FROM: Paul Villanueva <[email protected]>
TO: Ruby Mae Otto <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: client inquiry
10:24 p.m.
We had a new submission on the site from a couple. There’s more you need to know about it, but are you even down with couple lessons?
FROM: Ruby Mae Otto <[email protected]>
TO: Paul Villanueva <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: RE: client inquiry
10:28 p.m.
Sure? I’m up to try it once. It could get weird though.
FROM: Paul Villanueva <[email protected]>
TO: Ruby Mae Otto <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: RE: client inquiry
10:31 p.m.
Well, it’s about to get weirder.
“Call Paul,” I dictate to my phone, as I shake the soapsuds off my free hand.
It’s not even half a ring before he answers. “Why are you switching modes of communication on me in the middle of a conversation? How am I expected to keep proper business records like this?”
I hold back a giggle as I blow bath bubbles off the tips of my kneecaps. “Paul.”
“And you’re in the tub,” he says. “I can hear the fan running in your bathroom. You’re going to drop that phone in the water and then you’re going to be really screwed.”
“Whatever,” I say. “We’re cash positive.”
“We won’t be for long if we rack up business expenses every time you want to take calls from your tub.”
“When have I dropped my phone in bathwater?” I ask.
“Last spring. Right after you finished your final lesson with Mallory Stephens . . .” I can hear him clicking around on his computer, checking his calendar—which he merged with mine and which I haven’t even looked at since Presidents’ Day, almost six months ago. (I couldn’t remember if the district gave us the day off school or not.) “And three days before your first session with Jacob Booth.”
“Ah, yes. The slurper.” That was definitely a case of doing the best I could with what Mother Nature gave me. “Well, whatever. I’m the talent.”
Paul groans. Paul is not only my business partner, but also my best friend and my first client. It was three years ago, and the summer before eighth grade. I’d just experienced that classic middle school shift when not only is your body growing in weird, awkward ways, but so are your friendships. I was lonely and practically friendless and stuck at Micah Salih’s thirteenth birthday party, which my grandmother had forced me to attend. (The woman would lie down on the tracks and let a train speed right over her if she thought it was the polite thing to do.)
The game was seven minutes in heaven, and I was up next, along with a new kid named Paul who’d just moved to town with his recently divorced mom. That night, Paul and I learned three life-changing truths in that closet.
1. Paul was a bad kisser.
2. I was a good one.
3. Paul was definitely gay.
After a minute or two of sloppy kissing, Paul and I began to talk—decidedly the better use of our mouths. We made a pact to tell everyone things had gotten super steamy between us, and Paul asked me to show him how to be a great kisser. The only problem was, I didn’t even realize I was a great kisser until he said so. Suffice to say we spent much of eighth grade platonically making out and taking notes and making out some more until I’d cracked the science of kissing.
Monetizing my skill? That was Paul’s idea, of course. Some great kissers are born. Most great kissers are made. Some of them are made by me. With careful practice and close tutelage, of course, which comes at a price.
My hands are turning into prunes, which means it’s time for me to get out of the tub. And off the phone. “Okay, so come on. The couple. What’s so weird about them?”
“Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not going to freak out.”
“You’re going to freak out, Rubes.”
“Just tell me.”
He pauses for a moment. (For dramatic effect, I’m sure.) “It’s Annie Kim and Theo Simpson.”
My stomach drops. “Annie? As in Annie Annie?”
“You’re freaking out.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“Uh-huh,” he deadpans.
“Okay. Okay. Yeah. I’m freaking out.”
I sit in my childhood tree house on the far edges of my granddad Jake’s property. It’s not an ideal location for kissing lessons, but it’s private, and when you’re in the business of neckin’, that’s priority numero uno.
Annie Kim sits across from me in cheer shorts and an oversized T-shirt twisted into a knot at the small of her back. Her black bob is gathered into a half ponytail sprouting out from the top of her head like a weed. Annie is Korean American. Dumb people who don’t know any better mistake her for Chinese or, even worse, “Oriental.” She smells like sweat, but it’s not the same kind of stench that used to radiate from my brother, Ralphie, after football practice. She holds her bedazzled cell phone up for me to see. “He should be here any minute. He’s helping his dad do a sound check for tomorrow morning’s service.”
I nod and make no effort to mask my sigh. “I don’t normally do couples.” I decided that agreeing to meet with Annie and Theo was the professional thing to do. I have a reputation to uphold, and I’m not going to let sour grapes ruin that. Plus Annie offered to double my normal fee.
“And I appreciate you taking us on. You’re not easy to get in touch with, ya know?” she says.
“There’s a contact form on the website,” I say.
“Well, it just felt like there was a lot of vetting.”
“For good reason.” As the setting sun behind her head burns into the trees, I plug in the twinkly lights that Granddad Jake wired through here when we were kids.
She nods. “This place looks just the same.” Silence hangs there for a moment, suspended in midair. “I know this is awkward. I wouldn’t have reached out if I had known that you . . . were you. Even after I found that we would be meeting you here, I didn’t actually believe that it would be you waiting for us.”
“Well, here we are.” I’ve been giving kissing lessons for two years now, but my identity remains a secret from everyone except my clients. I keep their secrets, and they keep mine. Paul is my only real friend, so situations like this have never been an issue.
She nods. “I can’t believe how much tinier the tree house feels.” It’s just small talk, I know, but I appreciate the effort. Besides, we’re going to be doing things a lot more awkward than talking once Theo gets here.
I pull myself back a little farther into the corner. “Funny how things change,” I tell her. The dynamic between us is stiff and awkward, but also somehow familiar. Ever since we were girls in this little tree house, I remember being so aware of how much more space I took up than Annie. For Annie to be aware, it took her a growth spurt and boobs.
After a few moments of silence while she chews on her cuticles, she shakes her head quickly. “I can’t get over how weird it is to be back here.”
I simply shrug. For Annie to still be sitting here, she’s gotta be desperate.
Beneath us, leaves rustle as Theo takes the ladder two slats at a time. He pulls himself up and first turns to Annie. “Sorry I’m late.”
Annie nods and helps him up, but the way her shoulders slope down slightly tells me that his tardiness means more to her than Theo knows.
And then he turns to me. “Ruby?” he asks. “Ruby Mae? You’re the Kisser Fixer?”
I smile with my lips pursed tightly together. I get this a lot. Use whatever kind of euphemisms you want. Curvy, big-boned, junk in the trunk, heavyset, chubby. I’m the fat girl. Always have been. Not many people regard me as a romantic interest, but the proof is in the pudding and my pudding is kissing.
Theo is a classic PK—preacher’s kid—and the kind of guy who always wins. It could be anything from a game of wall ball to a radio contest. The guy’s just lucky. But you can’t exactly fault him for it, because he’s nice and charming. Or at least he’s good at pretending to be. Theo shuts the trapdoor behind him and takes Annie’s hand. “So give it to us easy, doc,” he says in a mock serious voice.
Annie swats at his leg. “He tries to make jokes of everything.”
Theo grunts. “Well, this is sort of a joke, anyway.”
I close my eyes, and breathe in deeply through my nose. “No one is forcing you to be here, but you should know: I don’t do refunds.”
Theo huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Most people remember their first kiss more vividly than the first time they had sex.”
“Well, we haven’t ever had sex,” Annie says.
Theo’s lips press into a thin line.
I scoot on my butt, inching myself closer to them, so that our knees are touching and we form the shape of a triangle. “I’m going to kiss each of you. Think of it as a physical, like a check-in to see where we are. This will allow me to evaluate your strengths and weaknesses.” Up here, this is my domain. I may be quiet at school, and a little lost in my small Oklahoma town, but up here in this tree house, I’m in charge.
Theo turns to Annie. “You’re okay with kissing a girl?”
“Baby,” she says, taking his hand.
“I’m not complaining. As long as you’re not making it a habit.” His smile is goofy, but his tone is serious. “I’ll go first,” Theo says, like that somehow makes him brave.
I close my eyes again, and force myself to erase every pretense, and to think of Theo as a blank slate. I open my eyes and see his grin has been exchanged for terror. I can see all the questions there on his face. Is this technically cheating? Am I actually going to kiss a fat girl? What if I really am a bad kisser? What if I get a boner?
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Use your whole body.”
His fingers dig a little too deep into my soft waistline, and he places his heavy hand on my shoulder in an oh-buddy, oh-pal kind of way. And then there’s his mouth. His mouth opens so wide that I can only assume his plan is to devour me whole, starting with my dental records.
Poor Annie, a voice in my head screeches. I push the thought of her aside and concentrate on Theo’s every move. The clumsy but too-eager hands. The wet, wide-open mouth that reminds me of one of those nonpredatory fish that just float through the ocean with their lips in an O, catching whatever meals dare float through their path. But something about his meaty hands is aggressive and territorial.
But then he pushes a little farther, and his hands are too heavy and too persistent. He tries to dominate me with his lips and tongue, and I can’t tell if this is just business as normal for him or some kind of psychological bullshit. Some people see auras. I don’t know if I buy all that, but if Theo’s kissing had an aura, it would be an angry purplish bruise.
I press against his chest, tapping out, and he pulls back a moment too late with a grin on his lips.
“Okay.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” he asks. “Okay?”
I’ve done this enough times to know that me unloading a laundry list of all the ways he’s a horrible kisser won’t get either Theo or Annie anywhere, but still, I have to bite my tongue.
I turn to Annie. “You ready?” I almost wish I could brush my teeth in between the two to cleanse my palate.
She leans in. And then pulls back, hesitating.
I smile easily. A part of me wants to reach out and comfort her and pretend that middle school never happened. Seeing her so unsure of herself . . . it’s nothing like her. “This is your show. Just do it how you normally do. Close your eyes and pretend I’m Theo if you have to.”
She leans in again but doesn’t close her eyes until her lips meet mine. In every movement, she is tentative and then abrupt. Like, someone self-possessed enough to know what they want to say, but lacking the vocabulary to actually follow through. It’s the opposite of the Annie I grew up with—the girl who saw the world in black and white or yes and no.
And yet, I sink into her. Something about the way she extends herself for just a moment and then pulls back makes me want to reach out and grab her. I break my own rule and kiss her back just a little. Encouraging her just a little. Just a little.
It’s hard not to remember all the history this tree house holds for us. I almost wish our friendship had ended with some final fight or with a bang so that I could neatly wrap that chapter of my life up and stow it away. But Annie drifted out of my world in an uneven way that could only be blamed on us growing in two separate directions.
Theo clears his throat, and Annie pulls back, startled. But Theo doesn’t startle me. Not at all. Something about him makes me defiant. And something about her reopens a wound that never healed.
My gaze drifts back and forth between them for a moment. I’ve never had to mediate between two people like this before. And on top of that, two people I have such clear feelings toward. I shake my head, forcing out every thought that begins with the word “I.”
“You’re both speaking two different languages,” I finally say. “Annie, you’re waiting for the kiss to come to you. And Theo . . . you’re . . . well . . . you’re overcompensating for that.”
She reaches for her backpack. “I—can I take notes?”
I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. “Of course.”
The sky outside is dark now, and with my twinkly stars lighting the tree house, and against my better judgment, I help bridge the gap between Annie and Theo as I teach them a language they can both understand.
That night, as I’m standing in my bathroom, long after Gram and Granddad have gone to bed, I coat my lips in a pricey organic lip scrub that I bought online with my Lessons for Beginners money. An investment, I told myself. A business expense. (One that I’ve managed not to tell Paul about.)
Every time I so much as blink, it’s Annie I see draped against the backs of my eyelids. Sitting in my tree house in her cheer shorts and spiky ponytail.
My phone rings, and I start the bathtub so Gram can’t hear me.
“Hello?”
“Don’t hello me,” says Paul’s voice on the other end of the line. “How’d it go?”
I sigh into the receiver. Paul is visiting his dad in Tulsa, and I would do anything to have him here with me tonight. Gram won’t admit that Paul’s gay, but she does let him spend the night. It infuriated me at first, but Paul said that she was making a bigger effort than I could understand.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “It was weird. But nothing new either. Theo is like kissing a drooling puppy who can’t keep his hands to himself and might bite your face off if you take his bone away. And Annie . . .” I trail off, not ready to share the details of our kiss. “I just feel bad for her. It was weird.”
“I still can’t believe you kissed the preacher’s kid’s girlfriend in front of the preacher’s kid. I want to be you when I grow up.”
“Har har. How’s your dad? Is he still dating Creepy Karen?”
While Paul narrates his week thus far for me, I strip down and get in the tub, since I’m already wasting all this water. I lick off my sugar scrub before biting down on my lip as I ease into the tub. For a moment, I even let myself pretend that it’s Annie’s teeth clenching my lip.
It’s hard for me to say if I’m gay or straight or bi. I’ve never been in a real relationship, but I do know that I like kissing ’em both. Nobody’s made my chest hiccup like Annie tonight, though. And that realization is something I don’t know how to process. I don’t know what it means. Maybe it’s just our history together that confused everything.
But, at the end of the day, I guess it doesn’t even matter what it means. She’s got Theo, and kissing her is just another day on the job.
The aerosol can hisses as I coat my legs with bug spray while I wait for Theo and Annie in the tree house. We’ve rescheduled this second session four times, and Paul thinks I should drop them as clients altogether without a refund. But I probably won’t see Annie until school starts back up again if I do that, and even then, we don’t move in the same circles. Shit. I don’t move in any circles at all, unless you count Paul and me. Plus, of course, I just feel plain old bad for her.
“Hello!” calls Annie’s voice.
“Up here!” I answer.
I don’t know what this is. A crush, maybe? But whatever it is, my heart is pounding quicker and quicker with Annie’s every step up the ladder. It can’t be a crush. The only thing between us is a childhood friendship that took its time fizzling out.
“Hey!” she says when her head pops through the trapdoor like a gopher.
I help pull her up and shut the door behind her. This time she’s wearing a short, white, gauzy dress with long sleeves that bell out past her fingertips and are longer than the dress itself. Her long bob is curled into perfect little waves, and if I weren’t so taken aback by how pretty she is, I would ask what color blush she’s wearing, because her round cheeks that sit high on her face shimmer gently against the setting sun.
“Theo should be here soon,” she tells me.
I nod, because my mouth is too dry to talk.
I’ve always considered myself to be sort of like a doctor. Your doctor sees you naked sometimes, but there’s nothing sexual about it. And that’s how it’s always been for me too. I kiss to diagnose. Nothing more.
But right now I can barely breathe. Never mind talking.
Christ. Where is this guy?
Annie sits directly next to me so she can see the sunset too. She hesitates for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yep.”
“How did you know you were a good kisser?”
“No one’s ever asked me that.” I think for a moment. “It was more that I could spot bad kissers. And I guess knowing every possible fault makes you hyperaware of what works. The first time I kissed someone—like, really kissed someone—it wasn’t fun. It didn’t feel good. And I knew that had to be wrong. So I decided to figure out why.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “You really haven’t changed at all. Do you remember when you debunked Austin Crout’s science fair project in the third grade after he beat you for second place?”
I shrug. “He got photosynthesis all wrong.”
We both laugh, and I can feel the wall between us lowering. She settles in beside me, and our legs are skin to skin.
We’re silent for a moment, and I let myself close my eyes to soak in the sensation of her bare thigh against mine, because the beauty of a setting sun and the feel of our skin pressed together is too much for me to consume at once.
But I force myself to wake up from this moment. “You and Theo must be pretty serious.”
She turns to me. “I like him a lot, ya know? He’s funny and he’s got a good family too. My mom likes him, and she doesn’t even like me.” Her phone buzzes, but she doesn’t look away.
“Your mom liked me.”
“You liked her food. Of course she liked you.” Her gaze wanders outside. “But I knew there was something missing with me and Theo. He was the first person I’d ever kissed, ya know? And I just couldn’t figure out how it was that he could be such a good boyfriend and such a bad kisser. Like, the minute our lips touch, all the chemistry evaporates.”
“Well, it would help if he weren’t trying to swallow your face.”
She laughs. “I don’t mean to talk bad about him. I don’t. Theo is good. He’s good to me. He’s the kind of person who makes you think of where you’re going. Not where you came from.”
That stings.
Her phone buzzes again, and this time she checks it. Her whole body slumps against the wall of the tree house. “He’s not coming.”
I could say any number of things. Good. Or I don’t do refunds. Or You’re better off without him. Or Maybe it’s fate. But instead I just take her hand and say, “I’m sorry.”
“He thinks it’s bogus.” Her voice shakes a bit, like she might cry.
“Well, do you?”
She pauses for a moment. “It didn’t feel bogus.”
My senses are on overdrive. Blood pumping and heart pounding.
But I’m not alone. She anxiously searches my face and bites down on her lip. Her lip. Her lip. Her lip.
I tug on her hand, pulling it into my lap. I can’t make the first move. I won’t. If I do, I’ll always wonder if the feeling was mutual.
Annie studies our entwined fingers for a long time before she pulls my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles one by one.
If I were standing, my knees would have given out by now. She’s so slow, but deliberate in a way that she wasn’t during our first lesson.
She squares her shoulders to face me and pulls my hand up so that it cradles her cheek.
“Relax,” I tell her, unable to let go of my teacherlike encouragements. “Go at your own pace.”
She nods, and leans into me. Her lips hover a breath away from mine before crashing into me. It’s slow and fast and measured and reckless.
I decide then that this is my first kiss. I’m staking my claim on this kiss with my own flag. I am the United Nations of Ruby, and this is my first official kiss, and I want to live inside of it forever.
We kiss, and we kiss. The sun sets without consulting us, and my twinkling lights glow all around the tree house, like a lighthouse in my Oklahoma woods. And we kiss.
Weeks later the bright white stadium lights illuminate the Pinkerton High football field. The air around us is thick with humidity, and I don’t even know how anyone could do anything more than sit perfectly still on a night like this.
When Annie left after our kiss in the tree house, it didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t have any good excuse to see her for the rest of the summer. Which is why I’ve dragged Paul to the first football game of the season. It’s been three weeks and four days since we kissed. I didn’t mean to keep count, but I have and I am. Our kiss seemed like plenty of reason for her to call or text, but I guess it wasn’t.
Annie cheers with the rest of the varsity squad on the track ringing the football field while Theo and his friends sit on the top row of bleachers behind us. I am hyperaware of my proximity to both of them at all times, even at school. I can feel the tension taut between the three of us like we’re the Bermuda Triangle, and every moment I’ve spent with either of them has been forgotten by everyone except me.
Paul and I got here late, so we’re stuck next to the band and have to scream to even hear each other. But I don’t mind drowning in the music and just watching Annie as she shakes her pom-poms in the air and does toe touches one right after the other. Her skin is slick with sweat and the stray hairs falling from her ponytail curl at the nape of her neck. She laughs in between cheers at our mascot, a tiger in cowboy boots and a matching hat with a rudimentary understanding of gymnastics.
Something in my chest twists tight like a tourniquet. I want to make her laugh. I want to get in a fight with her so we can make up. I want to see her cry so I can kiss away her tears. I want and I want, but a silly want seems like no good reason to disrupt her whole life. And mine. These feelings have festered for weeks now, and the only good thing about it is that I’m no longer confused. I know exactly what I want.
Cymbals crash beside me, shocking me back to reality.
Paul turns and shouts in my ear, “This is boring as hell! If we get outta here, we can still catch a movie at the Grand.”
The buzzer sounds for halftime, and the cheerleaders create a human tunnel with their arms and pom-poms for the football players to run through as they head back to the locker room. I nod. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go. I’m gonna run to the bathroom first.”
“Meet you in the parking lot,” he says, and practically sprints down the stairs ahead of the crowd.
I’m slower and am left to shuffle through the herd of spectators making their way to the bathrooms and concession stands. As I wait there on the steps, Annie’s eyes meet mine. She stands in line behind the rest of her squad as they wait to take the field for their halftime show.
The person behind me nudges me forward, but I don’t look away. I lift my hand for a small wave.
And then she smiles. She smiles because I make her smile. A whistle blows, and she looks away quickly before filing onto the field.
While I wait in line for the bathroom, I hear the upbeat halftime music crackle over the speakers. After washing my hands, I walk around the back of the cement building housing the bathrooms, and someone pulls me into the shadows.
“I didn’t see you at school this week,” Annie says.
We stand in the dark, outside the pools of light shining around the football field. The soil beneath us is soft from yesterday’s rain as my feet sink farther into the mud.
“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough.” I sound hurt because I am. The kiss we shared. It was more than just a kissing lesson.
Annie nods. “I didn’t know what to do.” She reaches for my hand, and her fingertips brush mine, before I pull back. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. You. The kiss.”
All I can think about in this moment is how she’s with Theo. Why would I fight for her when there’s nothing to fight for?
Her ponytail bounces as she shakes her head. “You were the first girl I ever kissed, okay?”
She’s unsure. I get it. I was too.
“And I’m confused,” she says. “But not about what you might think. It’s not about”—her voice drops an octave—“kissing a girl. It’s about choosing between the two of you. Because I can’t have both, can I?”
My mouth goes immediately dry. “No. No, you can’t.”
“I like you, but Theo’s trying. He really is. And I can introduce Theo to my parents. To my mom. You know how hard things always were for me and her.”
“I already know your parents. And your mom.”
“As a friend,” she says. “They wouldn’t understand if we were anything beyond . . . and I’m going to homecoming with Theo. I bought a dress, and—”
“I can buy a dress too. Or a tux, or whatever the hell.” I hate that I’m trying to convince her. I’ve never been the type to meet others any closer than the middle. But there’s something about her that makes me want to meet her wherever she is.
“Annie!” Theo’s voice barks from around the corner.
She jumps a little and slips in the mud, but I catch her by the elbow.
“What’s going on back here?” Theo asks as he turns the corner. “Annie, the squad is looking for you.”
“I—I have to go. I have somewhere to be.”
Theo’s eyes focus in on my hand on Annie’s arm. “Sorry it never worked out with your, uh, services this summer. Guess we didn’t really need you in the end, right, Annie?”
He takes Annie’s other hand and pulls her away from me. My fingers drag down the length of her arm as she leaves me. She looks back over her shoulder, and says good-bye without even a single word.
At first, I wake up every morning and pray that today is the day she chooses me. Every time a new client reaches out, I wonder if it’s actually her trying to make some kind of covert contact. But days pass, and then weeks.
Soon my inbox is full of unanswered emails and all I can bear to do is float in my bathtub with my ears just below the surface of the water so that the world around me is distant and muffled.
Annie’s schedule and mine overlap briefly every other day, when she’s leaving phys ed and I’m going.
I take my time getting changed. It’s Friday, and who’s ever in a hurry to sweat anyway?
As I sit with my leg hiked up on the bench, tying my shoe, a voice calls, “Hello? Ruby?”
Annie peers around the corner and approaches me slowly, like I’m a wounded animal.
“I wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else.” She sits beside me, straddling the bench. “I broke up with Theo.”
My foot falls to the ground. “What? Why?”
The final bell for next period rings. “Don’t act like you didn’t kiss him too.” She sighs. “Besides, it was lots of different reasons in the end. The kissing was just the first clue.”
“What about homecoming this weekend?”
“I’ll probably just go and say hi to everyone and go home.”
The words are spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Go,” I tell her. “With me. Paul will come too.” Though it might be news to him, I think.
“Just as friends, though, right?”
It’s just two words, but they’re two words that make this sweet moment a little bitter. “Just friends.”
Paul is our chauffeur. Or third wheel, if you ask him. No matter how many times I explain to him that this is not a date, he refuses to believe me. He wears a black button-up shirt tucked into black skinny jeans, and with a herringbone bow tie. He looks way too hip for Pinkerton, Oklahoma.
When we pick up Annie, her mom answers the door and recognizes me immediately. “Ruby Mae!” she squeals into my ear after pulling me in for a hug. “I’m so happy to see you around again. Annie needs good friends and you were always a good friend. You must come over for kimchi pancakes next Thursday, okay? Annie,” she calls, “next Thursday. Don’t forget!”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
She steps back to reveal Annie in a soft yellow chiffon strapless dress that floats just above her knees with a sweetheart neckline and an antique locket. Huddled together, we walk back down to the car where Paul is waiting.
I want to tell her she’s beautiful and that I can’t believe she’s my date—albeit platonic.
“You look amazing,” Annie tells me.
I glance down at the satin hunter-green dress Gram bought me for Christmas Eve services last year. Paul calls it my sexy secretary dress. The skirt is fitted and hugs my hips a little more than Gram expected, and the short sleeves poof up just enough to be cute. The first thing that I think to say is Are you blind? or I don’t feel amazing, but instead I force myself to take the compliment. “Thank you.”
Entering the dance feels like some huge moment, but it’s all in my head. No one looks at us. No one knows I’m here with the girl I have a huge crush on. A few of Annie’s friends swoop in and coo at her, asking her about Theo and if it’s just a temporary break. But Annie is quick to shake them off. It’s a small gesture, but one that’s a step toward healing the wound left behind by middle school.
The three of us dance all night to loud and fast music. When the first slow song comes on, Paul is quick to disappear while Annie and I shuffle off to a dark corner to catch our breath and have some punch, which I’m sad to report is not spiked.
In the dark, we’re just two silhouettes. All the baggage that makes up me and makes up Annie dissolves until all that’s left is two girls—two people—in a dark corner. I take Annie’s empty cup and place it on the floor alongside mine.
I pull her arms around my shoulders and wrap mine around her waist. We slow dance, like two girls on a date, because that’s what we are. Paul’s said it enough times that it’s almost starting to feel real.
She nuzzles into my neck with her lips pressed against my pulse. We shift around in our little corner as the song plays on.
And then she’s ripped away from me. It takes a moment for my eyes to realize what they’re seeing.
Theo stands in front of me, and he’s yanked Annie back by her hair. Her eyes are watering, and even though he’s let go, she holds a hand to her head.
“Her?” he yells. “Of all people, you’re leaving me for this fat piece of shit?”
He comes for me. He storms right at me and throws me against the wall. I feel my spine crushing into the brick. I become much smaller than I am.
Paul is shouting. The music stops. The slow halogen lights above are brightening.
One. Two. Three. That’s how many seconds it takes for the adrenaline of the moment to hit me.
I push back, and maybe he’s not expecting it or maybe I don’t know my own strength, but he rocks back on his heels and falls to the ground.
I’m surprised by myself, but not as much as he is. His jaw drops as he just lies there on the floor, completely stunned.
This isn’t some barbaric display where I claim Annie as mine. I’m claiming her as her own. And I’m showing Theo—a guy who is far too used to getting everything he wants—that I bite back.
Hands and arms pull me back even though I’m not touching Theo. Miss Purdy, our vice principal, is talking at me, but all I can do is search for Annie.
She stands off to the side with Paul, still holding her head. Her lips are melted into a frown, and her perfectly curled hair is a knotted mess.
I hear “suspension” and a “zero tolerance policy concerning violence on school property” and something about calling Gram in on Monday morning.
I can feel bruises forming on my back, and when I reach back, I feel pulls and snags in my satin dress.
I look for Theo, but he’s already been dragged off to the other side of the gym. I know how this will go and how it will be spun. The preacher’s kid attacked by his ex-girlfriend’s predatory lesbian mistake. But I know who made the first move. Who yanked Annie from me by her hair, like a dog being pulled away by her scruff.
Mr. Houghton, our campus security guard, hands me a handkerchief, even though I’m not crying, and guides me by my elbow out of the gymnasium and toward the parking lot.
“Slut!” “Dyke!” “Whore!” All names shouted at me above the constant whispers as I leave the homecoming dance. In the dark hallway, shoes clack behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Annie and Paul following close.
Outside by the carport, Mr. Houghton turns to me and says, “Now, Miss Purdy will be in touch with your grandmother on Monday morning, but don’t you come back here on campus without permission. Don’t want to start no more trouble.”
I nod and offer him his bloody hanky back.
He shakes his head. “Y’all head home before things get rowdy out here.”
“I’ll pull the car around,” says Paul. I can see in the way he looks at me that he’s trying to piece together this new facet of information he’s learned about me tonight. Not only am I a lover. I’m a fighter, too.
With Mr. Houghton and Paul gone, I turn to Annie. Finally. “Are you mad?”
She takes a step toward me. “I think I’m supposed to be. But no. No, not even a little bit. Not at you.” Gently, she grazes my cheek with her thumb.
I grin, but dread settles into my stomach as I wonder how I might even begin to explain this to Gram. But then . . . I don’t really care.
Annie kisses my cheeks, one at a time, and then my lips. I’m hesitant at first, but Annie separates her lips with mine and doesn’t shy away despite the audience spying on us through the gymnasium windows.
Paul’s car idles beside us for a moment before I pull back. Annie’s soft yellow dress is rumpled, and her mascara is smeared under her eyes. But she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Our carriage awaits,” I tell her.
The two of us sit in the backseat curled into each other like two bruised question marks as Paul drives circles around our little town and blasts the kind of music our parents don’t understand.