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“Excuse me,” came a voice, and all three of them looked up.
“Hey, Paulie,” Colleen said. “How are you? Have a seat!”
Paulina “Paulie” Petrosinsky pulled up a chair, swung it backward and straddled it. She’d been Faith and Colleen’s classmate—not quite a friend back in the day, but really nice. She came into O’Rourke’s once in a while, usually after a workout at the gym, where her weight lifting skills were the stuff of legend.
“Um...I overheard you say something about, uh, teaching people? Women?” she asked.
“Slut University,” Pru said, and Faith and Honor snorted.
“Very funny,” Colleen said. “My reputation is greatly exaggerated.”
“And whose fault is that?” Faith asked. “You should stop spreading rumors about yourself.”
Colleen smiled. Had she in fact written something flattering about herself on the men’s room wall just last week? She had. “Ignore my so-called friends,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Um...can you really help a, um, a person? With, uh...you know. Love and men and stuff?” Paulie’s face turned deep red, then purple.
“Are you all right?” Honor asked, frowning a little.
“Oh, that. My face. It’s called idiopathic craniofacial erythema. I...I blush. A lot.”
“Wish I could hang around,” Prudence said. “We farm people have to get up early. Good luck with your man, Paulie! See you, girls!”
“So are you interested in someone in particular?” Colleen asked, scootching over into Pru’s vacated chair to make more room at the table.
Paulie swallowed. “Yeah,” she whispered, glancing around.
“Who?” Faith asked.
“Um...I’d rather not say.”
Colleen nodded. “What do you like about him?”
“He’s...he’s just so nice. I mean, really kind, right? And he’s cheerful and good and smart, I think, too. I mean, he...well. He’s great.”
Colleen smiled. “And do you feel sick when you see him, and then hot, and then nauseous?”
“Exactly,” Paulie said, her face purpling again.
“Do you imagine conversations with him, holding hands and moonlit walks and all that other mushy stuff?”
“I—yes. I do.” Paulie took a shaky breath.
“Does he make your danger zone tingly? Does your skin get hot, do your knees wobble, does your tongue feel swollen—”
Faith stood up. “I miss Levi,” she announced. She gave Colleen a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “Good luck, Paulie! Take Colleen with a grain of salt.”
“I’m going, too,” Honor said. “Bye, matchmaker. Do no harm, mind you. See you, Paulina.”
“So who is this guy?” Colleen asked when they were gone.
Paulie shot a nervous glance back to the bar. Aha! A hint. “You know what?” Paulie said. “Never mind. He’s...he’s out of my league.”
“No, he’s not!” Colleen cried. “Paulie, you’re so nice! You are! Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Besides, Colleen always felt a little guilty where Paulie was concerned.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“It’s true,” Colleen said firmly. Granted, Paulie hadn’t been blessed with great beauty. And her dad was a little odd—Ronnie Petrosinsky, owner of four small restaurants called Chicken King that served fried chicken thirty-eight different ways, all of them very, very bad for you. He was locally famous for his commercials, where he pranced around dressed as a rooster wearing a crown. Poor Paulie was also featured in a fluffy yellow chick suit, wearing a crown—the Chicken Princess. Try getting out from under that title, especially in high school.
