“There are worse problems to have,” she said, poking her tongue out and winking at me. “Just get a sports bra and you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks,” I said, blushing for what felt like the millionth time since I moved here. I wondered when I’d reach the end of things I didn’t know.
*
I trudged out to the parking lot after school, my chest aching from an hour of running. I had taken my time afterward, and by the time I reached the parking lot, the buses were leaving without me.
I was too tired to be upset. Thankfully the weather was cooler than the last time I’d been stranded. I squatted on the steps, closed my eyes, and ran my fingers through my sweat-drenched hair. Layla had a car, and she probably wasn’t too far away yet. But I felt like I owed it to Dad to try him first after what happened last time, so I texted to ask him for a ride. To my surprise he replied almost immediately, saying he would be right over. I rested my face in my hands and slipped into an exhausted daze, only looking up at the sound of Bee’s voice.
“You look like shit,” she said, shouldering her bag and leaning against the railing next to me.
“I feel worse,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Just got out of gym.”
“Ah,” Bee said, her face screwing up like she just ate something sour. “They got me in first block. Had to shift some other classes around, but they really don’t want us hoodlums together on school grounds.”
“I’m a hoodlum now?” I said. She laughed and patted me on the shoulder in a “welcome to the club” sort of way. “How was gym for you?”
“I cut class,” she said, squaring her shoulders and looking suddenly distant. I started to lecture her but she cut in before I could. “I know. I’m already on thin ice.” She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “It’s just, the last thing I need is to run around in short-shorts while the Neanderthals make comments and the teacher pretends not to hear.” I gave her a questioning look, surprised to hear Bee admitting that what people said bothered her, and she stiffened even more. “I gotta go, actually. You need a ride?”
“My dad’s coming,” I said.
“’Kay. See ya,” she said, waving and hustling away. I stared after her, wondering how Bee had become the person she was, lost in thought until Dad’s car pulled up.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I said. I melted into the passenger seat and heaved a heavy sigh of exhaustion.
“Happy to,” he said, arching an eyebrow at my show of pain. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning back and sighing at how comfortable the seat was. Every part of me ached. “Actually, could we swing by Walmart on the way home?”
“What for?”
“Nothing,” I said, too embarrassed to tell him what I needed to buy. To my surprise, he smiled.
“She used to do that,” he said, shaking his head. “Your mom, I mean. I think y’all are confused about what that word means, like maybe you got it mixed up with ‘everything’?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling at Dad even though it felt a little strange to think about acting like either of my parents. “I guess you’re right. Sorry for being weird.” I took a deep breath. “I need a new bra.” I thought of Grant seeing me in the ratty old thing currently stuffed in my backpack and corrected myself. “Bras. I need new bras.”
“I see,” he said, instantly stiffening. His hands squeezed the wheel. “Look, we need to talk about the other night.”
“Yeah?” I said, stiffening in return.
“You need to be more careful,” he said. “Especially with boys.”
“I thought I was,” I replied, though I knew that was far from the truth. I had promised him I was coming here to study and graduate, to be safe. I wasn’t sure what I was doing with Grant, but it certainly didn’t fit into that plan.
“Christ,” Dad said. I turned to see him squeezing the bridge of his nose. “I thought you took this seriously. I really did.”
“How am I not taking things seriously?” I said, my anger from the other night rushing back.
“You were always such a timid kid,” he said, shaking his head. “Always hovering around your mother’s legs with that serious expression. You used to hate doing anything even a little dangerous.”
“I still do,” I said.
“Then why are you going to church with fundamentalists?” he snapped, turning a hard glare on me. I flinched. “Why are you having boys alone—and not just boys, mind you, but athletes by the look of that Grant character—” He took a deep breath and lowered his volume, but the edge was still there. “I trusted you to keep your head down.”
I felt hot tears coming but I blinked them away. I watched my reflection in the car window, beyond it trees and dusty road passing in a blur. “I just want to have a normal life.”
“And I just want you to live past your senior year,” Dad said, his jaw clenched. He let out a long breath. “People like you get killed by people like him.”