Sandwiched. Jennifer Archer
she does.”
“Well, I can’t,” I say. “I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s false advertising for one thing. For another,” I pinch the nipples, “I’d look like I’m chronically cold.”
Suz snickers.
“Besides, if a guy’s only interested in me because he thinks I have big boobs then maybe he’s not worth knowing.”
She sits beside me. “Let me explain guys to you. They can’t help it. They’re drawn to ta-tas like flies are drawn to picnic tables. It’s the way they’re wired.”
I lay the blobs on the bed beside the red boots. “In that case, I have no hope.”
“Not true. You just have to trick them into noticing you so that they’ll stick around long enough to get to know you better. Once they do, and they realize how funny and smart you are, your booblessness won’t matter so much.”
I stare at her. “Yeah, right.”
Suz sighs. “Okay, maybe not. I’ve never met a guy our age that mature.”
I think of Dad. Mom doesn’t know I figured out about him and the sleazoid who lives next door. But I’m not stupid. I saw how his eyelids got all heavy-looking whenever he saw her out in the driveway wearing only a little bikini top with her short shorts. I heard how his voice changed whenever they spoke, how his deep drawl got deeper and more drawn out, like the words were coated with molasses. “I’m not sure they’re ever that mature,” I say to Suzanna. “Even the old ones.”
Suz sighs. “We’ll have to concentrate on something besides funny and smart then.” She studies me. “You have great eyes. I wish mine were big and brown. And your hair…” She twists it up on top of my head then lets it fall. “I like the color.”
“You have a thing for muddy brown?”
She makes a face. “It’s chestnut.”
“Whatever you say.”
Suz picks up an insert. “Quit being so negative and just have some fun with these, why don’t you?” She tosses it at me. “At least try them on with the clothes.”
Five minutes later, I strut back and forth in front of Suzanna’s full-length mirror laughing like a crazy person. “Hey, dressing like a slut is sort of fun.”
“Ohmigod! You’re so not slutty-looking. I swear! You look like a model. You have to buy some of those thingies to wear all the time. They look real!”
Jumping up and down, I watch them jiggle. I laugh so hard tears run down my cheeks. I admit to Suzanna that I think I might like pretending to be the girl in the mirror for just one night.
“Then let me change clothes and we’ll get out of here,” she says, clapping her hands together.
My stomach twists. I wipe my eyes. “I want to, but I can’t.”
“What now?”
“My mom. She’ll freak if she finds out I went to The Beat.”
“We won’t be drinking. If you’re under twenty-one, they put a band on your wrist so the waiters won’t serve you.”
“I’m not eighteen yet. I can’t get in.”
“My cousin Trevor works there. He’ll be taking cover at the door tonight. He’ll let you through.”
“I don’t know. I could be eighteen and swear not to drink, and Mom still wouldn’t let me go.”
“Come on, Erin. Please? All the college guys go there. When I went with Trevor last weekend on his night off we had a blast.”
“I want to….”
“Then do it! I like your mother, but she’s so strict. You’re not a little girl anymore, and if you don’t stand up to her and make her see that, you’ll never get to have any fun. What does she expect you to do? Sit around with her and your grandmother on weekends? You might as well just skip the next twenty years of your life and go straight to the old folks’ home.”
“I can’t stand up to her. I know my mother. I’ll lose.”
“I think you should try. It’s either that or go behind her back.”
I imagine telling Mom I’m going to The Beat. After she gets over the shock of it she’ll forbid me to leave the house. I imagine saying that she can’t stop me. Then I think of my car, which she bought, the gasoline, which she pays for, the allowance she puts in my pocket. She has plenty of ways to make my life miserable.
“I choose going behind her back.”
Suz raises her brows. “Ooh-kay.”
“It’s my only chance of going.” I glance at my watch. “We’re not going to have much time. I have to be home by eleven on weekends, and it’s nine now. By the time you get ready and we drive out there, we’ll have to leave again.”
“Eleven? Your Mom is strict.” Suzanna frowns. “Things don’t really even get going until after eleven. But don’t worry.” She thinks for a few seconds then smiles. “I have a plan.”
It’s easier than I thought to sneak the sack of new clothes into my bedroom.
“Erin? Is that you, Sugar?” my grandmother calls from the den when the front door slams.
“Hi, Nana. Be right there.” I stuff the sack under my bed.
Even before I get to the den, I hear music playing. The kind with a lot of brass and piano, with some guy’s silky voice weaving through it. I’m sort of weirded out when I find Nana on the floor with Maxwell tucked up beside her. Leaning against the sofa, she scratches his belly, her eyes closed, her glasses on the coffee table beside her. Socks cover her feet, and her toes tap the air to the beat of the song. I don’t know why seeing someone her age sprawled out on the floor with her shoes off seems strange, but it does.
For a minute, I just stand and stare at her, afraid to break the mood. It’s like her mind is someplace besides this room, in a different time, a happy one if the smile on her face is any clue. It may sound stupid, but I almost feel like I’m spying on something private, something I shouldn’t disturb. Deciding I should just tiptoe away, I start to turn.
Nana’s eyes flutter open. She squints. “Oh, Erin.” Lifting her hand from Maxwell’s belly, she places it on the sofa. “Come sit and talk with me.”
Maxwell raises his head and whimpers until she touches him again. I understand. I remember the comfort of being cozied up to her. When I was little, we’d sit together in the rocker and she’d read to me. She smelled soapy clean.
Suzanna waits outside for me, three houses down the block. The excitement she offers tugs me one way at the same time Nana’s warmth pulls me the other. I hesitate then cross the room, settling on the sofa beside where she sits on the floor. “I thought you might be asleep.”
“No, just resting my eyes.” She sits up straight, reaches for her glasses then slides them up the bridge of her nose. “How was your evening? Did you have a nice time with your friend?”
“We just talked and tried on clothes.”
“Your mother said you rented a movie.”
“I did, but we didn’t watch it yet. Maybe tomorrow.” I glance toward the door to the kitchen. The lights are off. “Where’s Mom?”
“She turned in early to read.” Nana covers her mouth and yawns. “I think I’ll take a quick soak in the tub then do the same. I’m having some trouble settling down after all the day’s excitement.” She reaches up to me. “Would you give me a lift?”
I stand and face her. Nana’s hands are dry and powder soft.