“Are you going to dump Dub?” Delia asks, sashaying in her dress and snapping me back to the reality I so desperately want to escape from.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” It’s easy for her to dismiss Dub since she’s never really given him a chance. He’s tried to be her friend and ask her questions or invite her to hang out with us, but she blows him off.
Delia shakes her butt and the fabric catches the bright store lights. Even though I’m irritated with her, I tell her she looks nice.
She pops her gum. “Thanks.” Delia turns around so I’ll unzip her. She doesn’t even compliment my dress. Maybe nobody would’ve stopped and noticed me after all.
I turn my back to the mirror, and the emotions bubble up. “Things are such a mess because of Cherish.”
“Not everything is her fault,” Delia says.
“Okay, Mom and Liz.” I’ve had enough of these sorts of talks at home.
“Hey, I’m just saying that Cherish is a piece of work and you should ignore her so she’ll eventually quit messing with you. She does it because she can.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve some of this.” Delia flexes her arm while preventing the dress from falling down with her other hand. “Look, Rashell and I fought all of the time.”
“But she never stole your crap or sucked face with your boyfriend or vandalized your locker or trash-talked your mom.”
“No, but we fought.”
Their fights were about who hogged the bathroom the longest or polished off the milk.
Delia’s missing the point and it’s clear I can’t talk to her like I used to. She’d flip if she knew about the stolen necklace and the shredded essay.
Some Intervention.
“Check him out.” Delia points at a guy working the cash register at Chick-fil-A.
I trip on a chair in the food court trying to get a good look. The guy is built and his head is shaved. “He’s okay.”
“Better than okay!”
The guy smiles when he notices us gawking at him. It’s a warm, sexy smile that lights up his dark eyes. His smile makes me agree with Delia. Despite myself, I smile back.
“I vote Chick-fil-A for lunch.” Delia grins and heads to the counter before I have a chance to cast my vote. Not that I’d ever say no to fried chicken.
The guy continues smiling as we get closer. He looks sixteen, maybe seventeen. Only a couple years older than us. A woman behind the next cash register asks if she can take our order, but the guy interrupts her to say, “I’ll take care of ’em.”
Delia steps behind me and giggles. I manage to order our lunch without laughing.
When the guy passes me my lemonade, his hand bumps mine. The rush of warmth and the softness of his skin catch me by surprise.
“Come back soon,” the guy says when he delivers our lunch. He smiles again, and my grip on the tray wobbles. I regain my balance to keep our chicken sandwich meals and lemonades from flopping onto the floor.
Delia barely eats her lunch because she can’t stop talking about Hot Chick-fil-A Guy. “I think I’m in love, Calli!”
I sip my tart, sweet lemonade to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Being in love means you crave being with your special person. You can’t stand it when you’re away from each other. It’s a sort of euphoria I can’t expect her to understand. Delia’s never had a boyfriend, and she wasn’t even brave enough to say hello to this guy. “Why don’t you refill your lemonade or order something else so you can talk to him?”
“No way. I blew it when I started laughing.” She starts laughing all over again when she repeats, “He’s going to take care of us.”
I chuckle and help myself to her salty waffle fries.
ANOTHER MARK ON THE TALLY SHEET
Sunday, April 20
CHERISH FRANTICALLY KNOCKS on my door before barging in.
“Shi—”
“Shiitake mushrooms,” I say, interrupting her rude greeting. Can’t she see I’m studying for a quiz?
“You’re so weird. Your whole family is weird. Even your dog.”
I stare at her from my desk. My moms can be weird sometimes. . . but Sassy? “What do you have against my dog?”
“I saw her eat shi—”
“She did not. Don’t bother me if you’re going to talk shiitake mushrooms about my family.” I could talk merde about hers, like how her mom is locked up in St. Gabriel.
“Sorry,” Cherish says, leaning against my wall. “I need your help.”
“Really?” Not only does Cherish apologize, but she’s also asking for my help? “Why don’t you ask Dub instead? You should know he’s more than a good kisser.”
She straightens up and moves away from the wall, closer to my desk. “It’s Sunday night! My paper’s due tomorrow morning and it’s not on my desk. It’s too late to call Dub or ask your mom to help me again.”
I dig my fingernails into my palms. “Sounds like you have a problem. Good luck.”
Cherish doesn’t get the hint and keeps standing there. My hands unfurl and I pick up Français: Bienvenue. I glance away from Cherish and turn to the vocabulary pages in the back of the book.
les amis (layz ah-mee)—friends le chocolat (luh shok-oh-lah)—chocolate l’école (lay-kohl)—school
“It’s not like the two of you were married. Besides, you’ll probably end up like your mom anyway.”
“Just because your mom is in jail doesn’t mean you’re going to start selling drugs too!”
Cherish slaps her hand against my desk. The loud thud makes me jump back in my chair. “It’s none of your fuc—”
“Get out!”
She steps back, and her voice lowers. “It’s none of your business, but my mom was trying to make a life for us. Especially after what happened with my stepdad.” The eyeliner in the corner of Cherish’s eyes smears into a smudgy black.
“I’m sorry.” What’s up with me? I should be fighting. I shouldn’t be apologizing.
“You gotta do something. Sucking at school isn’t going to help my situation.”
The air conditioner is running, but it isn’t cold enough to keep me from sweating. “You looked everywhere for it?”
Cherish nods and I try my best to act clueless. She’s got no idea that her essay is in the landfill by now.
It makes me a terrible person, I know, but I like that this girl is begging. That I’ve got the upper hand for once. Since she’s so behind, Cherish has to take special classes. I’m supposed to keep certain things confidential. Not like Cherish has ever had that respect for me. Right after moving in, she made nasty comments about Mom and Liz to everyone at school. I’d done my best to keep their relationship private as much as possible, not because I was ashamed exactly, but to avoid the jokes and gossip. When people asked me if what Cherish said was true, I ignored them.
“Please, Calli.” Cherish sniffs and I look up. She wipes her eyes with