear that noise after the events of the last hour. She unwrapped the tip of her food and grinned at me. “Race ya!”

  The next couple of days went by without incident, but Taylor and I became inseparable at school. I walked her to all her classes, even science class, when her friends would titter behind their hands like gossiping old ladies. On days I didn’t have Amy’s practice or theater, I took Taylor to dance class, and sometimes I stayed to watch her. The elegant yet seductive way she moved across the floor, usually barefoot, was both alluring and interesting.

  All I could see was her on my stage, singing her heart out as Lilla. Our practices had come to a halt after Angelica’s in-school suspension was announced, and Jackson had some things come up that prevented us from having auditions. Every time I brought it up to Taylor she changed the subject.

  I didn’t get it – how could such a wonderful dancer with the voice of an angel not want to be on the stage? It was everything I ever loved – how could I make Taylor see it was just as amazing as a recital?

  “Why do you watch me dance?” she asked me one day near the end of the week. She’d finished early today, and I treated her to coffee, which she always ordered hot with a shot of caramel and vanilla. I teased her because I hated sugar in my coffee, and she threw back every insult about my black coffee she could think of. It was nerdy, awkward, and adorable.

  “I like it,” I said simply, wincing as I tried to drink the too-hot black stuff. “You’re captivating.”

  “Captivating, huh?” She sipped her drink cautiously. It was a little cold out still for iced coffee, she insisted, but still lamented how she hated it warm. What a strange girl.

  “Yeah.”

  “Explain?” She swirled her straw around the cup.

  I had a vision in my head of Maeve throwing caution to the wind and practicing her routines, which usually ended in some kind of head-banging. Taylor wasn’t like that at all; I doubt she listened to anything other than Christian hymns or whatever anyway.

  “I can’t explain it,” I offered lamely. We were parked outside the coffee shop in a crowded after-school filled parking lot. I wanted to kiss her, in fact the urge was so strong I could barely look her in the eye, but we were talking, and that was important, too.

  On Friday, Taylor’s practice was cancelled due to her instructor coming down with a bad case of allergies. I had to pick up Amy, but I hated it when Taylor walked home. So I came up with a plan to take Taylor to one of Amy’s games. To my delight but not surprise, she was absolutely excited. On the way to Amy’s school, she asked a million questions about what soccer was and explained to me how different ‘football’ was in Germany. She talked so much I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but I didn’t mind. Hearing her finally start to come out of that shell she’d so carefully crafted was music to my ears – much like her voice.

  “Hey Amy, this is my friend Taylor,” I told my sister when she got in the car. Taylor turned from the front seat as Amy buckled into her booster seat. “You remember her from The Little Mermaid, right?”

  “Hi, Amy, it’s nice to meet you again,” Taylor offered.

  Amy beamed at her, but then threw me a sly look. Ut oh.

  “So...is this your girlfriend?” She smirked at us.

  “No,” we both said at the same time. Taylor shared a slight smile with me.

  Amy didn’t seem bothered. She went about strapping her shin guards and cleats on, just like she did every day for practice. “Is Taylor coming to practice with us?” she asked nonchalantly.

  We hadn’t really discussed it, but Taylor lit up when Amy asked. “Yes, I’d love to!” Taylor gushed.

  I wanted so much to reach across the stick shift and hold her hand, but I couldn’t, not in front of my sister, who at seven years old didn’t understand what secrets were.

  “Off we go,” I said instead, and we pulled away from the school.

  The sports park outside town was already filled with the twelve different soccer teams from all over the area and it took us a long time to find anywhere to park. As I watched the sea of purple, pink, yellow, and orange jerseys flood the field, I marveled at the fact there were these many kids in such a small town. I remembered my one stint in a community band in the big city, where there were two hundred members. It was scary and intimidating, but my sister thrived on that kind of crowd. It always shocked me how different we were in that respect. While she loved the cheers of the crowd, I wanted a different group of people to recognize me from the stage. I guess in some ways we were actually pretty similar.

  When we got out, Amy threw her door open, snatched her purple soccer ball from the back seat, and started to rush across the parking lot to join her team.

  I was out of my seat in an instant, grabbing a few items from the compartment on my car door. “Hey, Amy! Get back here for a minute!”

  She reluctantly turned around and plodded back to the car, bouncing her soccer ball on her knee. “Oh yeah, I forgot.” She smirked sheepishly. She came up to me and turned around, waiting.

  I pulled her pink hairbrush through her hair and flipped it up into a ponytail, carefully brushing all the stray hairs down, then wrapped the band around it three times until it was solid. Then I reached into the center console and fetched the light purple bow to clip on top, the one that matched her jersey. Taylor watched me curiously from the front seat. I gave Amy’s ponytail a little playful tug like always, and she took off to join her team.

  My car was still running, so I got back in to shut it off. Taylor was still eying me.

  “What?” I finally asked.

  “You just did your sister’s hair.”

  “And?”

  Taylor smiled coyly, sadly, and it confused me. “What’s it like to have a sibling?”

  I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that, but glad for the change in subject. “It’s a lot of fun, and a lot of whining, in a nutshell.”

  Taylor laughed, and her adorable chuckle reminded me of Maeve. I laughed, too, even though I felt a small pang of betrayal tug at my chest. I turned to Taylor and shoved a rakish smile on my face. “So, wanna make out?”

  I didn’t know what I was expecting, other than her protesting about how immoral it would be or something like that. But hey, it was worth a shot. Taylor surprised me every day.

  Especially now. Instead of answering, she reached up and grabbed my chin and pulled my face to hers. She was a great kisser for how inexperienced she was, but I had so much more I wanted to teach her.

  I heard her gasp against me as I played against her lips with my tongue. Before I knew it, she was halfway in my lap with her arms around my neck, and our kissing turned into a full-blown make-out session.

  Awesome.

  A sharp rap against my window made us both jump, and Taylor scooted back to her side of the car. I turned to see an elderly lady with a walker standing right next to my car, so I politely rolled the window down – but only a half inch.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “You guys are disgusting! Go find somewhere else to do that, and not in front of these innocent little kids.” She coughed and wheezed as she snapped at us.

  “Or, maybe, you should mind your own damn business,” Taylor blurted, lunging over my lap to yell out the window.

  I looked at Taylor, my mouth agape. She sat back with her arms crossed and her eyes twinkled with just a hint of rage.

  “Hmph,” the old lady muttered, and continued on her way to the soccer field.

  I promptly rolled up my window and turned to face my secret girlfriend. “Okay, that was hot,” I told her. “This makes me want to make out with you more.”

  She suppressed a smile, which made me full on laugh. Then she said, “Okay, so what’s stopping you?”

  “This is a public place...” I didn’t know if she
’d want to stop or make me go somewhere else, but I hoped it wasn’t either of those things.

  “I don’t care if you don’t. And I doubt your sister can see us from all the way over there.”

  I followed where she pointed. Amy’s team was dead left center of the field, about half a football field’s length away from us. She was tossing a ball back and forth with two of her friends.

  Taylor’s rebellious streak was so amazing, I couldn’t help myself. I reached for her again and our make out sesh resumed, this time with a little heavier petting and my hand up her shirt.

  Fifteen minutes went by before we realized the games were starting up, and we finally decided it was time to come up for air.

  Taylor giggled as she ran a finger down the window next to me. “They’re fogging up.” She giggled again.

  Her face was flushed, as I’m sure mine was, and any lip gloss she had I was also sure was all over my face, too. I beamed at her. “It’s because you’re so hot.”

  “Am not.”

  I gaped at her for the second time this afternoon. “Why do you say that? You’re smart, fierce, independent, and stand up for others. You’re smokin’ hot, babe.”

  She gasped and held a hand to her mouth. “What did you just call me?”

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Babe. You’re my babe.”

  A conflicted look passed over her face, and I fully expected her to quote something from the book of Matthew or Proverbs. Instead she touched her cheek where I had kissed it and in a whimsical voice she blurted, “No one’s ever called me that before.”

  I smiled and grasped her hand. “Get used to it.” I pulled her into my arms and held her there, listening to her contented sigh, which made my heart sing.

  “We should probably get to the game,” she muttered.

  “Yeah,” I told her, but it was clear neither of us wanted to move.

  After a few more kisses – I couldn’t help myself – I finally let her go and we exited the car. For the next two hours, we stood on the edge of the field, cheering on my sister, but I was never more aware of Taylor’s presence than at that moment. I couldn’t stop staring, and I wanted to kiss her more.