I like that about Bo. You were either for him or against him.
Marcus goes off on a tangent about different schools that his girlfriend, Tiffanie, is looking at and how he’s going to a community college near whatever school she chooses. He doesn’t really pause to ask me a question or get my take on any of it, but he seems to take comfort in talking without someone lecturing him on why he shouldn’t be planning his life around a girl. I don’t know. Maybe Tiffanie and Marcus will go off to school and graduate and get married and live happily ever after. But I don’t want to be the asshole he worked with at a fast-food restaurant who planted a seed of doubt in his head.
After cleanup, I take my bag out of my locker and find a red sucker there. I try not to smile as I slide it into my purse.
Bo says nothing. He doesn’t even make eye contact with me. But as we’re all walking out the door, I unwrap the sucker and pop it in my mouth.
It’s a cherry-flavored olive branch.
When I get home from work, I find my mom on her knees with Lacey Sanders standing on a step stool in a formal gown and Bekah Cotter on my couch, tapping away on her cell phone.
“Hi, Dumplin’,” says Mom through the straight pins between her teeth. “Lacey, how’s this hemline, dear? You can’t go any higher on those heels, you hear?”
Lacey smacks her gum and blows a bubble. “Roger that.”
Lots of things happen around pageant season, but Mom altering dresses in the middle of our living room is not one of them. There’s also the fact that with Bekah sitting here in my house, my brain is going into high-alert mode like one of Mitch’s video games. Red letters flash above Bekah’s head. TARGET. TARGET.
I feel weird going upstairs with all of them down here, so I sit on the couch and lightly click my tongue until Riot comes out of hiding.
Bekah glances up from her phone and turns to me. “Oh, hey. You work at Harpy’s. You must know Bo.” She doesn’t even know to be threatened by me because why would she?
Lacey spins around and I see the terror on my mother’s face. “Lacey, honey, you have got to stay still.”
“Sorry, Miss D.” She blows another bubble.
I glance down at my uniform. “Well, I did over the summer, and I just started back there again today. Why?” My tone is sharp, but Bekah doesn’t seem to notice.
“He’s a strange one,” says Lacey.
“He’s my escort,” says Bekah. “For the pageant. Well, I haven’t asked him. But he’s going to be. I think.”
“Hey,” says Lacey. “He might be quiet”—as shit, she mouths—“but at least he’ll look good in a tux. Maybe he’ll let you twirl his baton?”
I could barf. On her shoes.
“Girls!” my mother shrieks.
Bekah grins. “We went to Sadie Hawkins together,” she says by way of explanation.
Against his protests, I tuck Riot beneath my arm and stand to go upstairs. “Nice dress, Lacey.”
I sit on my bed, still dressed in my uniform and compose texts to Ellen that I’ll never send. I check for messages from Tim I might have accidentally missed. Anytime I see him at school, I look for some kind of meaningful eye contact, but the best he’s given me is a curt headshake.
After a while, my mom knocks on the door and enters without waiting for my permission.
“I’m doing some alterations this year for extra cash.” She pulls the elastic out of her hair and combs her fingers through.
“You could have told me.” Bekah Cotter. On my couch. I’m not even safe in my own house. But then I notice the deep circles beneath my mom’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say.
She nods. “You missed Ellen. She was here with her mom.”
“She was here?” My eyes are immediately thick with tears waiting to spill.
“Only gettin’ her hem fixed. You know that girl. Can buy a darn formal straight off the rack and it fits like a dream.”