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Prologue - Nine Years Ago
Lara Dieckling
“Whereyou,Beeyatch?”Gary’svoice echoes through the empty house. My mom is working a late shift and thinks I’m spending the night at Gary’s. I feel guilty about the lie, but Gary convinced me it will be worth it.
“You ready yet?” he hollers up the stairs.
No matter how hard I try, my hair just won’t stay straight, so I spray another layer of hairspray across my scalp, trying to glue it down. My eyes water from the chemical sting. The hairspray holds for half a second, and suddenly, the frizzy curls explode, the fuzzy mess so great my face gets lost in its immense snarl. Withmyface, that might be a positive thing,
“I’m in my room!” I call out to Gary.
My mom had warned me my teenage years would be full of strife, hormones, and gossip, but even she never predicted how bad my acne would be. Five layers of concealer and I still can’t smooth the ugly bumps and hide the redness. Even when I’m not looking at myself in the mirror, which I try to avoid, touching my own face is a constant reminder of the curse of my condition. As if teenage years aren’t hard enough already, the universe decided I needed just one more challenge to make my life miserable.
“Hurry up, girlfriend!” Gary says.
Shit. He’ll want to leave soon, but I don’t even know if I like this outfit. The black blouse is fitting, and as I turn sideways, my boobs look weird, like they’re pouring out of the cups of my bra.
Gary throws open my bedroom door, and of course, he looks fabulous, as usual. His hair is pinned back, he’s wearing a vest with no shirt, and matching high-waisted slacks with platform boots. It could easily be an outfit for Halloween, and even though it’s only August, he makes it work. For Gary, it’s style.
He checks my outfit and raises his palms defensively, his mouth curling into a grimace. “No, no, no, no, no, Girl.”
My shoulders slump. “Come on,” I grumble. “I think I look fine.”
“This is your first high school party, and you’re not even showing any cleavage.”
“My mom says cleavage makes me look like a slut.”
Gary bobs his head. “Yeah, duh. That’s the whole point.” He spins around and strides toward my closet and begins rifling through my wardrobe.
I collapse backward on my bed, overwhelmed with the whole process. “Maybe I shouldn’t go. They didn’t even invite me.”
“Bitch, I invited you,” he counters, his head still in the closet.
“Yeah, and you got a secondhand invite from Georgia, and she’s only going because her cousin is dating Mark. Like… we’re so far removed, it doesn’t even make sense.”
“It’s not like they’ll be checking names at the door. It’s a party. Random people show up all the time.”
Gary goes to parties more than I do. And that doesn’t take much. I never get invited, and I get it. I’m the odd girl. The ugly duckling. At school, if it weren’t for Gary, I’d never even have anyone to talk to, so I don’t really mind. Now Gary… He is a social butterfly, loves human interaction, but he rarely gets an invitation either. Of course, that never stops him from crashing.
I wish I had his nerve. He isn’t afraid of anything. This is the first football party he’s gone to, and I’m nervous that I’m going with him when he didn’t even get an actual invitation.
“Yes!” he whoops from the closet. “This is superb!”
I sit up, my jaw dropping when I see the pink sequin onesie he’s holding in the air. It’s from a dance number I performed in theatre club two years ago. “There is no way that fits me.”
“What are you talking about? This material stretches.” He tugs on the leggings as if they’re one of those workout rubber band things on TV.
“I’ll have to wear a tank top underneath it. It will be too tight.”
Gary grins. “No, you’re wearing it like this.”
“Gary! It’s so low cut it will show my belly button.”
“And your cleavage will look fabulous. If you’re really feeling shy, you can wear it with jeans instead of shorts. Just try it on.”
I cross my arms.
Gary sticks his fist on his hip. “Do you want the quarterback to notice you or not? You know he’ll be there.”
