have a date to homecoming?”
“I do.”
“Cool. Maybe we could dance together?”
“Sure.”
He leans down on the counter. “Your scar is totally bad ass.”
“Cool,” I say. He’s rubbing off on me.
Hunter smiles. Ninny walks out of the back room and gives him a suspicious look, but not a “mom” suspicious look of “what the hell do you want with my daughter?” It’s an intrigued suspicious look, as if the second he walks out the door she’s going to ask me if we’ve made out.
“I better hit it.” Hunter jumps on his skateboard. “I totally voted for you,” he says over his shoulder as he rides out the door.
“Voted for you?” Ninny taps my butt.
“Ugh, homecoming court.” I go back to cutting strawberries.
“Oh, my God! You are, like, so cool!”
“Shut up, Ninny. Don’t make it worse.”
“I think I need to do a cartwheel. This is so exciting.” Ninny walks to the middle of Shakedown Street and flings herself forward, looking like a five year old. She jumps up, her hair in her face. “I’ve still got it,” she says a little out of breath.
“You just flashed Pearl Street.”
“Whatever.” She adjusts her shirt.
Mickey comes in the back door with two huge grocery bags in his arms. “Who just flashed Pearl Street?”
“Ninny,” I say, my head down, focused on the strawberries.
“Damn.” Mickey sets down the bags and snaps his fingers.
“That’s because Aspen-tree is on homecoming court,” Ninny squeals.
He groans, putting a bunch of kale in the refrigerator. “I thought I taught you to fight against conformists, not join them.”
I help Mickey unload the other bag. “I’m not joining anybody. But I can’t turn down the nomination.”
“Nor should she,” Ninny interjects, sitting back in a chair and putting her feet up on the table. “My baby deserves to win.”
“I don’t deserve anything. And get your feet off the table. I just cleaned it.”
“So turn it down.” Mickey puts his hands on his hips.
I look from Ninny to Mickey, like the devil and the angel sitting on my shoulders fighting about what to do. Except I’m not sure which one is the demon and which is the voice of reason.
“You know as well as I do, Mick: If you go against the tide, you’re asking to drown. I just want to get through this year alive.”
The statement hits them at the same time, like a rock to the face. Pain surfaces in their eyes. Real pain, not the pity I get at school, and I wish I could reverse time and take it back.
Ninny shakes it off first. “You’re gonna look great in a crown.”
“Just promise me you’ll both be at the football game,” I say, going back to cut more strawberries.
Ninny comes around the counter and hugs my shoulders. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Me neither.” Mickey smiles.
I keep my head down and cut, stroke after stroke. Homecoming is a moment. And then it’ll be gone. Like everything else.
And there are worse things than wearing a crown.
C HAPTER 9
Later that week, Tom Ingersol congratulates me on my nomination. We’re standing at my locker, and he’s got his faux-hawk in perfect position. “I voted for you,” he says.
“Thanks, Dex,” I say and then realize my mistake.
“Who’s Dex?”
“Nobody.”
Tom gives me a sideways grin and says, “Do you have a date?”
“I do.”
He runs his hands over his slick hair. “Then I’ll see you later, locker buddy.” Tom winks at me. It should give me a good kind of butterflies, because Tom is actually really hot if you shave his head, but it just makes me slouch lower in my shoes.
On Friday, Kim and I are about to get in my car when someone yells my name across the school parking lot. We look up at the same time, and see Ben in his soccer uniform, running like a madman toward us, his cleats clomping on the ground.
“Aspen,” he says, out of breath and bending over, clutching his side. “Shit, I have a cramp.”
“Put your hands over your head,” Kim says, and
“I do.”
“Cool. Maybe we could dance together?”
“Sure.”
He leans down on the counter. “Your scar is totally bad ass.”
“Cool,” I say. He’s rubbing off on me.
Hunter smiles. Ninny walks out of the back room and gives him a suspicious look, but not a “mom” suspicious look of “what the hell do you want with my daughter?” It’s an intrigued suspicious look, as if the second he walks out the door she’s going to ask me if we’ve made out.
“I better hit it.” Hunter jumps on his skateboard. “I totally voted for you,” he says over his shoulder as he rides out the door.
“Voted for you?” Ninny taps my butt.
“Ugh, homecoming court.” I go back to cutting strawberries.
“Oh, my God! You are, like, so cool!”
“Shut up, Ninny. Don’t make it worse.”
“I think I need to do a cartwheel. This is so exciting.” Ninny walks to the middle of Shakedown Street and flings herself forward, looking like a five year old. She jumps up, her hair in her face. “I’ve still got it,” she says a little out of breath.
“You just flashed Pearl Street.”
“Whatever.” She adjusts her shirt.
Mickey comes in the back door with two huge grocery bags in his arms. “Who just flashed Pearl Street?”
“Ninny,” I say, my head down, focused on the strawberries.
“Damn.” Mickey sets down the bags and snaps his fingers.
“That’s because Aspen-tree is on homecoming court,” Ninny squeals.
He groans, putting a bunch of kale in the refrigerator. “I thought I taught you to fight against conformists, not join them.”
I help Mickey unload the other bag. “I’m not joining anybody. But I can’t turn down the nomination.”
“Nor should she,” Ninny interjects, sitting back in a chair and putting her feet up on the table. “My baby deserves to win.”
“I don’t deserve anything. And get your feet off the table. I just cleaned it.”
“So turn it down.” Mickey puts his hands on his hips.
I look from Ninny to Mickey, like the devil and the angel sitting on my shoulders fighting about what to do. Except I’m not sure which one is the demon and which is the voice of reason.
“You know as well as I do, Mick: If you go against the tide, you’re asking to drown. I just want to get through this year alive.”
The statement hits them at the same time, like a rock to the face. Pain surfaces in their eyes. Real pain, not the pity I get at school, and I wish I could reverse time and take it back.
Ninny shakes it off first. “You’re gonna look great in a crown.”
“Just promise me you’ll both be at the football game,” I say, going back to cut more strawberries.
Ninny comes around the counter and hugs my shoulders. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Me neither.” Mickey smiles.
I keep my head down and cut, stroke after stroke. Homecoming is a moment. And then it’ll be gone. Like everything else.
And there are worse things than wearing a crown.
C HAPTER 9
Later that week, Tom Ingersol congratulates me on my nomination. We’re standing at my locker, and he’s got his faux-hawk in perfect position. “I voted for you,” he says.
“Thanks, Dex,” I say and then realize my mistake.
“Who’s Dex?”
“Nobody.”
Tom gives me a sideways grin and says, “Do you have a date?”
“I do.”
He runs his hands over his slick hair. “Then I’ll see you later, locker buddy.” Tom winks at me. It should give me a good kind of butterflies, because Tom is actually really hot if you shave his head, but it just makes me slouch lower in my shoes.
On Friday, Kim and I are about to get in my car when someone yells my name across the school parking lot. We look up at the same time, and see Ben in his soccer uniform, running like a madman toward us, his cleats clomping on the ground.
“Aspen,” he says, out of breath and bending over, clutching his side. “Shit, I have a cramp.”
“Put your hands over your head,” Kim says, and
Similar Books
