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He looks me over. I make myself stand still and wait for him to reply.
His gaze flits over my shoulder at the curtain. “You were hiding back there?” He tips his head at it.
I nod.
“So, you heard everything my mom said?”
So snake
head is his mother. My mother’s terrible, but she never talks to me like that. I feel sorry for him again.
I nod again.
He sighs and closes his eyes.
“Where do you go to school?”
“T.H. Rogers.”
“You’re in middle school?” His eyebrows shoot up. He eyes me up and down, and I can see the doubt on his face. My mother has been dressing me like this and bringing me to these events with her since I turned twelve.
She tells people I’m her younger sister. I’m tall for my age and had breasts by the time I was eleven. So, throw me in a skintight black dress, paint my lips red and stuff my feet into some heels, and there are some places that won’t even card me.
I shrug. “Seventh grade. What you about you?”
“Eighth, I go to Rainier.” He mentions the middle school that serves Rivers Wilde.
“Oh, okay.” I try to cover my surprise. He looks older, too. He’s taller than any of the boys in my middle school.
“You know anyone at Rainer? I don’t want it getting around there that I was crying.”
“No.” I don’t add that I barely know anyone who goes to T.H. Rogers either. I have one friend, Nikki and even she only eats with me because her other friends have a different lunch period.
“That’s good.” He runs a hand over his face like he’s tired. “You want to sit down?” he asks, and when I hesitate he pats the seat next to him.
I’m tempted, these shoes aren’t exactly a joy to stand in. But I hesitate for a second and gauge how quickly I can be back behind that curtain if someone comes in.
“Come on. No one’s coming. I promise.” And there’s something in his smile that tells me he takes his promises seriously.
So, I walk over to the couch and sit down next to him. He leans back like he’s getting comfortable and stares up at the ceiling.
“I wasn’t crying. My mom just makes me mad.”
“It’s okay. I hate my mom sometimes, too,” I admit with a shrug.
“I don’t hate her—I don’t know. She just—”
“Doesn’t like you very much. Is never happy with you, no matter what you do? Wants to you to be everything you’re not?”
He slides his eyes over to me again and looks me up and down. I push my glasses up my nose and smile nervously. He doesn’t smile back.
“How do you know that?”
“Because, mine’s the same way. And… I heard what your mother said.” I give him a sly smile and he smiles back.
It’s such a nice smile, complete with twin dimples. I’m sad when it disappears as quickly as it was there.
“Yeah… so that’s it. Basically. I’ll never measure up to my dad.”
