Becky's Kiss by Nicholas Fisher Page B

back, as did Becky. “And you made my guitar go out of tune, el jerk-o. Either that or my Capo is whacked.” She took off the accessory and Becky took off the hat, tossing her hair a bit. Beth looked at her and smirked.
    “You shake it, girl.”
    They both laughed. Becky’s smile withered.
    “This doesn’t freak you out, then?”
    “Why should it?”
    “Like, I don’t look all plain and normal now, and that’s not strange and creepy?”
    Beth tuned a string and then gave a good stare.
    “You don’t look all that different to me now. The hat just frames your face. The rest is in your head.”
    Becky felt her expression go to a pleading one.
    “Then, I’m still pretty, even now?”
    “What do you think?”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “What’s anything mean?”
    Becky’s mouth dropped open. Beth stopped tuning.
    “Close your mouth, girl. Flies are gonna get in.” Becky shut her trap so fast that her teeth clacked. Her eyes narrowed.
    “Do you know a guy named Danny, blond and gorgeous?”
    “No.”
    “Swear?”
    “Oh, I’m cereal. Total.”
    “Ha, ha.”
    “Really. I don’t know any gorgeous Danny. Why?”
    “No reason.” She looked away for a second, bottom lip jutted out. “He’s just a dream maybe. My dream of someone who doesn’t need a magic hat to frame my face for him.” Beth hit something dissonant.
    “No one needs the hat, Becky. Except maybe you.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah, really. You were a hottie before you decided to try out for the Tigers.”
    “Like when?”
    “Like when you knocked Cody Hatcher out of his chair. The rest is all angles and shadows.”
    “Illusion.”
    “More like attitude.”
    “And the hat doesn’t scare you?”
    Beth put the guitar to the side.
    “No. Either way, you’re a sexy lioness. I think I’m going to write a song about you. I’ll call it ‘A Girl and Her Hat.’”
    “Shut up.”
    “No, you shut up.”
    They both giggled.
    “See you tomorrow,” Becky said.
    “Later.”
    Becky hit the buttons that darkened the screen and looked at the Rutledge Tigers hat there on her bed. A magic hat. Or was it really just framing, smoke and mirrors, a simple case of switching up your ‘personal scenery’ so you had the chance to convince yourself you were all that?
    The laundry room door opened, and she could hear the heavy tread of her father entering the kitchen and moving stuff around. Time for the grand test. Time to put a measuring stick on this and see if dear old Dad would notice this change, come out of his funk, give up a warm smile—and a hug for once—and realize that Becky was more important than whatever it was he was chasing at the bottom of a glass.
    Becky pulled a ponytail, stuck it through the hole, centered the hat, and walked down the hall to the kitchen.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Thirteen
     
    He was rooting around in the fridge, hidden temporarily by the opened door. Becky stood there for a moment and then cleared her throat.
    “Where’s the pizza?” his voice said. “I thought I had a piece of pepperoni from the other night wrapped up in tin foil.”
    “Mom ate it.”
    He backed out and straightened. He was wearing his favorite work t-shirt with the Philly Tool logo in green and the bumble bee working a jack hammer. He opened the freezer.
    “We’re out of the Friday’s Burger Sliders,” Becky said.
    “Oh,” he said. He shut that door and bent back to the fridge. “Had to skip lunch because Drisedale Wrecking needed a demonstration of an electric chop saw over at Children’s Hospital. Sold ten of ’em. Probably get a good Christmas bonus for that one, but I’m starved.” He reached for something and came out with a plastic tub that had a lump of chicken salad left at the bottom. It was a half-pound container yet looked tiny in his monster hands. He squinted at the expiration date.
    “You do your homework?” he said.
    Becky crossed her arms and looked up off to the left. She blinked a few