“Ah, so they’ll be out for revenge. Seems pretty important to me,” I postulate, tapping my lips with one finger. “Sounds like we should all go.”
“What?” he exclaims. “No, you don’t have to do that. It’s…”
“Nope,” I interrupt with a slice of my hand. “We’re going to your big game, and we’ll shout embarrassing cheers of support. If only we had time to make obnoxious posters or buy a set of pom-poms and a megaphone. Next time, I guess,” I lament, my voice filled with mock disappointment. “Oh, think we can get front row seats so we can badger the coach?”
“If he doesn’t want us…” Donovan tries, his expression full ofplease don’t make me.
“It’s an important game, and as Kaleb’s friends, we’re going-- if only to suffer right along with him,” I assert, partly banking these trips to counter all the ones I’ll definitely miss come spring. “Besides, I’ve never been to a football game before.”
Donovan sighs, knowing he’s beat. “Fine, but I demand food first. I’m not suffering the crappy snack shack with stupid prices for what amounts to cheese on chips. That’snotnachos!”
“I’ll do you guys one better,” I croon, my new fancy credit card tucked safely into my wallet. “Dinner is on me.”
Chapter 14
Callie
“How was dinner and the football game last night?” my aunt asks, as she twists another lock of my hair around the curling iron.
“Good,” I answer, sitting in one of the kitchen chairs we nabbed from downstairs and attempting to keep my head still. I never really thought about how much I fidget until a hot curling iron became involved. “There’s a pretty good Chinese food place on Main Street that will either welcome us with open arms as their favorite customers, or they’ll cower in fear and try to lock the doors the next time they see us. The boys really know how to pack it away.”
Mildred laughs. “I believe it’s a rule that all teenage boys have hollow legs.”
“Did you just call the guys fat? I’m so telling,” Felix taunts from the threshold of the bathroom, hover-leaning against the doorframe. He’s been enjoying giving a running commentary, since he knows I can’t say anything back.
My aunt is blocking my view, so I can’t even get a good glare in.
I continue, ignoring Felix’s comment. “I didn’t really understand much of the game past ‘get the ball to the other side of the field,’ but we won, and there was a pretty big turnout considering it was an away game. The snack shack seriously needs to step up their coffee game, though.” I make ablehface. “I think it was Folgers instant. By the time I was able to make it palatable, I’m pretty sure it was more sugar than coffee.”
“Should’ve gone with tea,” she replies, the smirk evident in her voice.
“How very British of you,” I chuckle, watching her unravel the now curled strand. “And you’re not wrong--then there’d be no need for cream or sugar.”
She shudders over the thought of taking tea plain, and a smile steals its way across my face. This is… nice. More than nice. Mildred offered to help me get ready for the party tonight, and even though I’m nervous about my first party that doesn’t involve Barbies or a piñata, there’s a warm glow inside me thawing out a few more of those harsh ice chips. It’s hard to describe how I feel-- only that this is an experience I never imagined I’d be lucky enough to have.
“Almost done,” Mildred promises, setting the curling iron down on the counter. She grabs a purple aerosol can and lightly mists my hair. “That’s a flex hold hairspray, so it shouldn’t feel crunchy.”
“Thanks for all of this, Aunt Mildred,” I say sincerely, biting my bottom lip. My aunt applied a tinted lip gloss, and it doesn’t taste nearly as gross as lipstick.
I get up and look in the mirror, happy with the final results. My hair rests around my shoulders in soft, shiny curls, and my makeup looks so much better and less drag queen-esque under Mildred’s more reserved hand. She concentrated more around my eyes, using subtle pinks and beiges with black eyeliner and mascara for “a bit of drama.”
“You look smashing, my darling,” she assures, looking in the mirror with me. “Absolutely smashing.”
“She’s right,” Felix murmurs, his warm timbre low and soft. “You look really amazing.”
My chin dips down, hair spilling around my face, and heat flushes my cheeks. I pull on the sleeves of the silky, lavender robe my aunt let me borrow to keep my new shirt from getting dirty.
“Thank you,” I mumble, embarrassed by the flattery.
Mildred looks down at her watch, a beautiful piece of jewelry that looks more like a bracelet than a watch. “My goodness,” she cries, “you said your friends are supposed to be here at eight. You only have a few minutes. Go finish getting ready.” She shoos me out of the bathroom.
“Going. Going,” I chant as I hurry down the hall, Felix trailing behind me.
“Now, what should I wear to a party where no one can see me?” Felix muses, following me into my bedroom. “Should I go for comfort, not that I can feel physical discomfort, or more for style? Can a ghost suffer for fashion?”
I chuckle from near the closet, retrieving my new boots and leather jacket. I saved them both to wear for the first time, tonight. Throwing the jacket on my bed, I sit down to lace up my boots.
Glancing up at him, I ask, “What do you normally wear to these things?”
