Dolphin Girl Page 10

  “Yeah. Now you can stop hangin’ out at the water fountain. What do you see in those kids anyway?”

  I grab a handful of peanuts and viciously crack one open. “I like them.”

  “As if.” Travis guffaws.

  It’s the most awkward moment in an evening filled with them. Finally, Betty Lou whisks our plates away. No more silverware to polish, no more peanuts to crack, so I arrange the salt, pepper and barbeque sauce, giving my date a tight smile.

  Travis smiles back. “Sam always says how cool you are.” His foot taps my leg.

  “Sorry,” I draw my leg away. “Yeah, I think Sam’s pretty cool, too.” A minute later I sense his shoe again and pull my legs under the picnic bench seat. “It’s okay. He told me you really wanted to go with Alana.”

  Travis’ socked-foot returns, slowly sliding along my calf under the silky gown. “I did, but maybe everything worked out for the best.” He rubs his foot along the inside of my thigh.

  Omigod! This is no accidental kick. This is footsie.

  Travis is giving me some kind of dreamy, half-lidded, sexy-stud look. Either that or he’s sleepy.

  Ewwww.“Um, uh — I’ve got to go to the little girl’s room,” prissy-me says.

  I hop up and do a combination hobble-jog to the bathroom. Crunch. I look down. There’s a peanut shell stuck on my heel. Just keep going. I bang open the heavy wood door that reads Fillies. When the door swings shut behind me, I turn and press my forehead into the cool concrete wall. I wish I could call Lexie, but I left my cell in the bag at the table.

  “That bad, honey?” The cowgirl from the lobby leans over the sink, her face close to the mirror, and lipsticks her mouth. She blots the excess on a toilet paper square.

  I nod, pulling the peanut shell off my heel.

  “Is that your guy?” she asks.

  I don’t know how in the world to explain to her that my guy set me up with this guy. It sounds ridiculous, even to me, and I’d agreed to it.

  I wash my hands and grab a paper towel from the dispenser. The cowgirl and I are the only ones in the Rodeo Bob’s bathroom. “It’s not really my guy,” I explain. “It’s a first date.”

  “Those can be awkward.”

  “No, what I mean is — it’s my first date — ever.”

  She gives me a friendly pat on my upper arm. “They get easier. It’ll get better. Relax.”

  “Are you sure?” I can’t imagine it getting any worse, but I don’t believe her either. This is Travis we’re talking about.

  “Can’t get any worse than hiding in the bathroom, right?” she says with an infectious giggle that makes me giggle back. “Good luck, sweetie.” She pats my arm again and leaves.

  Staring at my reflection in the mirror, it dawns on me that the critter in the neon sign isn’t a donkey but a jackass, as I first thought. I’m the jackass, and Travis is the cowboy. How could it be anything else? Only a jackass would end up at Rodeo Bob’s for a dance, kicked by a cowboy attempting footsie. Only a jackass would run to the bathroom to hide.

  For a moment I imagine myself kicking Travis, my cowboy-date, just like the Rodeo Bob’s sign. But it’s only my imagination, not something I would ever do. Maybe the cowgirl was right. It’ll get better. I boldly return to the table, sit in front of my dessert and make small talk to pass the time. Travis doesn’t try his moves again. Soon we’ll be at the dance, sitting with Sam.

  I decide she’s right — it has to get better.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The ballroom at the Signature Grand is practically empty when we walk in. “I guess we’re early,” Travis says.

  The decorating committee did an incredible job. The snowflake-themed hall glistens. White puffy pom-poms hang from the ceiling, and opalescent icicles adorn each table. If I hadn’t been so busy with my yearbook job, I would have helped.

  The AC is set as low as it will go, so the room will stay cool when everybody gets here. But right now it’s freezing in a Snow Ball kinda way. I shiver, and Travis puts his arm around my shoulder.

  He leads me to a small table for two along the back wall. Here, we’ll be tucked away, removed from the action. There’s not much to do in our little corner of the world, and we exhausted every possible conversation at the restaurant. Travis taps his toes and drums the table to the music while I scan the room, only finding Irwin.

  He hugs the far wall, a camera slung around his neck, sipping Snow Ball punch from a clear plastic cup. His attire is interesting: black jeans, black sneakers and a T-shirt printed to look like the front of a tuxedo. I’m not sure if he’s trying to fit in or if he’s mocking us, but either way he’s a lot less rumpled than most days.

  Couples trickle in and eventually stream through the front doors, and while I’m on the lookout for Sam or Lexie, I see Alana. She’s wearing my dress. I mean, it’s her dress, but it’s exactly the same as mine, right down to the rhinestones surrounding the neckline. It’s no surprise she looks better than I do.

  Sam, Ashley and Chase follow her like Academy Award nominees strutting on the red carpet. They grab a big table near the dance floor. Alana plops her beaded bag on top and waits for Sam to pull out her chair. But Sam misses this cue because he’s watching Travis and me. He motions for us to come join them while Alana rolls her eyes and huffs.

  “You don’t want to go over, do you?” Travis shakes his head, answering for me.

  I stand and cringe inwardly. “If I’m going to hang with you guys I probably need to get to know everybody.” Before he can object I walk away.

  Left with no other option, he follows.

  Sam pulls out the chair for Alana and then pulls out the chair on the other side of him for me.

  Alana, her eyes and mouth a phony crinkle, says, “Jane. Nice dress.”

  Thank God I’m changing when Lexie gets here.

  ~~~

  The seating and the company at this table makes me feel more confined than when I was under house arrest. Although my gown blends, I don’t.

  Alana and Ashley’s conversation has been a tour of the mall and shopping. The only time I was included was when Ashley asked me where I got my gown.

  “The bridal shop at Broward and Seventieth,” I replied.

  “That’s where I got mine,” Alana said. She propped her elbow on the table and used her hand as a shield as she talked to Ashley, not even making an attempt to hide the fact that she was talking about me.

  That had stung. What made me think they’d be nice tonight? Travis is busy talking to Chase about some ESPN special. While I have only been snubbed for a couple of minutes, it feels like hours of rejection.

  I don’t know what possesses me — maybe just a need for human interaction — when I turn to Sam and say, “If Coco Chanel married Geoffrey Beene—”

  Sam snorts, smacks the table and turns bright red. I’m laughing along with him, so happy he liked this one, until I see everyone’s confused expression. My laughter dies fast.

  Sam says, “It’s this game. So, if Coco Chanel married Geoffrey Beene, she’d be Coco Beene. Get it?”

  Travis shrugs. Ashley executes an eye roll so perfect, if she was in competition it’d earn a perfect ten.

  But Sam enjoys it, and when he turns and says, “Good one,” Alana clasps his shoulder from behind and pulls him backwards, saying, “Do you want some punch?” She means she wants some punch — or, more likely, she wants Sam away from me.

  He obliges, taking Travis and Chase with him. I’m left alone with Alana and Ashley. Between the dress and the company, I feel like a fish out of water.

  Where’s my pod?

  Lexie bursts into the ballroom, immediately waving and motioning me over. I turn to the girls. “I’ll be back.”

  “Yeah. Catch up with us later,” Alana says. Two years ago it would have sounded like hurry back but now it sounds like whatever.

  I do a wobble-jog to the bathroom, using it as my escape for the second time tonight. What are the odds of that? Once there, my heels click
ety-click against the tile and echo off the ceramic fixtures.

  “Ooh, thank you, thank you.” I hug Lexie. Taking the garment bag from her, I make my way to the largest stall at the end, hanging the bag from the top of the door. I leave the door cracked open so we can talk, and shimmy out of the black halter dress.

  “You know, Jane, most people would’ve just changed at my house.”

  “I’m not most people.” I remove the pale gown from the hanger and toss it over my head. “Besides, my mom would have never let Travis pick me up somewhere else.”

  Lexie laughs.

  “Where’d you go for dinner?” I try to reach the zipper in back.

  “Willow’s mom decided at the last minute to serve food on their patio. Their house is beautiful. The sun was going down. It was really nice.”

  That does sound nice. Not as fancy as Chez Antonio’s, but a big step up from my dinner.

  “How was Chez Antonio’s?” Lexie asks. I might hear envy in her voice.

  “I have no idea.” I step out of the stall. “Zip me, please.” I look over my shoulder. “Travis took me to Rodeo Bob’s. Don’t ask.”

  “No way.” Lexie giggles. Yeah, I’d probably laugh too if it hadn’t happened to me.

  I spin around. The gown swirls out at the bottom.

  “Aw. You look beautiful. The other dress was nice, but that looks more you.” She gives me a hug. “Here. I have something else for you.” She unzips a pocket on the garment bag and pulls out a necklace. “When I saw this, I thought of you. It’ll look perfect with that dress.”

  It’s this really cool necklace with seashells and pearls all jumbled together.

  “It’s awesome!” Because she’s shorter than me, I bend at the knees so she can hook it. Lexie’s dolphin necklace conceals Mom’s beautiful pendant, letting me honestly be me. Then, I grab the garment bag from the hook and hand Mom’s dress to her.

  Lexie zips it. “Mission Number One completed — now for Mission Two.”

  “What’s that?”

  She smiles like she’s got a secret. “We’ve got The Fallopian Tubes’ gear in Lucas’ dad’s van.”

  “You didn’t tell me they said okay. The last I’d heard, the Snow Ball committee said no set.”

  “So,” she says, “why would that stop me? We’ll both make our debut — me as a singer, and you in that amazing gown. Let’s go.”

  Surveying myself in the mirror, the gown is totally me, but now fear grips me because I’m heading back into foreign territory. I squeeze her wrist. “I’m so out of place at that table. First date. Sixteen. Never been kissed. It’s pathetic. I bet I’m the only person here who hasn’t been kissed.”

  “Uh, Travis. First grade.”

  “That doesn’t count, and you know it.” I stare into Lexie’s eyes.

  “You don’t know that. I bet there’s someone else who hasn’t,” she says.

  “Who?”

  She gets a twinkle in her eye. “Irwin?”

  I shake my head. “Thanks. That’s exactly what I mean.”

  She puts her arm around my shoulder and gives me a hug. “You’ll get kissed. Everyone does.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “C’mon, you will. Sam said he’d dance with you.” Lexie nudges out the bathroom door, which has soundproofed us from what was going on at the Ball.

  The DJ screams, “Shake it” to Outkast, and the dancers follow his instructions. There’s shaking, grinding, and one couple simply needs to go get a room. I mouth pathetic to Lexie, but she aims me towards the trophy case table and gives me another push.

  ~~~

  Irwin looks through the lens. “I can’t see Travis.” He tried to set us up as boys in the back row, girls in the front, but it’s not working because Travis is the same height as me with these heels. “Alana, switch with Jane,” he says.

  She makes a face but does it anyway, because she wants this photo to make it into the yearbook.

  “Much better,” Irwin says, and right before he takes the first picture, Sam grabs me around the waist and pulls me back against him.

  Ooh la la!

  “Take a few more,” I tell Irwin, and Sam holds me close while he snaps away.

  Then, Travis, Chase and Sam pose as body-builders while Alana and Ashley act like fashion models, hands on hips, lips pursed, tossing their heads to and fro.

  Travis seizes Alana and whispers in her ear.

  Finally Irwin says, “Thanks, guys. I’m off to find the next yearbook victims.” As he strolls away, Travis grabs Alana by the hand and pulls her onto the dance floor.

  It’s my chance.

  But before I can make my move, Sam extends his hand. “Dance?” He doesn’t wait for my answer, guiding me to a spot far away from Travis and Alana. We dance around to “Be My Girl?” by Jet. It’s not easy to dance to, sort of a herky-jerky rhythm.

  Sam knows every word, sings the whole song. Every time he says “Are you gonna be my girl?” I want to scream yes, yes, yes but don’t even know if he’s asking me the question or just singing along. As the song ends the DJ puts on a slow number. Kids move on and off the dance floor with the new selection, and we’re stuck in the flow of traffic. I wish he would have asked me to dance to this one.

  “Thanks. That was fun,” I say.

  Sam holds my hand. “One more?”

  Oh! I can’t believe he asked me. “Sure,” I say all nonchalant like this happens all the time.

  He pulls me close, and I cuddle, resting my head on his shoulder, nestled against his chin. His neck is part cologne, a hint of sweat, and mostly Sam. I inhale. We barely move in slow, little circles, hardly dancing. It’s more like a very long hug. I think I’m melting and wonder if we can stay this way for the rest of the night.

  He whispers in my ear, “You always surprise me.”

  “Huh?” Not your most articulate response.

  “You look so different in that dress.”

  Aaah. Now I know what this is about. The dress change. Why’d she have to buy the same dress?

  “Oh, you mean different from Alana. Well, I always wanted this dress, but my mom wanted the other.”

  Sam leans his head away from me but keeps the rest of his body close. He stares me straight in the eye. “You look different from her, but that’s not what I meant. I meant, you look different from the girl I eat lunch with every day. You look incredible tonight. ”

  He doesn’t wait for a reply, embracing me instead. I mumble “thanks” into his neck, as close to a kiss as I’ve ever come. We cuddle and turn more small circles. I’m not even sure if my feet are touching the dance floor. Is this what it feels like to be high, everything slow-moving and surreal?

  I don’t want this dance to end. Can’t I stay in this cocoon a while longer?

  ~~~

  I take a small sip of the spiked Snow Ball punch when Lexie buzzes by, poking me in the waist. “Time to boogie!” She rushes over to the DJ and as she talks to him, waves her arms around and then clasps them like she’s begging. The next thing I know, they’re setting up amps, mics and instruments. Somehow Lexie convinced him to let her play.

  The DJ grabs the mic and says, “And now, for your listening pleasure, The Fallopian Tubes!”

  Willow tugs a rope, and a small banner with my inverted butterfly artwork unfurls at the front of the stage. Lexie yells into the mic, “Are you ready?”

  The water fountain table goes nuts, the science lab table laughs and my table rolls their eyes and keeps talking.

  I stand, whooping and clapping. Travis gives me an are you nuts? look, but Sam stands and claps along with me.

  The Tubes open with a cover of “Walk Like An Egyptian”, an old Bangles song — now that’s a good girl band name — and Lexie sounds great. They all do. She starts the funky Cleopatra walk we all practiced in Willow’s garage. “C’mon everyone,” she yells into the mic, but the dance floor is empty.

  I walk to the middle and do an Egyptian strut, around and around, laughing at
Lexie. What’s gotten into me? Dancing on the floor Egyptian-style is almost like an item we’d put on one of our hunts, and that makes it even better. Over at my table Sam’s laughing, snorting, going red in the face, but Travis looks mortified and Alana looks smug. Willow breaks from drumming and uses her sticks to strike the pose in both directions and then smashes the cymbals at just the right time.

  A couple of people join me. There’s probably ten of us having fun on the floor when the song ends.

  For the next number, they perform an original — Sweet Temptation. Nobody knows this one so the dance floor empties except for me waving my hands slowly over my head because it’s sort of ballad-y. I don’t even bother to look at my table. Who cares?

  The Tubes play at least another five songs. Everyone is into it and they could keep going, but I can tell they won’t get the chance because Jordan Wilson, ruler of all things WEHS — including this dance — is annoyed and giving the DJ a hard time. He shrugs and lets Lexie know one more with a raised index finger. I sorta wish she’d send back a different message by using another finger, but she nods and closes with Pink’s “Raise Your Glass.” It’s the perfect message for Jordan. Now, if only she would.

  I’m groovin’ on the crowded floor when all of sudden I notice Sam bouncing next to me.

  “Are you?” he asks.

  “Am I what?”

  “Wrong in all the right ways?”

  I look up at Lexie. She’s moving with abandon around the stage. I wish I could move like that. Then I look at how full the dance floor is and through the crowd, I see Irwin at the edge of the floor. He’s snapping pictures and in between each focus, he does a little move. It’s barely noticeable, just for himself. Then he lifts his plastic cup of Snow Ball punch like he’s toasting me.

  “Yeah, I am,” I say to Sam, “And, I’m having a blast.”

  ~~~

  Back at the table, after Lexie’s performance and my boogie, I’m shunned. Alana and Ashley are hunched together talking, and it’s like I’m invisible. I can’t understand why she isn’t excited for Lexie. “Remember how Lexie always talked about this during our sleepovers?” I ask her.