“I thought you might be in here.” She says it to George but she narrows her eyes at me. “You’re always in here, when she is.” Under her breath, she says, “Even though all my friends say I’m hotter.”
I give the girl a once-over. She’s pretty for sure and not afraid to show it. Her jeans are so tight it’s like they’ve been pasted to her legs, sticking to her curves in all the right places. And her boobs. That must be some push-up bra. Her boobs are spilling out of her sheer tank top and, let’s face it, dancers aren’t that well equipped.
She plops her hands on her hips. “So if you’re not on a break, we’d like to order something. Now.”
I have no idea how it became acceptable for a not-even-sophomore-yet to talk to a no-longer-senior like this, but somehow it happened. Then again, I’m no ordinary post-grad. I tuck my bottle of Windex in my apron. “Sure. No problem. Let me just get back there.”
“I’d like one low-cal vanilla with sugar-free gummies on top. In a cup.” She eyes me up and down. “Hey, Magnolia, your sister eats here a lot, doesn’t she?”
Her two little friends who stand behind her erupt into hysterics. I bite my lip, hard, so that the all of the murderous words that rage through my mind don’t fly out of my mouth.
“So, is this like your other job?” she says.
I look up. “Huh?”
“You know, what you do when you’re not messing up people’s lives.”
George glances up from where he’s rummaging through the row of containers filled with various nuts and sprinkles and chocolate chips, his eyes bouncing between mine and the freshman’s. “Hey. That’s a little harsh.”
She turns to George, her voice changing from demonic to downright sugar. “George, have you been working out?”
“I, uh. Only at Katina’s but, you know.” He stretches out his right arm. Bends it forward, exposing the hard, rounded ball that pops from his skin, under his shoulder. Examines it like he’s looking at some miracle of nature, a brand-new planet. Planet George. The freshman soaks up every inch of him. When he’s finished inspecting his muscles, she walks toward him. Close enough to make my heart beat fast, and not in a good way.
Her lips part, but no words leave them. Maybe she’s waiting for him to praise her back, something about her body or her dancing. Something about her having a body and knowing how to use it and using it, apparently, to woo my George. But when he plops down in one of the chairs and opens someone’s forgotten gossip mag, the freshman turns to me and mouths that hateful three-syllable word: Murderer.
She turns back to George, who flips the page of his gossip mag, obviously engrossed in the failing relationships of stars.
“So, are you waiting for someone in here?” Her tone is so sticky-sweet, it makes me sick.
“Nah,” he says. “Just Magnolia.”
She purses her lips and gives me the once-over. I smile as big as I can and pass her her ice cream. Too bad that while she was attempting to chat up my main man, I tossed on full-cal gummies instead of the sugar-free ones. I hold out my open palm. The girl chucks two rolled-up dollar bills at me. They land on the ground and I crouch down to pick them up. Along with my dignity.
She touches George’s shoulder. “Well, you can come to the disco bowl with us, if you want.”
“Yeah? Who’s going?”
“Just us and a couple of others from the school dance team. Liz and Tianna Bakerman and maybe Dee Potter, too. Mark said he’d probably go. Oh, and you know Caleb and Bo, right? The new lifeguards at Cannon?”
George sets the mag down. “They’re going to be there? And Mark too?”
Freshman’s eyes ignite—fish caught. She sits down across from him. “Definitely. So you want to come with us?”
“You might see me. If I can talk Mags here into coming along. If not, maybe I’ll just keep it mellow and hang with her here.” He laughs. “Not too riveting, I know.”
Freshman’s face falls. “No. Not riveting.” She leans forward, pushing her bazookas together, making them full, and round, and touching. Across from her, George smiles. Smiles. I mean, by all laws of plausible reason, he should be squeamish about a girl basically shoving her boobs in his face. But instead, his baby blues light up, bright, like he just pulled twenty clams out of that smart ass of his.
“I heard you might try out for Live to Dance,” Freshman says. “You totally should. Your fouettes are amazing and the first time I saw you do a switch leap, I almost died.”
“I’m trying out. Mags is, too. You?”
She looks at me with dagger eyes. “No. You have to be eighteen.” She motions to her friends behind her. “But we would if we could. I mean, Katina needs to have more than one good dancer there. That is, one who won’t totally destroy her studio’s name.”
“Are you serious?” George says. “Have you even seen Mags dance?”
The girls’ mouths drop open and, I have to admit it, mine does too. While I can hold my own with these little dance rats, George defending my honor isn’t what I’m used to from him. He’s never said much about my dancing, at least not to anyone but me. And I know he was all over how good I was in Katina’s studio, but I also know he got an A in Buttering People Up for Personal Gain every year in school. But this. This is something totally different.
Freshman plays with a piece of her hair, twisting it around and around her finger until it’s so tight that her finger looks a little blue. “I’ve seen her,” she mumbles. “I see her every week.”
“You mean you watch her every week,” George says.
Freshman shrugs. “Same difference. Whatever. We have to be there early anyway.”
George smirks. “So then you already know that Katina will have at least two dancers to represent Summerland—”
“Two dancers representing Summerland where?” Rose says.
My head snaps around toward the door. She’s standing there holding a tray of freshly made razor clam fritters against her chest. I rush to her side, grabbing the tray from her clutches. “Rose! What are you doing here?”
“I thought you’d be hungry after dance. I didn’t want you to have to work on an empty stomach.”
The girls lick their lips, salivating over the fresh meat that’s just walked through Deelish’s doors, and I don’t mean the fritters. Freshman’s eyes travel over Rose’s body, all the way down, then up. “I bet working on an empty stomach is something you’ve never done before, right, Rose?”
Rose winces. It’s low—like, real low. And although she should be used to these types of slams, I can see it all over her face that it still hurts.
George shakes his head at the freshman—his eyes cool and warning—but then turns to me and scratches his head. “Dance practice? We don’t have dance tonight. It’s Sunday.”
“You said that you had dance on Sundays.” Rose’s gaze pinballs between George and the freshman and then me before it rests decidedly on George. “What were you guys just talking about? Where will Katina have dancers representing Summerland?”
“On TV, of course,” Freshman says. “George might get to be on a reality dance competition.”
Rose’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“Mags,” George whispers. “You haven’t told her yet? You totally should have.”
“You mean you haven’t heard?” Freshman says. “Oh that’s right. You’ve been too busy getting people hooked on junk.” She smiles in this thin way that makes me nauseated.
Rose’s face is motionless. Emotionless. Frozen by the words spewed out by this eighty-pound little freak. One Rose could totally take, if she wanted to.
George’s pupils ignite with flames. “Colleen had issues before she hooked up with their mom. She was always looking for a way to piss off her dad. Everyone knows that.” He curls his arm around Rose’s shoulder, making Freshman grit her teeth and glower at both of them. Then he mouths the words, “Tell her.”
I mouth the word “No” back.
“Isn’t it great, Rosie?” George says.
“Mags was just about to tell you that she’s decided to come with me.”
“Rose doesn’t want to hear about your drama, George.” My voice is all screechy like a total maniac, I know, but I can’t help it. I grab Rose’s arm and lead her away from George before he screws everything up way beyond repair. “You know him. He just babbles about nothing all the time.”
“Actually”—Freshman wets her lips in between licks of ice cream—“he wasn’t babbling. It’s for Live to Dance. You might have heard of it? He’s trying out with your sister. In Portland. Live.”
“Magnolia,” Rose says. “You better tell me what this little imbecile’s talking about right now or the shit’s gonna hit the fan.”
I narrow my eyes at the freshman. She smirks back at me.
George gently pushes the girls out the door. But Freshman glares at me the entire way out.
He closes the door behind them and flips the lock, though Deelish is still open. “Come on, Mags. Look at her. She’s already turned a million shades of purple in the last minute. Just tell her already.”
“Yes, Magnolia. Tell me,” Rose says, her face rigid.
“Fine,” I say. “I’m going with him. To Portland. I want to be in that competition. I deserve to be in that competition.”
Rose’s face softens. “Are you serious? Why would you be afraid to tell me that?”
“You’re not mad?”
“No way. It’s awesome. And you’re right, you deserve to be there. You’ve worked so hard for it. It’s who you are.”
“Better than who I am,” I say. “It’s who we can be.”
“What?”
“It’ll be great, Rose. Once I win that money and get our name on TV, it’ll change things for us here. We’ll be famous.” I grab her hand. “They’ll have to love us because we’ll be stars. We’ll be the only ones that ever came out of Summerland.”
Rose blinks. Her eyes turn from sparkly to sad. “That’s why you want to go? To try to change our rep? Fame won’t do that.”
“It will. Once they see me on TV, they’ll be so proud of us for a change and then people all across the country—not just Oregon—will see that I’m—that we’re—good at something.”
Rose’s face falls. She closes her eyes. Opens them. Stares out the window, across the street, to the flashing sign hanging above Miller’s Bakery. Seconds pass. I feel this all crumbling at my feet.
I know what she’s thinking. The last time we ran into Old Lady Miller outside her shop, Rose and I were walking arm-in-arm en route to the Summerland Public Library in search of movies and books and anything else to fill time during spring break.
Colleen had been dead six months already. Mom had been AWOL five.
As we passed her, Old Lady Miller crossed her arms and whispered, her sharp tongue flickering in and out her mouth like a snake’s.
“Lowlifes. Losers. Trash. Just like your mother.”
Her voice was hushed, yet just loud for us to hear her words clearly and never forget them.
Now, as Old Lady Miller backs out of her shop and locks her door behind her, Rose’s face snaps to mine, her skin a shade whiter than it was before. She swallows. “You can’t do this, Magnolia. It won’t change things. It can’t turn back time.”
“You already said I could. You said I deserved it.”
“You do. But I changed my mind. You’re not going. Not for those reasons.”
I squeeze my lips together. Picture myself on that stage in front of every single one of them. Imagine myself doing it. Doing it great. Like no one thinks I can. Not even Rose.
“Yes, I am. It’s a once in a lifetime chance. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
She grabs the tray of fritters away from me and stares me dead between the eyes like lasers slicing me in two. Her hands grip the tray so tight, they tremble. But her words come out slow and so very scary. “You’re not going. Not like this. Not at all.”
FOUR
Rose storms out of the shop. I can almost see little puffs of steam shooting from her ears like she’s a cartoon character. She’s that mad, all right. Mighty Mouse mad.
George tinkers with the top button on his shirt. “That didn’t go exactly how I’d hoped.”
“You think?”
“I told you, you should have let me handle it yesterday after dance.”
I put up one hand in front of his face. “Drop it, okay? There’s nothing you could have said to make Rose change her mind. Although, I’m sure it didn’t help any when that freshman started in on her, too. What a piece of work.”
“No kidding. You’d never know Becca was like that by looking at her, right?”
“Like what? Wait. You know her name?”
He looks away. “I just mean, you know, she’s pretty hot and all. You wouldn’t think she’d be such a nightmare.”
I squint at him. It’s one thing that that he knows the little mosquito’s name. One thing that even I half-admired the boom-boom-pow thing she had going on. One thing that he called her a nightmare, when I can think of a million words I might have chosen to describe her instead. But it’s something totally different that he’s just admitted her hotness. Decent? Maybe. Just-barely-over-the-totally-hideous mark? Now that I could get on board with. But hot? I think of George and his—let’s just be honest here—flirty phone call with Mary.
George jumps up. “Well, I’d better hop to it and fix things while the wound is fresh, right?”
“Who are you fixing now? And for the record, I think you should keep your day job. You kind of suck at fixing things.”
“I’m going to your house.”
“You’re not going to my house.”
He rests one hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure that once I explain to Rose about the money you’d get if you won, she’ll change her mind. I mean, seriously. Is she really going to deny you the chance at a truckload of cash like that?”
I lean back in my chair. George can be so naive at times, it blows my mind. I guess it’s because his life has always been perfect. Perfect mom and dad and big brother, Malcolm. Perfect “little” seven-bedroom house on the cliffs. Perfect son, who’s always been perfect at everything he does. Hell, he’s even perfect at driving me bananas.
“Do you even know my sister, G? Rose will pulverize you. She won’t care about the money because she hates the reason why I want it.”
“That doesn’t make sense. What’s the point of taking dance all these years if you can’t do something with it? I would have stopped years ago if I didn’t think it would take me somewhere eventually.” George studies me for a couple of seconds, his eyes and mouth softening like our summer sea. “Look. I know she’s all high and mighty about taking care of you guys, but you’d think that once you told her your game plan, she’d be into it.”
I rest my head in my hands and picture Rose’s pale face staring at Miller’s Bakery. It all makes sense. Why she wanted me to go and then, suddenly, didn’t. She’s never said so, but she doesn’t have to. “Rose blames us for what happened to Colleen. She thinks we could have prevented it. Thinks we deserve how they treat us.”
I scan Deelish as the memory bleeds through me. It was one of those days, locked somewhere after the morning with the ambulances and screaming, after the day Mom actually left us for good. Rose and I were sorting out bills on my bed. I remember feeling like we were on an island—all on our own, and no one even knew we existed—but then, when we were in public, also like we were made of neon colors and flashing lights. Bull’s-eyes.
Up until that point, Rose hadn’t talked much about what happened, but that morning she wanted to.
“I never should have brought Colleen to this house,” she said, tossing a stack of unopened envelopes to the floor.
“You didn’t know that was going to happen.”
She rested her head against my bed. “I should have seen it coming. She was so excitable. Impressionable. Wanted to do everything and try everything she knew her dad would hate.”
“I could have stopped her. I could have told Mom to stay away from her. Could have told her to stay away from Mom.”
She kicked my side table, hard, and the one pretty framed photograph of Mom and me, taken four years before, fell, smashing to pieces on the floor below.
I stare at the shards of glass and whisper, “I miss her.”
“Don’t waste your energy on her,” Rose said, scrambling off my floor. She stepped toward the door, the sharp pieces around and under her bare feet. “She’s not worth it. None of this is.”
After she left the room, I picked through every flake of glass, cutting my fingers in three different places, just to make sure I saved that picture. To make sure not one inch of her perfect smile was harmed.
George taps on his cell phone. “It’s eight forty-five. You gotta close up in just over an hour.”
“So?”
“So that means I’ve got an hour to get to Rose and tell her you have to be in that competition. An hour before you get home and spoil everything with your undying need to please the whole goddamn world.”
I groan. “Please, G. Don’t, okay?”
“No. You’re trying out. Not for the money or to clear your family name, but for yourself. And for Rose.”
“Rose said I can’t. And I can’t go against her.”
“You can and you will. Do it for me.”
“Ha. And there we have it. Should I even ask what you get out of all this other than having a wingman by your side to make your extensions look better than they already do?”
“It’s not about that.”
“Pretty sure it is about that.”
He stares out the window. “Maybe I’m sick and tired of watching you and Rose barely tread water, ever think of that? Maybe for once I want good things to actually happen to good people. I’m sure as hell not going to sit around and wait for the universe to be good to you Woodsons. No way.” He grabs my hand. Pulses zing through me and I can’t pull my hand away. “We’ve been given this gift. This talent that’s unstoppable. It’s all settled. We’re going to Portland. You and me. Tomorrow.”
Spin the Sky Page 4
