And Donna says, “Let’s go to Friendly’s!”
So we all pile into her Mercedes.
When we arrive at Friendly’s we get a big booth and Donna orders one of every sundae on the menu and six spoons, and we eat ice cream as a team, sword fighting with long ice cream spoons, laughing our butts off, getting chocolate sauce and whipped cream and caramel all over our teenage chins as we shuffle around the sundaes and sample all of the delicious concoctions—replaying the night, talking about how cool we all were, and how Franks is sure to keep his job now, and how Franks Freak Force Federation rocks hard-core, especially in our new camo shirts, which we all agree to wear to school tomorrow like the sports teams do before big games. But when people ask us what the shirts are about, we won’t tell them, because it’s our secret. True? True.
So I try not to get any sundae on my new shirt and catch myself looking at Donna a lot. She’s not really saying anything, and she doesn’t eat very much ice cream, but she’s smiling in this very satisfied way, and every so often she runs her nails through Ricky’s hair, which makes me jealous again. God, I really wish she were my mom. I’d be so much cooler and smarter and—but then I remember to be thankful for what JC sent my way today, and I smile and run my nails through all of my boys’ heads of hair, which makes them say, “Stop! Ice cream hands! You sticky ho-bag!” So I laugh at them and keep on trying to run my hands through their hair, pretending to go for one, and then at the last second, going for another boy’s hair, which results in a lot of grabbing wrists and screaming.
The waitress comes over when we almost knock over Chad’s high chair. She’s a teen from another high school, who says, “You must chill, or Kevin is going to—like—freak.”
“School night, kids,” Donna says, and then pays the bill while we all try to mess up each other’s hair on the lawn outside of Friendly’s. As we wrestle, I think about how much I love these boys. They are good people. I really really love these boys. All of them equally. My boys. My friends. Franks Freak Force Federation.
After Donna drops off Ty, Jared, and Chad, I say, “How did you know that Lex made Ricky say that stuff to Ryan Gold?”
“Lex Pinkston is a bad boy!” Ricky says. “Bad boy! Bad boy! BAD BOY!”
“Hello?” Donna says. “Son diagnosed with autism. No secrets in the Roberts household.”
“Did you really talk to Ryan Gold and her parents?”
“Yep.”
“But you had a murder trial today and—”
“I sent Jessica to represent our interests regarding the Golds.”
Jessica is Donna’s young and pretty and extremely smart assistant, whom I hate, because Donna is always going on and on about what a great future Jessica has.
“Cool,” I say, totally wanting a Jessica of my own someday, who will help me do even more killer good for deserving people.
“You’re not really self-conscious about your teeth, are you?” Donna asks.
“No. I just made that up on the fly. I’m cool with my teeth.”
“Good, because they really do look white and straight.”
“Thanks.”
“Will I be driving you home, Amber?”
“Got to pick up Bobby Big Boy, because I can’t sleep without my pup,” I say.
“How about I drive you and Bobby Big Boy home after that?”
“No, thanks.”
“It’s pretty cold outside,” Donna says.
“Yeah, but I have to stop by Franks’ house.”
“Mr. Jonathan Franks!” Ricky says.
“Oh?” Donna says, because she knows I’m totally lying. I’m pretty sure Donna knows I’m living out of Hello Yellow. She’s super smart. When I don’t say anything, Donna says, “Amber, I know how you feel about taking help from me, but I can help you and your mom if you need it. I know people who can—”
“We don’t need your help,” I say, and am surprised that I sounded like a cat saying what I did. I feel badly about this—especially after all Donna has done for me—but I can’t help adding, “Not everyone needs your help, you know.”
I am such a bitch.
But Mom is going to come through one of these days. I’ve got my money on mi madre, and mi madre on my mind, sucka!
“Pride is not pretty,” Donna says.
“I’m not a pretty girl,” I say, because I can’t help myself, and I dig Ani DiFranco.
“You’re gorgeous,” Donna says, “you shine, only you don’t know it yet.”
This is a weird thing for Donna to say, so I clam up and listen to Ricky counting aloud and wonder about what he could possibly be counting.
CHAPTER 7
When we get to Donna’s house, I let B3 out of his room, mop up his welcome-home puddle, put his plaid coat on him, and then find Donna in her room changing.
“Donna,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I was a bitch in the car.”
“You weren’t a bitch in the car.”
“You rocked the school board meeting pretty hard,” I say.
“No, you rocked the school board meeting pretty hard,” she says.