 
## Barbie Girl

A Baby Doll Novel

Book one

Heidi Acosta  
Copyright © 2012 by Heidi Acosta

Smashword Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, localities, or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of various products mentioned in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

For more information:

http://Authorheidiacosta.blogspot.com

For cover art please visit information:

http://www.maeidesign.com
This book is dedicated to my own Baby Doll.  
Never stop dancing. I love you.
April  
She is my happy place... 

### Chapter 1.  
Unpredictable

Her words are an arrow shot straight at my heart. It's as if she is speaking only to me, even though I am sitting in a crowded auditorium and she speaks to all of us. I love each note; I love each piece of red hair sending tiny dancing rainbows into the crowd as the light hits it. I love the way the corner of her mouth tilts up in a slight smile. I love everything about her.

I am supposed to be calling lighting cues up to Third, but I am stunned by the words that she sings, they ring around me. Magical. Her song is like tiny birds serenading me.

The first time I saw Katie, she had just moved to Phenix City. Walking into class like a scene right out of one of those sappy teen romance movies. Violins playing behind her as she floated in. Her red hair pulled in a low bun, an escaped strand blowing gently across her porcelain skin. As she was introduced to the class, she looked right at me. Her light green eyes pinned me in my seat. I could not breathe, my heart stopped beating. I had truly never seen someone so beautiful before. I have been in love with her ever since.

With each passing day that drones on, I fall more for her. She is smart, beautiful, and funny. At least, I assume she is. When I watch her passing by in the hall, all her friends are laughing, and Katie is smiling like she has a joke ready on her lips. Every day that I watch her, I ache to touch her, to talk to her, to be part of the joke. Every day I find another reason to fall more in love with her. I sound like a stalker, but I can't help it. She is the perfect girl for me. And one day soon, I am going to tell her exactly how I feel. But for now, I have barely managed to pluck up enough courage to say a few words to her, "Can I borrow a pen?" or "Good luck on the test!" But by the end of this year, I am determined to take things further. More than a few empty words!

"Hello! Earth to Dylan! Stop checking out Katie Bloom's ass and read me the cues. Should I go brighter?" Third blinds the stage with a bright light. Shouts erupt around the stage, "Knock it off, man! Just put the rose-colored light on Katie." The stage softens in a pink glow; but the glare coming from Katie is bright white.

Laughter fills my ear piece. "Dude, she thinks you're an asshole," Third snorts. "Now you ain't ever getting in her pants."

Third is both my best friend and the most obnoxious person I know. He goes through phases like he changes his underwear. Now he is in his street phase, down to the fake diamond chain, saggy pants, and his occasional street terms he got off the "Jersey Shore." No matter how hard he tries, he will always be the overweight kid who gets shoved into the locker on a regular basis. We have been best friends ever since he tried to stop the entire eighth-grade wrestling team from shoving my scrawny little sixth-grade body into the dumpster. That only resulted in both of us spending the rest of third period in the dumpster behind the cafeteria. He has had my back since. No matter how annoying he is, he is still my best friend. We have been pushed into lockers, threatened to have our asses kicked, and have been called loser and other endearing names together.

"Shut up! You have no clue what you're talking about! Besides, Katie is not that type of girl. You don't just get into her pants." She is perfect. She is perfect for me.

"Katie might not be that type of girl, but here comes someone that is, and me want in those pants." The caveman version of him begins to rear its crude head. I look to where Third had the light pointed. Bathed in a bright white light making her look otherworldly stood Barbie Starr in all her glory. She is posed with her hands on her hips, black combat boots tapping. Searching the room for her next victim. And she found him. Her eyes narrow as she hones in on me.

I slide down in my chair trying to avoid eye contact. "Damn, that girl is hot."

I can practically hear the drool falling from Third's mouth. "What do you think she wants?" I groan.

Wherever Barbie is, you can guarantee trouble is not far behind her, she is the most screwed-up girl in Lee County. "Probably looking for a place to get high," I mumble into my headpiece. Barbie is known for two things around Central, partying and hooking up.

"Send her up in the box with me, man. I'll take care of her," Third begs.

The cast begins to stumble over their lines as they glance nervously toward Barbie. Even Ms. Rita can't help but glance in her direction. She is like a car accident you don't want to look at it, but you can't help but assess the damage.

Barbie starts to walk in my direction. Her green, plaid mini-skirt is so short that I am not even sure it can be still classified as a skirt. She has on a tight, black tank top that exposes a gold belly button ring. Torn fishnet stockings with knee-high combat boots completes her look. That cannot be in the dress code. Her big, freaky blue eyes are lined in heavy black liner, and they are fixed on me. I am frozen in my seat. A predator holding its prey before the attack, and I am the prey. Crap. She walks up the aisle in front of me, flipping her long, bleached blond hair with one hot pink strip over her shoulder. "Dylan Knight?" Her voice is a knife slicing clean through me. I nod, too stunned to talk.

"Dude, she knows your name! Get her number and you are my hero," Third chirps in my ear.

"Umm...yeah...that's me," I choke out. My heart feels like it is about to take flight leaving a gaping hole in my chest as I wait for her next move with an anxious stare.

She smiles at me, but that smile reads more like she is the Greek goddess Ishtar. She is either going to step over the seat and start making out with me or strangle me. I hope for the second and make it quick. "Well, today is your lucky day." She leans over and grips the back of the chair with her black-chipped finger nails, giving me a full view of her cleavage.

"Dude, this is so hot! I have a movie that starts out like this. If she steps over that chair and rips off your clothes, I am going to film it." Third is definitely drooling actually the whole theater has fallen silent. I do not look but I know all eyes are on us. Or maybe they are on Barbie's ass.

"You can totally see down her shirt! What color is her bra?" Third begs.

"Red," I answer.

She glares at me. "What?"

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, and make eye contact with her again. "Why is today my lucky day?" I change the subject crossing my arms across my chest and try to match her glare with one of my own.

"You get to tutor me in Math." She holds out her arms like she has just given me the best gift ever.

"Holy crow, dude, you got to do it! For all things virgin, you got to do it. She totally is going to screw your brains out, and you have to videotape it for me!" I shake my head trying to rid Third's annoying voice in my head.

"No," I manage with more conviction than I feel.

"No?" Her eyes narrow into tiny slits.

"Dylan! Bro, you are killing me," Third groans. "Listen, man, you are not thinking with the right head. Listen to the little man down below! You HAVE to tutor her, and report every dirty detail back to me." Third is back to begging.

"Well, are you a tutor or not?" she snaps. The room is so silent that you can hear a pin drop. I glance at the stage, big mistake, Katie sends death rays in my direction or maybe they are meant for Barbie. I cannot tell, but this can't be good. Could she be jealous? We don't speak much even though we are in all the same classes together. Girls, I never will get them.

"Yes I am...but I am not taking any more clients." Actually I have not tutored anyone in a while. I am sure as hell not tutoring crazy.

"Idiot! Do you have any idea what could happen to your reputation if you let her de-virgin you?" Third reminds me. Yeah, this girl has it in her power to ruin whatever little social life I happen to have. "Katie might finally know your name." Third says. Katie knows my name? Right? I glance back at the stage to where Katie is talking to that douche bag Tyler.

"Fine I will tutor you." I know I will end up regretting this, but if there is a chance that Katie will recognize me... Her face softens and her freaky alien eyes go back to their normal size. I rip out a piece of the cue paper and jot down my address and phone number.

"Thanks, hot stuff." She takes the paper out of my hand and folds it in a messy square before stuffing it into her bra. She stands up straight and looks up at the box and says, "It is red with black hearts." She winks and slowly saunters out of the auditorium.

There is silence, the whole room in a state of shock. I think Third might have keeled over and died.

"Dylan, read the cues," Mrs. Rita snaps. She is wearing the same look of astonishment on her face that I feel. I cannot read the cues because they are in Barbie's red bra with black hearts. What just happened? Did I just agree to tutor Barbie?

"Man, what you are going to do?" Third stuffs a whole Twinkie in his mouth. That is impressive.

"I don't know, but that girl is freaking crazy," I groan, running my hand through my hair.

"Yeah, but she is like the hottest girl in school." Third points out.

"She is not the hottest girl in school, she is the easiest girl in school," I correct him.

Third takes out another Twinkie from the plastic wrapper. "Name one girl hotter than Barbie? And not the sweet girl-next-door look, like Katie, I mean hot! Like dripping sex hot!" He says before devouring another Twinkie.

"Okay, so Barbie is hot in a stripper kind of way." I agree with him. She has that long, bleached blond hair, and big blue eyes, and these pouty lips that make you wonder if they are as soft as they look. Third grabs a cheese burger from his plate.

"Her boobs are freaking huge," Third groans.

"Yeah, I noticed." I am a guy, how could I not notice? I shake my head trying to clear the images in my head. How could I not notice she practically shoved them in my face?

"You got to bang her," Third points a greasy finger in my direction.

"Bang her! Who freaking talks like that?" I throw one of his Twinkies at him.

"Hey! My mom packed those." He scoops up the rest of his stash protectively.

"Hey, boys." Barbie's voice cuts in. It has a low and sexy quality to it. How long has she been behind us? She pulls up a chair next to me. She locks eyes with me and stares. Making me uncomfortable, but I will not be the first to look away. I swallow the lump in my throat and stare back. "Look, we need to figure out the terms of this tutoring thing," she says flicking her long hair over her shoulder.

More uncomfortable staring. _Damn, does she ever blink?_ She has these weird, intense blue eyes that are huge, almost like one of those plastic dolls Emmy is always trying to talk Mom into buying her.

Reaching over the table, she picks up a burger off Third's tray and takes a bite, which puts him to shame. "I can't pay you," she says over a mouth full of food.

"I charge ten dollars an hour, but I am sure we can work out a deal," I shoot back. I usually charge ten bucks an hour but I have done it once before for five dollars. Of course, the student was in first grade and not a raging loon.

"So what, you want me to like show you my boobs or something?" I choke on my chocolate milk. Third is shaking his head "yes" fiercely. "Or make out with you?" she points the burger at me. Her eyes still remain unblinking.

"I know how about I pretend I am your girlfriend, boost your popularity." _What?_ She continues, "How about I say we did it, that you rocked my world, you know..." She leans back in her chair and kicks up her long booted legs onto the table.

"No!" I get my voice back, and look away, I blink. "I don't want you to 'pretend' to be my girlfriend." I make air quotes around pretend.

She smiles, "I am not really going to be your girlfriend." She laughs like being my girlfriend is incongruous.

"This is a cafeteria. Do you mind?" I glance at her feet. Now, she is starting to grate on my last nerve.

"Not at all," She smiles at me.

"What does pretending to be his girlfriend entitle him to? Just out of curiosity," Third inserts himself into the conversation. I can practically see the perverted wheels of his mind turning.

"Look, I don't want you to pretend that you are my girlfriend or pretend to do 'it' with me," I say before she can answer his question. This girl is trouble, she is probably higher than a kite right now, and I do not want to get more involved than I already am.

"I am not really going to do it with you." She rolls her eyes. "I tell you what, how about I let you feel me up," she gives me a wink.

_Holy crap_. Third is really drooling. "Marry me," Third in his comatose state says dreamy-eyed. If anyone knows how to get attention, it is Barbie. She swings her legs down and perches her chin in her hands ignoring the puddle of drool that is forming under Third.

"Remember the time you made me eat that roly-poly?" she looks at me innocently.

"What? No." Of course I do, it was the first and only time I was ever in the Principal's office.

We were in kindergarten. Her hair was not blonde like it is now, but a mousey brown that she wore down her back in two long braids. I always had this weird desire to yank on them to see what would happen, to see if she would smile and laugh, or maybe punch me. She was known for beating up the boys, but she never did touch me. I was jealous. I didn't know any better. I was six years old.

Every day during recess I would chase her; she never let me catch her. None of the other girls let me chase them like she did. She was always faster than me, flittering just out of my reach. I wanted to catch her so badly.

Then one day I got the flu. A week later, when I got back to school, Billy Nichols was chasing her, pulling on her braids and she was laughing. I had to do something drastic! So I found a roly-poly and hid in the slide. Popping out when she ran by, I caught her and stuffed the little bug in her mouth. It was the first and last time I caught her. Ok, I didn't say it was a smart choice. But I needed something drastic and like I said I was six. When I got off her, she finally punched me, right in the nose so hard that I saw stars. To make it worse, she tattled on me, getting me in trouble. I was the only boy she ever told on.

I rub at the bump on my nose. I always swore it was from her. "Why did you stop chasing me?" She is looking at me with those alien eyes.

"What? I... it was...I... Billy...you punched me, and I got in trouble...what does this have to do with tutoring?" My checks are burning.

"I know, Katie Bloom," Third says throwing his hands in the air like he just unlocked the key to the universe, or at least, mine.

"What?" We both look at him.

"What does this have to do with Katie Bloom?" I snap, irritated.

"Ahhh, Katie Bloom. Goodie two shoes, straight as an arrow, with a freak underneath. You're in love with her." She points at me an all-knowing smile on her face. "And I can help you get her," she says nonchalantly like we are talking about the weather and not the girl of my dreams.

"What...no I am not in love with her," I protest. "And she is not. She is a lady, unlike some people I know," I give her a convicting look.

She looks at me like she is trying to read something that is not there. "Katie Bloom is a little bit of a psycho." Her voice raises an octave, and my face is on fire.

"Will you keep it down! She is sitting right over there and can hear every word you are saying," I hiss.

I steal a glance nervously in Katie's direction. She is not even paying attention to our table. She is too busy laughing at Tyler. Douche bag. I should be the one making her laugh. "You don't even know her. She is smart, and kind, and pretty," I say in a hushed tone. I am filled with images of Katie gliding past me, always with text books in her hand, a halo around her auburn head. _I love her. I love her. I love her_.

Barbie throws her hands in the air, "Okay, lover boy, don't say I didn't warn you. You get me a passing grade on the next test in Gregor's class, and I will help you get into Katie Bloom's pressed pants."

Even though it feels like I am selling my soul to the devil, I agree.

"How exactly are you going to do that?" I lean over to her. Her blue eyes glisten with a scheme.

"I have my ways," she leans close to me, licking her pouty lips. She licks her lips, and I start to lean closer mesmerized by her shiny wet lips.

"This is going to be awesome," I jerk back in my seat as Third chimes in, breaking my lock on those lips. Thanks a lot. Asshole.

"So why don't you wear glasses anymore?" she asks. That is what's on her mind? This girl is freaking crazy! I spend the rest of the day not concentrating on school, but how to get out of a deal I somehow got tricked into by the she-devil Barbie.

### Chapter 2.  
Silence

The bell rings. I make a grab for my books and head toward the door, "Miss Starr, freeze." Shit. What did I do now?

"Yes, Gregor?" I bat my eyes at him.

"Mr. Gregor," he corrects me.

"Mr. Gregor." I roll my eyes and put emphasis on the _Mr_. part. "What can I help you with?" I sit down on his desk. My skirt rising, inappropriately. Making him uncomfortable can work in my favor. No such luck. We have been together too long and he is immune to my antics.

"Barbie, I am going to be frank with you. You are failing. And unless you want a repeat of my class, therefore being in Central for an extra year, which is entirely up to you, I am going to suggest you get a tutor." He flops himself in his chair and straightens his glasses. He is wearing one of his signature sweaters even though it is mid-May and eighty degrees outside.

"Come on, Gregor," I moan. "We can work something out." I reach across the desk and mess up the front of his thinning hair. "I do not have time for a tutor."

Unfazed, he moves my hand away. "Here is a name of one of my AP students. If you hurry, you can catch him before the bell rings." He jots down a name and the class he is in on a hall pass. I glance at the name "Dylan Knight." I crumple up the paper and stuff it into my bag.

"No thanks," I give him a smile. So not happening. "Barbie." He stops me before I make it into the hallway.

"It does not look good on college applications to fail a class," he smiles.

"Aww, that's sweet Gregor but you and I both know I am not college-bound. Why, I am going to be the next nymph at the Purple Lotus." I wink at him and strut out of his room.

A nymph is what the dancers at my momma's job are called. My mother doesn't dance. She waits tables. She barely make enough money to pay the rent and what she doesn't drink she blows it on whatever else that can manage to get her high. Her oily boss tried to turn it from a sleazy club into a classy one. Changing the name of a strip joint doesn't really do anything for the class and type of people it attracts. The warped thing is her boss has actually asked me to be one of the nymphs. Yeah, I really do have a better chance at becoming a dancer than going to any college.

***

After talking to Dylan, I skip my next period and head straight under the bleacher. The bleacher is a place I go to feel numb. It is used by kids like me, no friends, burn-outs, loners, girls skipping class to get busy with their best friends' boyfriends. Why am I here? Is it because Gregor showed some concern about me passing and potentially going to college? Ha, like that could happen. But he did open something in me that I need to numb as soon as possible. Does he not see how screwed up I am or is he one of those delusional teachers that believe in the youth of today?

I make my way to the back right corner where someone had dragged out a few rotting beach chairs and an old ripped recliner. The group of kids lounging on the chairs are the closest thing to friends I have.

I spot the one I came to find, the one I need to lick my wounds. His dark hair is slicked back in one of those messy styles he got from a cheap hair salon. His eyes meet mine and a knowing smile spreads on his thin lips. "Look what I have, a bag of little blue happy pills." He shakes a plastic sandwich bag in front of me.

I shake my head. Even though the rumor is that I am a druggie slut, I do not do drugs. And slut, I guess that depends on your definition of a slut. If it constitutes messing around with a few boys, then yep, I am a slut. He shrugs and pops one in his mouth, putting the bag back into the front pocket of his denim jacket. Very James Dean of him.

"I have something different in mind." I push him back into one of the rotting chairs and startle him. His body reacts instantly, his fingers find my hips as he pulls me closer digging deep into the soft, sensitive tissue. That will leave a bruise, but I can't make myself care.

My body responds. Numbness starts to travel up my legs; my heart slows to a steady rhythm tuning out Gregor's words. When I am in this position, things become oddly clear. My head stops spinning and the ache that I feel starts to fade, numbing me into pure bliss. I cannot feel the pain of what cannot be. His touch is like a balm to my open wound. I grind against him. Soaking in the feeling, I begin to forget, or at least push the words down deep down inside of me. I am begging to feel that sensation my body craves. Numb.

I don't want to feel anything. I want the world and all my problems to fade away. I push Tyler's head backward, deepening the kiss. I am like an addict, jonesing for my fix. I need to feel nothing right now more than I need to breathe. I need to make my mother fade. I need to forget about the hardships that face Everett every day. I need to lose the image of my mother. The look of disgust written on Dylan's face. The hopeful tone in Gregor's voice. I want it all to disappear.

Tyler's hands snake up the front of my shirt, his fingers grasping at the thin fabric of my bra. As he bites at my neck, I lean into him. His heavy moans are bringing me to the place I want to be. His hair falls into his eyes just like Dylan's. I groan, not numb enough. Tyler pulls me tighter against him.

Why did I agree to help Dylan? He looked at me with such disdain. Why wouldn't he just have agreed to me flashing him? His little chunky friend was all about it. Aww, hell, the bleeding hearts of the world. If I was not turning into a softy. Was it all because he reminded me of when we were young?

He was the only kid that was nice to me. The girls didn't speak to me, I never seemed to have the right clothes or the right hairstyle, and always wearing it in two messy braids...the only thing I could manage myself. My shoes were always too big or too small for my feet.

The boys teased me, calling me Trailer Park Barbie, a rumor that was spread by dumb ass Tyler Smalls. He told all the boys I would show them my underwear in the slide. The boys tried to look up my dress, and I got in trouble when I beat them up.

Dylan was different than the other boys. He never tried to pin me in the slide to look up my dress. He didn't care that my hair was a mess. He would play with me any way's, always letting me win, never catching me. He was the skinny kid with knobby knees and freckles on his nose. He wore glasses that would slide down his face. One day he stuffed a bug in my mouth. I gave him a bloody nose. Hell, I guess I feel like I owe him. He is not the same boy that would chase me. No, gone are the plastic -frame glasses, his freckles faded. He turned from a skinny kid into a hottie with lean muscles who could be a Calvin Klein model.

Tyler's hands slide down my thighs and he begins to make his way under my skirt. I pull his hands back to my chest and bring my mouth to his. He moans against my mouth, "Come on Bee," he pleads as his hands fall back to my thigh.

"If we don't, it will hurt," he groans.

I roll my eyes, my mouth still on his. "How very romantic," I say. "But I am not about to do 'it' under the bleachers because 'it hurts' if we don't." I stand up.

He tries to grab for me, but I move out of the way. "You're a tease."

Oh, now that hurts. Not. "Oh, no! Not a tease!" I gasp bringing my hands to my mouth. "Please take off your pants and let's do it, because I don't want to be known as a tease." I say sarcastically.

"You're a real bitch," Tyler says straightening his pants. I leave Tyler hurting and all and head home. I am numb.

***

My mother is lying on the couch in her open bathrobe. A half-empty bottle of whiskey is sitting on top of the coffee table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts next to her.

Everett runs back to the bed room. I flip off the TV, and grab the bottle on the table. I like to believe that my mother has not always been this way. That there was a time she loved us, but I know the truth. And the truth is she cannot get out of the deal she made with the bottle. She has a few pictures of when she was younger. She was beautiful and didn't wear the tired expression that is now always present on her face.

She did not have an easy life. Her momma ran off, leaving her with an alcoholic father who up and died when she turned thirteen, leaving her with an abusive step momma. If everybody just up and left me, I might be the same as her. I have Everett, and I need to think of him first. How to keep him safe is my number one priority, it is what keeps me from sinking so low into a dark abyss.

Momma left when she was eighteen, as soon as she found out she was pregnant with me. I should be happy about that, but I would have liked to have known where I came from, my history, but momma says history is only good for one thing and that is running.

I got my name because the only thing her momma left her with before she ran away was a Barbie doll. Momma thought that if she could just be perfect like that damn doll perhaps her momma wouldn't have up and left her. Maybe she would have stayed if she looked like Barbie. If she had those same blue eyes, long blond hair, and a perfect smile. Well, no matter how much wishing you do, you can't ever change the color of your eyes. Her eyes remained the same muddy brown. The more she wishing she did, the more everything stayed the same. Her step momma still beat her with a switch. Her momma never came home, and her eyes were still brown. About the time she stopped wishing and started looking for someone that would love her despite not being able to be Barbie, she met my good-looking, good-for-nothing daddy. He didn't love her either.

When she found out she was pregnant she said if she had a girl she would name her Barbie. That things would be different for me. Well, I was born with the blue eyes and straight nose, and a perfect smile, but that did not change things for me. My life is one cruel joke. I hate my name. Maybe if she named me something normal like, Ashley or Britney, things would have been different for me.

I start washing the dishes that have been sitting in the sink for a few days. "Where did you go and put my whiskey?" My mother's raspy voice comes from behind me. I push my hands deep into the soapy water. I don't want her seeing my hands shake. I hate it when she gets like this, when the liquor makes her mean.

"In the cabinet." I jump at the slamming of the cabinet door and the glass hitting the counter.

"Who asked you to touch it?" She snaps. Maybe I am not that different from my momma. Alcohol is her way to numb the pain.

"No one. I just didn't want Everett to get into it," I say through gritted teeth. I try to shield as much of our reality from him as I can. Why can't she just sober up? All I want is for her to sober up. I want it so bad. Why can't we be enough for her? I used to think I could help her. I thought if I could make her get better, that we could have a normal life.

I would dump out whatever she brought home, searching the house for her stashed pills or the bottles of liquor. I would drag her limp body to the bedroom, undressing her out of her clothes that were covered in vomit. No matter how many bottles I poured down the drain, or pills I flushed, my mother would still find more. I tried crying and pleading with her to stop but she never seemed to think that she had a problem. Making me question my sanity, sometimes I would believe momma's words that it was all in my head. That she didn't have a problem.

Giving up was one of the hardest things I did, but I had to focus on Everett and me. Momma's problem sometimes makes me do things that make me feel wrong and sick. But I need to put food in our mouths, and keep a roof over both our heads. So now when I find her passed out, I search her pockets taking whatever cash she has, stashing it in my bra. Because when she wakes shaking and sick, needing to get high, she will search high and low to scrounge up enough to get a few pills or a bottle. She will do anything for that high. She cannot help it. The drink has a tight hold on her no matter how hard she fights it. It just holds on tighter. It is in her blood.

We don't have anything of value. Those things are long gone, sold for a few dollars. You have to do what you have to do. Seeing my mother destroy herself kills me. I wish she could numb her own pain that caused her to sink this low.

My mother's ribs stick out as she stands next to me, her robe exposing her white bra and underwear hanging loose on her hip bones that jut out. "Let me make you something to eat," I offer.

She sometimes will not eat for days filled up on liquor. I pull out a pot and the last box of macaroni and cheese. Momma sits and starts rubbing her temples. "I don't want any food. I just got this damn headache," she says. Her hand shakes as she brings the glass of brown liquid to her mouth. "I ran out of my pills and you know how my headaches get. I don't mean to snap at you. I know you mean well."

I take a deep breath, and pour the box of noodles in the pot, placing it on the stove. "I know, Momma."

There is no milk so I add some extra butter to the powdered cheese, trying to smooth out the lumps. I fill three bowls and we eat silently, absentmindedly pushing around the buttery noodles. Each of us lost in our own tormented world. "So how is my baby doing?" Her hands are steadier now as she reaches over taking Everett's hand in hers. An ever-present ache grows in my chest because Everett starts to make happy noises. Not words but sounds; a sound that brings a smile to her face. Even though he cannot put it into words, he wants my mother as much as I do, and I hurt for him.

After dinner my mother gets ready and leaves for work, leaving me and Everett home alone. I wash our dishes and wipe down the counter. Then I help Everett bathe and get ready for bed before I read to him his favorite book, _Green Eggs and Ham_ , twice, before tucking him in.

After changing into a pair of old sweat pants and a tank top. I pull out my own homework and attempt to get some studying in, but my eyes burn and I cannot keep them open.

***

A light pours in from the broken slats of the blinds wakening me. I check on Everett. He is still asleep, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Even in sleep, he is silent. I next check my mother's room. Empty. Bed still made with the thin floral comforter. Her perfume and make-up are lined up from smallest to largest on her chipped bureau. A picture of her when she was young hangs from the mirror. She must have stayed out after her shift. She does this often, not coming home, so I am not worried about her. But this means that she will come home with no money again.

I need to get ready for school. I decide to take my shower before waking Everett. Peeling off my sweats, I turn on the shower as hot as I can, letting the bathroom steam up before slipping in the yellowing bath tub. Today I am going to try to get Katie to notice Dylan. How in the hell am I going to do that? Because as far as I know, Katie doesn't pay attention to anybody unless it is her own bony butt. I try to think about everything I know about Katie. She moved here in the ninth grade, so her southern accent is a total fake. She is in the student council or some shit like that. I really don't know. I don't vote for that crap, tend to not give a shit about school activities that promote school spirit. She is in most of Dylan's classes except gym because she has that with me. So she is a super nerd. She is popular, not with the jocks and cheerleaders, but the preps, she is like their queen. She is a complete control freak. She matches everything in boring bland colors. She thinks navy and light pink are her colors. I would love to see here decked out in black once. Oh yeah, she uses her free period to make out with Tyler under the bleaches. She never lets him get past second base, because she doesn't want to ruin her good girl reputation. And she looks at me like I am the gum stuck to the bottom of her patent leather loafers. But if that is what Dylan wants, I can get her for him. I don't really care. Whatever floats his boat as long as I pass Math. Because there is no way in hell I am spending another year stuck in this poop stick of a town. No, I will just leave before that happens and it would be nice to leave with a high school diploma.

As soon as I graduate, I am taking Everett so we can run from our history. I am going to run so far and fast, it is not going to have a chance to catch us. I want Everett to have a better life. Not one that is filled with sadness and darkness like it is now. I want Everett to see the ocean, to touch it. We have seen the ocean before. We are going to get ourselves a little cottage by the ocean so we can go to sleep to the roar of it, a reminder of what we came from and are never returning to. Who knows, once we get settled maybe I will take some college classes at a local community college.

The sound of glass breaking shuts off my internal babble. "Everett, do not move!" I shout. I step out of the tub and wrap a brown towel around me. I tip toe out of the bathroom, careful not to step on any glass that might be broken. Everett is so silent sometimes you don't hear him make a move. He is like a mouse. Once last year, when Momma was supposed to be watching him, I guess she drank too much or took one too many muscle relaxers, because when I got home she was passed out in the bathroom floor and Everett was clear cross town. He was walking to the Twisty Treat. It scared the hell out of me and I vowed never to leave him alone with her again if I could help it.

"Everett," I call as I walk toward the kitchen. I should have made him something to eat before taking a shower. That was stupid. I enter the kitchen but Everett is not in there. Instead, it is my mother, standing in the midst of a pile of brown broken glass.

Golden liquid spreads across the broken laminate tile, "Oh baby doll," my mother slurs. Her eyes are rimmed in red as if she had been crying. I know better. She starts to cross the maze of broken glass in her bare feet. I cringe, not wanting her to hurt herself, "Momma, be careful." I reach out to stop her, but she gets to me unharmed and wraps her thin arms around me. She is a head shorter than me. Her dark hair is pulled up in a high pony tail. She still wears last night's uniform, black hot pants and purple push bra with sequins. She smells of smoke and liquor. When I was younger, I would breathe that smell in, imagining she was a warrior queen who just came home from battling a dragon. How easy it is to twist your world when you are a child. Reality is like a cold splash of water. There are no fairy tales or happy endings in my story, no Prince Charming riding in to rescue me. No, my reality is a harsh, cold one.

"I am just making some breakfast for Ronnie." My mother points to the chair her boss sits in. He flicks his ashes into a cup that still holds some of the golden liquid. _Apple juice? Not likely_. "Ronnie, you remember my baby girl Barbie." Ronnie's blood-shot eyes take me in. His long blond hair is slicked back in a ponytail. He grins, his mouth full of yellowing, crooked teeth. He is younger than my mom, by a few years. His face does not wear lines in it, like my mother's does.

He remembers me. The last time I came to get money from my momma; he cornered me in the back room where he had told me I could find her. My nose still burns with the thick smell of his cheap cologne. He ran his disgusting fingers down my arm, making my stomach turn with nausea. "You're a pretty girl, you could make me a lot of money," his body pressing hard against mine. Thank goodness for the new waitress who stumbled in that back room, who knows what would have happened. "What's up, Barbie?" My stomach turns at the sound of his voice.

***

My stomach is in knots making me sick as I watch him touch my mother, the same hand that he used to sear my skin. I dress quickly, pulling on a pair of dirty jeans and a men's white tank top. I feel like I can't get out of here fast enough. I dress Everett just as fast before pulling him out the back door. I feel like I am going to lose the contents of my stomach at the sound of my mother laughing. How could she let that man into our house? Can she not see him for what he really is?

Everett squeezes my hand tight as we make our way to his elementary school. "Listen buddy; don't go home with anyone but me. Okay?" I get down on my knees, and try to get him to look at me, but he will not. He has never made eye contact with me, always looking around me. I pull him in to a hug, relishing in the feel of his small body in my arms. He looks nothing like me. He is fragile like my mother, smaller than most boys his age. I kiss his sandy blond head before letting him go. I will kill anyone who would try to hurt him. I let out a heavy sigh that feels like it has been lingering in my chest for years. I doubt my mother will try to pick him up since she will be entertaining her guest. The thought of Everett being around that man makes me feel sick. "I will come and get you. Okay? I will always take care of you," I promise him.

I will have to cut school early to get him in case my mother has a change of plans. I cannot risk it. _Whatever_. I will miss English, just another class. I am teetering on failing, but it's better than the alternative. I snag some chocolate doughnuts for us from the gas station next to his school before dropping him off. 

### Chapter 3.  
Unsolvable

I tossed and turned all night with Barbie's scheme running through my head. She is a loose wire, an unsolvable problem. She has the power to break me and I just put the fate of my reputation at the mercy of the craziest person I know. Okay, so I sound like a whiny girl, but that girl is a whack job.

I stare at myself in the mirror. My toothbrush is hanging out of my mouth a steady stream of toothpaste drool falling to the sink. I was desperate. It must have been a moment of temporary insanity. That plea is good in a court of law, right? She caught me in a moment of weakness. She was wearing that revealing shirt, and I couldn't think about what was right and what was wrong. It didn't help with all of Third's dripping sex talk either, that he continued with long after she left.

"That's it, Dylan. You are going to find Barbie and tell her that the deal is off," I say to myself in the mirror. She is just too unpredictable. She could help me but is more likely to destroy me. I am in no position to be destroyed, and whatever little social life I have, needs to be preserved.

I worked too hard for what I have. Determined not to get beat up through high school, I grew my hair out, started lifting weights the summer before ninth grade, and got a pair of contacts. Maybe I wasn't one of the jocks or popular, but at least I stopped getting picked on. I am not attending any parties, but I am also not getting shoved up against lockers.

I go back into my room and pull a rumpled gray shirt out of a pile of clothes on the floor. I smell it. Clean enough. I lace up my Converses. I am running late. Taking the stairs two at a time, I go into the kitchen and grab the gallon of milk, drinking straight from the jug. "Dylan!" my mother scolds. "Get a cup." I grab a cup and pour it until it is threatens to spill over the edges.

"Morning, squirt," I ruffle Emmy's hair. She sits at the kitchen island eating Apple Jacks, in a purple tutu and striped tights. Her hair sticks up in a brown halo around her head. She smiles at me revealing her two missing front teeth.

"Breakfast, Dylan," my mother says. This is not a question but a command.

"Can't. I am going to be late," I say, backing out of the door. I am almost at my truck when I hear my mother's voice.

"Dylan," she calls from the front porch. I groan inwardly and slam the rusty door to my truck shut. She trots out to my truck in her pink fuzzy slippers and matching bathrobe.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

I take the paper bag from her and kiss her on the check. "Thanks." I am going to need my energy for what I am preparing to do.

Who knows how Barbie is going to react to the announcement? "I can't be your tutor." I coach myself. I hope Jenny will tutor her. She needs the community service hours. I will try to talk to her before school starts. I back out of the driveway. My mother shouts after me, "I love you." Did I mention my social life is hanging by a thread?

***

"I don't know, Dylan." Jenny pushes her glasses back up her nose for the hundredth time. "I really would love to...um...help...but I have a lot on my plate this semester, besides...Barbie doesn't really seem like the type of girl who wants a tutor."

I run my hand over my face. "I will owe you," I plead.

"Sorry, I really can't." Jenny sighs. "I wish I could help."

Yeah, right. Thanks for nothing. She backs up slowly toward the towering brick building behind her.

I decide not to mention calling it off to Third. He is yapping about how absolutely rocking it is that Barbie is going to help me, which by association will catapult him into A-list popularity. Third is wearing a backward black baseball cap, and a new gold chain around his fat neck. "Bro, this is going to be huge." He pumps a fist into the air. "When you are done with her, you care if I hook up with her?" Third is pulling up his pants as he walks.

"Yeah, whatever man. She is all yours." Now, how do I really make her not my problem ?

The sight of Katie in my first period class eases my hesitation. She is why I am doing this! I want to be with her. I am torn between remaining in my present safety zone, and putting my fate in the hands of a freaking nut job. An uneasy feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. But I want to be with her. Katie glances over her shoulder and gives me a small smile. That brief smile is what I hold on to the rest of the day.

Barbie walks into the lunch room like she owns it, and heads straight for our table. It is the second day of her making an appearance at our table. Normally the lunch room is not where she resides; she spends that period either hanging out by the boys' locker room or getting high out behind the bleachers. I hope she doesn't think we all are friends now. She looks like some street gangster, or a hooker Barbie. She has on a man's white tank top with her black bra showing through thin fabric. A _very_ hot pink panties strap peaks out from her ripped-up jeans which sit low on her hips. Her arms are covered in thick black plastic bracelets that clink together with each movement she makes. I guess I shouldn't be shocked, but I am. Third, however, is in love, or lust, or something, all over again, "She is the G to my gangster." He taps his chest in a mock heartbeat. I roll my eyes at him.

"Hey, Lover boy." She slides in next to me. All my senses are heightened. I am instantly in panic mode. The sense of self-preservation kicks in. Should I run or play dead? She leans over me and picks up a piece of pepperoni from my pizza and pops it into her mouth. That was rude. "I WAS going to eat that," I tell her. She shrugs and takes another pepperoni. Manners are, not her forte. I think she gets a kick out of annoying me, because she is doing a pretty damn good job of it. Be strong, don't look down. Look her in the eyes. I try to think about Katie. You are putting up with her for Katie. Beautiful, sweet Katie.

"Here, you can have my pizza," Third offers his slice. For him, that is like giving up one of his kidneys. Lunch is his favorite subject, apparently hers too. She accepts his pizza and devours it in three bites.

"Aren't you supposed to chew your food completely before swallowing?" I remark sarcastically.

She turns to Third, "Thank you, my friend. Unlike some _people_ , you are a gentleman." She bats her eyes at him. Gentleman? Excuse me. She should know all about dealing with gentlemen. With the hand jobs she was rumored to be giving out.

"I love you," Third is looking at her with longing.

"I tell you what. If lover boy here," she gestures to me, "does not fall madly in love with me by the time this tutoring thing is over, I am all yours." She winks at him, dissolving him into a melted puddle of goo.

No wonder he thinks he is in love with her. I have never heard a girl talk to him this long before. This is the most attention he has ever had from the opposite sex. This is the guy that is turned down on a regular basis. Girls look at him with disgust. They only talk to him if it is to ask for notes from a class they missed or to take a picture of them making out with their boyfriends for their Facebook profiles. Barbie is making him feel special and that has him groveling at her feet. She is smarter than I thought which makes her all the more dangerous.

"She is all yours, dude," I say.

Barbie rolls her eyes and changes the subject, "So I was thinking we need to come up with a plan for Mission Fire Crotch."

I choke on my Coke, spitting it out on to the table. "Don't call her that!" I choke out. I glance over nervously at Katie's table, hoping she didn't over hear her vicious words.

Third, however, falls out of his chair onto the floor. He is laughing so hard. "Fine what do you want to call it? Mission Lose Your Virginity?" She says completely unfazed by Third holding his stomach while rolling around the floor or the humiliation written on my face.

"No 'mission' anything and I am not a virgin!" I snap. That's a lie.

"He is so a virgin." Third pulls himself off the floor and back into his seat.

"I can take care of that," she winks at me.

"Yeah, no thanks. Can you please try not to talk about Katie like that," I try to snarl, but it comes out as more of a plea.

"You can take care of that problem for me," Third scoots closer to her.

"Fine, you are no fun," she pouts and reaches for my Coke. I grab it away before she can get it, and chug it down, setting the empty can back on the table. _Ha, there_. She glares at me, and then sticks her bottom lip out slightly.

Third is up, "you want Coke?" She smiles up at him batting her thick, black eye lashes. At him "Please." Third takes off, knocking into people on his way to the soda machine. I have never seen him move fast before.

"Dylan, you need to loosen up." She points a long finger at me. Me loosen up? I am loose. "Or else little miss stick-up-her-butt will never glance your way. Look, she has been sitting over there and not once has she acknowledged your existence." She gestures over her shoulder.

"I am loose."

She lets out a sound, that kind of sound like a pissed-off cat, "Really, you could have fooled me." Now it's her turn to roll her eyes.

I glance over at Katie. She is sitting with a group of her friends, deep in conversation. "What do you have in mind?" I ask cautiously.

She gives me a sultry smile and leans over toward me. "Tell me a joke." She is so close I can smell her perfume. It is sweet like sugar or cotton candy. "Make me laugh," she leans closer and I can see down her shirt. Her bra is black and lacey; her tan skin peeks out from under it. How am I supposed to make her laugh? I want to make her go away, not laugh. Just then the sweet note of Katie's musical laugh floats over to me. I look back up at Barbie who is staring eagerly at me. I feel desperate; I will try just about anything to make her stop staring at me with those freaky eyes of her. So I give it a go. "Well...there was this mathematician and his friend, and they went to a bar...and then they asked the bartender for one eighth of a beer." Barbie holds up her hands.

"Stop. Please, before you hurt yourself," she cuts me off. Fine, but now miss the punch line. She then does the most lunatic thing; she slams her hands down on the table, hard drawing attention to herself. She throws her head back and starts laughing, really laughing, deep-belly laughing, a husky sound that vibrates over me. People stop chewing and look in our direction. It is clear this is not helping. She is turning us into a freak show. My face is on fire. I try to quiet her. I even make the universal sign for be quiet, pointer finger to pursed lips, but she ignores it and continues to laugh. I want to make her go away.

Third is back. He looks back and forth at us like we lost our freaking minds. I think I have. I have gone over to the dark side and I want back. "What's so funny?" he asks me, taking a seat. I shrug. He looks at Barbie, who is still laughing. He must have caught on to whatever absurd motive she has, because he also begins to chuckle, which turns in to a belly-shaking laugh. When in Rome, I suppose. People are looking at us like we are crazy. Now I've had enough.

"Forget it! The deal is off," I say through gritted teeth. "I didn't realize the deal included me looking like a fool in front of the entire student body."

Barbie stops laughing and looks right at me. "Look," she gestures at Katie. I glance over and she is watching us. Katie Bloom wants to know what Barbie finds so funny in me. "You're welcome. Now about that A you are going to get me," she says.

Barbie shares a free period with me. Who she must have slept with to get one into her schedule is beyond me, because it is painfully obvious she needs to be in a class. I have never once seen her in the library and that makes me wonder what she uses her free period for. "You are not paying attention," I say annoyed. I had been trying to explain linear equations, but she is not getting it. She is gazing off with this dreamy look in her eyes. Great. She is high. "If you look at example 1A..." I push the book across the table to her. Frustration drips off me.

"I don't get it." She shoves the book right back to me.

She is not even trying. I rub my palms down my face. "We have been at this for almost an hour, what don't you get?" I ask trying to be patient with her

"The whole thing," she gestures wildly around us. I need a new tactic to teach her. She is obviously not getting it the conventional way.

I sigh, shutting the book. "We will try again tomorrow." We still have thirty minutes to kill to next period. I dig out my homework to get an early start.

"What are you doing?" she asks, leaning up against the table.

"Homework. You should try it sometime."

She rolls her eyes, a favorite facial expression of hers. "Psshhh."

I glance up at her. "What do you usually do with yourself during this time?" I can only begin to imagine the diseases she spreads during her free time.

A smile spreads across her mouth, "Make out with Tyler under the bleachers." Her eyes are glistening.

"Figures."

The smile fades from her face, "What does that mean?" She sits up and crosses her arms over her chest.

"It just means you have a certain reputation around Central," I say going back to my homework.

"So, because a few people talk, you think you know me?"

I laugh, "A few people? Try the whole school."

She leaps to her feet, knocking over her chair. The few students that are trying to study glance over in our direction, "You know what? Screw you and this whole fucking school."

I watch her storm out, realizing how that must have hurt. I am ashamed of myself and now feel like the biggest tool. I should have kept my mouth shut about her extracurricular activities. What business is it of mine with what or with whom she 'does' in her free time? I stuff my books into my backpack and chase after her. I need to make peace...before she does something crazy that I will regret. Images of _Carrie_ flash in my mind. I follow the sound of her plastic bracelets clinking together.

"Hey, stop," I call out, jogging as I try to catch up with her. Damn, she is fast. "Come on, I am sorry." I match her pace, walking in step with her. She ignores me, pushing through the red metal double doors to the outside. Warm air slams into me.

### Chapter 4.  
Words

I push through the front double doors. No one tries to stop us. Why should anyone bother? I am nothing but a troubled girl. A loose wire. People move out of my way when I walk down the hall like I am diseased. The air is hot and heavy, making the hair stick to my neck. "Come on, I already said I was sorry." Dylan tries to keep pace with me. I shrug my messenger-bag strap up my shoulder and begin to braid my hair angrily to keep it from sticking to the back of my neck. I hate Dylan Knight I am done with him and this whole tutoring thing. "You know it is not like you try to portray anyone different. I mean, just look how you are dressed."

That's it. He has gone too far. "Oh, I am sorry, maybe I should dress like I just came from a Trekkie convention, and then maybe people would like me and stop talking shit." I pivot on my heels so I am facing him.

"What's wrong with the way I am dressed?" he asks, his brown hair falling in his eyes. Nothing is wrong with how he is dressed. It is actually kind of cute in an I-don't-care, nerdy kind of way. He obviously put some thought into his look. The faded grey T-shirt _Galaxy Hero_ written in faded yellow and green block letters, his rumbled jeans, with his scuffed-up chucks.

"Nothing." I sigh and start to walk away.

"No come on. Talk to me." He grabs my arm, stopping me from leaving.

My throat aches with the words stuck in it. He thinks he knows me, just like everyone else at this school. They have no clue, how their words are like a knife cutting me deep. "You think you have everything figured out, that everyone has their place, that it is black and white, but you fail to see the gray in-between." I am rambling so fast the words get broken and stuck in my throat.

"You are not making any sense."

I let out a sigh. "Follow me." I walk, not waiting to see if he follows.

"I don't see how bringing me out here under the bleachers proves anything," he protests as we make our way underneath the metal seats.

"Because you need to see something." I guide him among the empty soda bottles and trash that littler the ground. "Look," I gesture in front of me.

There are a few kids standing sharing a cigarette between them, but that's not what I brought him here to see. Just past the group of smokers sits Tyler in the same chair we sat in yesterday with a certain red-headed princess.

"What..." he starts, before seeing what I brought him here for. I watch his face trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicker with confusion, then anger, followed by hurt. His eyes show how he is feeling. I can read the darkness in them. His face hardens and he turns and starts to leave. Now it is my turn to chase after him.

"So you brought me out here to try to hurt me. To show me that I will never be good enough for her, that I will never be Tyler Smalls. Well, you win Barbie. I don't want to play your fucked-up game anymore. We are done. Find someone else to tutor you," he storms forward.

"This is not a game," I call out to him. Hurting him was not what I wanted. I just wanted him to see that there can be more to people than what he thinks he sees. "I brought you here to show you that just because you think you have us figured out, wrapped in these perfect parcels, me a skanky, crazy girl or her, the perfect girl, you are wrong... There is more to me, more to her than what you think, more than the people at this fucked-up school think." I push him in his chest hard. Why can't he just see that? Why can't they see that? I slam my hand into his chest again, anger pouring out of me.

He grabs my wrists to stop me from pummeling him again. "I get it. kay," his words sound harsh. "I get it. I put her up on a pedestal, and she is not perfect like I want to believe. I get that you might not be what you seem. Okay." My chest heaves as I look in his eyes. "I get it," he repeats again before dropping my hands I leave them at my side.

That desire to feel numb hits me again like an iron fist. We stare at each other for what seems like forever, his dark eyes consuming mine, his mouth slightly parted, breathing heavily . Would kissing him have the same effect on me that I need? The bell rings, making him look up at the gray cement building.

"Let's leave," I say.

He shakes his head "I can't. I have a class."

He leaves me. He stalks into the building, leaving me behind. He leaves me battered. I leave to find what I am looking for. Maybe I do fit into the box he created. 

### Chapter 5.  
Misery

"So you and Barbie are a thing now?" Katie leans against my locker. She smells amazing, like jasmine. I close my eyes, breathing her in. I would have given anything to have her here standing this close to me thanks to Barbie I now have the image of her straddling Tyler, with her shirt unbuttoned and his hands on her breasts, burned into my temporal lobe.

"It is complicated." I sigh it is complicated, everything about Barbie is complicated.

"Oh," Katie clutches her text books to her chest. Each book is covered in a navy blue and pink cover, her signature look. I used to love that look, now I am not sure how I feel. "It seems like she really likes you," she bites at her lower lip. Yeah...like a shark likes baby seals.

I run my free hand through my hair, not knowing what to say. Barbie has me questioning my feelings. But this is the girl who won the state championship in academic games, the girl who ran for student body president as a freshman. This is the girl who has never gotten below an A in her life. I want to tell her how I feel. I am confused, that what is going on with Barbie is fake, all a con to get Katie to notice me. That I am deeply in love with her. I want to get on one knee and beg her to go out with me. Marry me. I want to tell her I saw her with Tyler and it is killing me. But none of that matters because, I love her.

She takes my silence for an answer, "Look, just don't get hurt," she warns.

"What do you mean?" I slam my locker shut. Is she worried about me?

"It's just that she has been..." she pauses, "around a lot. And you...well, you are really sweet." She looks down at her shoes before taking a step closer to me. We are standing toe to toe. My heart is beating erratically. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and licks her lips.

"Hey, there you are." Perfect timing. Barbie bounces up and laces her fingers in mine. "Hey, Katie. What are you guys talking about? Me?"

I am breathing hard. Katie steps back, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. Was she about to kiss me? The dream of us together slips through my mind like water running down a grate. Barbie interrupted on purpose. How could she not see that I was about to kiss her? I know she is mad at me, but really was she going to try to get me back for what I said? I already apologized to her _. Go away. Go away. Go Away_.

"No," Katie squeaks.

"Was he telling you how we got together?" she leans her head on my shoulder. "How he rocked my world under the bleachers?" she continues. She is making this the most uncomfortable conversation in my life, even topping the time my mother had the "talk" with me. My mom is a nurse so there were lots of graphic pictures on what could happen if I had unprotected sex. I gasp as all the air leaves the room. My head spins as I search for an escape route from the disaster that is becoming my life. I open and shut my mouth, trying to suck air down my constricted wind pipe. "Just kidding," she hits Katie playfully on the arm, but hard enough for her to stumble. "I don't make out under the bleachers with random boys." Yes, she does, but so does Katie. Katie's face pales.

"He is tutoring me in Math, and, well...just look at how cute he is. Couldn't you just kiss him?" She grabs my cheeks with vise- like fingers. I try to pull away from her but she continues to squeeze my cheeks with surprising force.

"Umm..." Katie fumbles.

"I know..." Barbie continues oblivious to the uncomfortable situation she just created. She finally lets go of my face that I am sure has little purple bruises forming on it, and winds her fingers in my hair. "He was like 'you wanna go out?' And then I was like 'totally, and then he was like 'really?' And I was like 'yeah', and then he like really did rock my world." She looks longingly up at me batting her freaky big eyes. _Yessh._

"Yeah well...I got to go," Katie says and starts to back up.

I watch Katie disappear before turning on Barbie. "God," I yank free from her grip, "laying it on a little thick don't you think? Do you know what you just interrupted? What you just ruined? She is never going to talk to me after this." I run my hand through my hair. Why did I let her talk me into this? "Rocked your world?" I say, shrugging her off.

"If you kissed Katie just now, that would be it. You have to let her see that you are desirable. Wanted," She snaps, swinging her head to glare at me. Her hair is in two braids down her back, and I am six again chasing her. God help me, I want to tug on them. It has only been two days and she has already created a tornado of emotions inside me.

"Trust me," she says, but I don't trust her. How can I trust a girl who is so out of control?

"Look, just chill out with the PDA, okay?" I say.

She laughs, "You are kind of cute when you get flustered." She reaches up and messes up my hair. "For this thing to work we really need to act like we can't get enough of each other."

***

A week goes by without too much more of a catastrophe. Barbie has become a permanent fixture at our lunch table. She waits for me in the morning and we walk in holding hands, playing the part of the happy couple. It makes my stomach turn into knots, because I cannot tell what this means to Barbie. Sometimes I wonder if she actually enjoys this act we are putting on. She lays it on heavy, flirting when no one is around, and cuddles up to me during our free time while I am trying to teach her anything that will stick in her head. I don't know what Katie thinks, either. She has not tried to approach me since the incident in the hallway, she has been ignoring me ever since.

Barbie meets me at my locker in-between classes, telling me funny things that happened to her in class, or some story that she thinks I will find amusing. She is actually pretty funny, making it easy to be around her. That of course is when she is not prancing around in miniskirts and flirting with any male figures that crosses her path. I wonder which of the rumors about her exactly are true. I find them hard to decipher. She continues her flirty banter with Third. He is really into it, and he has even begun to come up with witty comebacks. I have never seen him act this way with a girl before. I even think he is losing weight, thanks to him sharing half his lunch with her every day. Sometimes I feel like I am the third wheel.

### Chapter 6.  
Fairy Tales

I knock on the door then ring the doorbell. Once, twice, three times. Annoying, I know. That's point is to bug the crap out of him. I like how he looks when he gets frustrated and all pouty. He sighs through his nose, and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up. I am late and I know this will agitate him, too. I am not late on purpose. I had to wait for Ms. Sophie, my elderly neighbor, to get back from bingo. She has a gambling problem that she denies. She watches Everett for me when I need her to. She even lets us crash at her place if Momma is really bad. I hear feet pounding behind the blue door. I pose, hands on the hips, chest out, all for the pleasure of seeing the look on Dylan's face. The door swings open and a little girl stands barefoot staring up at me. She has big brown eyes that match Dylan's. She also has his dark, deep set eyes. Her mouth hangs open at the sight of me. I tend to have that effect on people.

"Emmy, who is it?" Dylan calls to her.

"A really pretty girl, with cool hair." Her tongue sticks out between her missing teeth with each word. I lean against the door frame, waiting for him to enter. He strides into view. He is wearing a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. He looks good. When he takes notice of me, his look turns hard. Just the reaction I was hoping for.

"You're late!" He comes up and stands behind the little girl who is staring up at us. This is most likely the most entertainment the poor kid has ever had.

"Sleeping off a hangover," I smile.

He snorts. Well, annoying him was part of my plan. "Emmy, go to your room," his words come out clipped.

"But...But" her lower lip sticks out.

"Now!" She sticks out her tongue at him. I really like this kid. She is not going down without a fight. He points to the wooden stairs behind him, "Go."

She crosses her skinny little arms in the same stance as Dylan, "Fine," she stomps down the hall making sure she is heard all the way up the stairs.

His arms cross tight across his broad chest and he stares down at me. His shirt tightens, over his chest displaying each indentation of his chest. I try not to notice, but I still feel the butterflies take flight in my stomach. He is waiting for me to elucidate, but I am staring. He is searching for something as he takes me in looking me up and down. I made sure to wear my shortest shorts just in case Momma Knight was home. "Well?" he asks.

What does he want, an apology? Well, he can forget that. I am not about to apologize. _Sorry, buster, but you are going to be waiting a long time if you think I am going to apologize._ "It was a really good party you missed." There was no party, but I did stay awake late waiting for my mother to come home. He makes no attempt to invite me in, his large frame filling the door. "Look, are we going to study or not?" I ask. He is now starting to annoy me, not cool.

"Not," he starts to shut the door. I didn't go through all this trouble to have the door shut in my face. I had to hitch a ride with a very questionable man who gave me his phone number. I stick my foot in the door, preventing it from closing. _Ouch_. "That's not fair," I pout. "Come on, don't be mad." I reach out, placing my hand lightly on his chest. He cocks his eyebrow at me looking at my hand on his chest. He is about to break. I can feel it, but he just shakes his head at me. His jaw working, "Go home, Barbie," and he shuts the door again. This time there is a loud thud when the door shuts. I am standing there, shocked for a moment. He did not just shut the door in my face. _Jerk_.

I push open the door. He didn't lock it, so that must mean he wanted me to follow. Boys, they love being chased. I step into a bright yellow hall. It is lined with black and white family photos.

"I can have you arrested you know, for breaking and entering," he says.

I can't see him, I only hear his voice. "I did no breaking, I just entered." I continue to make my way into the house. A large living room, same bright yellow walls, is to my right. It is lined with big, blue, plush couches. _SpongeBob_ plays on the biggest TV I have ever seen. I make my way over to more portraits on the wall. A man in his late forties clutches the hands of a woman with dark hair and the same dark eyes as Dylan's. I think I am going to puke. I look at another picture of the man and woman with Dylan and his little sister sitting on rocks at the beach. They are all wearing matching white shirts. How sweet.

"You are pretty." Dylan's little sister is staring up at me.

"I know," I smile down at her.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Barbie."

Her eyes get huge. "Are you the real Barbie?" She whispers, "You look like her." She looks at me with star-struck eyes.

I kind of like this kid, "Yep, the one and only."

The little girl's smile grows until it reaches her eyes.

"She is not _the_ Barbie. She is more like those dolls you are not allowed to play with." Dylan is standing in the doorframe with the same glare and stance he wore before, arms folded tight across his chest.

Emmy's eyes wrinkle up like she's trying to think really hard about something. Then she relaxes and smiles again at me. "Bratz!" she squeals. "I love those dolls, they are so cool!" she skips off.

I smile after her. "Smart kid," I say.

He sighs through his nose. "Don't flatter yourself, she is only six. What do you want?"

What do I want? That's the question of the day. "Um, you are supposed to be tutoring me, remember the deal? I hook you up, you get me an A." I close the distance so we stand toe to toe. "I am also going to pick your virgin flower," my finger trails up his chest. I am trying to make him nervous, but it is my heart that is beating erratically.

"Yes, tutoring was at ten o'clock this morning. It is now two thirty," he looks at his watch on his wrist.

"So..." I say. That nerdy cuteness of his is starting to wear off.

"So this is not going to work out."

I stare at him. I am the one who calls the shots.

"Me tutoring you,'' he says, like I am too dense to understand. Images of no diploma fill my mind. My mother never graduated.

"Look, I am late. Sorry, it will not happen again." Now my arms are crossed. I am pissed that he got an apology out of me.

"Sorry is not going to cut it. You are an irresponsible spoiled brat. I don't want to deal with it," he snaps.

"I am not irresponsible!" I yell back. He has no clue of the responsibility that weighs on my shoulders every day.

"What do you care if you pass anyway? "This comes out as more of an accusation than a question. I am not going to quit like my mother. God, I don't want to end up like her. That is why I want to graduate and get the hell out of Dodge. I take a deep breath. Making him angrier is not going to help me, and he is oddly immune to my womanly ways, maybe he is gay and is in denial, Katie does have the body of a thirteen-year-old boy.

"Will you _pleassse_ tutor me?" I bat my eyes, trying to change my approach with him. "Please," I try again.

I can see his façade begging to falter. "I will agree to it...only if you agree to my rules," he says walking into the kitchen.

"Yeah, like what?" I follow him, jumping up on the kitchen counter, and swing my legs.

"No more getting high," he says like this might be a deal breaker.

"Done," I say.

"And no more cutting classes. You have to be on time and stay until they end." He raises his eyebrows, testing me.

"Anything else, Dad?"

He sighs, again dropping his hands to his side. "And you cannot be late to your tutoring session anymore," he says, his hair falling into his eyes.

"Fine," I push my chest up so my boobs look bigger. His eyes dart to my chest, then back to my face. Definitely not gay.

"And you have to wear something more conservative around my impressionable little sister," he says, trying to stay focused on my face.

"I have a Liberian costume I wore for Halloween. I can dig it out," I tease.

He lets out a long breath. "No! Just cover up," he says, his cheeks a bright shade of red.

"So are we going to do this thing or what?" I ask, jumping down off the counter so that I am standing close to him again. He smells like freshly cut grass and Irish Spring soap. He looks down at me.

"Can't. I have to watch my little sister, and I am late to her tea party."

Okay, now I am laughing. I grip the counter so I don't fall over from laughing. "A tea party...wait are you serious? This I have to see!"

He glares at me again. "Fine, but you can't say anything...or do anything inappropriate around Emmy."

I follow him upstairs into a very pink room. It is little girl's dream room. A twinge of jealousy plucks at me. A fluffy leopard bedspread sits on a brass canopy bed. Dolls and toys spill off white tall shelves.

"Emmy, I brought the doll to the tea party," he calls.

Emmy sits at a small white table dressed in a yellow princess dress. "Another guest," she says in an English accent, clapping her small hands together. "How delightful." This kid is a riot.

"Why, yes, I thought so." Dylan tries to copy the accent but it comes out more Australian then British. _Cute_.

"Why, Lady Rose Petal, you have no hat!" Emmy gasps.

I look around to see what she is talking about. Oh, she means me. "Well yes, I wasn't prepared was invited at the last minute by a very rude boy." I say, matching her English accent and shooting Dylan a smug smile.

"Some people are so rude," she says looking down her nose at Dylan.

"What?" he laughs.

"No worries, he is a big, fat, fart head," I snicker. He attempts to glare but a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Emmy digs out hats and plastic jewelry from a trunk. She places them on my head "And Lord Stinky Pants you have none either," she tssks, placing a pink hat on Dylan's head

"Lord Stinky Pants!" I snort.

"Tell anyone and you die," he glares at me.

I walk down Dylan's long road. My head is spinning at the way Dylan was with his sister. I thought I knew where I stood with Dylan. He gets me a good grade and I get him the girl. So why is my heart pounding at the thought of him? My chest is swelling with a warm sensation. I chuckle to myself thinking about him wearing that goofy pink hat and the fake, bad accent he used when he said, "I bid you good day, my lady."

He really loves his little sister. What teenage boy plays tea party with a six-year-old? That must be it. I don't like him. I merely feel a connection with him because of Everett. The way he cares about her, the way he did everything just to make her smile. So why was it when I hugged him good bye my heart skipped around like I just ran a damn marathon? I need to get a grip.

***

"Find a partner," Mrs. Green sings. Groans and chairs scraping the floor echo around the room. I stand. Normally I would head over to one of the kids that hang under the bleachers smoking pot, but then I spot Third. I am supposed to be Dylan's girl, so it makes sense I would pair up with his BFF.

"Howdy partner," I plop into an empty desk next to him.

"Sorry, he already has a partner," a little skinny redheaded kid with glasses and bad acne leans around Third. I glare at him and he looks nervous.

"Tell you what, scram and I let you tell your tech buddies that you've seen my boobs." I smile at him. I am an evil, evil girl. The poor kid looks like he is about to have a heart attack.

"Beat it, Ronald," Third says, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face. Too bad Dylan can't take a joke like Third can.

"Fine." Ronald stomps off to find a new partner.

"I thought he was going to a have an aneurism." Third laughs.

"That's me killing nerds in my spare time with just the thought of my boobs," I laugh.

Mrs. Green sits down on the end of her desk, her ankles crossed swinging slightly. She would almost be likeable if she wasn't so damn excited over every assignment she gave. Like she is thinking outside the box, hoping to connect with us and help us grow to love literature. Not that I don't like books. Hell I wish I could be one of those girls who could get lost in a book, transported to another time and place, but I can't. Reading is something I can't afford to do. Hell, trying to keep Everett safe and happy kind of trumps everything else. No time for friends or a social life, but I love my little brother; I would do anything for him.

"Fairy tales." Mrs. Green gives a dramatic pause, glancing around the room, before she continues. "Who had them read to them as children, or watched them as movies, and believed in happily ever after?" Mrs. Green says.

I snort. I never had them read to me, and I sure as hell don't believe in them.

"How did they affect the way you view relationships?" she smiles looking around the room. "Tell me what girl in this room does not dream about Prince Charming riding up on his white steed to rescue you?" she asks dreamy -eyed.

"I have a white steed right here. You can take it for a ride, anytime." A guy from the back row chortles, making an obscene gesture. It earns him a round of high fives from his idiot friends, and a few giggles from some of the girls.

"Charmed, I am sure," Mrs. Green says as she hops down off the desk to make her way around the room. "But the fairy tales you have come to know are not the original ones. They have been turned and mutated into sappy romances with happy-ever-after's. You and your partner are going to research the real story. Find out where they originated from, what was the reason behind telling these stories, and how does it change your view on Prince Charming?" She narrows her eyes at the kid who made the gesture. He squirms a little in his seat, uncomfortable.

"Choose a story from the basket." She passes around a basket with tiny folded-up white pieces of paper.

"Sleeping Beauty," a girl sighs.

"This is juvenile," another girl announces.

"Well then, I will expect a ten-page report on why you feel it is juvenile from you and your partner, Kylie. Instead of the oral report the rest of the class will be doing."

"Ohhs" and a few "oh snap" fill the small, overcrowded room. Mrs. Green holds up her hand to silence the class. Mrs. Green means business.

"The Little Mermaid," Third reads the tiny strip of paper.

Mrs. Green gives us the rest of the hour to do research at the library. Third claims a computer and checks his Facebook page, while I pull open a book of _The Little Mermaid_ and start to read. The whole story feels like a punch to the gut as I read. This poor girl or fish falls in love with this prince who cannot see what she is. He ends up breaking her heart and marrying some stuck-up chick and the poor mermaid dies. He ended up killing her, why? Because she was different from the norm, she couldn't speak. This is the most effed- up story I have ever read.

"It is pretty cool what you are doing for my boy." Third leans back in his chair, breaking my concentration.

"That's me, using my charm to spread good around the world." I joke, feeling a little uncomfortable with his comment. "Now don't go telling anyone I am really a good person deep down."

He smiles. "You are a good person to do what you're doing."

He acts like I am getting nothing out of this deal, that I am doing it purely out of the goodness of my heart. "I am anything but good." I pull the book back to my face, trying to end this conversation. He pulls the book down with one stubby finger. He seems so sincere with his analysis of my character that I want to believe him.

"No, really," he insists. "He might not say anything, but it is really cool. He has had a really hard time in school, always getting picked on." He shakes his head, his pale blue eyes searching for understanding. _I get it_. "Well, that is until he shot up to six foot three and started to lift weights."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Is there something I should know about you?" I tease.

"No, I am all about the ladies, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a fine male specimen." I laugh. This kid is actually pretty cool.

Third offers me a ride home. He doesn't cringe when I tell him where I live. He drives over the railroad track like he is going to the country club and not the bad end of town. "Thanks." I hop out, shutting the red minivan door. "You know, you aren't too bad yourself," I say as I lean in through the window.

"You know I was just thinking that myself. Now if you can just get the rumor started that I am a sex god, I will be even better." A smile spreads over his chubby face.

"See you tomorrow, Third." I wave good- bye and go inside.

### Chapter 7.  
Temptation

I am waiting in the library for Barbie to show. She is late. Big shocker. I have better things to do with my time then wait for some girl to maybe show up. So far she has made it every time without being too late. Now she is twenty minutes late and I am contemplating leaving. All my homework is done.

"Hey Dylan," Katie walks up to me. She has not spoken to me since the last incident with Barbie. Like always she looks stunning. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and she wears a striped white and navy blue shirt tucked into white shorts. I like how put together she look. Unlike some people who look like they raided the local strip club. I think of those damn messy braids Barbie loves to wear, or how she pulls her hair up in a messy knot on top of her head, not caring what anyone thinks.

"Dylan?" I am staring at her hair like a crazy person. She brings her hand to her hair, patting down nothing.

"Hi, Katie."

She smiles, her lips recently glossed in a shimmery pink. "I was just wondering if you got the notes from Mr. Robinson's speech from Bio today. I totally flaked and didn't write anything down." She blinks. Light-colored lashes brush her cream-colored cheek, nothing like Barbie's thick, dark lashes that she lines in heavy black liner.

"You're in luck. I wrote down every nail-biting word on plant cells," I smile.

She lets out a giggle. _See, I am funny_.

"Hey baby," Barbie comes up from behind me and slips easily into my lap. I cringe. Could she pick a worse time? She wraps her arms around my neck. She is wearing skintight, dark skinny jeans that looks like she painted them on and a white, tight-fitting T-shirt, which is riding up to expose her gold belly button ring with the unicorn charm on it. It is like she has a honing device on Katie's movements. As soon as I make a move, she crashes in. Pressing her chest up against me, I can feel the curves of her body; my hand rests on her hip.

"Oh, hi, Katie." She turns to her like she didn't know Katie was standing there. Of course she did, so what the hell is she thinking? This little stunt is going to have Katie running for the hills.

"Hi Barbie." Red creeps up Katie's neck. I try to unwind Barbie's arms from around me, but she has a viper's grip. Not fazed a bit, she grabs my hand. I try to shake her off, but she grips tighter and smiles at Katie. "Don't worry about it. I will get the notes from Miranda," Katie says before stalking off.

"See you later," Barbie calls, wiggling her fingers in her direction.

"What the hell?" I glare at Barbie, who is still pressed against me. Someone mumbles for us to get a room and Barbie flips them off. _Classy_. I finally shake my right hand free.

"Aww, you are blushing," she reaches up and cups my cheek.

"You just blew another shot with Katie." I pull her hands off my face.

She scrunches up her face, "No, I didn't, but you almost did. If you did something stupid like ask her out or confess your undying love, you would have blown it." She lays her head on my chest. So much for chilling out with the PDA. "Right now she is going crazy thinking about the sexual chemistry she just witnessed between us." She runs her finger down the bridge of my nose.

I swat her hand away. "There is no sexual chemistry between us! And what are you doing?" I push her hand down again.

"Oh, there is definitely chemistry between us." She presses her chest tighter against me.

"No, I really don't think what is happening between us is sexual. It is more like trying to keep me a virgin and annoying the hell out of me in the process." I peel her arms off me. Being this close to her makes me feel light-headed. I can't think clearly.

"You have to at least act like there is chemistry if you want this to work," she sighs, twirling that strip of pink hair between her fingers. "And for your information, Katie has looked back at us three times."

I look over at Katie. She's sitting with a group of girls. Our eyes lock for a moment before she looks away.

"Now grow a pair and fake some sexual chemistry or you can kiss goodbye to your little demented dream of having chemistry with her," says Barbie. "Just trust me." Barbie wraps her arms around my neck again. This time I let her. Chemistry. I can do chemistry.

"Fine."

I bury my face into her hair. It surrounds me and smells like apples. Between the smell of her hair and the sweet smell of sugar that lingers on her skin, she reminds me of the local fair that comes once a year to Phenix City. The sweet smell in the air filled with the excitement that flitters around with anticipation. Before I know it, the bell rings signaling the end of the period, and my daydream about the fair. I watch Katie go out the door, not looking back.

"Let's go." I drop my legs out from under me, sending Barbie back -pedaling to the floor. A jerk move, but she has me confused. She catches herself before landing. She stands up and glares at me. "What?" I ask innocently.

"Just fake it," she snaps.

I slip my hand into the she-devil's very tight back pocket. "Could your jeans get any tighter?" I complain.

"Oh yeah," She smiles at me, "Much tighter."

I walk Barbie to her class despite that it is going to make me late to my own. "See you after class, honey," I say rolling my eyes.

"See, you are learning." She stands on her tip toes and kisses me on the cheek.

### Chapter 8.  
Gravity

Dylan is rambling about numbers. I pretend to listen, but really I am watching the football field. Byron Matthews had just made a tackle, and all the cheerleaders are fawning over him. How come it is okay for them to prance around this school in short skirts and midriff-bearing shirts and it is allowed in the name of school spirit? When I do the same thing, I am called a slut. I lean back, drinking in the sun. It took some talking and heavy flirting to convince Dylan to come outside. I don't think I could have spent another free period stuck in that stuffy old library. It reminds me of a place books go to die. The smell of musty parchment and stale ink does not hold any promises for me.

"Are you even paying attention?" Dylan asks.

"Sure, nine two, blah, blah, blah, the fifth power carry the one something, something, something." I wave him off. He lets out one of his 'Barbie is driving me nuts' sigh, just as Byron trots over to the bleacher. "Hey, Barbie how about me and you hooking up later?" he calls up, making an obscene gesture with his hand and mouth.

"Sure," I wink at him and blow a kiss in his direction. He smiles and jogs over to his meathead buddy where they exchange a series of handshakes and high fives.

"Why do you do that?" Dylan shuts the text book.

"Do what?" I ask innocently, knowing damn well what he means.

"Oh I don't know; give it up to any guy who asks."

I turn and look at him. His wrinkled plaid shirt looks like he plucked it right off the floor, his messy hair falling in his eyes. What does he know? He is just like everyone else at this school. He already proved that with his comment. I pretend that what he says means nothing to me, that stab of pain I feel does not exist.

"Please, I am not going to give anything up to Byron." I look him in the eyes.

"Then how come you just told him you would?" he asked, confusion furrowing at his brows. I have the urge to massage that spot between his eyebrows. How do I begin to explain the numbness that follows after I hook up, or that the flirting I do makes me feel some sort of connection to another person, that I am alive, and not a walking zombie. "He is over there telling all his friends that he is going to hook up with you. Don't you care?" Concern laces his voice. Aww, he cares.

"No, not really," I reply.

"That is why you have a reputation as a..." he wavers. "Never mind. Let's just get back to work." Dylan picks up the text book, opens it, his gaze focused on the pages. Back up.

"For your information I don't really care about my reputation. These people can think whatever they want of me, because when I graduate I will never see them again. So why do I care? Besides it is called flirting. Maybe you should give it a try and you wouldn't be so uptight."

He slams the book shut. "I am not uptight."

Now that makes me laugh. "You, Dylan Knight, are the most uptight person I have ever met. When was the last time you just let go? Just had fun and did not give a shit about what anyone else thought?"

He glares at me. "I let loose."

I smile, "Sure you do!" His idea of letting loose is probably pulling an all-nighter with Third playing WW, and making out on line with his avatar girlfriend.

"How about you give me your best pick-up line?" I taunt him, knowing he has nothing.

"Okay. Okay. Umm...was your father an alien?" I cock my eyebrow at him. This is the joke scenario all over again. "Because, baby, you are out of this world," he smiles at himself.

"That is nothing to be proud of, my friend. That was the lamest attempt at flirting I have ever witnessed." I am laughing so hard, I grab my stomach. "Okay, you got that from Third, and I am so going to have to help that boy if he thinks he will get any action spiting that game." I shake my head. "No wonder you are still a virgin." I sigh, and wipe at the tears that pooled in the corners of my eyes.

"Okay, I am going to help you. Maybe if I get you laid, you will not be such a tight ass." He stands up to go. "No, come on, let me help you." I stop laughing, and stand up trying not to smirk at him. "Pretend I am Katie."

He shakes his head. "No, this is not going to work. You are nothing like Katie."

I glare at him, "Thank the heavens for that." I don't want to be anything like her. He rolls his eyes. "Pretend!" I encourage.

"Fine," he drops the book back on the bleacher.

I try to pretend like I have a stick up my tight butt. "Hey Dylan," I twirl my hair, and use my best annoying girl voice.

"Umm...Hey Katie, you look real nice today," he mumbles.

"Oh, thanks. I got this from the plain and boring store." He glares at me. "Okay, okay, touchy, touchy." I get back into my character, "So, Byron's having a party tomorrow night. Are you going?"

He clears his throat. "Well, I don't usually go to parties."

I roll my eyes. This boy needs help in the worst way. "Okay. Well, I am going to go make out with Tyler. See ya." I turn to mock leave.

"Hey," he calls after me.

"Look, you don't want to be just her friend, say something like. Oh, hey Katie? Like you don't care if she is there or not. To you, she is just another one of the many girls. She could be any one of them. Then compliment her, but a small one, like nice jeans, but follow it with a rude remark. Did you gain a few pounds over winter break? Then, finally go talk to some other girl right in front of her."

He shakes his head. "I am not going to do that."

"You can't tell her the truth that you're madly in love with her. She needs to think you don't care about her, tease her. It is the sandwich method. Everyone wants a sandwich."

"This is stupid," he complains.

"Just try it!" I demand.

"No," He is such a stubborn boy.

"Come on, just try it," I urge him. "I promise not to laugh." I hold up my finger in a mock scout salute.

"Oh, hey there, Katie, did you do something with your hair?"

I get back in character. "Oh yeah. You like how lame it looks?" I smile unable to help myself.

He ignores me and continues. "I thought it looked really short." I smile. Good job, the boy can be taught.

"Good. Now, get really close to me like you are going to kiss me, but don't. Ask for my number, but make it obvious that you probably will not call." He cocks his eyebrows at me "Just do it." He closes the space between us, bringing his head so close that I can feel his warm breath tickling my cheek. He smells like fresh cut grass and Irish Spring soap again.

"Maybe I will give you a call sometime," he breathes.

But my mind is drawing a blank "Umm... good..." Get it together, Barbie. I take a deep breath. Bad choice, because the scent of him fills me. I take a step back, trying the clear my head, "Now you need to touch her, move a loose piece of hair, a stray eyelash." I swallow.

He brings his hand to a piece of hair that is blowing across my mouth. His hand gently brushes against my lips before tucking it back behind my ear. I resist the pull to lean forward and close my eyes. My knees feel so weak. "Okay, now walk away. Go talk to another girl," I whisper more breathy than I would like. _What the hell just happened?_ My head has been messing with me. I do not have feelings for Dylan. Do I? The feeling of my chest burning when he talks to Katie is not jealousy. I turn to where Byron is smacking his football buddies on the butt, trying to get my bearings. I grip the railing. Maybe I will take Byron up on the offer.

***

I am in the back of the new silver Mustang Byron's daddy got him. His body is pressed on top of me. The numb feeling I search for is not coming. He brings his mouth to mine. His kisses are wet and sloppy. I turn my face, and he plants a wet kiss on my check. I cringe. I need to shut off my mind and the endless images and words that float through it. I need Byron to clear my head of Dylan. I do not like Dylan. I pull Bryon's shirt over his head. He gives me a grin. He thinks that it is going further than I am willing to go. His mouth finds the exposed skin just above my bra. I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking Dylan's face. That stupid smirk he wears. The superior air he has to himself. I try to block the image of his cheeks brightening when I make flirtatious comments. Or how my skin tingles when we hold hands, and how my stomach does this weird little flip when I am waiting for him to get out of class. _Shit_. I have feelings for Dylan Knight.

"Byron?" I try pushing his meaty head off of me, but not before he gets one more kiss in. _Gross_. I feel like I am swimming in his slobber.

"You feel so good," he moans.

"Okay big boy, I need to take a break." I push up his head so he can make eye contact with me.

"A break?" He looks really confused. Maybe I spoke too fast for him to comprehend.

"Yeah. Can we talk or something?" I manage to push the rest of his heavy body up.

"Talk?"

I sigh and pull my shirt off the floor. "Yeah like form words with our mouths."

A stupid grin spreads across his face. "There is something I would like to do with your mouth."

Ooo-kay. I walked into that one. "Forget it." I reach for the door handle

"I was kidding, how about I take you to get something to eat and we can do that talking thing."

I stop and look at him. No one has ever offered to take me out to eat before. The guys react in several different ways when I tell them I am not hooking up. They get pissed, call me names, or spread rumors about me going all the way with them. No one has ever asked me to go out to eat before.

"That would be nice." I release the door handle and climb over to the front seat. He gets out and jogs over to the driver's side.

We are sitting in a red leather booth at the Peacock King. Byron is playing with his chop sticks while we wait for my chicken lo mein and egg roll. Byron has ordered the whole right side of the to-go menu. I thought I could eat, but I am not a two-hundred-pound football player.

"So what do you want to talk about?" he asks. I have been pretty mum on the whole talking thing. Maybe I am just freaked out by the kind side of him. I take a big sip from my Coke before talking, "Have you ever had feelings for someone who is...different from you?" Our food arrives.

"Different?"

I feel like smacking my forehead. This kid is good-looking, but completely dense, "What do you mean?"

I twist my noodles around my fork. I am not about to starve in attempting to eat my food with two sticks. "You know, have you ever had a crush on a girl who was different from you? Like had the hot's for one of the Goth chicks? Someone different from the cheerleaders you usually go for?"

He frowns. Then his eyebrows shoot into his hairline as recognition lights up his face.

"Not me!" I roll my eyes.

"Oh, well yeah, I guess." He scoops up his rice with his fingers, chop sticks now tossed aside. _Charming_. I gesture with my hands for him to continue, "last year I had to work on a project with this girl. She was in the band."

Oh, the scandal. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Well, what happened? Did you tell her how you felt?" I ask.

He shakes his head no. "It would never work out. She belongs with the band geeks, and I belong with the jocks," he sighs. That is really sad. "I see her practicing on the field sometimes and I wonder what would happen if I just walked over and kissed her," he wonders sadly.

"Why not? Why can't you just go over and kiss her and tell her how you feel? What is the worst that can happen?" I ask honestly.

He blinks at me before laughing "Try losing all my friends, getting made fun of, becoming a social leper or worse, her laughing at me. What if she did not feel the same way back? I cannot put myself out there without her returning my feelings." Sadness washes over his boyish features and I feel sad for him. "We are just too different," he shakes his head, repeating it to himself.

I lay in bed, listening to the sound of Everett sleep, staring at the brown stain on the ceiling. Byron dropped me off. Both of us were lost in somber moods, making the car ride a quiet one. He was not able to make me numb and now his words are mixing with my feelings, leaving me more confused than before. I wonder if I will ever feel numb again. He did have a point. Dylan and I are not meant to be together. I need to forget about him. Move on. Concentrate on getting him what he wants and that is not me. I need to ignore these feelings. He is something I can't have. Something I can't want.

### Chapter 9.  
Changes

I don't get this girl. One moment she is flirting with anyone who walks by her, or flirting with me. Now I think she is avoiding me. Like yesterday, we were studying, and she gets this brilliant idea of acting out how to be around Katie. Everything was going well. I think I really got a hold of this flirting thing, and I am excited to try the new tactics on Katie. Now she changes. She becomes somber and distant like I did something. I was just doing what she told me to do. Whatever, I don't have time to worry about her mood swings and whatever bipolar episode she is in the middle of having. I am going to put Barbie far out of my mind and not think of her at all this weekend. I have plans with Third. Whatever her problem is, I don't care.

I load the mower into the back of my beat-up pickup truck and head out to work. I mow eight lawns every Saturday. At twenty bucks a pop, it's not too bad. Between tutoring and mowing lawns, I have a nice chunk of change. I have been saving for three years. As soon as we graduate, Third and I are going to Japan, the birth place of Nintendo. It is my graduation present for myself. My parents can't swing a trip like that, so I have been saving. Third. However, is getting a free trip with the guilt trip approach he pulls with his mother. I love Emmy, but, damn, the benefits of being an only child.

I wonder if Barbie is an only child too. She sure acts like it. I bet she has a caring family. She must be driving them crazy with the way she dresses and how she flirts with anyone that glances in her direction. I actually feel bad for her family having a daughter like that. She acts superior, not hanging out with anyone. She thinks she is better than them. And what's up with her name? I bet that Barbie is not even her real name. She probably named herself that, thinking she looks like a damn doll. Urgh. She is frustrating.

The sun is beating down on me. The presence of summer is rearing its ugly head. Sweat drips into my eyes, burning them. I am mowing my last house. It has the largest yard and Mr. Grant usually only pays me half. But I don't care. If he told me I had to pay him, I would. This is because it is right next door to Katie's house. I get to be closer to her. Katie's yard is cut by a professional landscaper, perfect horizontal lines cut into the grass. I hardly ever see her outside, but when I do it is worth every ripped-off penny. I keep my eyes fixed on the large white house with the big red door in front of me. Then it happens. The red door opens, and out walks Katie. She is wearing a dark blue tank top and white pressed shorts. She holds a blue and white striped towel in one of her hands. She tosses it in the back of her white convertible VW bug and gets in.

I turn off the mower and watch her back out of her driveway. She stops in front of me. "Hi Dylan," she wiggles her fingers, and brings her sunglasses up to her head. "Are you going to Rock Falls for Junior picnic day?" she asks. "I am going to make a speech for the up and coming seniors."

I was planning on heading home to play video games with Third. I try to avoid school functions outside of the school premises. These kinds of events always end the same. Some drunken asshole jumps off the top of the falls. I wanted no part of the tradition this year. I plan to slip into senior year undetected.

"It would be great for you to show your school spirit."

"Yeah, of course I am going. Go Devils!" _Stupid, Stupid me._

Katie gives me a weird look, "Well, okay, I will see you there. Oh, and Barbie will be coming, right? I know these school spirit things are not really her thing, but since you two are together now..." She trails off.

"Yeah she will be there." Shit.

"Kay, see ya," Katie shifts into gear. I watch her drive off down the road. Shit, how am I going to find Barbie? I have no clue where the girl even lives I don't have her number. Hell, I don't even think she has a phone. I've never seen her use one and most girls have a phone attached to their ears. I pull out my phone and text Third.

***

Third shows up at my house with Barbie in tow an hour later. I could barely pull Emmy off her to stick her in Mrs. Ellis's van for her play date. Emmy introduced Barbie as the real thing. The Ellis twins were as fascinated with her as Emmy was. They thought she looked like Malibu Barbie, with her high purple wedges on and a bright blue, very-mini, sun dress. One of the twins actually got down and touched her rainbow-painted toes. Barbie didn't help matters when she told them about her first love, "Ken."

Mrs. Ellis was less than thrilled with Barbie or Third's appearance. He somehow managed to get a pair of fake gold teeth and has not stopped cheesing it. The gold teeth don't really go with the Hawaiian-print matching short set his mom bought him. It is going to be a long day.

Barbie has yet to make eye contact with me. Still in a bad mood about whatever it is she is mad about. She slides into my cab, straddling the stick shift between her legs. Every time I have to shift, my hand rubs against her leg. It is like a small jolt of electricity travels up my arm each time. She looks out of Third's window, pretending I don't exist. She better not mess things up with Katie this time.

Katie stands on top of a flat rock under a banner that reads, "Welcome upcoming Seniors to the beginning of the rest of your life." Tyler stands next to her in an all-black attire, playing Mr. G cool. _What a douche_. He has been checking out her ass the whole time and not listening to her carefully prepared speech. I am sure she spent a lot of time writing, revising, and editing it carefully for the speech that she is now giving. It is lost on ass-wipes like Tyler. I try to hang on to every word, which is hard to do with Barbie and her high-pitched laughter. Third is making her laugh like that. I cannot hear what he was saying to her. I can only see his large wild gestures. I glare at them, but they are both ignoring me. "And last, but not least, I want to welcome the new Central seniors." Katie finishes her speech. I clap. Tyler helps her down, and I walk over to congratulate her.

"Great speech," I touch Katie on her bare shoulder. My stomach ties up in knots.

"Thanks," she looks over at Third and Barbie, who is squealing as Third gives her a piggy-back ride to the food table. Her dress is raised high, exposing her tanned thigh. Her arms are squeezed tightly around Third's fat neck as he spins them in a circle. My face burns. I want to punch him in the face for being so disrespectful to Katie. "At least someone enjoyed it," she says.

"I did, it was great. A lot of people enjoyed it actually." Just not the two idiots who are acting like complete fools. I stuff my hands into my pockets and watch them wait in line. Does he have to hold her as they go through the food line?

"I have a few things I need to finish up...I will catch up with you in a little while," Katie says with a smile. I can't help but cheese it like a fool. Katie wants to hang out with me.

"Yeah.Sure."

Barbie is lying down on her stomach. Her blond hair fans out around her. Third is handing her a gummy bear and she begins to slowly mutilate the poor thing. She is biting off its tiny head, and then its little arms before popping the remains into her mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snap, sitting down next to them. My mood soured. Apparently when Katie said she would catch up with me, she really meant hanging all over Tyler.

"Eating a gummy bear," she replies nonchalantly before taking another one from Third.

"Want one?" Third offers.

"No. I mean you guys were so disrespectful during Katie's speech." I am pissed and I am taking it out on them. All I think about is Tyler's hands on the small of Katie's back. Are they together?

"Dude, relax, it was over. Besides we were not the only ones not paying attention to her lame hour-long speech about being responsible seniors. What's up with that bullshit?" he mocks.

"It's not bull shit!" I yell, my anger boiling over.

Barbie sits up and looks at me, sizing me up, trying to read me. I wait for her sarcastic remark, but she surprises me, "I am sorry." She places her hand on my arm, and I am transfixed once again with her huge eyes. They seem to hold me in place reading something that is not there. She means it. She really is sorry.

"No more red ones," Third announces, shaking the bag of gummy bears.

***

Third finishes his sixth hot dog. "Pleassse!" Barbie begs as she pulls on Third's arm

"Nah, man, there is no way I am getting all this jelly in that freezing ass water." He grabs his huge belly, shaking it.

"Dylan, will you please go in?" she turns to me. Oh, hi, now you remember me. She has been too busy for the last hour being hand-fed by Third to notice my existence. Today royally sucks. I just want to go home and go to sleep. Pretend it never happened. Things just keep on sucking more and more as the day goes on. First Tyler picked up Katie and ran into the water with her squealing, which turned into a water fight between the two of them. And Barbie, my fake girlfriend, obviously forgot her role. She has been laughing and joking with Third as he sorts gummy bears because she cannot eat the green ones. Shouldn't that be my job as fake boyfriend? "The only way you are getting me in that water is if you jump off the top of the falls," I say. She can go back to ignoring me for all I care. So far no drunken football player has attempted it yet. It is still early. Barbie pouts and looks up at the falls.

"Fine." She stands up and starts walking.

"What? No I was kidding." I lie back on the blanket and cover my eyes with my arm. A headache is beginning to form in my temples.

"Dude, if she dies, it is all on you," Third announces. I drop my arm. Barbie is standing on a rock that juts out over the falls.

"What the hell? I was kidding," I stand up. Chants of her name start. Shit. Her hands are on her hips as she sizes up the situation. I start to jog up to her. If she dies... _shit_. I don't think a girl has ever jumped off. It is a tradition for new football players to jump. I have seen the broken arms and the staples in heads. They are built for injures like that. Barbie is a so small compared to them. What will happen to her if she jumps? I can hear my mom now. "How could you let that happen to that poor sweet girl, Dylan?" I race up to the top, where she stands. Third is right. If she dies jumping off, it is entirely my fault.

"What are you doing?" I lean over and gasp for air as when I reach her.

"Seeing where to aim when I jump. I think that's the spot." She points to the dark center of the pool below us. _Holy crap, we are high._

"Don't be stupid," I warn.

She glares at me, and starts to undress. "Barbie, what are you doing?"

She shimmies out of her dress, letting it fall to the ground. She is not wearing a bathing suit. _Holy-shit._ I run my hand over my face. She is about to jump off the falls in a blue bra and purple panties. The pink strip of hair blows across her face. She reminds me of a fruit salad with all her rainbow colors. "Don't do this. Do you know what they are going to think?" I gesture to the crowd below us, chanting her name.

Her eyes narrow, "You care so much what they think of you." I do. "I already told you I don't care what they think." She stands up straighter with her hands perched on her hips.

"Fine, but don't do this. I don't want everyone thinking I am going out with the crazy girl who jumps off water falls in her underwear." I don't want to be part of the rumors that fly around about her.

"Jump with me." She holds out her hand. Her delicate hand grasps for me. We stare at each other. I don't take her hand. She sighs, letting it drop to her side, and she takes off running.

I panic, and run after her, I mean to grab her hand and pull her back. Our hands connect and I am falling. Time slows down, and I look over at Barbie. Her teal blue eyes match the sky around us, drinking in our surroundings as we free fall. She looks like she is flying, the sun behind her make her glow. She reminds me of the angel charm my grandmother used to wear. She is an angel. She is beautiful. We cut through the cold water and the air is pressed out of my lungs. I am disoriented, not sure which way is up or down. I am lost in a watery world of green. I will be the one to die today. She is my angel of death, and I am going to die. She brought me to meet my death. As if she heard me, she swims next to me, her hair swimming wildly around her. She smiles at me. Swimming over to me; she cups my face in her hands and kisses me on the mouth. I am stunned as I watch her kiss me. My body floats limply in the green world around me. She is pulling me down. She releases me, breaking the kiss and kicks up toward the surface, not once looking back. I follow her. Cheers and hoots are heard as we break the surface. She is floating on her back, looking up at our near-death experience we just shared.

"That was amazing! It was like we were flying." I think she says, but I cannot be sure.

***

Monday morning and the rumors of her stunt have begun to spread like wild fire. I try to dodge the looks I am getting as I walk in to school. A group of girls point and go back to whispering in a huddle. "Dude! That was an epic move on her part. Everyone is talking about it," Third walks with a limp next to me.

"I don't know why you are tripping over it." I wonder if his new swagger walk is him trying to portray that he jumped as well.

"No, it was not epic. That little stunt she pulled, taking off her clothes." I shove my bag in to my locker. "Was freaking hot! The girl's got a banging body," he announces like he's made some sort of discovery.

The memories of the way she looked come back to me. Her tanned skin glowing against the Sun. the way her long hair brushed the small of her back... the curve to her hips, the way the purple strap...

"She made us look like freaks." I shake my head, clearing it of the images.

"We went from losers to freaks. Great."

"Bro, trust me. That move she pulled made every guy wish they were you. Think about it. If you saw Katie jumping off the falls with some guy in her under wear, you would think that they were going to do it after, right?" I sigh. Third has a demented view on life. It always seems to come back to sex with him. Funny, because he is more of a virgin than me. The only girl he has kissed is his mother.

"Can you leave Katie out of your demented philosophy?"

"You need to just ride this thing out, relax. Barbie is manipulating you into some sex god or something. You went from being a virgin loser to the guy with the hot girl who can't help but strip down into her skivvies in front of him." I slam my locker shut. "I think you need to up your antics. You have her tiptoeing around you at school. If you want people to buy this, son, then you need to let that sex stallion loose." He holds his fist out for me to bump it. I leave him hanging. Maybe in some messed up way, Third is right.

Barbie is waiting for me when I leave English, Katie brushes past us and the smell of jasmine lingers behind her. "Could she possibly wear any more perfume?" Barbie coughs and waves her hand in front of her face.

"I think she smells nice."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever." A wicked grin spreads across her lips. "So, people are talking," she says proud of herself.

"I heard." She slips her hand into mine. This is comfortable her holding my hand at a safe distance. If Third was here right now, he would tell me to push her up against the locker and start making out like animals. That would really have people talking.

I wonder what she would feel like pressed under me. Would she let me kiss her? I stop walking. I need to do something drastic, not safe. Barbie stops and looks confused, "What's wrong? You are going to be late to Bio." Why does she sound concerned? She doesn't care.

"I...I..." I stutter. The words are stuck in my throat, with a nervousness that holds them down. I grab her face in my hands and kiss her. At first she is stiff, but then she relaxes and her mouth parts. I have kissed girls before, not a lot, but I know how to do this. This is awkward, why did I let Third, of all people, get in to my head? Barbie senses my hesitation and brings her hand to cup my cheeks in her soft hand. Her tongue slips into my mouth. I am not expecting it, but it feels like fireworks are going off inside my chest. People push past us as somewhere a bell rings. The world fades away in muted colors. I deepen the kiss. She tastes sweet like vanilla and electricity travels through me. She lets out a soft moan that vibrates against my lips. I back her up into the lockers, pressing into her. She feels amazing under me. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her, wanting more. Damn if I don't want to give her more. I want to keep feeling these fireworks that are exploding in my chest. She stops me, one hand on my chest. She leans her forehead against mine.

"If you kiss Katie like that..." she says breathless.

Katie. That's right. I want this with Katie. Not with her.

I am late to Bio, but I don't give a shit. I do not pay attention in Bio, a first for me. I sit at the very back of the room and lay my head on my desk. What's wrong with me? Why did I feel like that when I kissed her? My head is still foggy from kissing her. I bounce my knee nervously up and down. I am fighting the urge to run out here and find her and kiss her again. I want to know if I'll feel fireworks again, and see if she really tasted like vanilla or that was all in my head. I can't feel this way for her. I do not want her. Then why is my skin craving to touch her?

***

"So, today, when I picked Barbie up, she slipped coming off the steps. I almost peed, I was laughing so hard. I guess you had to be there." Third wipes at a tear in the corner of his eyes, reliving a moment he shared with Barbie.

"You picked her up?" I ask, loosening a screw on the lawn mower that his momma asked me to fix.

"Yeah, and you know how she loves those ridiculous heels." Third continues.

"Heels?" I wipe the grease off my hands onto my pants.

"Yeah, you know her favorite ones, the black ones with the hot pink toe," he shrugs as if knowing her favorite pair of shoes was common knowledge.

No I didn't know she had favorite shoes that she slipped in when walking down the stairs. "How long have you been picking her up?" Jealousy drips off me as I pull the blade off the mower.

"I dunno, a couple of weeks. Want a Coke?" He walks over to the fridge in the garage. "It doesn't bother you man, does it?" He hands me a red and white can.

"No, why should I care? She is _not_ my girl." I open the can and drink.

"Are you sure? Because if it bothers you, I will stop." He says in an unsure tone.

"No way, man. Why would I care? She is not my girl." I repeat, confirming it more for myself. _She is not my girl_. So why should it bother me if she spends all her time with Third? Hell, they can do 'it' for all I care! Why should I care? Why should I care if he knows what her favorite colored shoes are! Or that she is funny and makes him laugh. I swallow back my resentment. But it pisses me off that Third now thinks he is the shit because he's hanging out with her. He will not shut up about her, he keeps yapping about how funny she is and what funny thing she did or said. "Cool, she is a real chill girl."

I get back to fixing the mower so we can go see _Zombie Slayer_ in 3-D. I need to clear my head and stop thinking about Barbie. What better way to not think about a girl than to be surrounded by zombies reaching out of a big screen trying to eat your brains.

***

"Popcorn?" Third asks. We are at the arcade in the movie and Third just handed Barbie a handful of quarters.

"Extra butter, and will you grab some junior mints?" she smiles at him.

"Sure thing," Third gives her two thumbs up before jogging up to the candy counter. I exhale an annoyed breath out of my nose. Tonight was supposed to be a guys' night. We have been talking about seeing this movie since last summer. I wanted to forget the feeling I had when I kissed Barbie. I wanted not to feel this possessiveness over what is not mine. I wanted to stop wanting to punch Third in the face every time he mentioned Barbie's name.

Barbie leans her hip against the game she is playing. She looks freaking ridiculous, like a bag lady. She has on a pair of distressed jeans under a loose fitting, flowered print dress. She wears a large mood ring on her index finger that has been swirling between green and black. Her hair is in two messy braids like when we were kids. Black ballerina-looking shoes peak out of the bottom of her jeans that she taps in time to the music coming out of the game.

"Nice hair," I pull on one of her braids, daring her to punch me or chase me.

She looks up from the game, "Thanks." She goes back to shooting the alien spaceships. I have been avoiding her the last few days, but now that she is in front of me I want her to pay attention to me.

"So what, you go from one extreme to another." I lean up against the game.

She stops playing. The game plays the music, signaling the death of her star fighter. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"You know one moment you are hardly dressed, and now you are dressed like a bag lady." I put my hand against the game screen. Being around her brings out the douche side of me, but hell she crashed our movie and is now ignoring me. Wasn't she into kissing me the other day, too? I think about that moan that escaped her mouth and I want to see if I can get her to produce another one. I want to feel her pressed under my body. I want to feel the explosion she causes deep in my chest.

"Oh I am sorry, I didn't know that you wanted your fake girlfriend to dress a certain way. I will make sure I show more skin for you next time." Venom laces her voice, and her teal eyes turn a deep shade of blue.

I want to apologize. I want to know what other emotion makes her eyes change color. Third comes back with his hands full of popcorn that spills onto the floor. "I got you a Coke, Dylan." _Great._

She sits in the middle of Third and I, but her body leans closer to him than me. _Why doesn't she just climb into his lap?_ A group of kids from Central sit right behind us, laughing. If she is not careful, she is going to blow our whole facade.

"Milk Dud?" I shake the yellow box under her nose.

"I am good," she says, not even looking at me.

"I'll take some." Third reaches his big meaty hand across her. I shake some in his hand. Barbie smiles and takes one when he holds his hand out in front of her.

Okay, so she is pissed at me again. Ignoring her the past few days was a mistake, but I needed time to sort through my feelings. I am still not sure what is going on. When I am with her, it is a hurricane of emotions swirling around inside me. And I still want Katie just as much as I did before Barbie came into my life.

I should have kept my mouth shut about her clothes. My mother would be horrified. She raised a better man than that. I am about to apologize to her, but the lights dim and the screen comes to life with previews. I sink down in my seat. Resting my foot on the back of the chair in front of me. One minute Barbie makes me want to kiss her, the next I want to rip my hair out because she is infuriating me so. I try to focus on the movie and not on who is sitting next to me. I look at the screen and try to pay attention as the main character chops off the head of a hot zombie chick. But the screen starts to blur and the words float around me, meaningless. My knee bounces up and down. I run my hands through my hair. There is no point in pretending to watch the movie. I steal another glance over at Barbie. She grips Third's arm, burying her face in his shirt. Jealousy sits heavily on my chest. There is no denying it. I'm jealous of the attention she is paying to Third and not me. This is ludicrous. _I don't like her_. I like Katie, perfect Katie, I remind myself. Not a girl who plays video games in a dress that looks like it came from her grandmother's closest. Not a girl who wears her hair in little kid braids. I can't take it anymore. I stand up ignoring, the shouts behind me, and walk out.

### Chapter 10.  
Ordinary

I walk out to the red carpeted hallways of the theater, searching for him. I should have stayed in the theater, watched the movie, and ignored him. Hell, he kissed me, and then ignored me the past few days. Then he insults me. I am so mad at him. What right had he to say anything about how I dress? I don't comment on the vintage video game T-shirts he loves to wear or his dirty Converses that have seen better days. Or make comments about his stupid hair that most always needs a haircut. How it falls into his eyes covering them up, driving me crazy. Or how he gives me those stupid cocky smiles, like he is so much smarter than I am. I promised myself that I would not care anymore. This was supposed to be only a job and I would not let my delusional fantasies get the better of me. He had my head spinning from that kiss, but not again, I would keep my head about me. I reach up, touching my lips. I can still feel the electricity that dances on them.

I find Dylan sitting on a bench. He is leaning his head is against a poster the new vampire teen romance flick. "You didn't have to follow me," he says with his eyes closed.

"Well, what kind of fake girlfriend would I be if I didn't check on you?" I say watching the rise and fall of his chest.

"A pretty shitty one," a smile tugs on his lips.

"We couldn't have people talking." I sit down next to him, ignoring the spark that travels up my leg where his brushes against mine.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that about your dress... It is a very...nice dress," he opens one eye and glances down at me.

"Thanks. It was my grandmother's," I lie. It came from some church ladies that drop off clothes to people in our neighborhood along with a bag of food. What clothes I don't get from the church ladies come from my mother's dancer friends.

"I know I have been a dick...it's just I am not used to having a fake girlfriend and I am not sure how to act," he confesses.

"Just be yourself. If you have something to say, just be honest with me. I will be honest with you," I lie again. "We will figure this out."

"I like it when you wear your hair like this." He picks up one of my braids and gently tugs on it. "It reminds me of when we were kids."

A flutter of excitement starts low in my stomach, "Yeah?" I whisper, my voice barely there.

"Yeah," he slips his fingers into mine. I try to ignore the tingling sensation. I have never been on a rollercoaster before, but I bet this is what it feels like. Being this close to him, my stomach does a little dance, and my legs feel weak, my breathing comes out in shallow gasps.

"So shall we show off our fake relationship some more? I think a group of Katie's friends are sitting behind us." He asks, the fluttering turns into a heavy weight.

"Let's..." I let him pull me to my feet.

I play the part of a good fake girlfriend, leaning my head on his shoulder and hiding my face in his shirt that smells faintly of laundry soap. I even feed him pieces of popcorn. I try my hardest not to notice the warmth that spreads down my legs when he sucked the butter off my finger.

I stand next to Dylan's truck. "Are you sure I can't give you a ride home?" he asks for the fifth time. Our hands are still laced. He leans against the rusty green door. We have an unspoken agreement between us.

"No, it is okay. I have a ride coming." I gesture toward the entrance. I know I said I would be honest. But how do I say no one is coming for me? That no one cares. He grabs my free hand in his. My skin is alive with the electricity that is flowing from him into me. He pulls me closer to him, his warmth enclosing around me. My eyes flutter trying to close.

"Can I try something?" His voice is a husky whisper. I nod, unable to speak. He lets go of my hand. I have to fight the need to pull it back into mine. He runs his thumb across my jawline, stopping on my bottom lip. "Beautiful." My eyes close and his lips find mine, gentle, teasing me, before parting slightly. Our breathing entwines as I wait in anticipation of his next move. He hesitates, teasing, I feel like I am going to scream. Then he pulls me to him and I sigh, finding what I was looking for. He kisses me but not letting it become the hungry kisses we once shared. No, these are carefully planned out. He is slowly killing me, slowly memorizing me with each kiss. Each kiss unties a carefully placed knot I tied myself, knots that hold me in place so tightly. He is single-handedly untying each and every one.

***

"So what do you think of Ronnie?" My mother comes up next to me and bumps her hip with mine.

He gives me the creeps. "Umm... he is okay, I guess." I dump the laundry soap in to the machine, not bothering to measure it out and slam the lid shut.

She frowns and pulls a cigarette out of her back pocket. Lighting it, she inhales deeply. "I really like him," she says through an exhaled breath of smoke that travels up to the ever-yellowing ceiling. She leans against the dryer. Just because she likes him doesn't mean he is good for her. I think how Dylan makes me feel. Just because I like him does not mean I am right for him. I sigh, picking up the laundry basket of clean clothes and go over to the kitchen table and begin folding the contents of the basket. She comes over next to me, lifting a shirt up, and begins to fold it. She looks thinner than usual. Her clothes hang off her small figure. Her dark, thin hair is pulled back, exposing the dark hollows of her check. I wonder if she has been eating. Sometimes she will go days without eating while drinking deeply into a stupor. "He makes me laugh," she says, folding a shirt before placing it onto my pile.

I give her a forced smile. "That's good."

She takes that as enthusiasm and smiles. "He treats me real good. Last night he even let me keep all my tips. I didn't have to pay out the ten percent." _What a gentleman_. "So what about this boy you been hanging out with? The one that you are deep in thought about." She has this uncanny way of reading me. Maybe we are more alike than I like to admit. She takes a deep drag from her cigarette, folding abandoned.

"Dylan? It is nothing. He is just tutoring me in algebra," I explain, because he is _only_ my tutor, nothing more.

She gives me a tight-lipped smile. "What's that costing you?" She flicks the ashes onto a bill that will not be paid.

"Nothing, Momma. He is doing it for free." I pick up the folded clothes and put them back into the basket.

"Baby doll, ain't nothing in this world is free. And men know that better than anybody. They are always wanting a reward."

I stomp out of the kitchen, done with the conversation. She follows me she is not done, "Baby doll, I am just looking out for you." She says behind me. I sigh. Mad at myself for snapping at her, she doesn't know any better. And she thinks by telling me this she is protecting me. How can I be mad at her for that? All I want to do is to protect them. I drop the basket into the corner of the room and sit down on the bed. Everett lies on the floor, drawing a maze. She sits down next to him pulling him onto her lap. He struggles against her grasp, trying to get back to the maze he was drawing.

I drop to the brown-carpeted floor next to them and hand him his paper before there is a complete melt- down. "Momma, Dylan is not like that he..." He is sweet, funny, and a little uptight at times." I laugh to myself, "He is different." I elect.

She sighs, "You just be careful. Boys like him are only good for one thing. A broken heart."

### Chapter 11.  
Confused

"I kissed Barbie!" I lean my back against the cold metal locker. I wanted to see what would happen, and whether it was all in my mind these feelings I was starting to feel. Each kiss opened up something inside me. Each carefully placed kiss was another firework going off in my chest.

"So, she is your girlfriend." Third is digging in his locker.

"No she is not. She is my pretend girlfriend," I correct him. Do I want more from her than that?

"I still don't see the problem." He pulls a book out from under his old gym clothes. Their smell insults me, a mix between old onions and cheese.

"You are gross, man, you know that? You're supposed to wash those things when you are finished wearing them." Third shrugs pushing the offending clothes back into the rubble of his locker.

"I am trying to see your dilemma, dude, but I don't." He slams his locker shut, a trapped gym sock hanging out the bottom of his locker. How can he not see it? I kissed Barbie. I might have some sort of feelings for her and I am not sure how I feel about Katie anymore. For so long Katie has been the one in my dreams, but now my dreams are filled with blond, crazy hair and huge, blue, alien eyes. She is in my head like a parasite.

"The girl is a train wreck and I don't want her to screw things up with Katie." We stop in front of his Math class, which just happens also to be Barbie's.

She gives me a small smile as she slips past us into the class. "Did you see that?" I gesture to where Barbie just stood moments before, a faint smell of sugar lingering in the air.

"Dude, I think you are more screwed up than her. Look, you both know this is not real. The way I see it, you have two options. One is you bitch and moan about being with one of the hottest girls in school. The second is you enjoy it while you can. If the girl wants to kiss you, then hell, you kiss the shit out of her." He claps me on the shoulder, "You are one lucky SOB."

***

We are parked in the back of my grandfather's old orchard. She talked me into leaving school during our free period. Leaving school is another sign that this girl has me completely screwed up. We sit on the tail gate of my truck. Her knees are pulled up to her chest. The long flowered skirt she wears fans out around her. She absently smoothes out the wrinkles in it. Her toes peek out. They are painted a bright green that reminds me of the color of new grass. Her hands and wrists are tattooed in blue ink, words and small swirls crawl up her arm. _Weird_. She is quiet. Not like the Barbie I am used to, the loud, boisterous, opinionated, stubborn, and completely infuriating. No, this Barbie is a quiet and withdrawn. I am going to regret asking, but I have to. "What's wrong?" I set down the Math book. She is not listening to the lecture I was giving anyway. And she needs to be paying attention to how to solve equations by factoring if she wants to ace the upcoming test Gregor is giving.

She leans her head on her knee and looks out into the orchard. The smells of peach blossoms mix with the smell that is her sweet sugar. It swims around me in the warm afternoon breeze. I am starting to love that smell. "Do you ever wish you could sprout wings and just fly away?" Okay, weird doesn't begin to cover her. "Leaving everything and everyone behind?" She does not wait for me to answer. "Sometimes I think if I just start running, I will end up somewhere good, some place warm. That if I keep running, I will get to the ocean."

I have no clue what she means or what she is talking about. Girls are so hard to understand, always talking in riddles. I know there is a hidden message somewhere in there. I want to figure it out. And I think she wants me to figure it out. "You want to go to the beach?" I ask. She looks at me and laughs around tears that start to fall. Shit. I hate it when girls cry. I get this weird feeling in my stomach. I just want to make her smile again.

"That's what you got out of that?" She says, swinging her legs down so that her toes dangle in the grass. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, hot stuff. We girls are complicated creatures." She wipes at a stray tear. _No kidding_.

"You are telling me," I sigh. I lie back on the truck, my legs dangling next to hers. The sun warms my face.

"Tell me something that you want," she suggests as she lies down next to me. I lift her hand and examine the designs on her wrist a small bird with a poem about being free.

"You know what I want. I want to be Katie's boyfriend," I say...or at least I used to.

She sighs, "No, something you want for yourself. Something you have never told anyone before." She tilts her head to the sun. Her long neck glimmers against the sunlight.

"I have no secrets," I lie. I have lots of secrets.

"Everyone has secrets," she reads my mind.

"Not me I am an open book...except...no, never mind."

She sits up on her elbows and looks down at me. For a moment, my breath catches in my throat. She really is beautiful. Her hair is glowing from the sun, giving her an angelic appearance. She bites at her pouty lips, and for a moment I think about kissing her again. "I wear _Star Wars_ underwear." I say trying to change the mood.

"What?" She wrinkles her nose at me.

"Yep, I have the whole collection, Luke Skywalker, Darth, the Storm Troopers. I even have ones with the Ewoks on them."

She starts to laugh and I can breathe again. "Fine, don't tell me." She lies back down.

I know I am going to regret this but if it will keep a smile on her lips I will do just about anything. "I do have a secret place." She looks over at me and the feeling of wanting to kiss her comes again.

"Like a secret hideout?" she asks.

"Better. Come on. I'll show you." I push the feelings away, hide them.

We speed down a dirt road, a tail of dust behind us. Her feet are up on my dashboard tapping to the music that blares out of my static-filled speakers. She bobs her head to the beat, mouthing the words.

"You like this song?" I ask, turning up the music.

"Yeah, it is my favorite," she smiles dreamily.

"Go ahead and sing. I promise not to laugh." I want to hear the sound of her voice. I shake my head to try to stop the intrusive thoughts.

She rolls her eyes, "Trust me you don't want me singing out loud. I might sound like an angel when I speak, but when I sing..." she shivers.

I laugh. "Come on, you can't be that bad."

She shrugs, "Fine it is your ear drums." She belts out with the radio. _Holy crap_. She is bad, like fingernails on the chalkboard bad.

"Okay, okay. I think my ears are bleeding." I grab at my ears.

She hits me in the arm. "I told you I was bad," she laughs, and I laugh with her. I turn up the radio and we both sing as loud and out of tune as we can.

We pull up to an old abandoned barn. "This is it?" She asks skeptically.

"Yeah, isn't it beautiful?" I shut off the engine. She squints as if she is trying to see it in a new light, to see the beauty I see. It is beautiful to me with all the peeling white paint and the boards that are barely hanging on. It is misunderstood. Where most would see a condemned building, I see the history, the stories that live within these walls. I open the door and jog over to her side to help her out. "You want to know my secret?" I ask. She nods. I am suddenly afraid of what she will think of me. I take her hand and pull her to the door. Tingling sensations sparks to life where her skin touches mine.

"Close your eyes," I tell her. I leave her standing there while I open the heavy, water-logged wood doors. "Keep your eyes closed." I guide her through the doors, my hands on her bare shoulders. "Okay. Open them." She opens her eyes, blinking letting her eyes adjust to the dim light.

We stand in the middle of the run down barn, the dirt floor crushing beneath our feet. Light streams in through the cracks in the boards, dancing off small particles of dust. "It is beautiful," she gasps. She is in awe, turning around taking in the beauty. I go over to the corner of the barn to my secret. I tug at an army-green, moth-eaten tarp that covers the boxes I was searching for.

"Are you ready to learn my dirty secret?" I tease her. She comes and stands behind me. My stomach drops.

"Is it that you cut up innocent high school girls who annoy you into tiny pieces and store them in those boxes?" She teases.

"No, I keep them over there." I point to an old, rusting freezer. I pull the remains of the tarp off the boxes, revealing their contents. One of the boxes is filled with old photographs. The other is filled with cameras.

"What is this?" she asks, picking up a yellowing photo of my grandmother when she was young. It is my favorite picture of her. In it, she sits on a beach in Florida wearing an old-fashioned bikini. My granddad is in the background doing a muscle-man pose. It was their honeymoon.

"My grandmother," I say looking down at the photo. She looks up at me. She is beautiful.

"She is so beautiful. She has the same dark eyes as you do, Dylan." It is true, both my mother and I share those same dark eyes.

"My grandmother loved photography." I start to tell her why I brought her here. "She was always looking through the lens of her camera." I start shuffling through the photos, pulling out one of me in a bathtub when I was three. It is easier not to look at her when I tell her. "Like I said, she always had a camera."

She takes the incriminating picture out of my hand. "Is that is you? Cute buns," She winks.

My cheeks heat up.

"So what is the secret?" she asks.

How do I tell her that I want to be a photographer more than anything. That when I look through the lens, I see a story too. I want to tell those stories to the world, but I am afraid and embarrassed of what others will think of me. I wish I didn't care. But I do. "I love photography." I throw my hands into the air. I feel a weight that has been sitting on my chest lift with the confession. "I wish I could have a camera attached to my face." I continue with my confession. I pick up a vintage 35 mm camera and look through the lens.

"So, why don't you?" she asks. Like it is just that simple. I bring her into focus. She is so clear. She knows what she wants and doesn't care what anyone says. She can be herself and for that I am jealous of her. I snap a picture of her. The film is probably so old that it will not develop. But I want to know her story. Behind the camera, I am not afraid. She strikes a pose, hands on her hips.

"What? Just take pictures?" I ask. She looks over her shoulder. Click.

"Yeah, what is stopping you?" Click.

"It is hard enough just being me without adding the title of weird, creepy guy, who takes pictures to it." Click.

She takes her hair out of the messy knot on top of her head and shakes out her hair. Click. She is stunning. I don't think I have met anyone as beautiful as her. Katie is beautiful, too, but it is different with Barbie. It is like she has this glow that she radiates and you can't help but want to be close to her.

"So you are not doing something you love, because of a label you are afraid you might get?" Click.

I cringe. That is exactly why. "Yeah..." Click.

"You should never let what people think of you make up your mind about what you want to do." Click. "I will never let them box me in" She says in a defiant and convincing voice.

I believe that she will never let anyone box her in. She is strong and I wish I was like her. Click.

"I don't care what they think of me." She tells me for what seems like the millionth time since meeting me. So why is it only now that her words are starting to mean something to me? Click. She spins and the light dances off her skin. I snap another picture of her. I wish I didn't care what people thought of me. I wish I could be more like her, but I care. I drop the camera to my side, and sigh. She takes the camera and starts snapping pictures of the ceiling. Click.

"That is really sad," she says. Click. I know. It is more than sad, more like pathetic. And like that, I am ten years old again. Filled with hatred. _I am on my knees holding my broken glasses in my hands. "What a fag!" one of the boys taunts behind me. "Come on, loser want to play?" A ball hits me in my side._ "I wish it was that simple," I say. Click.

She snaps a picture of me. Click, click, click. I reach for the camera, but she dodges out of my reach and continues to click away. I sit down and sigh. The old weight settles back in my chest again. She snaps another picture before coming behind me. She puts her arms over my shoulders and holds the camera out and snaps a picture of us. "Say cheese," Click. The smell of spun sugar fills me and I lean toward her to smell it again. Click.

"Cotton candy." I breathe it in, holding onto her. "You smell like cotton candy," I say. Click. I can't stop myself. The overwhelming feeling to kiss her is so strong. I lean in and my lips brush hers. She waits, testing me to see what my next move will be. I wait, watching for her next move. We are in a standoff. Waiting, her mouth lingers next to mine. I move my hand up her arm. Her eyes are on mine. A shudder travels down her body and I am alive with the feel of her. Gripping her arm, I guide her around so she is sitting in my lap. She is watching me with those entrancing eyes. Beautiful. I trace the outline of her sitting in my lap with trembling fingers. I want to take another picture of her like this. I want to remember the vulnerability that I created within her. She tilts her head back, exposing her neck. Like a moth to a flame, I bring my mouth to that golden skin. She lets a moan escape as I explore the feel of her.

### Chapter 12.  
Falling

"Pop quiz." The class groans in unison. "What? I want to see how my students are doing. If that is so wrong, I don't want to be right." Gregor chuckles at his attempt at humor.

The Goth girl to my left passes me the stack of papers. "I think his main purpose is to see how much of a living hell he can make of our lives," She mutters under her breath.

"I think he stays up late getting his kicks from new ways to torture his students," I banter back.

"I heard that. I expect a hundred from you, Miss Starr."

Now I groan. If he is expecting me to make a good grade, he is in for some disappointment. It is not that I don't try to pay attention to what Dylan is trying to teach me. It is just that the numbers start blending together and my head aches with the thought of numbers and letters together. Whoever invented algebra was a tool, letters and numbers mixed together is just plain confusing. Besides, I have more fun watching Dylan trying to teach me than actually learning the stuff.

Dylan gets this goofy grin when he talks about numbers. He gets so excited when I pretend to get what he is saying. He gets even more excited when he thinks I am making a connection. I have never seen someone get that excited over numbers. Well, except maybe Gregor. I like watching the way Dylan writes, the weird way he fists the pen as he writes the lyrics of a math problem down. How his brown hair falls in his eyes. The way his lean muscles flex when he stretches...Tap, tap. "You should be putting answers on this page, Miss Starr!" Gregor taps his red pen on my paper. He just can't wait to start marking down our grades and commenting about how wrong we are with that red pen of his. I can practically see the excitement leaping off him. I try to pull any bit of information that I can remember from Dylan and get to work.

"Shit a D." The girl next to me crumples her quiz and tosses it to the front of the room. It misses the trash can, exposing the offending red mark to whoever comes by and decides to be nosy. "What did you get?" she asks, biting on to the end of her pen.

I reach over and try to stuff the paper in my bag before she sees it. Too late. She snatches the paper out of my hand. "Hey," I snatch it back and stuff it into my bag.

"B." Her jaw drops.

"Plus," I add with just the small hint of pride.

"Half the class flunked! How did you pass?" Her brown eyes turn into tiny accusing slits.

"Tutor," I offer.

"That's all because of that boy you are getting tutored by."

How did she know that? I guess it is not news that we are a "thing."

"Let him tutor me." Her black-painted lips spread into a sly smile. "I bet he can get me a B."

"Um, no thanks," I say.

"I guess not, I can't pay him like you can." She stands up, stuffing the rest of her things into a backpack that is barely hanging on. Safety pins hold pieces of it together. My cheeks burn as I remember the kiss from last night. It was so gentle. I run my fingers across my lips, still feeling his kiss lingering on them. How does Dylan Knight fit into my screwed up life?

I sit down at our table. "Hey Barbie," Third acknowledges me.

Dylan nods. He is looking at me with a look of admonishment, as if nothing happened between us. As it was all in my head, the connection we felt, or at least one that I felt. He is just playing a role, a role that I gave him. I reach over and grab some fries off Third's plate. So I eat when I am upset.

"Girl, don't you ever bring your own lunch?" Third snatches his plate away and hunches over it protectively.

No. I never do. I cannot afford lunch. When I do get some money, I use it on things like milk for my little brother. "Dieting," I sing.

Third pushes fries back in my direction. "Please! You need to diet like my pinkie finger needs to diet." I smile at him and pop a fry into my mouth.

"So we are still on for this afternoon?" Dylan stares at the PB and J sandwich he just pulled out of his brown paper bag. Regret is written on his face. His mood swings have me backpedalling, trying to remember what I did wrong.

"Yeah," I answer nonchalantly, trying to not let my voice betray the hurt I feel. I reach for the other half of Third's turkey sandwich. He sighs and hands it over, mumbling about dieting his foot. I do not want to be Dylan's regret. I need to show him that the kiss was just part of our plan, that it did not mean anything...even when it means everything to me. I can pretend. Besides, I can't have feelings for him. This is an act. It is all to get Katie. I have to remember Katie.

"So," Third says trying to fill the awkward silence that is obviously present. We both look at him. More awkward silence, "Don't mean to bring this party down anymore, but Katie is walking over this way."

On cue, I scoot my chair closer to Dylan and slip my hand into his. He stiffens from my touch. Rigged.

"Hi Dylan." Katie stands in front of us, patting down an imaginary stray hair. Just once I want to snatch that perfect bun out of her head. See her undone, not the perfect act she puts on. "Mrs. Rita said to talk to you about getting in some extra stage time. She said that you might be able to stay after today and run the lighting cues for me." She smiles. Her perfect, white teeth gleam.

"Yeah. Of course. You don't mind, Barbie, do you?" Dylan turns to me. Katie glances nervously in my direction. He is challenging me, seeing what I am going to do. _No, I want to scream_. "Right, babe? You don't mind me giving Katie some help." He searches my eyes. He wants to know if this is what he has been waiting for. If it could be the cue for him to work on what I have been tutoring him on.

"No, not at all." Jealousy is coursing through me. I lean over and kiss him on the check. "It is fine with me." I say against his cheek, and I ache with the touch of him.

"Great." She smiles and walks back to her table. I hate her. Dylan gets up and leaves us without a word. I am forgotten. This is for the best, I tell myself. 

### Chapter 13.  
Haunted

I sit in the same seat that I was in when Barbie walked into my life. I cannot seem to get a grip on things, on what I want. She is doing exactly what I was afraid of. She is screwing up my life. I always knew what I wanted, where I was going. Now I question everything. Exposing parts of me that I don't want exposed. I thought I wanted Katie. Now I am sitting here comparing her to Barbie. Katie's red hair hangs in a long pony tail and down her back. It is not as long as Barbie's. It is not bleached with a stupid pink strip in it. Katie does not twirl a piece of hair around her fingers when she is nervous. What the hell, now I am actually comparing girls' hair. I am turning into some kind of a teenage girl, I groan.

"I know I sound horrible. I know." Katie drops the script in her hand by her side.

"No, you sound great," I say, even though I didn't hear a word she said.

"I just can't seem to grasp Juliet," she sighs. "Maybe if you read the part of Romeo," she suggests. .

My heart slams in my chest.

I stand and stiff-legged, almost robotically, move to the stage.

"Here" She jogs over and grabs another script, flipping through the pages to the spot she was reading from.

"There is a reason I am behind the curtains and not on stage," I warn.

She smiles. "I bet you will do just fine." Warmth floods me when she smiles. This is right. Being with Katie is right. "Just start at the first passage." She points to the spot on the page. The smell of jasmine makes me dizzy.

I start reading in a mumbled monotone. " _Let me stand here till thou remember it,_ " I read clumsily. _"I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company."_ Her words are delivered like a melody, clearing my confusion. " _And I'll stay to have thee still forget, forgetting any other home but this."_ The words sound wrong coming from my mouth. But Katie sings into her next passage, running to the front of the stage holding her hand out to an invisible audience. _"Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no farther than a wanton's bird."_

I drop the script to the floor, with the sudden thud causes Katie to turn and look at me. She wears a shocked expression. I cross the stage and pull her to me. I kiss her, needing her to erase the real girl I was seeing while Katie was reading. I need Katie to replace that girl. I kiss her, desperate for her to make Barbie go away. I need her to make me forget Barbie.

***

Kissing Katie was amazing. There were no fireworks, just a warm burn in my chest. It felt right. I knew what I wanted and what was right. It is still Katie. I was lost in her. I had a glimpse into Katie's perfect world. Until I started to see Barbie again. The way she laughs with her head tilted back, her huge eyes trying to capture me. The way she smells, the way she tastes. Kissing Katie did not help anything. It only made things worse. I know what I want now, and it is Katie. But Barbie is haunting me. I just need time and space.

"Whatcha wanna do?" Barbie is lying on her stomach on Third's bed. Her chin propped in her hands, crossed ankles in combat-booted feet swinging back and forth. Third is mesmorized.Barbie is the only girl who has ever touched his bed besides his mom. He is plastered in the corner, just staring.

"It is Friday. Pizza and a movie. Predator. All three of them to be exact." I answer without looking. I am stalking Katie's Facebook page.

"Pizza, yes! Movies, no!" She gets to her knees.

"Who invited you anyway?" I swivel in my chair to face her. My bad mood is slowly rising. It is going to be impossible to ignore Barbie with her here. She commands attention. I have made up my mind that there will be no more holding hands, and no more tutoring during free period. I will use the excuses of needing to work on the lighting for the upcoming play.

"Third did." She shoots death rays at me from her eyes. I shut down the laptop. "We are supposed to be a couple. That's what couples do, hang out, go to parties, get busy in their best friend's bed," she winks.

I roll my eyes at her. "Well, we are not a real couple," I point out.

"Well what kind of boyfriend would you be if you let me show up at Byron's party by myself when his parents are trying to rekindle their romance in Tennessee?" She hops off the bed and examines the poster of the girl in a skimpy bikini. "This is degrading," she says.

I snort; Moral judgment coming from girl who is wearing a skintight T-shirt dress that leaves little to the imagination, and a pair of red and blue -striped gym socks reaching to her knees. She glares at me again. I am about to explain to her why we will not be attending. Leading the list is a reminder of Bryon's favorite game last year, was called how many juiced-up football players will it take to stuff a fat kid in a locker. Third pipes up, "A party?"

A light goes off in Barbie eyes. Not missing the opportunity, she says. "Yeah with beer, music, and girrrls," she sings, crossing the room to poke Third in the stomach.

"See ya later, Mrs. Cruz," Barbie says around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies. Third's mother was so excited that he was going out that she packed us goodie bags and handed him a fistful of cash. She even gave him the keys to her new minivan. "Third, your mom freaking rocks," she licks her fingers. "What the hell does she bake in these cookies? Little pieces of heaven? Crack?" She licks the side of her mouth that has chocolate stuck to it. "No, I think just sugar and vanilla." Her laughter fills the car.

Cars are lined around the block. We have to park a block away and walk. I watch nervously as a pair of senior girls stumble down the street. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. This is the first party I have been to that did not have a piñata and cake. "Now boys," she drapes her arms over us as we make our way up the walkway. "The only piece of advice I have is to be yourselves, and try to have fun." Now it is my turn to laugh. Barbie disappears after informing us that the beer is out by the pool. She probably went off to go find her drug dealer.

I have only seen parties like this in movies, and I have to say they portray them quite accurately. Byron's house is crammed with bodies holding plastic red cups, bad music pumps out through the speakers. There is a makeshift dance floor in the living room where girls are grinding with each other as if they moonlight as exotic dancers after high school and cheer practice. Light spills out onto the back porch where a few of the football team and cheer squad are skinny dipping. We make our way over to the beer. We give the kid three bucks for a foamy half cup of beer. We go back inside, not wanting to seem like pervs, but I do take a double take. Third's mouth is hanging open, at real girl boobs that are not on a computer screen. Third's mouth has not shut since our arrival. Barbie is dancing with a girl with short hair, rainbow-colored hair, and a dress shorter than Barbie's.

"Can you believe this?" Third shouts over the music head bopping.

"No .Actually I can't," I say annoyed. I do not want to be here, drinking crappy beer, listening to even crappier music. This only confirms I should be with Katie. She would never come to some— "Dylan."

Katie wraps her arms around my middle. She has on khaki pants and a pink sweater. Her eyes are the same red color as the cup she holds. "Katie." I am shocked. I have not spoken to her since we kissed. I have been trying to figure what is going on with me. We stare at each other an awkward silence adds to the tension between us. Does she regret the kiss? Or has she been thinking about it like I have?

"I am going to get another beer." Third slips into the crowd. "So what are you doing here?" I ask nervously.

"The same thing you are."

I am the king of lame. "So did you come with Barbie?" She takes a step toward me. She is so close I can smell her perfume and it is over powering my senses. Did she always wear this much perfume?

"Barbie?" I ask, my heart pounding from the closeness. She nods and I point to where Barbie is dancing on the dance floor. She has her hands above her head and shakes her hips back and forth in her way too- short dress. She swings her hair back and forth. A group of guys are staring at her, hoping to get a glimpse of something more. Possessiveness flares up inside of me. She is not only taking me to my first high school party, but she is also going to get me into my first fight.

"Yeah," I spit out. "I am here with Barbie." She is supposed to be my girlfriend. A shiver runs through me. She is supposed to be mine.

"She is...umm...interesting."

I glance at Katie out of the corner of my eye. She is looking at Barbie with disgust written all over her face. Barbie spots us and waves me over. I shake my head in defiance. She can keep dancing for those guys. _She is not my girlfriend_. She starts to dance over to us. Her eyes lock on mine and I am frozen, locked in place. I am like the praying mantis right before his mate chops off his head and eats him. Nature is cruel. I can sense Katie stiffen next to me. Barbie is killing me and it's clear with the seductive smile she wears she is taking great pleasure in doing so. I am crashing and burning She has me drowning. I forget all about the rigid to me. I am transfixed on this odd creature in front of me. I can't look away. This must be how the mouse feels before the snake strikes.

Thankfully, the music changes to some pop song. She stops dancing and claps her hands. "You have to dance with me. This is my favorite song," she squeals and pulls me out to the makeshift dance floor. Funny when I picture her dancing around her room, it is to death metal not a Britney Spears song. I have no choice in the matter. My body no longer mine to command. I follow her.

### Chapter 14.  
Dilemma

The song is the most annoying song I have ever heard. Part of me asked Dylan to dance to make Katie jealous, to play my part. The other part of me was jealous watching him talk to her. I have been trying to give him space, to let my head clear from the current state of fog I have been drifting through. But feelings aside, I got asked today if I dumped Dylan. Not good for his rep if he wants to bag the hag.

"Loosen up," I say through a smile. Dylan is as stiff as one of the number two pencils he carries in his _Star Trek_ pencil case. He spasms around in weird jerky movements next to me.

"Excuse me for not being able to go on America's next best dancer," he says grumpily.

" _So You Think You Can Dance_ ," I correct him.

"Huh?"

I shake my head. "Never mind. Look, just relax. Here, give me your hand."

Now he shakes his head at me. "You have to ruin any moment I am having with Katie." He does not seem upset. I give him a small smile. I resist giving into temptations to make crying noises at him, like a baby.

"Why can't you see the brilliance behind my madness? I have it all planned. You will have her by the end of the week." I grab his hand and try to help him move. Once he stops fighting me he is not half bad, not great, but not that bad. I dance around him. "I can't believe my eyes. Dylan Knight at a party dancing with a girl," I poke him in his side. He fixes me with a look of contempt on his face. I dance around him. Getting him the attention of Katie. She is in the corner, giving me the stank eye along with her little minions. A small flutter of victory flutters inside me.

The song turns to a slow dance. We stop, standing amongst couples coming together to dance. I look up into his deep chocolate eyes. The ball is in your court. _What are you going to do?_

"It is a slow dance." He tosses the ball back to me. His eyes bear down on me, challenging me.

"Dylan..." I hesitate teetering on doing what my body screams for me to do and what my heart is pleading me not to do. I disregard both. "And I am supposed to be your girlfriend. You want to slow dance with me." His face becoming a mask I cannot decipher. "Let me guess. You never slow danced before, either. Gissh" I try to change the somber mood between us.

He looks at me. "Yes, I have." Then he mumbles something incoherent.

"What?" I lean in closer.

"I said with my mom at my cousin's wedding."

I burst out laughing, taking a step back.

"I am not doing this." He turns and tries to walk off the dance floor but I grab his hand and pull him back.

"I am sorry! Okay, now will you just dance with me? Pretend like I am your mom," I snicker. "Okay I am sorry," I repeat. As his scornful look falls on me, I give him a grin. "Here," I place his hands on my waist and wrap my arms around his neck. "It is easy. Just sway with me." Katie is glaring at us from a distance. Those types of girls are all the same. They dangle the bait just out of their reach and they will be chomping at it, trying to get a bite.

I lay my head on his shoulder as we rock back and forth. I close my eyes listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It is steady and strong.

"Barbie?" my name rumbles deep in his chest.

"Hmmm?" I say not wanting to move and break the slow current of electricity that is stirring within me.

"Nothing." He rests his chin on top of my head and pulls me closer. The song changes back into a techno beat, but we stay like that, swaying to the sound of his heartbeat.

"Holy shit balls!" Third drapes a heavy arm over us, pulling us into a sweaty hug. Third's pants are hanging lower than normal. His Batman boxers are exposed for everyone to see. People clear away from him. He is soaking wet with sweat and beer. "Where have you guys been?" Third lays his head on Dylan's shoulder and closes his eyes. "I love you guys," he slurs. Great. Third has turned from geek who has not seen this much fun since he went to Comic Con. Except this time his fun was with beer and not trying to sneak into Stan Lee's dressing room. I have seen this phase before often. It is the 'I love you' stage.

"Do you know that if you drink beer in a head stand, it's like you're flying." His eyes open and he spots me. _Joy_. "Barbie!" He leaves Dylan's now wet shoulder and leans into me. I stumble under his weight. "I think you are the best. Dylan is a dumbass. He should forget about that... that..." he stumbles.

"Katie," I help.

His mouth drops open like I am the smartest person, not just one finishing a drunk's stammering statement. "Yeah, Katie," he scrunches up his face. "Hey! Doyoulike...beer?" a sloppy smile pulls on his mouth. "Come flywithme...." He slurs.

I am now almost supporting all his weight and my knees feel like they are about to buckle. Okay time to get this big boy moving, party over. "Sure," I pat him on his stomach. "I like to fly." Then what was bound to happens, does. He skips right over the flying phase, leans over, and pukes.

Hauling Third outside is no easy task. We try to guide him over the cobblestone walkway without him falling. If he does fall, there is no way we are getting him back up. We make it to his mother's minivan basically unharmed except for my back which I don't think will ever be straight again.

"Barbieee," he slurs. "You are really cool, giiirrrlll...and..." I wait for another string of I love yous. He looks at me, his eyes glassed over. Shit. He vomits twice more on my shoes. Then he crawls into the back seat for the final phase, he passes out.

### Chapter 15.  
Mistakes

I drive slowly on our way back to Third's, trying to give him the chance to sober up before his curfew. Not happening, but I do it anyway. "Mrs. Cruz is going to freak when she sees Third," I say nervously tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.

"I will take care of it," she says. I don't ask how. I have the feeling she has more experience with this than I do. My head is swimming with thoughts of Barbie. She is not at all what I thought she was; she is different. Every time I form an opinion of her, she has crushed. Tonight started out with the Barbie I expected, short skanky dress, drinking, and dancing like she does it for a profession. But then there was this other side to her. The way she took care of Third, nursing a drunken seventeen-year-old guy was the norm. Most girls would be disgusted with Third. I was even grossed out by him. Having a sweaty fat kid hang on you is not my dream of the way to end your first party. Not only did he manage to puke on her shoes twice, missing mine entirely. He even puked down the front of her dress. The girls I know in this town would be running for the hills, but Barbie... She just patted him on the back, encouraging him to "Get it all out."

We pull up to his house. He is no better shape than before. Heavy snores are coming from the back seat. My stomach is turning with the stench of his vomit.

"Let's do this," Barbie gets out of the van, unfazed. We pull him out of the van and half carry. Together we half drag him up the stairs to his kitchen. Hopefully, Mrs. Cruz will be asleep and we can get him in the house and up to his bedroom undetected.

Mrs. Cruz drops the wooden spoon she was using to stir something sweet and buttery on the stove. She gives the term Momma Bear a whole new meaning, a momma bear in curlers and a pink house robe. She scoops up Third, like he is one of her collective ceramic dolls and not a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound boy

"What happened to him?" she looks at me accusingly. Of course, she blames me and not the girl half-naked in combat boots. Before I can answer, Third vomits again, this time on his mother's fluffy pink house coat, "Mommy," he whimpers before passing out again.

"They always want their mommy," Barbie says under her breath...

"Food poisoning," she shrugs.

Mrs. Cruz looks from me to Barbie. "Food poisoning?"

I nod my head like a bobble-head doll.

"I warned him not to eat the raw oysters, but you know boys. Always needing to show off." Barbie's lies are as smooth as honey dripping off her lips. I just stand there, letting her pour them on thick and sweet. I have never lied to an adult before in my life. The back of my neck itches at how effortless it is for her.

"Well, you two better be getting home," she says a little more relaxed. "Third will give you call you when he is better." She turns away, pulling Third along with her. My hand is on the door knob when she calls out to me. "Dylan..." I turn to see her glaring at me. Maybe she doesn't believe the food poisoning bit. "You see that Barbie gets home safely now."

I shake my head again. "Yes ma'am."

We stop around the back so Barbie can attempt to wash her boots off with the water hose. We walk in silence down the dark street. "That...was...umm, pretty cool of you back there. I mean I was about to spew the truth, but you just lied so effortlessly back there. Like a pro."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Are you shocked?" she asks, her pace picking up. I have to pick up mine to match hers. I insulted her and I don't even know how. "Didn't you know, Dylan that is what I do? I lie, cheat, steal, drink, and do drugs. But you know what I am really good at Dylan?" She stops walking and spins so we stand toe to toe. I want to back away from her. She feels dangerous and sharp and I don't know how to get out of the trap that I jumped into. Her face hardens into a mask. She steps closer, so close now I can feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine. I try to show no fear and stare back at her. Her eyes flash fire in them and I can feel the heat from them licking into my body. My eyes travel down her body. I can't help it. After all, I am a guy. No matter how much I don't want to look, I can't stop myself. She is hot. Really hot.

"What?" my voice comes out thick. I stare down the barrel of a loaded gun and I just pulled the trigger.

"I am really good at fooling around. You know, having sex," she whispers in my ear. The heat from her breath mixed with the chill in the air sends goose bumps down my back. She reaches up on her toes and trails a line down my neck. My head is spinning. I barely make out the lights and a honk from a passing car that goes by.

"Barbie, stop." I grab her hand that is snaking up my shirt. I don't want her to stop I want her to keep setting me on fire like she is now. "Stop," I say more firmly to myself than to her.

"Why, Dylan?" she yells. Her hair is whipping around her wildly now. "Is it because I am not the perfect Katie Bloom? Is it because I dress like this, or is it my reputation? Why Dylan? Why do you not want to feel this way with me? Because I know you do."

I run my hands through my hair, trying to remember why I am turning her away. "This has nothing to do with Katie. This is not right." I gesture to her. "What we are doing is wrong." I exhale, "What we are doing is fake, remember?" I run a hand through my hair again. "Why do you do this? Throw yourself on any willing guy... It's not you, not the real you." I am the one shouting now.

"You don't know me; don't even pretend you have the faintest clue about me." She takes a step back as if I slapped her.

"Maybe not, but what I saw back there with Third... There is more to you than some slutty girl." The fire that was flashing in her eyes smolders out and is replaced with hurt. Damn, I wish I could take those words back.

"Fuck you," her voice cracks and she takes off running. 

### Chapter 16.  
Unraveled

"I wanted to thank you for what you did for me Friday night." Third stares down at his Nike Trainers, embarrassment written all over his face.

"Don't even think about it," I brush him off.

"No, really. My mom said that you told her I had food poisoning...and I think I remember puking on your shoes." Red creeps across the bridge of his nose.

"Anyone would have done the same thing," I lie.

"No...I don't think they would." He slides down the locker so he that he is sitting next to me on the floor. "It is stupid, but I actually thought that Byron and I could be friends. I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. I thought if could just impress him and his friends...but, really, they were just laughing at me." He tilts his head back against the locker, "I wanted to just once feel like I was accepted. I didn't want to be the fat kid anymore." He looks at me. His pale, watery, blue eyes are begging for me to understand. I do. "Stupid I know. I will never be anything but a fat loser to them."

An ache for him buries itself deep inside me. I hate them for making him feel like this. Like he can never belong, "Who cares what they think? Fuck them." Third looks up at me blinking in surprise, my anger boils over. "Fuck them, Third. Who gives a shit what they think? Who are they to judge you? Be yourself and if they don't like it..."

A smile spreads across his round face before he finishes my sentence "...Fuck them."

I smile back, "Yeah."

He sits down next to me, "So you still avoiding Dylan?"

I glare at him, but quickly change it to a smile, "Like a plague. Why?" I have been avoiding Dylan. His words hurt the night of the party. What hurt more was the concrete fact that we could never be together. I was trying to deny it but I can't anymore. I do have feelings for Dylan. But my life is too screwed up for him to be a part of it.

He shakes his head. "He has been searching for you like crazy. He even got detention for being late to class." Third laughs.

"Well, I hate to be the one to tarnish his perfect reputation." I say a bitter edge to my voice.

"He needs it. The kid is my best friend, but sometimes he can be a total douche bag. It is like he only sees black and white. He never sees any other colors."

I walk down the red and white halls of Central thinking about what Third said. How Dylan can only see black and white. I am every color but black or white. I am a kaleidoscope of colors merging into a disoriented picture. I know what I have to do. A feeling of emptiness enters me. How could one person unravel me so? I so carefully made sure that I did not have any room left in my heart for anyone. I carefully built a fortress around my heart, but somehow he managed to slip in undetected. This is going to hurt. I have never let anyone hurt me before and now I am opening myself up for him to shatter me. I find Dylan at his locker. Katie is leaning against the neighboring one. Her foot is perched behind her against the locker. Her perfectly pressed white shirt is tucked into a pair of designer jeans. Black and white. My bracelets clink together, signaling my arrival. They both look up at me. Dylan's eyes darken, angry for my interruption again, another perfect moment ruined by me. _Don't worry I will not be around to ruin any more of them_. This is the perfect time to do what I am about to do.

"Barbie," he says my name with relief. Katie's smile turns in to a thin pressed line. He steps away from her, closer to me. _Too close_. I take a step back. "Look, I am sorry. I was a real ass. I should have never said those things to you. I was wrong," he apologizes.

I wrap my arms around my middle, holding myself together. _Oh God, let me get through this. Please._ "Don't." I stop him from speaking. My resolve will falter with the sincerity of his words. I cannot hear them. _I have to do this_. I want to step into his arms and have him hold me to whisper the words I desire to hear.

"No. It was not right. Nobody should ever speak to you that way. I was feeling something that scared me, confused me. Barbie I think..."

_Please, don't say it. I cannot hear it. Please say it. Please_. The bell rings at that moment. A wave of students pour out of classroom doors, filling the halls, grabbing things out of lockers, slamming locker doors, talking with friends. They are oblivious to the sound of my heart breaking I want to disappear into the crowd. I want to be swept away into the sea of people. I want to find the numb feeling I used to walk around with. Katie is watching us. If I am going to do this, it has to be now. "Dylan... we can't do this anymore," I raise my voice. It sounds hysterical over the crowd noise. A few people stop to watch. Most just push past me.

***

Barbie stands in front of me, I don't know how I didn't recognize this before, but she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Her hair falls in a long blond curtain around her shoulders. She is wearing a long black skirt that brushes the ground and a child's _Big Bird_ T-shirt that reveals the golden skin of her stomach. Her right hand is covered in blue ink with elaborate writing. Her words. I want to read each one, untangle the meaning behind them. The hall fills with the recently dismissed students. But all I can see is her. Everyone else fades into the background. My heart is beating so loudly I cannot hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears. She is saying something but I can't hear her. I am captivated by the movement of her mouth. If I can only concentrate on what is she saying. Barbie shakes her head as tears spill out of her beautiful, ocean blue eyes. I want to hurt whoever it was that made her cry. It _was me_. I hate myself for hurting her. There is too much space between us. I want to close it. I need to touch her, to feel her, breathe her in. I step toward her, closing the distance. I wrap my hand around her wrist, electricity shocks me. Does she feel that? Her eyes go wide, but my other hand is in her hair, pulling her to me before she can protest.

***

I am melting. Dylan is kissing me fast and desperately and I am kissing him back just as desperately. Sparks travel down my body to my toes. I curl them up, trying to hold them in. The world around us has faded away and there is nothing left but the two of us. I grip onto the front of his shirt holding on tight, afraid to let go, afraid that I will wake up to find this all a dream. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close. Not close enough.

"Mr. Knight! Barbie!" Gregor's shocked voice says behind us. "You two will be serving detention with me today."

I feel Dylan's lips spread in a smile undermine. "You are turning me into a rebel, two detentions in one day."

I laugh. "Yes quit the rebel," I say ignoring the glare coming from Gregor.

"I want to earn detention with you," he laughs, pulling me off my feet. His mouth finds mine again.

"This is not what I meant by tutoring," Gregor admonishes, "and I expect a passing grade on the next exam from you, Miss Starr."

"You can guarantee my girl is going to pass," Dylan answers as he sets me down. His girl, my heart flutters erratically at his announcement.

Gregor escorts us into the classroom while separating us appropriately. He sends me to the back of the room and Dylan to the front. But that doesn't keep Dylan from looking back at me, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

"Mr. Knight eyes forward." I cover my mouth to stop the laugh that threatens to spill out of me.

"Sorry! Just a neck kink, Mr. G."

I place my head down on the desk so I don't get him in any more trouble than I already did. I run my finger over my swollen lips, exploring them. They are still alive with sparks of electricity dancing on them.

"That was so hot!" The Goth girl from algebra leans over and whispers. "When you told him you didn't deserve someone like him that you two were just too different for things to work out... I thought I was going to die." She lets out a sigh. "But then the way he pulled you to him, kissing you like you were the last girl in the world. That was so romantic." A dreamy look fills her eyes. "I thought that redhead was going to have an aneurism watching you two."

Now I laugh. I forgot all about Katie, apparently, so did Dylan. I smile at the thought. I am so happy. I don't think I have ever been this happy in my whole life. These last few hours I have been on an emotional rollercoaster. I still feel high from riding it. "He is so hot, you are so lucky." I look at the front of the room were Dylan is looking back at me, a crooked smile plastered on his face. "I am lucky."

***

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, holding a stick of black eyeliner in my hand debating whether or not to put it on. I hear a crash and a high-pitched laugh coming from my mother. I drop the liner in the sink to go see what sort of intoxicated state she is in. I walk in the kitchen; Everett sits at the table enjoying a waffle, his feet swinging back and forth under the table. Ronnie is sitting to him, his hands carefully chopping white powder on a plate.

"What are you doing?" I storm over and pull Everett out of the chair, trying to put as much space between him and Ronnie.

"Barbie, I have a headache," my mother chastises me.

"So you need to do this in front of Everett?" I spit, gesturing where Ronnie continues at his task.

"Barbie, you are overreacting. Taking it this way only helps it get in my system faster."

Ronnie looks up at me, the snakelike leer of his on his face. He and I both know she does not have a headache. I back out of the kitchen before I can hear my mother's next excuses. Going back to my room, I snatch a hoodie off the back of the door. So much for meeting up with Dylan. My stomach knots at the thought of Dylan waiting for me. "Ready, buddy? It's time to go." What does Everett make of all this? I wish he could talk, tell me what to do. A few minutes later, I knock on Ms. Sophie's back door. It takes her to a while to get out of her chair to open the door. "Coming," I hear from the other side. The first time we came over to Ms. Sophie's, I was so scared she was going to call child protective service on us, or that someone would call the cops on Momma. In our neighborhood, however, the unspoken rule is to mind your own business. My mother had been drinking more than normal. She said it was the stress of having two fatherless children. I tried to stay out of her way, to be helpful as much as I could. Nothing seemed to help, so I took Everett out. We went to the park and I got him an ice cream cone from the McDonalds down the street. It was almost midnight when I headed back home. I carried Everett, who was dead on his feet. My mother had all the lights on in the house. She was throwing out anything that would break on the street. I stood there watching, I did not know what to do.

"She has been at it for hours," Ms. Sophie said, pink slippers shuffling up the driveway. I shift Everett to the other side. Ms. Sophie gave me a good long look. "Well, come on in. He ain't getting no lighter," she finally concluded. I followed her slowly into her small house. We slept on her couch that night. It started to become a regular thing for us. I would cook whatever little food she had in the fridge for her, dusting things she could not reach or see. Everett seemed to really enjoy Ms. Sophie and her ten cats who were all named after a member of the royal family.

"Barbie," Ms. Sophie opens the door.

"Hi Sophie. You mind if you keep an eye on Everett for me?" I hope, bouncing on the heels of my feet.

I walk briskly through the park. The night is warm, but I keep the hoodie zipped up to my neck. I am wearing old sweat pants and a sports bra. My body buzzes with anticipation at seeing Dylan. I asked him to meet me at the park behind my neighborhood. Tonight reminded me just how different we are. I don't know how things are going to work between us. We live in two very different worlds. Today, things changed so fast between us. I can barely wrap my head around it. I did not think clearly, letting the happiness of being with him cloud my judgment. I can still call things off. It would be for the best. Dylan sits on the hood of his old Ford Ranger. Any doubt I have disappears when I take him in. He slides down when he sees me.

"You look amazing," he pulls me to him kissing me. Now I feel amazing. "Let's get out of here."

### Chapter 17.  
Moments

We break apart, both gasping for air, my chest rising and falling with each breath. We lay in the back of my truck as we listen to the music that plays from the radio. I have never felt this way before, like I do when I am with Barbie. Like the world could end right now and I would be happy to watch it go, as long as I am with her. Why did I fight these feelings for so long? How could I ever think anyone else was my perfect girl? She sits up and I trace patterns on her skin where the moonlight touches her. _She is mine_. My finger stops resting on a tiny scar on the small of her back. I don't know her. _I want to know her_.

"How did you get this?" I ask.

She reaches around feeling the same spot I am, my hand tingling where we touch. "Roller-skating when I was ten." She flops back down. Her head resting on my arm, my other hand follows the faint indention of her stomach down past her belly button, turning back when it reaches the waist band of her pants. A shivers runs through her, "I wanted to be in the roller derby," she smiles at me and I want to kiss her mouth.

"I told you about mine, now let me find one of yours so you can tell me about it." She slides on top of me. My breath quickens. Straddling me, her finger searches my body, a moan slips out. "This one." Her fingers come to a rest on my forearm. Leaning down, she kisses the spot. Her tongue slightly flickers the sensitive skin. I can't think. I am spinning. All I can think of is her on top of me.

"Um..." I brace myself, holding onto her waist, as she waits patiently. Her eyes are glitter against the black night sky, brighter than any star.

"Scar?" she reminds me, amusement in her voice.

"The...scar?" I suck in a deep breath, clearing my head. "Old battle wound. Third and I used to have Light Saber fights. He won that day." She is touching the scar, deep in thought. "What are we talking about again?" I ask. I am lost once again in her beauty. I reach up pulling, her down to me. We should be kissing, not talking.

"You are my wounded hero," she laughs under my kisses. She moves her neck so I have full access to it. "You know I have never seen any of those movies." She gasps as I place a line of kisses down her neck.

Trance broken, I sit up straight, my head clear of the fog. "What?" I asked shocked. I must have heard her wrong. "You have never seen _Star Wars_!"

She shrugs. "Nope." My mouth is hanging open.

"What's the big deal?" she offers nonchalantly.

"The big deal! The big deal is I cannot make out with someone that has no knowledge of what takes place in a galaxy far, far away," I joke.

"Oh, I bet I can change your mind," she purrs.

_I want her to change my mind_. "I am sorry, my lady, but I have been trained in the Jedi ways. Your mind tricks will not work on me." I tap my finger to my temple.

"Really?" she smiles a wicked smile at me. "Did I ever tell you about my other scar," she trails a finger down her chest. _I am broken_.

### Chapter 18.  
Iris

Sunday afternoon. I am waiting for Barbie to arrive. My mom is working a double at the hospital so I will not see her until tomorrow. Dad picked up an extra shift at the office. So it is just me and the squirt. I banished to her room with the bribe that I will take her to Wal-Mart to buy her one of those dolls she is not allowed to have. She promises to only come down if it is an emergency. The doorbell rings. I try not to seem desperate, and race to the door. I wait. One, two, oh, forget it. I jog over to the door. I need to see her. She stands on my front porch. Hair in braids. I pull her into through the doorway and kiss her.

She laughs, pulling away first. "Well, hello to you too," she says, reaching up and pushing the hair out of my eyes.

I have been meaning to go get it cut. "I got the complete saga. Are you ready to have your mind blown?" I say. She is still wrapped in my arms and she feels so good. I don't want to ever let her go.

She laughs and wiggles away from me. "I don't know about that, but I am ready to dork out with you."

I smile. "Baby, you had me at dork." I try to pull her closer to me again. She is too far away from me. She side steps my outreached arms. "I never thought that those words could be so sexy, but then again everything out of your mouth is sexy."

I grab her and she lets me pull her close enough to kiss her again. How does she get her lips to taste like vanilla? Her mouth reminds me of the sugar cookies Mom bakes. A blood-curdling scream interrupts us. A little boy is on the ground under Emmy's tire swing in a tangle of long gangly limbs, elbow scratched and bleeding.

Barbie turns into the girl I saw with Third. She runs over to the flailing boy and picks him up. I walk over to her to try to help. But I suck in these situations. "This is my brother," she calls over the wails. I nod my head over the sound, and add that to the growing list of things I did not know about her. She has a brother.

"I think there is a first aid kit in the kitchen." The coppery smell of blood hits my nose, making my stomach rolls. She follows me back into the house. She sets down her brother on the counter and I grab the first aid kit. The sight of blood makes my stomach turn. Sure, I have seen plenty of it with Emmy running around. I sit down and practice breathing through my nose. Barbie begins carefully cleaning his wounds and explaining each step to him. Soon the kid is bandaged, blood gone. My breathing begins to even out as I watch her. She whispers words of comfort in his ear, words I cannot hear. Soon his sobs turn into hiccups with the occasional whimper. As much as I hate it when girls cry, crying little kids are not much better. I open the cabinet and pull out Emmy's stash of gummies and try to hand them to him.

"Oh he cannot eat those," Barbie says. She straightens out of a hug.

"Oh. Sorry," I say feeling useless.

"No, it's just that he can't eat anything round. Round things wig him out," she explains.

"Round things wig him out?"

"Everett is autistic."

I look at the boy. He looks so much like her. His dirty blond hair hangs over ocean blue eyes, the same pouty lips. His nose has the same faint freckles as hers.

"Oh." it is a lame response, but I don't know what else to say. Emmy chooses that moment to save me. This six-year-old rocks.

"What are you doing to that boy, Dylan?" She is in her pink and purple tutu, with a hot pink boa wrapped around her neck. She looks from me to Everett with accusing eyes. Emmy marches past me, and climbs on to the stool next to Barbie. "Who is he?" she asks.

"This is my little brother, Everett." Emmy pulls at his elbow and examines his injury.

"What happened? Did Dylan push you? Once he pushed me off the trampoline and I had to get stitches on my knee." She lifts up her knee, trying to find the old injury as evidence.

Oh she will never let that one rest. She will guilt me about that the rest of her life. "That is not exactly how I remember it happened, Emmy. You were supposed to get off the trampoline and when I tried to get you, you bounced away from me and right off of it."

She thinks about it for a second, and then shakes her head, "No, I think you pushed me."

I roll my eyes.

"No, Dylan didn't push him. He fell off the tire swing."

Emmy nods her head in understanding. "It is dangerous, I know." She is referring to the other time she needed stitches. She wound up the rope so tightly that it spun her right into the tree. She needed thirteen stitches and had a slight concussion.

"Look, I am just going to have to take him home. Can we do this Star Troopers thing another time?" she asks.

"It is _Star Wars_! And you have to stay." I start to protest.

Emmy jumps in with her whiny voice. "But...But I am having a tea party and Dylan said he cannot play with me. He said that I had to leave him and you alone unless it is an emergency. I think he wants to _kissss you_." She puckers up with her small mouth. Barbie giggles at her. "Everett can play with me. I need a prince," Emmy pleads, her small hands under her chin batting her little eye lashes. Oh, she is good.

I jump in then. "Yeah, come on. Stay." I bat my eyes and stick out my bottom lip matching Emmy.

She laughs and playfully pushes me in the chest.

"Well?"

She bites her bottom lip, thinking about it.

"Dylan said you are his princess Leia. Are you going to play _Star Wars_ with him?" My face is on fire. The boo boo face gone.

"Oh, did he?" Barbie gives me a coy smile. "Well, I wouldn't want Dylan to be down a princess," she winks at me.

"Yay!" Emmy jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

"Yay," I smile, copying Emmy.

"Listen, Emmy. Everett is autistic, and he is non-verbal which means he doesn't talk, but he points and sometimes makes signs."

Emmy thinks about this. "I am artistic, too! Look at all my art work Mommy put up," she points to the ice box that is littered with her drawings.

Emmy takes a box of ice pops up to her room which Everett does eat. After Barbie is content that Everett is okay, she comes back downstairs and stands under the archway to the living room. "So I am your princess Leia?" Barbie's voice is smooth like honey. Her long tanned legs stick out from under her denim shorts, as she leans against the wall. I want to touch every part of her.

"Yeah..." I close the distance between us, pulling her to me. "And my _Arwen,_ and _Lara Croft_ , and _Hermione_ , and..." my mind goes blank because she is mine and I don't want her to be anyone else but her. "Mine." We fall back on to the couch. She is on top of me. We fit together perfectly. I trail my fingers down her back, pulling up the hem of her shirt so I can feel the soft skin under it. She pushes my hair back again, reminding me that I need to get it cut. But if I did, she would not have an excuse to do that, and I love the sensation it gives me. She pushes my arms above my head and I let her take control. Kissing my bicep, small slow kisses, she is deliberately driving me crazy. She pulls at my shirt. It gets stuck on my shoulders and I help her pull it off me. She sits up straight. Where she is soft, I am hard. Her hands explore my chest, making me come alive under each touch. She wears a coy smile knowing what she is doing to me. She smells of cotton candy, and it makes my pulse race. I pull her back to me, needing to feel her mouth on mine.

"I just want you to know the rumors about me are not true...well, most of them." She breathless.

"I don't care," I whisper, her mouth still on mine. And I don't care about the rumors. Wait, what about most of them are not true? I hesitate for a moment. What the hell, if she doesn't feel so good on top of me. Her skin so soft and she smells so damn good... I don't care about rumors. All of them could be true. It does not matter because she is with me. I reach for the hem of her shirt, yanking it.

"Can we have more tea?" Emmy walks into the dark living room. I jump up, separating me and Barbie who crab walks backwards to the other end of the couch.

"What? No." I pant, trying to catch my breath and cool the fire that is licking through my body at the moment.

"But Mommy always makes me tea," Emmy whines.

"Okay give me a sec, Emmy."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Why don't you have on a shirt?" she questions.

"I was hot. Do you want some of Mom's secret cookies with your tea?" I stand up, trying to distract her.

Her eyes narrow, "And some of the hidden Halloween candy." She crosses her arms and gives me the stink eye.

"Fine," I am in no position to negotiate with her. "Yes. Yes. Anything."

Emmy goes back upstairs with a pumpkin full of Halloween candy and a package of Mom's secret cookies that she hides under the sink.

"Are you still hot?" Barbie dangles my shirt off her finger. I grab it from her.

"No more tempting me," I warn.

She makes a pouty face when I pull it back over my head. I am glad that Emmy came in interrupting us because I was losing myself in the feel of her. I don't think I would have stopped and we are not ready for that yet. We need to get to know each other more. Hell, I just found out a few hours ago she has a brother. She twirls her hair around her fingers looking up at me with her ocean blue eyes. My heart feels like it is going to stop beating at any moment. Okay. I need to at least know where she lives first. "New rule. You sit on that side of the couch." I point clear to the other side. "And I will sit over here, because I can't think when I am this close to you." I say plopping down on my end. I turn on the movie and the dark room lights up. George can keep me from thinking about her. Her on top of me... I look away, and trying to watch the movie. I am determined to watch each episode in order starting with _The Phantom Menace_. I try to think about everything and anything other than the girl curled up on the other side of the couch. Her long tanned legs tucked under her. The blond strand of hair she twirls absentmindedly around her fingers. I have to fight the urge to pull her to me when she jumps. Screw _Star Wars._ Who cares if it was the best movie from a book ever made? I have a totally hot girl sitting in my living room who _wants_ to kiss me and I am trying to watch a sci-fi movie. What the heck is wrong with me? I toss the remote and scoot across the couch to her and pull her on to my lap.

***

The lights flick on, and we are drowned in a harsh white light. "It is so dark in here." My dad announces his arrival. Barbie bolts up. "Why, hello. You must be the girl that has Dylan dancing on air around here like this." My dad stands on his tip toes and leaps around the room like a freaking ballerina. Anytime he gets a chance to embarrass me, he takes it. He thinks it is the first rule in the guide to being a good father. Embarrass son, especially in front of others.

I groan. "Nice dance moves, Dad. It is about time we see that all the money you are pouring into lessons is finally paying off. "Dad, this is Barbie."

Barbie gives him a smile and holds out her hand.

"Enchante, Mademoiselle." My dad actually kisses her hand. God help me.

"Barbie, this is my father." I cringe at his attempt to be suave.

He turns to me. "Mom is pulling a double shift so I am in charge of making dinner."

"I will get out the menus." I take Barbie's hand and lead her to the kitchen so Dad cannot humiliate me anymore.

"I am thinking French," he calls out after us. Barbie leans against the counter with her hip while I look through the menus.

"Pizza?" I ask, holding up the menu for her to see. She bites her bottom lip. "You are staying." I am not ready to let her go. I have plans on picking up from where we were interrupted. I can sense her hesitation. "Come on stay. We have not finished the movies yet."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't think we were watching it," she reminds me.

"See even more reason for you to stay. Please." I am fully aware that I am begging like Emmy does when she sees something she wants.

"But...Everett..."

"He will eat Sicilian style pizza, right?" I start dialing the number before she can answer.

"Magnifique!" My dad kisses his fingers. "You will never guess what part of the world I was on the phone with today," my dad says.

"France," Barbie and I both answer at the same time, laughing.

### Chapter 19.  
Difference

I really like Mr. Knight. He tells us stories of his work in shipping. He is very animated when he talks with large gestures and funny facial expressions. He wants to know all about my life, which I leave very vague. Emmy sat on his knee glued to his side the entire time during dinner. After dinner, we all finish the movie along with Mrs. Knight's secret cookie stash. She is in need of a new hiding spot.

"Your dad is really nice," I say to Dylan as we drive. Everett is fast asleep with his head in my lap.

"Yeah, he is okay," Dylan smiles at me. Tonight was painfully obvious how different we both really are.

"Oh here. You can pull over right here," I direct Dylan.

He stops the truck, but looks confused. "But this is a park?" he questions.

"I know." I open the door.

"Let me take you home." He says.

"That's fine. We can walk the rest of the way." I unbuckle a sleeping Everett and pull him out.

Dylan unbuckles and hops out, "Let me help you."

I balance Everett with one hand and stop Dylan with the other. "Look I know you want to do the right thing here, but I am fine," I tell him.

"Barbie, don't be difficult about this. I don't care where you live," he argues back.

"It has nothing to do with where I live. I am not ready for you to meet that part of my life yet," I snap.

"Fine with me," Dylan crosses his arms over his chest in response.

"Fine," I leave Dylan standing at his truck. I am praying he does not pull a stubborn boy move and follow me. I walk in the light of his headlights until I disappear over the knoll.

I push the door open with my foot, shifting Everett to the other arm. He is tiny, but he is starting to get too heavy for me to carry. The house is dark. Momma must be at work, as her shift started an hour ago. I make my way in the dark, back to the bedroom, and put Everett in bed. I pull off his Spiderman sneakers and tuck him in. He still has glitter on his eyes. I shake my head. Emmy sure loves to play dress up. Everett didn't mind. Dylan showed him his Lego collection. I didn't point out that he is a seventeen-year-old boy and he has a _Star Wars_ Lego collection. It warmed my heart watching Everett light up as Dylan explained each figurine to him.

I take a pair of sleep pants and an old T-shirt out of my dresser and head to the bathroom, flicking the hallway light on. There is a stark difference in comparison to the one that lines my house. There are no happy photos of a family, or bright, cheerful yellow paint. I open the bathroom door, flipping on the fluorescent overhead light. My heart stops. "Momma?" I drop the clothes in my hand and run over to her. "Momma!" I get on my knees, and pick up her head which lolls around. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Please. Please. Momma, please," I beg her.

But she is unresponsive to my pleading. Her body is limp and cold in my arms. Her skin has a blue hue to it. She still wears her uniform. She must have never made it in. I pull her to me, hugging her, trying to hear her breathe, trying to see if she is dead. Please don't be dead. I still need you. _We still need you_. Tears blur my vision. I have nightmares about this very thing, finding her dead. Overdosed. Heart stopped. What I would do? How I would tell Everett that our momma just didn't love us enough to fight for us? But I am not ready. Not prepared for this. Her chest rises in one shallow breath. She is alive. A sob escapes me; she is alive, but barely. I put my hand to her chest and feel the slow beat of her heart. "Momma," I shake her, trying to wake her. I need to get her moving. Her heart starts to beat faster. "Come on Momma," I shake her harder.

She mumbles something incomprehensible. I lift her up. She is a dead weight, but I manage to drag her so she is propped up against the tub. What did she take? I scan the bathroom for what might have poisoned her. I don't see anything in here that she could have taken. I open drawers, pull the towels from under the sink. Nothing. I should call for an ambulance, but what would happen with Everett? Surely Child Protective Services will get involved. I cannot lose him. What would he do without me? He needs me. Whatever is in her system needs to come out. "Okay, come on, Momma. Whatever you took we need to get rid of." I try not to think about what I have to do next. I hold her head steady in my hand and open her mouth, sticking my finger down her throat. She gags, but nothing happens. "Come on, Momma. Please. I stick my finger down deeper. This time she finally vomits. I lean her over the tub. "Good, Momma, good." I coach her. I do it two more times, making sure her stomach is empty. She is still lethargic and unresponsive, but her breathing has quickened. I need to get her moving. I need to get her up. I pull her arm over my shoulder and try to get her to her feet, "Come on, Momma," I say again. She is only five foot two and ninety pounds soaking wet, but she is dead to the world and that adds on another fifty. I stumble forward as I try to move her. When I get her up, it takes all my strength to keep her up. "Momma, we got to walk," I tell her even though she cannot understand me. "Wake up, Momma." I try to get her walking. If I can get her walking, then maybe she will be okay. I half carry, half drag her out into the hall. I lean against the wall with her, catching my breath before I continue on. I think about the photo of Dylan's family, how they all seem to love each other. I bet he never had to try to save his mother from a near over dose.

She starts to stumble under me, her feet trying to walk. She is starting to come around. I have to keep her walking until I know she is not going to die on me. I coax her down the hall. I hit the light switch in the kitchen. I see what tried to kill her tonight. A white straw with red and blue stripes is next to a plate with some white residue on it. Damn! I am so angry, I want to scream. She never had tried anything like this before Ronnie. Now he has her snorting the damn pills and nearly killing herself. Where the hell is he, now that she was dying? I am mad at Momma for doing this. I hate her as much as I hate him. Thank God Everett is asleep so he does not have to see his mother, the addict. I hate her!

I wake and immediately reach over to feel the rise and fall of her chest. Her heart beats to a steady rhythm. After I was sure she wasn't going to die, I put her in bed and searched the whole entire house, pulling random items from their places, leaving them where they might fall. I was on a mission to purge this house of anything that she might use to get high. I even dumped the bleach down the drain in a panicked state. She can't kill herself. Not yet. No, she has to wait until I am old enough so that the state will not take Everett from me. Then she can do whatever she wants. She can kill herself for all I care. She mumbles something in her sleep. I snuggle up to her, wanting to feel the warmth of her body. But she is ice cold. I wrap my arm over her and try to warm her up. I fall back into a dreamless sleep listening to the beat of her heart.

When I wake again, it is to Everett tapping me on the leg. Momma still breathes. Alive. "Hey buddy," my voice holds a raspy quality to it from all the tears that I shed last night. He points to me and then to Momma. He wants to know why I am in her bed. He has never seen me touch my mother, let alone lie snuggled up in bed with her.

"Momma is not feeling well," I offer. He looks to the corner of the room, tapping his fingers against his leg, processing what I just told him. It is as if he is playing an invisible piano with his fingers and he is the only one who can hear the music. I wish I could know what he thinks, how he feels. What does he make of this situation? I roll away from Momma and pull him onto the bed with me. He lies there still, and steady.

### Chapter 20.  
Sparks

It bothered the shit out of me. Barbie did not want me to know where she lives. It makes me wonder what she is hiding from me. Is she embarrassed to be with me? I think about how she seemed not to care who at school knows about us, freely kissing me, holding my hand as we walked in the hallways. Maybe I am being ridiculous. She wants to be with me. There is something else going on with her and I am determined to get to the bottom of it. I will ask her when I see her at lunch. She will not be happy about me bringing up the subject, but I need to know.

"Dylan, you will be paired with Katie. Get your books and move to the front, please," Mrs. English announces. I grab my books and shuffle to the front. I would have given anything to be paired with Katie last week, but now all I can do is dwell on Barbie. I slide in next to Katie. She wears her pink cardigan, the one I used to love. I watch as she writes the instructions for the lab assignment in her perfect handwriting.

I pour the clear liquid into the beacon. We are to figure out its elements by mixing the ingredients properly and analyzing the results of the finished project. Simple.

"It says three quarters," Katie observes. She is keeping a journal of our experiment.

"Huh?" I look at her.

"The instructions say to add three quarters and you just added about two cups," she points to the beacon that is about to spill over.

"Oh, sorry, I am distracted," I apologize, pouring some of the liquid back.

"Trouble in paradise?" she smirks.

"No. well...okay. You're a girl. What does it mean when a girl will not let her boyfriend come to her house?" I run my hand through my hair. I hope the secret ingredient to this is not hair remover.

"Um... thanks...I think," she replies. "I don't know, maybe protective parents. Crazy ex-boyfriend...Deranged drug dealer." I ignore the last remark about Barbie, because I know she does not do drugs, at least not when I am around.

"Dylan, Barbie has a reputation. You know that." She stops writing and looks at me. "Who knows why she does not want you around?" she shrugs.

"She is not messing around with anybody else," I say, mainly to reassure myself. Maybe asking Katie was a bad idea. I don't know how thrilled Barbie would be telling Katie our problems.

"If you say so," she shrugs again. "All I know is, if I had a boyfriend like you I would not be hiding you."

Barbie is not hiding me. Is she?

Barbie is waiting at her locker. As I walk up, Tyler has one of his arms up over Barbie as she leans her back against her locker. Her hair is pulled back, exposing her long neck. She wears a loose white T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, black leggings, and her purple wedges that make her as tall as me. Katie's words swim in my head. Maybe she was right. Tyler tucks the strip of pink hair behind her ear. Anger flares inside of me. A possessive side that I never knew I had before Barbie is back for a visit. Tyler is more her type, the complete opposite of me. I am stupid for thinking this could work out. As if she can hear my thoughts, her eyes catch mine as I walk up. She keeps them on me while a coy smile plays on her face.

"Hi Tyler," I walk past him and pull her to me and gently kiss her. She kisses me back, completely relaxed in my arms. Let the fireworks burn away any doubts about us.

"I'll catch you later," Tyler stomps off, pouting. _Good she is mine_.

"What is his problem?" I ask, even though I know the reason.

"You just proved to him why I am with you." She kisses me back and my chest swells.

"Yeah...and why is that?" I ask as she kisses me again.

"Well for one, when I kiss you these little sparks travel through my body."

I step closer, backing her into the locker. "Yeah?" I kiss the side of her mouth.

"Yeah," her voice now sounds husky.

"And when you are this close, I lose all reasoning," I kiss her again wanting to take her further than I had before.

***

Barbie's bare feet are crossed at the ankles in my lap. I try to go over this week's homework. She has her head resting on her text book. She draws a little bird on her pointer finger with a pen. I toss my book aside and lay down next her.

"Do you even listen when I speak?" I rub my hand up her leg.

"Of course I do. You sound a lot like when the teacher speaks on Charlie Brown," she gives me a wicked grin.

"Oh really," I grab her side, tickling her, loving the way she squirms under me and the sound of her giggle.

"Okay, okay, truth. I will behave and listen." She shifts her body, swinging one leg over me so that she is straddling my chest. I move her hair out of her face so I can see her deep blue eyes. "Do you trust me?" she smiles.

_With every part of me._ "Ummm..."

She pushes me in the arm. "Just close your eyes. All the way—"

I shut my eyes. My breath hitches as she does an exotic dance with her fingers, moving them down my chin and neck. She makes me feel things I have never felt before. And a deep moan escapes me. I feel alive when I am with her. Her fingers run the outline of my lips, making them spark alive.

"Okay, open your eyes," she whispers in my ear chills run down my spine. I open my eyes and she holds a small compact mirror for me "You look very distinguished," she laughs.

On my face she drew a handle bar mustache in blue ink above my lip. I reach out to grab her but she wiggles free, hopping to the ground. "Didn't anyone ever tell you payback is a bitch?" I jump to my feet and chase after her. She squeals and darts between the trees. She is fast, flittering between trees just barely out of my reach. I chase her to the back of the orchard. I have her cornered between two trees and a fence.

"Just remember I love you," she says, holding up one of her small hands.

My heart stops beating. She loves me. And I love her. I think I love her more than anyone else in my life. And I want to tell her how I feel, but I can't. "If I give up, you have to promise to be nice." She grips her side. "Trust me," I smirk at her.

"I trust you." She takes a tentative step toward me.

"Wrong move," I dart forward, scooping her up.

"Dylan, you promised." She squeals and tries to squirm out of my arms, but I hold her tight.

"I have every intention to make you pay for what you did." I walk her back to my truck. Setting her down on the tailgate, I put my arms on both sides of her, her legs between mine.

"What do you have in mind?" she bites at her bottom lip, a move that drives me crazy. I lean in; my breath hitches at her closeness. Her hand reaches under my shirt and a soft moan vibrates out of my lips, making me want to do things to her I have only dreamed about. She tugs at the hem of my shirt. I break away only long enough to help her pull my shirt over my head and help her out of hers, tossing them to the side. Our kissing deepens. She wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me closer to her. My hands explore her soft skin. I play with the thin fabric that separates us from being skin to skin. Her mouth is back on mine, her tongue slowly flicking on my lips. Driving me crazy. My head is spinning as she devours me. 

### Chapter 21.  
Touch

He kisses me as if he is dying in the desert and I am a glass of cool water. He is my savior. My body is alive, humming with anticipation of his next move. Each touch is so slow and gentle, it is almost painful. My body is longing for more, driving me crazy. I want him to touch me everywhere. He makes me want to do things I have never done before. I have never been touched like this. I used to be so scared to feel anything, I needed to be numb, but with Dylan I want feel everything. I want to be alive to feel the pain, because with the pain I know will come the cool soothing that he gives me. Every part of me is buzzing as he leans us back against the cold metal scorching my hot skin. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. I run my hands across his firm chest. I feel like I cannot get close enough. Damn me for wearing these skinny jeans. I fiddle with the button, his hand still over mine.

"I need to ask you something." He breathing comes in deep gasps.

"I didn't just bring you out here to study." He places his hand over mine, stilling it.

"Why you evil, evil genius, you, bringing me out here so you can have your way with me," I tease.

"You figured my master plan out." He does an evil laugh. I pull on his belt loops, bringing him closer.

"Actually it was all mine. I knew you could resist me." I reach up and nip at his bottom lip.

He grabs my hands, bringing them back to his chest. _Thank you, God. Mowing lawns does a boy good_. I run my hands over his tight chest. He hovers above me, his arms flexed under him. Leaning over, I kiss his biceps for no other reason other than being in his arms makes me feel safe. I almost forget what waits for me at home. He lets out a deep moan from the back of his throat. "I need to ask you something." His face hardens and my stomach flips. He is going to tell me he does not want me anymore. Why would he? "Barbie," my throat burns with the sting of tears in my eyes. "I never properly got to ask you but...will you be my girl?" He leans his forehead against mine. The tears now fall. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest.

"Are you crying?" He tries to look at me, but I keep my face tucked under. I am happy. I nod, afraid of how my voice will sound if I answer him. "Why?" He shifts us in one swift motion so I am sitting in his lap. I keep my head tucked under his chin. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I shake my head, "It is not that... It is... You make me happy," I say in a broken whisper.

He hugs me tightly to his chest. "You make me happy, too." He tightens his arms around me. I want to stay this way forever. Wrapped in his arms. Just him and me. My worries so far behind me. I only know how I feel with him. 
May  
My choice is you...

### Chapter 22.  
Choices

"Ms. Starr," a tall thin lady with long brown hair weave's her hand frantically in our direction. Her willowy arm looks like it might snap at any moment. She calls my name again over the sounds of the bus engine starting. I look away, trying to pretend I did not see her frantic waves. Too late. I hesitated too long. She steps in front of a big yellow bus and nearly misses becoming a hood ornament. She does not stop, but keeps coming, jogging in her black leather heels. I stop and wait for her to catch up to us. I mean, she practically died, so I can at least see what she has to say. "Oh, good. You heard me. I was afraid I was going to chase you all the way home," she pants, trying to catch her breath. She seems crazy enough she probably would have.

"Well, you caught me," I snap back, with annoyance lacing my voice.

"That I did, Ms. Starr." She holds her hand out for me to shake. I don't. After a moment, she lets it fall to her side. I am in no mood for whatever this lady is offering. She must be fresh meat right out of college. She is not much older than me. She wears an eager expression, and her clothes are pressed and reek of a department store. She is unlike the other faculty members with their rumpled cheap clothing, an ever present coffee in their hands, and a look of hoped-for retirement not far away in their eyes.

"Well, I wanted to introduce myself. I am Everett's new teacher, Ms. White." Her red-painted lips spread into a smile.

"Uh, huh." I know. I have seen the many letters she sent home in his backpack. "I was just trying to meet all the parents of my new students." she whips a hand down her black pencil skirt. "I tried calling, but it seems your phone is out of service... Is there a good time I can talk with your mother?"

_How about never._ "She is really busy. She works the night shift at the hospital, and sleeps during the day. You know, being a single mom and all... Look, I will let her know that Evie has a new teacher." I turn to high tail it out of there before Ms. Perky can try to interrogate me anymore.

"Ms. Starr, it is really important that I meet with her. There are a lot of services that Everett should be getting. It seems like he is just getting the basics at school." She digs in her pocket, pulling out a glossy card. I take it from her and look over it. There is a picture of a red apple with her name and phone number on it. "Tell your mother to give me a call so we can go over these options for him." I stuff the card in my back pocket.

"Sure thing." I take Everett and get the hell out of there as quick as I can.

***

I tap on Third's window. His blue curtains rustle before his round face comes into view. His brows shoot up into his thin blond hair. He opens the window. "Barbie? What are you doing?"

Momma has been worse than ever. I thought she would slow down after she nearly died. It only seemed to increase her habit use. She has been so out of it lately, worse than normal. I have been calling out of work for her, claiming she had the flu. She has been spending the nights stumbling around the house, searching cabinets and closets, insisting I must have pills hidden somewhere. Tonight, she yanked Everett out of bed, and shook him so hard. She was screaming at him to tell her where I hid the pills. If I had some then, I would have given them to her just to make her stop.

"I didn't want to wake your parents." I shift from one foot to the other.

"Oh. What are you doing here? It is midnight," he whispers, confused.

"My mom went to work and locked us out...accidently." The words tumble out, "Do you mind if we hang out until she gets back to unlock the door?" I lie. It is so natural to lie that sometimes I almost believe myself. He glances behind me at Everett, who is spinning in a circle. "Come around to the front quietly. I will open the door for you."

Not only does Third answer the door, but so does his mother in her slippers and her fuchsia moo moo. Her hair is a bright Crayola red with pink foam rollers. Embarrassment burns on my cheeks. "Come in, you poor things," she hurries us in. "Third told me how y'all been locked out. You poor babies," she pulls me into her chest, hugging me tight. She smells like cheap rose perfume and chocolate cookies.

"Yeah... I forgot my keys."

She shakes her head. "Third said that your momma is in emergency surgery," she clucks.

I look at Third, who shrugs as if saying, "What?"

"Here, sit down. I'll get y'all something to eat, to help settle the upset." We go into the kitchen where she starts pulling out frying pans. "I hope you like grilled cheese. They are Bartholomew's favorite late night snack." I smile and suppress laughing at Third's real name.

"Love them," I reply.

After a healthy round of grilled cheese, Everett falls asleep on the pullout sleeper in the living room. I sit on the end of the bed, knees to my chest.

"Can I ask you something? Why did you come here and not to Dylan's?" Third sits next to me on the end of the bed.

"I don't know. I guess I was embarrassed. How do I tell him about my life? What if he would not want me anymore? I have seen you at your worst, so I guess it is easier for you to see me at my low point." I lean my chin on my knees.

"So you want to tell me the real reason you didn't want to go home? Something tells me that you are not the type of girl who has a problem breaking into places." His light blue eyes accusing me.

"No. Not really." How do I tell him that my mother is so high I am afraid of what she might do? I cannot risk Everett getting hurt. She would never hurt him on purpose, but tonight when she was shaking him, she was out of her mind. I would have gone to Ms. Sophie's, but her daughter is in town. The last thing I need is her getting suspicious and making a phone call to the state.

He sighs, "Okay, but if you ever need to talk I will listen...so would Dylan." He laughs to himself. "He would go postal if he knew that you were sleeping over at my house." I cringe. "How about we keep this to ourselves?" I pat him on the leg.

"I hate lying to my boy, but I think you're right on keeping this under wraps." He pushes me with his shoulder.

"Thanks."

I wake up to the smell of bacon. Yummm, bacon. When I finally shut off my internal worrying I slept like a baby. So did Everett. I reach over and pull him tight to my chest. His small body fits perfect against mine. I push his hair out of his sleeping face. He looks like his father with sandy blond hair and freckles. Everett's father was not one of the dirt bags like Momma usually likes to bring home. He was cool. He had a motorcycle and would take me for rides on the back to get ice cream. I thought that I might have a chance for a normal family with him. A dad and mom like a normal family. We would sit on the end of a dock near the ice cream parlor, our toes dangling in the water. He always got Rocky Road and black raspberry for me. We would lick at our ice cream and just talk. He used to say how he wanted to name the baby Everett after his grandfather who fought in the war. If it was a girl, he liked Jane. I thought Jane was the perfect name for a girl. Normal. Then one day, when I came home from school he was packing himself up. He pulled me into a hug and told me that he was sorry, but my mother was crazy. I stood on the porch next to my mother, with her pregnant swollen belly, and watched him drive away on his motorcycle.

Mrs. Cruz gives us a toothbrush to use. I try to scrub away yesterday's makeup, but it just makes me look like a raccoon. I wet down Everett's frizzy bed head. There is nothing I can do about his dirty clothes from yesterday. I hope Mrs. Perky does not notice he is wearing the same clothes. I doubt it.

I finger comb my hair in my first period class. Giving up, I knot it on top of my head and try to pay attention. My eyes flutter shut, and a dull ache starts to throb behind my eyes. I shuffle between classes in a daze, my head hurting. By the time the lunch bell rings, my head feels like it wants to split wide open. I grab the brown bag of lunch that Mrs. Cruz made for me out of my locker and head to the cafeteria. I slide into my seat next to Dylan.

"Hey," I lean over and kiss him on his cheek.

"Hey Baby..." he kisses me back. "Are you okay?"

I rub at my temples. "Yeah fine," except that my head is pounding and I cannot seem to warm up. These must be after-effects from walking the four miles to Third's. I had to carry Everett most of the way. Now every muscle aches. "Just tired," I give him a smile.

"Out late? What did you do?" He looks at me with those damn doe-brown eyes and I want to tell him the truth. "Everett had a stomachache and kept me up half the night." I hate myself. He doesn't ask anymore. He seems not to notice that I'm wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He slips his hand into mine and I lean against his shoulder. He feels strong and sturdy. I need him. I want to curl up next to him and close my eyes. I just need to take a little nap and I will feel better.

Third sits down. "Hey, Bee, you okay?"

God, will people stop asking me that. He opens his lunch. "Why does everyone ask me that?" I snap.

Third stops riffling through his bag and Dylan stops eating his apple. "You just don't look like you feel well. That's all." he says.

Guilt fills me. I shouldn't snap at him after he has been so nice. "Sorry, I guess I really don't feel so well." I reach up and feel my forehead. It is clammy. Maybe I just need to eat. I pull out the ham and cheese sandwich, chips, and a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Delish.

"That's funny. You and Third have the same lunch," Dylan notices.

"Weird," Third agrees.

I push my lunch toward Third, suddenly, I am not hungry. Guilt of lying to Dylan has my stomach rolling. I lean back on Dylan. He is so warm.

"Maybe you should go to the nurse. If you are not eating, you really must be sick," Dylan says.

"No, I will be okay. I just need to rest my eyes for a moment." They feel so heavy. I close my eyes.

I must have dozed off, because the bell is ringing and Dylan is shaking me awake. I try to stand, but my feet feel weak under me. I stumble forward.

"I am taking you to the nurse." Dylan grabs my elbows and steadies me.

"No. I think I just need to go home," I argue.

Dylan frowns. "I have a test next class," he says hesitantly.

"I will take her home," Third offers.

"No, I can—" Dylan argues.

"No, go take your test. It is just a headache." I reach up and kiss him on his cheek. I lean against Third and let him lead me out to the minivan.

"I don't want to go home," I whimper unsure of what I will find.

Mrs. Cruz takes one look at me and sends me straight to Third's room. His bed is like a soft cloud and I pull the covers up to my chin. I fall in and out of a restless sleep. My sleep. My body is licked by fire one moment, and then dipped in icy chills the next. A cold sweat mats my hair down to my forehead.

I dream of Dylan _. He dances in front of me with Katie in his arms. My heart breaks, shattering around me in a thousand tiny pieces. I try to pick it up and put it back together. They dance around me, laughing at the pieces in my hand. I try to stop them but they are just out of my reach. They fade away. I am now walking down along a red dirt road. Tall oak trees grow on either side of the road, with moss hanging off their thick, heavy branches. The sun sets, bathing everything it touches in gold. I have never seen anything so beautiful. It is silent. Numbing. There is only the long, winding dirt red road in front and back of me. I wish I could stay here forever. I stop to pick some purple flowers that grow along the side of the road when I hear it. Screaming. I can feel the screaming. It is in my skin, making it tremble. Piercing my bones. I start to run to find Everett, but my legs can barely lift. They feel heavy, stuck. I need to keep going. I have to help him. I try calling out his name to tell him I am coming. I have no voice. I am panicked. I will my legs to at least walk. I try lifting them once more and I stumble to the ground. I claw at the ground, trying to get to him. I can't. I cannot save him._

I wake with a jolt, my heart racing. My hair is in thick mats pressed against my forehead in wet clumps. I take in deep gulps of air, and tell myself that Evie is fine. He is not lost and hurt somewhere. It was all a bad dream.

The door cracks open and Mrs. Cruz sticks her head in. "Oh good, you are up. How ya feeling?" She pushes the door open. In her hand she holds a tray with soup. The smell of chicken noodle fills the room. My stomach lets out a loud growl.

"Hungry."

She smiles a warm smile at me. My head is not hurting anymore, but my body still aches. I feel like I ran a marathon. "Good. I thought that you would be starved since the last time you ate was yesterday." She sets the tray down on the nightstand. Yesterday!

"How long have I been asleep?" I kick off the blankets and start to get up. "Everett—" All the things that could have happened to him suddenly whirl in my mind.

"He is fine honey. Barty went to pick him up from school. I hope you don't mind, but I bought him some clothes from the Wal-Mart. I couldn't send him to school in the same things." The bed sinks under her weight.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for everything." I feel like crying because no one has been this good to us in a long time. She pushes the hair back off my forehead, in a motherly way. My own mother never acted so motherly to me. Here is practically a stranger showing me such kindness.

"It's the least I can do. Your poor momma, having to rush to your ailing grandmother." She stands up. "You should give her a call when you get up. Let her know y'all are fine." I sigh, wanting to pull the blankets back over my head. Another lie. I feel guilty for deceiving Mrs. Cruz. She is such a sweet lady, taking care of two troubled kids without so much as a question. "I am going to go and pick up some chicken to fry for the boys. Why don't you take a shower in my bathroom?" She reaches for the door. "Oh and I picked these up for you at the Wal-Mart too." She hands me a package of white underwear.

"Thanks," I smile.

Mrs. Cruz's bathroom looks like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol puked in it. Everything is the same pink, right down to her pink, carpeted, toilet seat cover. Who puts carpet on a toilet seat? There is lace sewed onto any piece of fabric. I look in the mirror. My skin looks pale and my eyes sit in dark pools under my eyes. My hair is dried to my forehead in stringy clumps. I peel my clothes off and kick them in the corner. I climb in the shower and get to work on my hair first. I shampoo twice with yummy, lemon-smelling shampoo. I turn the heat up, letting it hit every aching part of me. Comfort fills me, and I relax knowing that the mother hen and Third are letting me be sick, a luxury I am not often granted. I need to call Dylan and let him know that I am okay. He must be worried that I didn't show up at school today.

I turn off the water and wrap a big fluffy pink towel around me. I head back to Third's bedroom. I am going to have to thank him for letting me take over his bed. I would not be willing to give up such a comfortable bed. Sleeping on it was like floating on a cloud. I pull a T-shirt from the stack of clean folded clothes on top of his dresser and a pair of the new undies from the bag Mrs. Cruz bought for me. Not the type I usually wear or my size, but there is something sweet about oversized granny panties when you're sick. Comfort. I climb back in to bed and fall back to sleep. This time I dream, happy dreams, dreams of Dylan.

***

"I can't find her anywhere. I drove around all night looking for her," the sound of Dylan's panicked voice wakes me. My heart is beating fast in my throat. How am I going to explain myself to him?

"Dylan," Third's voice is cut off again by Dylan.

"I have been calling you. Why in hell have you not answered," he continues.

"Bro, I need—" Third tries again.

"Is that Everett? What is Everett doing here?"

I push the blankets off me and try to remember where I put my pants. My head is still clouded. I hear his heavy footsteps and I start to rise when the bedroom door swings open.

"Barbie?" Confusion, then anger flashes in his dark brown eyes. I sink back on the bed.

"Dude, she was sick," Third stands behind him. I can only imagine what this must look like to him. Me in Third's bed wearing only a shirt, I need to tell him the truth. The lies have gone on too long. Too long I have been hiding this part of me. I will tell him everything, and if he doesn't want me, then I will have to accept that. I am so tired of lying. Dylan spins on Third.

"You are supposed to be my friend!" He shoves Third against the doorframe slamming his head against the sharp wood. "I told you how I felt about her." He pushes him again.

"Dylan," I yell. I am up, grabbing at his raised fist. "It's not what you think." I beg him to listen to me. He needs to hear the truth. He shoves Third onto the floor and looks down on me, hurt filling his eyes.

"You!" he spits, fury copious in his voice. "I should have expected this from you!" Anger curls around each word. He pushes past me.

I run after him, grabbing onto his arm. "Dylan, will you just please listen to me? You have it wrong," I beg.

His lip curls up in disgust as he looks at me. He shrugs my hand off him and storms out the front door. I know I have lost him forever.

### Chapter 23.  
Betrayal

She runs after me, pleading for me to stop and listen to her. That is the last thing I want to do. I don't want to hear the lies that spill so easily from her mouth. She lies to everyone with such ease. Why would I be any different? What I want to do is get the hell out of here before I go back in there and beat the shit out of Third. It all makes perfect sense, the way he followed her around like a lost puppy. An image of him touching her fuels the red hot anger burns inside me.

"Dylan, please." She catches up to me, stepping between me and my truck door. "Will you just listen?" she shouts. Her hair falls in a tangled mess, spilling around her shoulders. She wears his T-shirt and nothing else on the bottom. Her feet are bare. She looks like she just woke up or...

"He was my best friend, Barbie!" I scream at her. "What could you possibly have to say to make this right?"

She drops her head. She cannot even look me in the eye. A new wave of anger surges forward. I ride it, indignantly angry with her. "How about telling me why you are in there screwing my best friend!" I yell. My chest aches and rage swirls inside me, leaving me confused and hurt.

She grimaces at my words. I loved her. I planned on telling her that. "Why?" I spit.

"Dylan, I was sick," she whispers more of her lies.

"So then you go home! Or you call me. You do not go and screw my best friend!" Her eyes fill with tears. Is she crying because she was caught, or she feels guilty for doing this to me?

"I would never..." She wraps her arms around her waist and her blue eyes meet mine. How can she look at me and lie right to my face? I know what I saw. She seems so small with his shirt hanging off her thin frame. How can I hate her and love her so much at the same time?

"That is who you are. Why would I think you would change for me?"

She steps back hurt, filling her eyes. I want to pull her back to me. I want to take away the hurt in her eyes and tell her I believe her. That I am sorry. That we can work this out. But it is too late for that.

"You're right. You knew who I was from the beginning." She takes another step backwards. "It was me who was wrong about you. I didn't know who you were." Tears fall from her eyes.

I pull open my truck door and spray gravel as I spin out of the drive way. I want to be as far away from her as possible.

I must have driven around for hours contemplating my next move. I drove back to Third's street three times, wanting to go and demand that they tell me the truth. How long had they been messing around behind my back? I try to think of any other reason she could be in his bed and wearing his shirt. Shit. She even smelled like him I punch the steering wheel until my hand aches. I should have been cautious around her; I should have expected this from her. Come on, she was giving out hand jobs as if they were Halloween candy. Why would she be any different with me? She didn't love me. I was just a game to her. A project. Well, screw them both. It really stings when I think about Third's betrayal. I thought he was my boy, that he had my back. I never thought he would do this to me. We have been through so much together. Just the other day I told him how I felt about Barbie. That I love her. He still stole her out from under me.

### Chapter 24.  
Cold

Third comes in to his bedroom wearing a striped, button-up, blue shirt. "How you holding up?" He sits next to me. I pull my legs up to my chest, wanting to pull in to myself. Tears burn at my eyes. Third tries to comfort me. "He was angry. He said things he is probably regretting right now. When you see him in school today... I bet he is going to apologize." He gives me a weak smile. I want to believe him so badly, but I know better. I saw the hurt and betrayal in Dylan's eyes. It does not matter how much I try. He will never believe me. He will never get over the betrayal he feels.

"I am not going to school." My lip trembles. "He believes all those rumors about me." A tear escapes and I wipe it angrily.

"I don't." He pats my leg which is still under the blanket.

"Why?" my voice cracks.

"Why? Because you are not any of those things. The girl I know is caring and puts the ones she loves above herself. That doesn't sound like a girl who is busy getting high or handing out hand jobs in the locker room."

I laugh around my tears. "Yeah, I wouldn't have time. Could you imagine the strength I would have to have in my hand to perform that many?" I laugh, but the tears still fall.

"Besides, I would know if that was true because I would have been the first in line," he winks at me.

"Ew," I punch him in the arm "That's gross."

He exhales the sadness back in his face. "And he also knows you are not that girl. He is just angry. He needs time to cool down."

I hope so.

I write Mrs. Cruz a thank you note. I don't want to leave, but I have to go home and make sure Momma is still alive. Besides Mrs. Sophie's daughter has to be gone by now. She only stays a few days at the most. Third drops me off in front of my house on his way to school. "Hang in there..." He rubs the top of my head before taking off. I relentlessly climb each step to my house, bracing myself for the worst.

I feel like I walked into the twilight zone. This is not my house. Joni Mitchell plays from a small CD player in the living room. The smell of Pine Sol is so strong, it makes my nose itch. Has someone been cleaning? I continue to walk, apprehensive of my surroundings. Everett and I go missing for a few days and my mother cleans? Unlikely. Perhaps the landlord finally made good on his promise and evicted us. Maybe I am walking in on the new tenants. I follow the sound of someone singing along to "All I Want." I find my mother in the kitchen, the floor littered in brown paper bags. She stands at the open fridge. I see a gallon of milk along with other items. Is that butter? "Mom... what is going on?"

She spins around at the sound of my voice. "Baby Doll, you're home. I was beginning to think you done run out on me like your daddy did." She puts her cigarette out in the sink. So she went shopping?

"Isn't this wonderful?" she spreads her arms out, beaming. "Ronnie gave me money. He told me to go down to the _Piggly Wiggly_ and fill up the fridge. He loves this stuff," she holds up a package of sausage. Warning bells are going off in my head.

"Why did he do that?" I start picking up the paper bags off the floor.

"Why? Because he loves me. That's why," she snaps. Her face softens when she sees me flinch. "He loves me, baby doll, and he loves you kids. He wants to be a part of our life. Be a family." She tucks a piece of stray hair behind my ear.

"Mom, he doesn't even know us."

She frowns, dropping her hand. "Well, he wants to know you. Maybe if you stayed home instead of whoring around with whichever boy who can get you to spread your legs." I flinch, her words are like slaps to my face, leaving my already raw skin exposed and stinging. It is so easy to be what everyone thinks than to try to fight it. My shoulders slump. "Now you be home tonight. I am going to cook us a real nice dinner." She lights up another cigarette.

***

I sit on the bench across from Everett's school, waiting for him to be released. The bell rings and children spill from the building. I stand, glancing over the top of their heads looking for the blond-covered head of his. Everett is holding the hand of his new teacher. She sees me and blows her thick bangs off the top of her brow. She leads Everett over to me.

"Hey, Bud," I scoop him up into a hug. "Thanks." I turn to leave.

"Miss Starr, your mother never contacted me. Did you give her my message?" She twirls her finger nervously between a strand of pearls.

"Yeah I did. She is really busy. I will remind her." I try to leave, but her hand reaches out and grips my arm.

"Is everything okay?" She looks at me trying to see something more. "Are you okay? If you need any help..."

I snatch my arm away. "I am fine." I stalk off. Mrs. Nosey watches us walk away, worry lines etched into her face. Let her call the State, I think. I don't care anymore. I am anything but fine. I feel like I am dying inside, but I'm not about to tell her.

My mother had made a dinner of sausage, undercooked rice, and a can of peas. She has never cooked us dinner before, let alone sat at a table and shared a meal with us. Hell, I don't even remember a night when my momma was sober enough to stay awake long enough to eat a full meal. "What's wrong? You don't like your mother's cooking?"

Ronnie takes a sip off of his beer. I glare up at him, but his smile doesn't waver. I stir the rice on my plate. Everett sits next to my mother, his fingers frantically tapping against the table as he rocks back and forth.

"I lost my appetite." I push my plate away. My mother wants me to sit here and pretend that this is okay. Everett and I were gone for three days and not once did she ask, or worry about us. If Third went missing for a day, Mrs. Cruz would have this town plastered in missing persons flyers. This is so fucked up.

"You know you're a real pretty little thing," he reaches over the table and lifts up a piece of my hair in his fingers. "Just like your momma." My mother beams up at him, oblivious of the sick twisted meaning behind his words. I push up from the table.

"Barbie," my mother gasps. "Sit down now. We are having a dinner." I hate her for her ignorance. I hate her for never being a mother, for not taking care of me, of Everett. I hate her, for letting random men into our life, for spending all her money on drugs or drinking it away. I hate her.

"No, I will not sit down. I will not pretend that you all of sudden are a mother. I am not going to sit while your boyfriend hits on me." I grab Everett's hand, yanking him harder than I intend to. I storm out of the kitchen, pulling Everett behind me.

I hear Ronnie consoling my mother. "It's alright, she has spunk. Nothing that can't be tamed." I hate my mother for pretending to be concerned.

I make frozen pot pies for us at Mrs. Sophie, and curl up on the couch feeling drained by these past few days.

***

The bench creaks under Third's weight. The bleacher is our new spot to eat lunch. I cannot bring myself to enter the lunch room since Dylan and I broke up. I could not see him sitting there at her table, smiling, laughing, like we didn't share anything between us. He moved on so quickly it makes me wonder if I meant anything to him at all. I wear an old bulky sweater even though summer is right around the corner and it is a sweltering ninety degrees out. I just feel so cold .It feels like I will never be warm again. I pick at my sandwich, pulling off small chunks of bread. Mrs. Cruz has packed me a lunch every day since staying with them.

"How is your mom?" I throw my crust of the peanut butter and jelly in the woods for a little squirrel.

"Great, she wants you and Everett to come over for dinner this weekend." I try to give him a smile, but it is small and forced. Poor Third. I am horrible company; I don't want to be around myself. He has dutifully stayed by my side. He now keeps an arsenal of tissues at the ready. Most of my tears have dried, leaving a heavy weight sitting on my chest. I can never get enough air into my lungs to fill them. I feel terrible for my involvement in destroying Third and Dylan's friendship.

"Dylan, he just needs some time. He will come around," Third used to say to me during one of my many breakdowns. He would pat my back through a heavy dose of hiccups and snotty wet tears. I know he misses him as much as I do, but we both know the truth now. Dylan is gone to the both of us, and for good reason. He can no longer trust me. He never really did.

I wrap my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together. "I wanted him so bad. I knew he wouldn't fit into my life. We are so different," I blurt out. I pause, a lump burning in my throat. "I just wanted him." We have not spoken of Dylan in days.

Third has heard this all before. This time is different. He sits quietly; with no reassurance to give. "You know my home life is pretty screwed up. I couldn't go home when I was sick. I couldn't have Everett around my mom. I never know if she will be sober enough... if he will get hurt when she is around him." I swallow back the fear that I have been living with for so long. I should feel lightened by unloading some of my burden. I have been hiding from the world. It only makes me feel weak and vulnerable. I continue to purge my darkest most humiliating secrets. Third sits, his mouth gaping open at parts, before he shuts it again. I tell Third how we sleep over at Mrs. Sophie and about Ronnie and the incident with him in the storage room. I keep going until he knows everything I have been hiding. "...I just wanted to keep that part of my life separate from Dylan. I was so happy with him it was like those parts of my life were a bad dream. I just wanted to be normal. Have a boy like me for me, not because he thought I would sleep with him." I laugh, "You know all those rumors about me...well, the funny thing is... I am a virgin." I laugh again, but there is nothing funny about it. Third closes his mouth once again. He looks like he wants to bolt and I don't blame him. I want to run from me too.

"You know what..." He takes a deep breath. "Fuck him. Yeah, fuck him."

Now I look at Third, mouth agape.

"Really Bee, if he can't see who you are, you don't need him in your life. He is kind of a tool anyway," he says.

I laugh, "He is not a tool." He is perfect.

"Well, he is acting like one," he smiles and I smile with him.

A week later Third's speeches turn into uplifting ones. This morning he tells me, "We are not going to sit around moping over that Tool." Tool is Dylan's new designated nickname from Third. I have to admit it is easier to say than his name. I am trying to practice what Third is preaching to me. Telling me I am not one of those girls who throws everything away because some boy made her heart skip a beat. With Third by my side, it is getting easier to be around the living again. I even try to pay attention in class and not just stare in dazed confusion at nothing. I even mange to make it through our presentation on The Little Mermaid without bursting out in tears.

One day in class, the Goth girl who thought that our romance was epic flops down next to me. You think that I would at least be invited into their clique. I guess I don't even fit in with them. So I ignore their presence like they ignore me. "So that really sucks that the nerd broke up with you," she begins. Her voice has a raspy quality to it.

"Yeah, it does," I answer honestly.

She taps her pen on the desk. "My boyfriend and I broke up not that long ago."

Is she trying to bond with me over our break-up? Well, she can forget about that. I am not about to write poetry, listening to pissed off punk-girl indie music, and pout about the world being a dark, unfair place.

"I don't believe the rumors about you." She pulls on one of her spiky layers, separating it into a soft cascade of black.

"Which one? The one where I blew the whole entire football team? Or that I screwed his best friend?" Anger drips off me. No one ever gave two craps about me before. So what gives this girl the right to suddenly try to strike up a conversation with me?

"Oh, the one about the football team I believe." Her black lips spread into a smirk. My anger suddenly evaporates, and I laugh. It is the first time I have laughed out loud in weeks. It feels so good, soothing the ever-present ache I have.

"Roxie," she offers.

"Barbie," I.

"Yeah, I know, we have been in the same classes since middle school." I have seen her around, but I have no clue as to who she is. Before Dylan and Third, my life consisted of keeping to myself. The occasional make- out session with some random guy. Girls just tended to steer clear of me. I never wanted or needed a girlfriend. Girls had a tendency to be cruel to each other, and talk behind their friends' back. If that was what having a girlfriend all was about, I didn't need or want one.

"So this guy that broke up with you?" I probe as we walk down the hall. Roxie keeps up the conversation through Algebra. She made me laugh again with her cracks about Gregor, who did not appreciate that I was laughing during his lecture on _Fibonacci's_ spiral. Boring. I am sure he was one of Dylan's idols.

"I broke up with him. Complete douche. He only wanted one thing from me," she winks.

I nod in understanding. I am all too aware what boys want.

"And I was finally like I can't do this anymore. I mean I literally couldn't do it anymore," she winks. Gross. "So what happened with you and Nerd Boy?"

I don't know if I am ready to open up to her.

"Trust issues," she answers for me as if she could read my thoughts. Too close for comfort.

"Look, I am not looking for a friend to braid our hair together and talk boys with. I just need some new people to sit with at lunch... and maybe cheat off in Math." She says.

"Good luck cheating off me," she smiles again. "Yeah, I was one of those stupid girls. I let Justin become my whole world, lost my friends, and forgot who I was... yada, yada... boo hoo," she continues. Maybe having a girlfriend might not be so bad.

I bite at my lip. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable with?" I hesitate.

"My own kind? The other Goths? No. We have nothing in common. The way I see it, you and me, sister, are kindred spirits." She smiles. Her teeth are bright white under her black lips.

I doubt that. But, Hell, I am not about to judge someone for not fitting in. "Okay, but we sit outside on the bleachers during lunch," I try. "And on Wednesdays, we wear pink," I cock my eyebrows at her.

" _Mean Girls."_

I shrug, with no clue what she is talking about.

" _Glen Coco?"_

Now I am really lost. "Who?"

Her mouth falls open. "Holy bat shit, Robin! Please. Tell me you are kidding right now. You've never seen Mean Girls?"

I shake my head, with no recognition.

"For the love of witty girl banter! You are coming over this weekend so I can introduce you to the most epic movie of the millennium!" She loops her arms in mine. I have heard that before. The ache stings at the memories of the time Dylan tried to get me to watch _Star Wars_ at his house and we spent the night kissing instead. I touch my lips. They no longer spark. Roxie doesn't notice and continues to pull me through the halls, chattering a mile a minute.

I really like being around Roxie. She helps me almost forget about Dylan. He had no problem forgetting me. They even walked down the hall today holding hands. Katie's head was leaning against his shoulder. He didn't even look at me when they walked past. I could have been anybody. There was never a time he made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. I remember his words to me. He wanted to do right by me. Well, apparently he forgot. I watch them walk away, too stunned, too hurt to even move.

Roxie walks up, Third in tow. "He is a gargantuan butt douche," Roxie says.

"What is a butt douche?" Third laughs.

"You, my very confused friend, don't want to know," she winks at him. She turns to me. "I know we said that boy talk is off limits, but you are so much prettier than her." We watch them stroll down the hall. "What can he possibly see in little Miss Stick up the butt is beyond me?"

I roll my eyes, taking my backpack out of my locker.

"So are we on for tonight?" Roxie has been seriously trying to form a friendly bond with me.

"I can't. I have to take care of my little brother." I reply while putting my text books in my bag. I am back to focusing on what's important.

"So bring the midget with you! He can play with my little brother Bilbo."

Third raises his eyebrows. "Your brother is named Bilbo?"

She glares at him. "You're the one to talk, Bartholomew Norbert the Third."

His mouth drops wide open. I grip the locker to support myself while I laugh. "How did you know my real name?" he pales.

" _Google."_

" _Google?"_

"Yes, _Google_ , as in the World Wide Web." She rolls her eyes. "You don't think I am going to hang out with you without a background check. You might be some psycho gang member," she says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Third shakes his head in disbelief. "I am not the one who looks like she ate death for breakfast," he banters back.

"Whatever, Mr. Alabama State fair hot dog champion eater."

His mouth drops again. I laugh as we leave listening to them banter back and forth.

Third parks the van outside one of the largest houses on the block. "Holy bat shit Robin!" Third uses one of Roxie's phrases. Roxie lives on the wealthy side of town in a gated community. We had to practically give blood to be let in by the security guard. We walk up and ring a door bell, which plays a song instead of just a ding.

Third's eyebrows shoot up. "I was not expecting this. I had more _Addams Family_ envisioned in my head," he says. Everett fiddles with the button on my shirt.

"Oh, great! You're here," Roxie pulls open the door, and pulls us in. She looks out of place in the vast white foyer that we now stand in. Her long black hair and all-black attire seem out of place against the bright white, crisp feeling inside the house.

"Are we going to get arrested? We are not breaking and entering," Third eye balls the marble statue in the middle of the foyer.

Roxie frowns, "No you're not. This is my house." She points to a portrait above the landing. Two women pose with a blond girl with the same brown eyes as Roxie's.

"Great we are going to jail because the queen of death sacrificed that little girl. Now we are the suspects in a murder" Third dramatically throws his hands into the air.

Roxie sticks out her tongue. "Well, no one invited you anyway; she leads us through the massive house.

"Hey, you did. Didn't you get the memo? We are a package deal. Wherever she goes, I go."

I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders. It has been that way lately.

"Well, come on. Let's go get this movie started. I hope you like popcorn? I wasn't sure what you would like, so I made a couple of different kinds. Oh and here is Bilbo." A little white fuzz ball comes scampering in, sliding across the floor.

"Your little brother is a dog?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Yes," she picks up the little fur ball who is going mad trying to lick her.

"This is really twisted," Third says. "The dog is your brother?"

She looks down at her black sock- covered feet. "I really wanted you to come and hang."

I feel sorry for her. Her sarcastic witty self is gone. I roll my eyes, "Come on. Let's get this epic movie marathon going."

A smile spreads across her face. "I also picked up some candy." Good, because I really need some sugar right about now.

Roxie didn't buy some candy. She bought the entire candy isle at the grocery store, and has popped about a million different types of popcorn. We set Everett up with a Snickers bar and some art supplies next to the Legos. Bilbo takes up next to him, hoping that Everett will drop a few Skittles.

"This is sick." Third gestures to the small movie theater we are sitting in.

"Yeah. My Moms work a lot, so they try to make up for their absences with this lavish, materialistic lifestyle," she sighs, popping a Milk Dud in her mouth.

"Moms?"

Roxie now shovels a handful of Duds in her mouth. "Yeah, as in dos," she says around a mouthful. "Hi, test tube baby," she waves.

"That is really hot!"

Roxie throws a handful of popcorn at Third.

"Perv."

I laugh, slouching down in my chair and settling in to do something normal. Watch a movie with my friends.

"That was the most effing stupid movie I have ever seen," Third proclaims as the credits roll.

"Was not! Barbie, you liked it, right?" She looks at me pleadingly with dark -lined eyes and pouty black lips.

"Epic!" I stretch out.

"Come on. Let's go up to my room."

"What the—"

I hold up my hand, cutting him off. Roxie's room looks like she took decorating advice from Mrs. Cruz. The same Pepto-Bismol pink color covers every inch of the room. On her walls hang posters of every current pop boy band and Taylor Swift. Okay.

"What the freak show?" Third takes in the room. I am just as shocked.

She beams at me. "Let me guess. You were you expecting black walls and bad poetry written in sharpie on my walls?" she asks.

_Yes._ I shake my head and mouth the word no, too stunned to speak.

"And spider webs, perhaps an altar to the devil." Third adds, jumping on to her floral bed spread. Everett crawls up next to him with Bilbo.

"This is even more sick and twisted than I expected." He leans back, discarding some of the lace decorative pillows to the floor.

"Pleassse," she rolls her eyes, and plugs in her iPod. Taylor starts singing in the background.

"So what? I am not the typical Goth girl. I like country and pink. Looks can be deceiving." She looks at me and smiles.

We all lie on her bed, listening to Taylor sing songs that sound like she wrote them for me. Until we go home.

"That was really weird, right?" Third says to me as he drives me home.

"A little," I admit. "It is like she is this whole other person." I sigh. "Sometimes people are not what they seem." I think about Dylan and how I thought he was someone else. "I mean you thought I was this sex-crazed girl who did crack in the girls' bathroom."

He frowns. "You don't?"

I lean over and hit him in the arm.

"Ouch," he rubs at his arm. "Well, you thought I was some pervert who was trying to get a glimpse of what you keep under your shirt," He points out.

"You were," I gasp.

"You know, I think I like her," he blurts. Now that is just too weird.

The next few days we fall into an easy routine. We go back inside for lunch after some coaching from Third and Roxie. I try my hardest to ignore the laughter or how Katie drapes herself over Dylan or the fact that they hold hands everywhere they go. Thank God he doesn't kiss her. I think that would be the final knife that will kill me.

We spend our weekends and afternoons studying and hanging out at Roxie's house. Her moms are both super nice. I think they are relieved she has living, breathing friends. They both work most of the time at a hospital in Birmingham. So her house is empty most of the time. My mother has not tried to make any more family dinners, or to try to off herself. For the most part Ronnie ignores me and Everett when he is around. Thankfully.

The halls of Central are abuzz with the end of the school year approaching. Black flyers with metallic blue writing litter the hallways announcing the prom. This year's theme is Midnight in Paris. How original.

"We are going." Roxie shoves the flyer in my face.

"I am not a masochist." I take the flyer and toss it on the floor with the others. It is bad enough that I have to see Katie and Dylan's sickening public display of affection. I sure as hell am not dishing out fifty bucks to watch it.

"Yeah, well I am. Justin going to be there. He is dating a girl from Jordan. I have to check her out. I bet she is skinny." She bites her lip, deep in thought.

"We are not going!" I grab her hand and pull her to Math.

Third paces nervously by my locker. He wipes at the beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead. He looks clammy, like he might puke. He fiddles with the top of the buttons on his shirt. I open my locker, "What's wrong with you? You look like you are going to hurl."

He rubs his hands together. "I spent half the night awake," he confesses. This has to be about Roxie. He has been acting weird around her lately. He confessed he liked her the first night we hung out with her, but mums been the word from him since.

"If you are going to lose your lunch, do it over there," I point to the garbage can. "I cannot afford another pair of shoes." I exchange my Algebra book for my English text book.

"I am not going to be sick. Can I ask you something?"

I turn and look at him. "If you're coming to me about Roxie, just remember my track record with relationships."

"No it is not about Roxie." He leans against my neighbor's locker. "We have been friends for a while now." I nod my head. _Yesss._ "And I think you are really great. You mean a lot to me. I consider you one of my best friends." He swallows hard before dropping to one knee. He retrieves a wrinkled card from his back pocket and a small teddy bear. "Barbie, will you go to the prom with me?"

I look down at him on his knee. A small audience has gathered around us. His blue eyes start to dart around nervously. "Of course I will go with you, Third." Relief floods his face. I know I told Roxie there was no way in hell I was going, but how can I turn down Third? He has been through too much because of me. I owe him. I help him back up and he hugs me. "Of course I will go with you, but what about Roxie?" I ask.

"Okay, you were not my first choice, but she is complicated. I want to go with someone who is not trying to get with this." He gestures down his body.

I smile. "That might be hard to do." I let out a dramatic sigh.

"I never said it would be easy. But please, try your hardest. I just don't go giving up to anybody who tries." He winks and I poke him in his side.

"Now don't go thinking I am a cheap date. I expect the whole shebang, flowers, dinner and dancing."

He holds up his hand, sucking in his round red cheeks. "I wouldn't think anything less would do. Shall we?" He offers me his arm and I loop it through his. We are joined by Roxie, who loops her arm with Third's other arm. We are like a really dysfunctional version of _Three's Company._
June  
I am Broken...

### Chapter 25.  
Goodbye

It has been a few weeks since I caught Barbie in Third's bed. That tightness on my chest has not loosened up, but actually feels tighter each day. Like I am having a panic attack; I feel like I can never get enough air in my lungs. I'm sound like desperate high school girl. I should not be pouting like a little girl over someone who did not return my feelings. The odds of high school relationships working out are probably like one in a billion. And I now have Katie who has discarded her sweater and sits in a very thin cami. I should be excited. Her hips rock slowly back and forth as she bites on my ear. My shirt lies on the floor as she explores my stomach. She rakes her nails down my chest. I try to be here in the moment and pay attention to what reaction from my body Katie is going for. But the image of Barbie keeps popping into my head. She had her arm looped in Third's. They were with that weird chick, who I guess they hang out with now. But Barbie... I was frozen watching her. She had her head tilted slightly back, the way she does when she finds something really funny. Her hair was in those damn braids that drive me crazy. She seemed really happy. Not that I didn't want her to be happy. No matter what had happened between us, I am not one of those assholes who would want her to be miserable because we are broken up. She just seemed to get over me so quickly. Hell, maybe there was nothing for her to get over. I wanted to be the one to make her laugh. I hated the possessive feeling that washed over me as I watched her. I shake my head, trying to focus on Katie who is leaning over me in her bed, giving me a full view of her cleavage.

Katie brought me home after the first night we hung out. She had no hesitation at introducing me to her parents. She wanted me to be a part of her life. No secrets. Her parents are strangely okay with her having a guy in her bedroom with the door shut. When she tried that at my house, my mom lost her wig. She sat us down, handing out pamphlets on STDs and teen pregnancy.

"What's wrong?" She pulls away.

_You're not her._ "Nothing, I am just tired," I lie.

She scoots off me, pouting. "You are a teenage boy. I am your half-naked girlfriend. And you are tired?" She grabs her sweater off the back of the chair and begins to button it up. "You are thinking of her," she accuses.

Yes, and dreaming about her, and obsessing over what she is doing, and who she is with. Maybe I am turning into one of those weird stalkers. Hell, the other day I went to the candy store and bought a bag of cotton candy just so I could smell her. It was all wrong, too sweet. I grab for my shirt and pull it on. I need to get a grip. "No, really I'm just tired." I rub the palms of my hands over my face.

"I don't believe you." Her lip trembles. A girl crying is my Kryptonite.

I pull her to my chest. "I have not been getting a lot of sleep because I have been thinking how I am going to ask you to the prom," I lie. "It is stressing me out. Nothing I can come up with seems to suffice." I give her a cocky grin, the one that used to work on Barbie. It would always make her try to kiss it off my face to see if she could get out of me why I was smiling. I was only smiling to get that reaction out of her. "Really," I nod.

She jumps on me, wrapping her legs around my waist. "Oh Dylan," as she kisses me frantically. "You don't have to do anything special, just ask," she places her mouth on mine.

I set her back on the bed, breaking the kiss. I quickly ask her to the prom before she starts to pout, "Katie, will you go to the prom with me?"

She squeals. "Yes," and tackles me again kissing my face over and over again.

Kissing Katie is not bad. Hell if Barbie wasn't haunting me, it would be more than not bad. My heart doesn't feel like it is going to explode, though, my body doesn't feel like it has electricity pulsing through it when I kiss her. I don't have the hunger to keep kissing her. I don't feel like I am drowning. This is what normal feels like. This is what it is supposed to be, not some twisted obsession.

### Chapter 26.  
Innocent

When Tyler announced on Friday he was having the Epic party of the year at his house Saturday night, he was not kidding. I make my way through the sea of people at the house party. A game of beer pong is going on Tyler's father's white pool table, I watch as brown liquid spills onto the white felt from a red cup. A club mix spills out of a sound system over the noise of people.

"Hey, doll," a heavy arm drapes over my shoulders. I fight the urge to shrug it off.

"Why, Tyler! Just the man I was looking for," I turn and look up at his face, batting my eye lashes at him.

"What can I do for you?" An easy smile slips on his face. I give him a knowing smile in return. "I knew you would get tired of playing Dungeons and Dragons with the nerd and come looking for a real man to fulfill your needs."

"Oh yes, my womanly needs, and you know how to fulfill them," I say sarcastically.

"Better than the dork can." He leans down so his face is close to mine. The stench of liquor from him is strong. I shrug his arm off. "How about you go and get yourself a drink and come find me, when you can no longer hold back the urge to rip my clothes off." He winks at me.

_Arggh._ I should turn and leave. Tonight is not going to end well, with my old demons are lurking in the background.

"Tell the beer gardener that I sent you, no charge." He says before disappearing into the crowd of people. Yeah, right, like that is going to happen. I usually fill my cup with water or a Coke. Nobody has to know that I prefer not to drink. I have been around drunk people a little too much for my liking to become one of them. It is not like I have never had a drink before. I would just rather not go there.

"Holy shirt boobage!" Roxie comes up behind me. "That outfit is hot!" I had put on my shortest skirt and tightest top. I came here for a purpose. I thought I was okay, but my time with Dylan had opened something in me, something I wanted to numb. I want to go back to not feeling anything at all again.

"You want a drink? It is on me," I offer.

"I thought you would never ask." She loops her arm in mine. People glance at us before looking away quickly when they catch my eye. We must be an odd sight. As we walk outside, I am in my stripper attire, and Roxie has on her long black dress that brushes the floor she walks.

"Is Third here?" We are in the line to the keg. I am starting to feel like this was a bad idea. Third can usually talk me out of a disaster which I am about to get into. I am as antsy as I was at home. The ache in my chest is still here. I just want it to go away.

"Yeah, he is around. Can you believe that this is only the second time in his life he has been to a party?" She shakes her head as we shuffle forward. My stomach flutters with nerves.

I should just leave now. All I want is something to numb me. I am bound to do something I will regret later on. I am about to tell this to Roxie when I feel like I have been hit in the gut. I grab my middle like I have really been hit. Dylan is here! Dylan is wearing my favorite _Spiderman_ hugging tee with his old faded jeans. His brown, messy hair falls into his eyes. It almost covers his deep brown eyes. He is wearing that cocky smile that says he is up to no good. Seeing him wear it for her is what is killing me. My mother's words flood back into my head. _'You will never be good enough for him... He will never love you...'_ I turn away just as he leans in to her. I don't want to see any more. I don't want to feel anything. Numb is all I want to feel. I push into people, trying to put as much distance between me and Dylan. I ignore Roxie's calls to me. I need to get out of here. This is what was supposed to happen. He is supposed to be with her., He was meant to be with someone like her. I helped him get the girl of his dreams, so why should I be upset? I knew what we had would not, could not be real. It could never last. We are from two different worlds. How could I let myself forget that? He did not trust me. I push into a Goth guy with piercing blue eyes, spilling his beer down the front of his black shirt.

"Hey, you okay there?" he grabs on to my elbow, trying to steady me. I yank my arm away, I am anything but okay.

I am in the kitchen. I push in front of a girl who waits in line to take a shot of amber liquor.

"Hey!" she yells at me.

I ignore her.

"Tyler sent me," I gasp at Bubba, a linebacker from Central. He still wears his red and white jersey from practice. He gives me a knowing smile and hands me a shot glass of the same amber liquid. I toss my head back and hand him back the glass, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Whoa, girl," he smirks, but fills it again. I repeat the process, downing six glasses. The girl I cut gives up on waiting and storms out. My body is warm, and I salute Bubba as I walk away feeling fuzzy. I make my way through Tyler's huge house. It should be a crime for someone to be this rich. If I was rich, I would give money to everyone I met. I let a giggle escape my mouth as I climb the stairs. I push open the doors of random rooms. Shouts erupt from a room where two girls and a guy are having a make out session. I laugh, "Excuse me," I shut the door. I continue on my mission, I begin to mimic the music to spy movies on my way down the hallway, _do, do, do, do, DUNG ah nun_! At least that's how I think it goes. I open a smoke-filled bedroom. "Shut the door!" a guy with long, red hair barks as he inhales something that is not a cigarette. Tyler sits in a chair in the corner. I should probably thank him for the whiskey. Besides, he might help intensify this numbing that has finally begun to travel up my body. I smile and shut the door behind me.

### Chapter 27.  
Savior

This place is packed. I am nervous walking in, but if there is one thing I learned from Barbie, it is to act confidently when you want to tuck in your tail and run. I need to find her, talk to her, make things right, and tell her I don't care about what happened. I can forgive her, and we can then move forward. I love her. I know that now. I just hope it is not too late.

I need to find Barbie. I am not even sure that she is here. There is a good chance she showed up because everyone and their mothers are at this party. A group of girls who look a lot like Katie's friends are dancing with each other.

"Dylan!" Katie waves her hand above the group of dancing girls. _Great_. I was trying to avoid her. She pushes forward. Her hair is in a frizzy pony tail and pieces coming loose. Her cardigan is crooked and unbuttoned, revealing her cleavage. "I was hoping you would change your mind and show up." She sways a little. She is drunk. I never thought of her as a girl who would get drunk off cheap beer at a house party.

"Hey, Katie," I kiss her cheek. "Have you seen Barbie?"

She scrunches up her face, "Why ya want to find her? When I am right here," she throws her hands in the air like she is a prize.

"I need to give her something back from when we were together," I lie.

Katie stumbles forward, spilling beer on us. "Oopsie," she laughs.

I roll my eyes. What did I ever see in her?

"Hey, wait." She drapes her arms around my neck. "I am really drunk and I really want to make out with you." She whispers in my ear in slurred tone.

I grab her hand and pry her off me. "I really need to find Barbie first, and then I will be back." She pouts, but lets me go.

I search everywhere for her. She is definitely here. She has been spotted by several party goers. I ignore the anger rising in me when Randy says, "Hell, yeah, I saw her. That girl was looking banging tonight! No wonder you hitting that. Hey, do you mind if I tap that?"

I see her stumble forward, laughing. She is drunk, too. Her black mini- skirt is riding up her ripped, fishnet-covered thigh. "Go to Hell!" I shove past Randy. My stomach clenches as Tyler grabs her elbow, steadying her. She throws her head back in a laugh, and pats him on the chest. I need to break this up before she does something I will regret.

"Barbie." I call as I make my way to her. She spins around, her hair whipping around her. She reminds me of a wild fairy that you see on postcards. I grab her other unoccupied elbow to lead her away. "Why don't I take you home?" I suggest in a low voice.

"Why don't you go home?" Tyler snarls.

"Why don't you go to Hell?" I clench my fist.

"Don't you get it loser? She doesn't want you anymore. She came to find herself a real man," Tyler smiles, taunting me. I raise my clenched fist, but before I can punch him in the face, Barbie bursts out laughing, pointing to me and then to Tyler,

"You are just like Darth Vader," she pokes Tyler in the chest. I have to admit I fall a little bit more in love with her at that moment. But then she turns to me. "And you are like that little green guy." She is laughing so hard that she to hold onto both mine and Tyler's shoulders for support.

Ouch. That did hurt. "Okay, let's get you out of here," I wrap my arm around her waist.

She straightens up. "Who do you think you are? My father? Well, let me tell you something, Buster..." she shoves me. She is strong for a girl, making me stumble backward. "That asshole bailed on me when I was a baby. I ain't looking for a new daddy. Got it?" She turns to leave. She drinks the remainder of her drink before dropping it to the floor. "Let's dance," she yells, throwing her hands in the air, and shaking her head from side to side.

I spend the next two hours watching her dance with Tyler who feeds her cup after cup of beer. I know I am now just a stalker but I am not going to let Tyler get what he thinks she is going to give him. This sucks. I hate seeing him touch her. But if I leave her, I know what will happen. So, I can't. Barbie stumbles and I go rigid, but Tyler catches her and leads her over to a love seat. He makes a couple in a heavy petting contest get up and take their game of who can hold their breaths longer go elsewhere. I make my way over. I am tempted to throw her over my shoulder while beating on my chest to take her away. Bracing for a fight, I tell Tyler, "I am taking her home." He looks up at me blinking, and then shrugs. "She is too sloppy anyway. I like them tipsy but not this tipsy. They have to be able to remember me and tell their friends just how amazing I was." He gets up, and I want to deck him. He blends into the crowd. Looking for a new willing victim.

"Come on, Angel," I reach down to take her hand.

"No." she swats my hand away. "You think you are so much better than me." Her red-rimmed eyes narrow into slits. "Well...well...you are." she crumples into herself and begins to sob. I pick her up. She doesn't fight me this time. She grabs a fistful of my shirt and sobs into it. I hold her tighter.

Roxie and Third are in the kitchen. When Barbie sees Third, she sobs and wiggles out of my arms to get away from me. She wraps her arms around his neck like he is her savior. Jealousy flares in my chest.

"Hey. Hey," he soothes her, patting down her hair. "It's okay."

She shakes her head, buried in his meaty arms. Her friend shoots me a death glare. "What did you do to her?" she snarls.

"Nothing." I don't want to piss her off anymore, so I avoid her eyes. I can barely make out Barbie's words over the party noise.

"I lost him forever. No one will ever love me."

Third wraps his arm around her waist, supporting her. "Nah, it's not that bad Bee," he coos to her. My chest burns with an ache for her to confess these deep wounds to me, for me to be her confidant.

"I can never be with him. I am just too fucked up," and she collapses. Third picks her up like she is a doll.

"Okay. I got you now." He looks at me, hatred burns in his eyes. The feeling is so mutual.

"Let's get her out of here." Roxie says by his side.

I follow them outside, "I will take her," I manage, my voice breaking.

"Yeah. I don't think so, pervert! Who knows what things you will try to do to her in this state? Besides, doesn't your new girlfriend need you back inside?" Venom drips in her words. Who the hell does this girl think she is?

"I am not going to hurt her!" I seethe. "I would never hurt her." We glare at each other.

"Where are you parked?" Third asks, not making eye contact with me.

"What?" Roxie shrieks. "You cannot be serious."

"Right over here." I lead them to my truck and open the passenger side door.

Third slides her in. She grips his shirt tightly. "I love him, Third."

Third reaches over and buckles her up. "I know you do, Bee." He shuts the door and finally looks at me. For some reason, I can't make eye contact with him. I stare at my shoes. "She is pretty screwed up." We both knew that. "She deserves better." Another obvious statement.

"I know that." Now I look up at him. His blue eyes are trying to read me. I am not sure what to say, so I just nod as if to thank him.

"I didn't do this for you, you know"

Roxie has her arms across her chest, but she doesn't object as I drive off. I need to take care of Barbie.

I drive around aimlessly, not knowing where to go. I first thought about taking her back to my house. But how would I sneak a drunken girl up the stairs without being caught? Mom has been hyper- aware of my doings since she caught me and Katie in that awkward moment. So I just drive. Barbie is curled into a ball, leaning against the window. Every once in a while, she lets out a little whimper, tears slipping through her closed eyelids. I reach out to try to comfort her, but bring my hand back and hold on tightly to the steering wheel. Somewhere between Colorado and Roosevelt Street, she starts to talk again.

"I just want to be good enough for him." She must still think she is talking to Third . I don't know what to say. "He deserves better." I can no longer remain silent.

"Barbie, you are good enough. Actually you are better than me." I think about how she took care of Third or the way she is so patient with Everett. Although I know nothing about her home, I have a feeling it is pretty screwed up. She faces all of this. She does not have it any easier at school. Names are whispered behind her back. No friends. I might not have a lot, but I always had Third to confide in. Who does she have? I could not face that every day. She is the strongest person I know.

She shakes her head. "I cannot compete with her. She is smart, and pretty. She has perfect hair." She sobs again, louder.

"No. You are all of those things, and much more."

I pull over into the park that I dropped Barbie and Everett off at before, and put my truck into park. "You are so much more, Barbie." I unbuckle and scoot across the bench seat to pull her into my arms. I want to make everything better for her. I want to take away my harsh words from her. I want to make us better. "But she has perfect, natural red hair." She looks up at me with watery, reddened eyes.

"But you have this long blond hair that you don't mind if I mess up." I lace my finger in it.

She hiccups. "God, I want to mess up your hair," I say. "And these lips that drive me crazy and you smell like cotton candy. I love cotton candy," I tell her.

"I like cotton candy, too." She hiccups before cuddling into my side. I run my finger over her shoulder loving the feel of her soft skin. Are all girls this soft? Her breathing slows down to an even beat and I love the sound of it. Maybe we can fix this.

### Chapter 28.  
Serenity

3:29. the green numbers blink at me. I stiffen for a moment wondering whose car I am in. Whose arms I'm wrapped in? The smell of fresh cut grass and his shampoo fill the cab. He holds me close to his chest. His breathing is heavy. I want to stay with him, let him hold me. Let this feeling of happiness hold me. I can't, it is false. He felt guilty for the downward spiral he saw me take.

I will never be a part of his life we are too different, too much hurt has passed between us. I sit up letting his hand drop behind me, he moans. I slip out of his lap, and carefully open the door to his truck. We are parked on the side of a seven eleven. My head pounds. I was stupid last night I let my emotion get the best of me. I let Tyler fill we with a false sense of serenity. I am stronger than that.

Dylan does not try to talk to me at school the following Monday. It was as if nothing happened that night. His arm is draped over Katie's shoulders. A stab of pain runs through me.

"You are staring."

I slam my locker shut. "I am not," I protest.

"Yeah, then how come you look like you are about to ball?" Roxie asks. "Screw this; it's time for some hair braiding and gut spilling." She pulls me in to the nearest bathroom.

"But you said..."

She shakes her head. "I know what I said Barbie there is something you should know about me. I am a pathological liar," she says no remorse in her tone. "Now spill."

I take a deep breath, "I still care about him. It is driving me crazy. The other day when I woke up in his arms... I thought I could be stronger than this, but it kills me seeing him with her and I am the one that helped push them together." Roxie hops onto the counter. I spill everything to Roxie, the tutoring, how I was pretending to be his girlfriend, the feeling that quickly developed, and since I am having a therapy session, I confess to her about my mother, Ronnie, how we stay at Mrs. Sophie's most nights, about getting sick and staying at Third's. She is quiet for a while. "I am pretty effed up. Huh?" I blow my nose for like the fifteenth time.

She hops down, "Pssh. Have you met me? Hi, effed up is my middle name," she re-applies her black lipstick in the mirror. "You just sound like a girl who got a bad hand dealt to her; you had your heart broken when you let your guard down. It happens to the best of us."

I hug her. "Thank you," I choke.

"For what?" she pats me on my back.

"For listening. I never had a girlfriend before."

She pats me on the back "Let's not go jumping to conclusions." But she tightens the hug.

***

I spin in front of the mirror. "I can't believe it is me." I am wearing a vintage nineteen fifties butter-cream colored tulle dress; it falls just below my knees. I found some pale blue ribbon in Mrs. Sophie's old crafting stuff, and tied it around my waist.

"You look beautiful, Baby Doll," my mother is standing in the doorway.

"Thanks." I sit down on the bed.

She comes over and starts fingering my hair. "You look just like you daddy."

I wouldn't know. I've never even seen a picture of the man. He ran out before my momma could utter the words pregnant. "Did you love him?" I suddenly want to know.

"Who, your daddy?"

I shake my head yes wanting her to say yes so bad. "You can't call what your daddy and I had love... We had fun though, and I got you out of it my beautiful baby doll." Did my mother not see what everyone else saw, a lost scared girl, trying like hell to be strong? I absently tuck the pink strip of hair behind my ear. True love does not exist. "Here let me help you with your hair," she takes the brush off the night stand and starts to brush at my hair. Her hands shake.

"I don't ever think you have ever done this before," I say. I close my eyes enjoying the feeling of her taking care of me. She stops and I lean against her and she pulls me into a weak hug. She smells like dove soap and cigarettes. I wonder who my mother would be if her momma stayed. It is hard to imagine her any other way than this. When I was little I would imagine a life were she would make us chocolate chip cookies and walk us to the bus stop. That fantasy was quickly broken, when I found Everett crying on the floor as a baby and she was passed out next to him. I sit up letting go once again.

"There you go," she pins the pink strip behind my ear. "I have something for you," she gets up and leaves the room. I go back to the mirror to take one last look. I slip on the blue pep toe pumps I found at goodwill. My hair falls in loose waves around my shoulders. I decided to wear only a bit of shimmery gold powder on my eyes and a clear lip gloss.

My mother returns and holds out a thin silver bracelet, three small green stones are set in it. "It was your grandmother's; you don't know how many times I got close to pawning it." She drops it into my hand. "Now you keep it. Hell, maybe you'll be able to resist selling it better than me." I take the bracelet stunned; I never had anything from my family. I've never met anyone of them. I feel like I hold a part of me I never knew existed.

Third is the first friend I have ever brought to my house. He stands in my yellowing kitchen. He has on a powder blue suit tuxedo with a white ruffled shirt. I told Third my dress was vintage, I guess he decided to go vintage too. I love it. "You look great," I say.

He smiles, no more gold teeth. "I thought you would like it."

I pin on the white carnation boutonniere on his jacket. My mother snaps pictures of us with Mrs. Cruz's camera. Ronnie sits at the table sipping on his beer. "Mom, you are going to bring Everett over to Mrs. Sophie's at six, right." I fret. Everett sits on the carpet holding a plane he built from Legos. Some lady from the church picked her up for bingo night. I hated to leave Everett, but he would be okay for an hour. It is only an hour. "Well we better get going" I say to Third. He follows me into the leaving room. "Evie, I am going to prom," I say. He looks up at me and touches the delicate fabric. "Third is taking me, can you believe it? Me at the prom," I say kissing his blond head.

"Hey what's up little man" Third holds out his fist for Everett to bump. Everett brings his small fist to Third's and I cannot help but smile. I am going to be okay.

Third pulls the minivan into 'Bennie's Burgers' and parks. "Wow you shouldn't have," I say dryly.

"I know my mom made these stupid reservations for this fancy restaurant, but I wanted to take you somewhere special to me. I hope you don't mind." He looks at his hands

"This is perfect, really sweet," I smile at him.

"Really?" he asks wide-eyed like a little puppy

"Really, now get out and open my door," I say.

I would have loved to go to a fancy restaurant; I have never been to one before, but Bennie's is awesome, their slogan is if you can dream it we can make it. We ordered regular cheeseburger and fries. I got a large strawberry shake and a coke.

"This is so good," I say around a mouth full of juicy burger.

"Heaven," he replies, and he might just be right.

### Chapter 29.  
Confessions

I pull at the bow tie; it feels like it is strangling me. Perspiration beads on my forehead, I wipe at it with the back of my hand. "Are you feeling okay?" Katie says between a tight lip smile. We have been posing in Katie's front yard by the flowers, me behind her, her alone, her with all her friends.

"Linda, why don't we let these kids get on?" Mr. Bloom says with a smooth southern accent.

She gives him a mechanical smile. I cringe. "Of course, dear," she says coldly. Mrs. Bloom kisses Katie and then me on the check. I shiver from her cold lips.

"Now son, you take care of my daughter I expect you to be a complete gentleman to my little girl." Mr. Bloom says. His teeth are so white they hurt my eyes.

"Daddy, Dylan is always a complete gentleman with me," Katie says giving him a hug.

He chuckles, "Can't blame me for looking out for my little princess."

The limo is cool and I silently thank god, because I feel like I am going to pass out. Katie slides in next to me; her long-gloved hand reaches for mine. "Are you sure you feel okay, Baby? You look like you are about to puke," Katie brows furrow.

"I got the cure for that," Tyler pulls out a shiny flask. Cheers from a few of the other girls' dates fill the cab. I take the flask, my stomach roiling against the heat from the liquor that hits it.

"Didn't we take enough pictures," I complain. Katie pulls me over to the black and metallic blue balloon arch.

"This is our junior prom it only happens once," she says shortly.

I have dreamed for so long to be here with her, and here I am annoyed and in a bad mood. "You're right, I am sorry." I kiss her check, and stand and pose for more pictures.

I follow Katie around while she smiles and talks to her friends. "Let's dance," I don't give her a chance to answer I pull her out to the dance floor. I wrap my arms around her and we sway to a slow song. Katie sighs and leans her head on my chest.

"This is nice," she says. Is that my problem that this is nice and I am so used to the unexpected with Barbie that I am jaded against anything normal? I pull Katie closer. I want normal.

"This is nice." I agree, nice and normal. I pull her in and kiss her, she responds to me kissing me back. Jasmine fills my head and the sickening feeling is back. I hear her laugh before I see her. I can't move, as I watch Third twirl her around. He dips her low and she laughs. She looks different. Not like Katie in her slinky blue dress or her cream puff friends. Barbie looks classic like she was a cover model in the fifties. She wears a yellow dress, it hugs her waist and flows out around her hips, and a blue satin ribbon is wrapped around her waist. Her hair is in soft waves that frame her heart shaped face, she is beautiful.

"I don't feel good." I storm off the floor pulling Katie behind me.

"We have been sitting here all night," Katie whines. "Is this because of Barbie?" Katie crosses her arms across her chest.

"No. I already told you I don't feel good," I snap. I watch Barbie across the room. She is dancing with Roxie who looks like she is at a Halloween party and not prom. I have not been able to take my eyes off her. I am not jealous anymore of Third. He can touch her all she wants. Heat rises in me, as I watch him snake his hands around her waist from behind her.

"I am going to dance." Katie stands up and stomps off in the direction of her cream puff friends. Good. Barbie has her arms around Third's neck now; he leans in and whispers in her ear. Too close, my feet are moving without me thinking.

"Can I talk to you?" I lean in to say to her, the smell of sugar enveloping me. I breathe in deep.

"What's up bro?" Third's voice sounds threatening.

"Please." I try again.

"Fine. Third, do you mind?" she asks. She will not look at me.

Third shrugs, "Sure, Roxie wanna dance?" He asks Morticia.

I follow her outside the back of the school. She walks fast, upset. I want to pull her to me, tell her how wrong I have been. That I need her, I need her more than I ever needed anything before. I need her to breathe.

"What do you want to say, Dylan." Her back is facing me.

"I am sorry." It is weak, but it is all I have. "I was so wrong."

She spins; her eyes are watery, "For what, the truth? You were right we don't belong together, we are too different." Her chest heaves.

"I was wrong, we do belong together...we can work this out." 

### Chapter 30.  
Last Kiss

My heart pounds hard there is a lump growing in my throat. His dark eyes look into mine. I can see the hurt in them and I want to take it away for him. But I cannot anymore. I am the one that put it there. He was right, we do not belong together, and now he wants to take it back. But you can't take back the truth. I shake my head, the tears fall. He pulls me to him.

"Don't." I say going limp against him. My body has been aching for so long for him to touch me. Knowing we cannot be together only makes the ache intensify, and the pain of the truth stings with each breath.

"I have been going crazy watching you, wanting to touch you. Needing to speak to you." He says into my hair. "I need to touch you," he runs his hand down my arm.

A shiver runs up my arm. I want him to touch me again.

"I overreacted. What ever happened I can forget. We can we can move on," he says desperately.

My sadness is replaced with anger. I want to hit him. "Nothing happed. You didn't even give me a chance to explain," I yell. I let my anger push me forward. I walk away from him watching the lightning shatter the night sky.

"I know I was an ass, said things I regret saying. It is not an excuse, but I was just so damn mad I could not think clear. All I was thinking was that you were mine and he touched you. You never let me into your world and you let Third in." he drops his head in his hands. "I know I don't deserve a second chance, but—"

I am so angry my body shakes. I cut him off. "Do you know why I never invited you in my world, Dylan? I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed that sometimes I can't go home because my mom is too trashed." My body shakes from the tears that fall, "That my mom's boyfriend hits on me and it makes me sick. How do I tell you those things?" My shoulders slump defeated. "I was embarrassed...when I was with you, you made me forget." Tears fall and I want to run "I just wanted to keep you separate..."

He closes the space between us grabbing my hands "I would have understood you should have trusted me. What we had—"

"Was fake!" I cut him off and pull away so he cannot see me coming undone.

"Maybe in the beginning, but it is real. What I feel for you is real. What you feel for me..."

My heart aches and the ever present wound on my heart opens again and bleeds. Why can't things be simple? He intertwines his finger with mine. Electricity runs over my body. My body reacts when my heart and mind are screaming to run. I turn to him and let him wrap his arms around me again. "Dylan...we can't," I say breathless.

He leans his forehead on mine, his breath intermingles with mine and we breathe as one. "Why?" he asks just as breathless. My body aches for him. I want to fall into him. I want to feel every cell of mine touched by the electricity that is licking my skin where he touches me. "Barbie I love you," and with those simple words I am exposed, ripped open for the whole world to see. How could he love me? With everything that happened, how? My head spins, I feel like I might be lost at any moment. I can't breathe; my chest tightens threatening to strangle the life out of me. "Barbie?" Dylan grips my elbows and I am so thankful because I don't think I can support myself anymore. He guides me to the ground. I grip on to the grass trying to anchor myself to the world. "Are you okay?" Concern laces his words, "Maybe I should go get someone." He starts to get up.

"No," I grab his arm. "I am okay." I look into his eyes, worry deep in the vertex of brown. "Please take back your words," I plead. I need him to; I need to go back to not caring to feel numb.

"What?" he looks as if I slapped him.

"Please."

He shakes his head, "I am not taking it back, Barbie. I love you."

Tears burn down my cheek, I can't have him love me, and I cannot love someone else. I am too damaged and he deserves so much more.

He grabs my face forcing me to look at him. "I am sorry for what I put you through I was wrong."

I came to terms with the fact he could never fit in my life; there is no spot for him. Why can't he. He kisses me, his mouth on mine. Filling me up, I feel like I am going to explode and the world around me shatters.

***

I run. I couldn't stand to have him touch me a single second more. The raw emotion coursing through me propels me forward. I push open the gym door searching for Third. I need to get out of here. Students move together in a slow rhythm of a dance as I push through them. Sweat beads at my back. I feel claustrophobic as if the world might close in on me at any moment.

I find Third. He is locked in an embrace with Roxie, kissing on the dance floor. Her long black hair covering them, his tacky powder-blue arms are wrapped around her. I push past them and run out the front of the door. Thunder crashes above me threatening to rain. I take deep gulps of the humid air; it sticks to my lungs in a thick coating. How could things get so screwed up? One moment I was dancing and having a good time, trying to forget about Dylan, and in the next moment I am desperately trying to escape his confession of love. I cannot have him in my life. I cannot care about him that way. He belongs with Katie not me. When high school ends he will go on onto college, become something great. Marry Katie and have the perfect life. And me...I will leave, take Everett away from this place. It starts to rain mixing with my salty tears. I will not ask him to give up on his chance at life for me. My life is already set in stone, and if I really love him, I will let him go. I walk down the sidewalk, my hair dripping with the rain. Each breath I take is a stabbing pain. A reminder of what I am losing. I want to collapse on the sidewalk and crawl into the fetal position and just cry.

I stop in front of my house and take in the picture. The stark difference between Dylan life and mine. The peeling gray paint, a loose shutter swaying in the wind. The overgrown patches of weeds in the front yard, the gate rusting. I want to turn and run. Run back to Dylan, I want to not care if I am with him or what happens. I force myself to go inside. I want my mother, I want her to hold me, tell me that everything will be okay. I leave my shoes by the door, my wet slick feet slide on the floor. The house is lit up like a damn Christmas tree, every light is on.

"Momma," I call my voice soar from crying. She does not answer. The ache in my chest is replaced by nausea, something is wrong.

The TV is playing the evening news, the volume is up loud, and the anchor woman is talking in a high- pitched voice about drugs in high schools. I turn down the volume, when I see her sitting in the corner of the couch. Her knees are bobbing up and down frantically. She takes a drag from her cigarette flicking the ashes absentmindedly on to the floor.

"Momma what's wrong?" her head snaps in my direction. I feel like I have been hit in the stomach, I take a sharp breath. Her eye is swollen purple, a thin line of blood trickles from her nose.

"Barbie." Her eyes go in and out of focus.

I run to her, "What the hell happened? Did he do this to you?" The color red blurs my vision. I am going to kill him.

She brings her hand to her eye fingering the sensitive skin around her eye where a bruise is forming. "He didn't mean to," she sobs.

Of course they never mean to, it is always her fault when she gets hit. "I was stupid," she reaches for another cigarette out of the white and green package, lighting it up. "I shouldn't be getting in the way. He is just doing the right thing." She takes a deep drag and I try to make sense of her ramblings. She focuses on me. "He's got to learn somehow." Her words make no sense.

"Momma, what are you talking about?" My stomach lurches and my anger quickly turns into panic. "Where is Everett?" I ask.

She looks at me blinking.

"Mom. Where is Everett?" I scream.

She glances down the hall and back at me. Shit. I dart up and she grabs my arm.

"You can't," she says. "No you can't! I am going to kill that asshole." I yank my arm out of her grasp and run down the hall. I don't know if she follows me, but something happens to my body. I feel like I am in a dream. My whole body relaxes, and it is if I move in slow motion, seeing each precise movement. Everything is clear. I cannot feel anything, I don't recognize my feet. I am floating. I turn the door knob to the shut room. Ronnie stands over someone huddled in the corner, his arm raised, a metal hanger in his hand. The world snaps into motion speeding up, and anger courses through me and I want to kill him, make him bleed. I want to see his life drain out of him. I grab the hanger pulling it back, he stumbles backward.

The smell of liquor is strong on his breath, and his eyes are bloodshot A gleam with amusement dart around them, when he sees me, "You want to play little girl?" He taunts me. The cold metal snaps across my face, a sting I cannot feel, my hand automatically goes to my cheek feeling the raised hot skin. "I will teach you a lesson just like I taught your little retard brother," he smiles at me.

Everett. Everett. Oh god Everett, my stomach drops. He is huddled in the corner, red welts raised on his skin; his blue eyes lock on mine. Guilt washes over me. I left him. I left him for what, so I could be a normal teenager for the night. Was it worth it? I hate Ronnie doing this. I hate my mother for letting this happen, but most of all I hate myself for leaving him.

The sting of the metal hits me across the face again. Bringing me back to reality, "I am going to fucking kill you," I lunge at him, raking my nails down his face. There is screaming I do not know if it comes from him or me, perhaps it comes from my mother who watches with a horrified expression. I swing my fist as hard as I can to make contact with whatever I can manage. I don't get many in before he slams me into the wall, his heavy body presses against mine, and digs his shoulder into my chest I cannot breathe. I kick at him my toes screaming with every hit. His big meaty hand reaches up cupping my face. And my head is slammed against the wall. The room sways and a shooting pain shoots across my skull. I scratch and pull at anything I can grab. He releases me and I slide down the wall, hitting the floor hard.

"Ronnie, come on let's get out of here, baby!" My mother pleads with him. He pushes her onto the bed snapping her head back with a sickening motion.

"Not until I teach this little bitch to show some respect." He spits and begins to unbuckle his belt. I try to scout over to where Everett lies still warped in a ball.

I hear a sickening slap, and then he kicks me in my stomach. I don't know how many times he kicks me I lose count and stop trying to get up after the second one. "You little whore I am going to kill you and enjoy every moment of It." he spits in my face. His hand wraps around my hair and I am yanked up my feet. I try to stop the searing pain in my head and get to my feet, but he pulls hard and I am being dragged backward down the hall, he slams my face into the wall dragging it along the wall to the kitchen. "You think you are so much better than me don't you?" he slams my back onto the corner of the counter. The room tilts side to side. _That's funny_. "You scared my face, you, now I am going to do the same to yours." He slams my face into the edge of the counter. Everything goes black.

I wake. I am lying on the floor. My vision has a gray haze around it. I watch Ronnie's heavy motorcycle boots stomp on the floor. He opens drawers dumping their contents onto the floor. He is going to kill me. I close my eyes and remember Dylan. I want to remember the ones I love before I die. I think about Dylan and our last kiss, how electricity ran through me. How happy I was when we were together. I think about my mother, how she brushed my hair, the warm feeling I had lying against her. Then I think of Everett his blue eyes looking at me as if to say you left me, how could you have left me.

I force my eyes open. I cannot leave him, not again. Never again. The room rocks as I struggle to get up. My mother is saying something to Ronnie, I cannot hear her. There is a loud ringing that has started in my ears. Ronnie shrugs my mother off.

I crawl on my hands and knees slipping on something wet. Something else crashes and my whole body spasms. I have to get to Everett. I bite down the scream on my lip as I try to get to my feet. My body protests with each slow step I take. Something hits the wall hard shaking it and my mother screams. I don't have time to go back to her I have to get Everett first. I wipe at my blurry eyes with my hand, it comes away with a sticky red liquid on them.

Everett lies in the corner. "Evie," I whisper. "Come on bud, we got to get out of here." I plead afraid I cannot get him to safety. Ronnie might kill me tonight but I will be damned if he is going to hurt Everett ever again. My head hurts and I think I am going to be sick. _Please God don't let me pass out._ "Come on bud," I plead touching his small body. I try to pick him up, but my ribs scream in protest when I try to stand.

Heavy feet crash down the hall and Ronnie is shouts my name. I ignore every protesting bone and pick up Everett, my baby. Ronnie is almost at the door. I pull open the heavy window and drop Everett down to the hard ground below and slip out behind him. I fall down next to him. I bite down on my lip until I taste copper, holding in the scream of pain back and the bile that burns in my throat.

The bedroom door slamming against the wall is followed by a series of curses coming out the window. I am up, Everett in my arms. I have to get him out of here. I can hear Ronnie calling my name as I stumble down the street. Each step sends a sharp stabbing of pain in my head. The streets are slick from the recent rain, lightning lights up the distance skies.

Mrs. Sophie's house is dark; she must have gone to bed. I lay Everett down under her hedge next to her front door. "Don't move." It is not big enough to cover the both of us. It will keep him hidden from Ronnie. I start stumbling, I need to get help. I need to keep Ronnie away from Everett. I can hear his heavy footsteps behind me, and the taunt of my name on his lips. I need to lead him as far away from Everett as I can. I hear a sickening thump, I fall down, and the world goes black. _Black. I am falling into black nothingness_. Blue flashing lights. _Black_. A soft cooing sound. _Black._

### Chapter 31.  
Desperate

I take the back of the camera off. I have been working on it for some time now. Last night I couldn't go back into the dance it seemed juvenile, not important. I walked to my grandpa's farm and looked through all the photos in the barn. Barbie's words crashing into me. Why did I give a shit what these fucking people thought? I carried a box of old pictures and the old cameras back home. I spent the night pinning up each picture on my wall. It felt good, like I was doing something for my grams memory, and a statement to Barbie to prove to her and everyone else that I don't give a shit what they thought anymore, the only one that matters is her.

I can't live without her; I have to have her in my life. If she will not have me that will really suck. I can be her friend at least. I will be in her life in some way. I know she doesn't love me, but I need to be part of her life. She made me feel more alive, I was walking around in a dream and she woke me up.

I open the envelope of the newly devolved prints. I stopped off at the local Walgreens on my way home. Out spill images of Barbie and my breath hitches, her spinning around. A sultry smile playing on her lips. Her lips on my cheek. My stomach tightens. _Shit. I messed things up_. I pin each picture of her on my ceiling over my bed, even the ones of just me, because she took them and that was how she saw me.

I can't stay here; I grab my keys and bolt down the stairs. I need to clear my mind with all that happened. I need to try to come up with a plan to fix what I broke. I not only managed to chase away the girl of my dreams. I also managed to lose my best friend, okay my only real friend. I was wrong blaming Barbie and Third for my insecurities. It was easier than facing them...

***

I pull out the rusty nails from the loose boards, "Needing to work out some anger?" A deep voice says. I slam the hammer onto a nail. He chuckles, "Women, they work us up. It is what they do." I drop my hammer to my side and look at him, his checkered shirt tucked neatly into his jeans, a shiny belt buckle holding them up. "I built that room when your grandma left me," he sighs and walks over touching the wood as if it can bring him to a different time and place.

"She left you?" I ask, shocked to find out about this revelation. All my memories of my grandparents, they seemed so happy.

"Sure enough, she had this thing for Norbert Jones, sorry son of bitch." He sits down on a bale of hay.

"But, you seemed so in love." I remember when my grandmother was alive how grandpa would love to come up behind her when she was cooking and wrap his arms around her.

"Love ain't always easy," he shakes his head.

"How did you get her back?" I ask.

"I didn't. I came out here and built this room, it took me weeks. I put every hurt into it. Then I thought to myself, Bill you are going to be all right, it is going to hurt like hell, but you're going to be okay. Then she walked through those doors," he points to the barn door "Hell I thought I gone and fell of the ladder and died. She was like an angel standing there. Her long brown hair..." he shakes his head clearing the memory. He picks up a hammer, "Working with your hands is a great way to clear your head." He starts in on a nail, "It's going to hurt like hell son, it will never go away, but you are going to be okay."

***

Katie has texted relentlessly with back to back calls to my cell. What part of, "I need some time to myself," does she not understand! Shit. When I shut off my cell, then she started calling my house. I am sure when I turn on my Facebook I will have at least a dozen messages or so from her as well.

I get in the shower. My grandfather was right, it still hurts like hell, but my head is clearer, I am thinking of a plan on how to get her back. It is going to start with rebuilding my grandma's dark room. Let time settle things for a while. I wrap a towel around my waist, the phone rings again. This chick is crazy, she is going too far. I grab the receiver off the holder. "Damn it, what part of leave me alone don't you get!" I snap into the phone.

"Excuse me! Is that any way to talk to your mother young man! And who taught you to answer the phone like that?" My mother scolds me on the other end.

"Mom. No. I mean I am sorry Mom." I sigh plopping down on to my bed.

"Never Mind. Dylan I didn't call to yell at you. I am calling you about your friend Barbie..."

My chest tightens. "What?" I ask sitting back up.

"There was an accident..." I don't hear her other words my heart pounds so hard that I cannot hear anything, only the blood that is rushing through my body. "Dylan? Dylan did you hear me?" My mom's panicked voice says in the phone.

"Mom" I plead with her. "Mom please. Please tell me everything is okay." She slipped and broke her ankle in a pair of her ridiculous high heels.

"Dylan we need you to try to talk to her, she is not speaking, and the cops need to know what happened. Mrs. is on her..." I drop the phone. Pulling on whatever I can grab off the floor. My feet pound down the steps three at a time and I am running as fast as I can in the direction of the hospital. Shoes in my hand.

Mrs. Berry drives slower than molasses. She keeps reassuring me that Barbie will be okay. She tells me they think she is in a state of shock; a neighbor found her early this morning she was passed out, lying in a puddle. My stomach lurches and I think I am going to be sick right here in Mrs. Berry's Lincoln town car.

"That poor girl was pretty bloody when they found her, incoherent, who could do such a thing to a lovely girl like that." She clucks. "Her mother cannot be found so what happened is a mystery." She continues.

I am about to strangle poor Mrs. Berry if she stops at another damn yellow light.

"It's a darn shame." she rattles on, her car idling at the red light three blocks away. I hop out of her Lincoln town car and I run. Mrs. Berry is out of her car calling my name, but I don't stop running. I run through the sliding double doors ignoring the shout from the receptionist. I know this hospital with my eyes closed. I used to come and hang out with mom on her shift and I would explore every nook and cranny of this place.

Normally the cold air and the smell of disinfectant are comforting to me, but now they cause my stomach to turn threatening to bring up this morning's fruit loops. My sneakers squeak against the white and blue speckled linoleum floor. I push through another set of swinging doors. "Hey whoa." Dr. Cooper holds up his hands. I don't want to hurt the guy but I am fully prepared to deck him if he tries to stop me. "Dylan. She is over here," he nods to a dark room.

My breathing catches up with me and my chest heaves with the caught air. I start toward the room. My body moves in slow involuntary movements, I feel like I might fall over my own feet. I brace myself for what I am about to see.

I push open the door, the room is small and I feel like I am looking in on someone else's horror not my own. This is not Barbie, my mother made a mistake. I see a small figure in the bed, the bed swallowing her, she seems so small. So fragile. A machine beeps in the distance. In a chair next to the bed is Third, He has his head in his hands. He is wearing his Darth Vader tee that says, 'Who is your daddy?' and a pair of stained sweat pants. The sound of my feet on the floor causes his head to snap up. How long has he been here? Deep purple circles or present under his eyes, anger flashes in them.

"Where the hell have you been?" he says in an angered whisper.

"Me?" I start to get angry.

He rises to his feet; his pale blue eyes are bloodshot. His hands flex into fists at his sides. "I have been calling you, hell everybody has been fucking calling you." He is angry.

"Is she okay?" I ignore him; looking over at the hospital bed I can only see the back of her head.

"Yeah I guess. If you consider a few broken ribs, and a concussion, okay? Then yeah she is freaking dandy!" Third spits. He has every reason to be pissed at me, but this is not the place to have it out.

"Third," I am about to tell him so, but he cuts me off again.

"She has been asking for you," he crosses his arms. "Just see if you can get her to talk. Shit man she will not talk to anyone," he washes his face with his hands, desperation in his voice. "Get her to talk." He repeats before he leaves the room.

I walk over to were Third was sitting. My breath catches. She has stitches across her forehead and several bloody scratches on her face, her cheeks are swollen with angry red and purple bruises. Shit. I reach under the blankets and grab on to her hand, it is so small in mine. She always seemed so strong, I never once thought of her as fragile. Who could have done this to her. Anger surges through me.

"Dylan?" her voice comes in short raspy breaths and I cringe at the sound.

"Hey," I do my best to smile at her, but she starts to cry, silent tears falling out of her amazing blue eyes. I start to cry myself, angry tears burn my face, and I want to hurt whoever did this to her. "Shhh," I pull her hand to my mouth and kiss it. She tries to sit up but grimaces in pain, she gives up and cries harder lying back down. I will break whoever did this to her. I am going to make sure they feel each pain she feels tenfold. "Barbie, don't move. Please," my voice shakes. I push her hair back out of her face. And she presses her face into my hand. She needs me as much as I need to touch her.

I bring my forehead to hers, "Tell me what happened. I am going to kill the person who did this to you." Anger pulses through me with a mixture of grief.

She shakes her head back and forth and chokes on a sob.

"You have to tell me," I demand my voice rising with anger.

"I can't," she chokes out.

"Why the hell not?" I grimace at how harsh I sound. "Who are you trying to protect? Is it Tyler?" My hands shake as I imagine punching the guy in the face, fine if she will not tell me I will beat it out of him. I stand.

"If I say anything they will take him away," she sobs.

"So you will protect the jerk so that he doesn't go to jail!" I shout. I don't want to be angry with her when she is so broken, but how can she protect someone that could do this to her.

"Not Tyler. Everett." I fall back to the chair. Everett? "What does Everett have to do with this?"

She turns on her side facing the wall.

"Last night I thought things could not get any more screwed up," she laughs but there is nothing funny behind it. "I was so confused with what you said to me. I was finally starting to feel okay. Like if you didn't forgive me that I was going to be fine, and then you told me you love me. I was so confused."

I flinch at the truth behind her words. "I was stupid thinking I could pretend to be someone else for a night, I thought I could be normal for one night." Tears pour down her face. "When I walked in the door..." she starts to cry harder, her shoulder shake. "He had him cornered. Hitting him with a wire hanger," she sobs. I climb in the bed no longer able to stay away from her. I want to take away her pain I pull her to me as carefully as I can, holding her against my chest. "He just sat there in the corner not moving, all because I left him, Dylan." She grabs onto my shirt holding onto me.

"It's not your fault." I rub small circles on her back while she speaks. "I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to die."

She begged me not to say anything. She told me where she left Everett. I should have left, and did what I promised, but the sensible side of me kicked in. I hate myself for telling, my hands shake as I told the officer who jots every word down on his yellow note pad, my mom watches me with horrified gasps, and a social worker takes notes as well, who shakes his head every once in a while as I retell Barbie's story. I tell them every sickening word how her mother was there as he beat the shit out of Barbie not even attempting to stop him. How she escaped out the window to hide her little brother only to have that sick jerk chase her down.

When we are done I storm out past Barbie's room, I must have caught someone's attention because Third is on my heels.

"Where are you going?" he asks shortly.

"Oh so we are friends now?" I spin facing him. I catch him off guard and he stumbles backwards. I want to punch him in the face, my hands clench shut. I open and close them at my sides, challenging him. When he doesn't say anything. _"That's what I thought."_ I turn and push through the double doors that brought me here. "You need me to drive?" Third jogs up behind me a little out of breath.

We drive in silence, it hits me like a punch to my gut when Third turns down her road, he knows where she lives. He has had a glimpse into her world. While I was too worried about what she was doing to mine to even be a decent enough human being to get to know hers. I could have prevented this. I could have stopped this from happening. I always just assumed I knew her, what she was about, how wrong I was. I don't know what I expected? That she was a troubled girl, who had a worried family, a mother who was at her wits' end, trying to get her daughter to clean up her act.

I realize when Third turns the van onto the narrow road. I have never been to this part of town. In seventeen years I have never stepped foot on this road. I drove past it, maybe glanced over, but never stopped. The houses are packed together painted various shades of bright colors trying to be something they are not. Third stops the van in front of what must be Barbie's house, it is sadder than the others. No bright paint or a plastic flamingo in the yard, no trying here just peeling gray paint, a lawn that grows in small limping patches of weeds. The windows are dark. No one is here of course the police tried it first I am sure.

I get out slamming my car door shut, somewhere in the distance a car alarm is going off and music of a party that is going on drift down the street. I walk through the open gate that barely hanging on its last hinge. I stand in front of the door.

"No one is here." Third states the obvious. I run my hands through my hair in frustration. What did I think that they would be home, and then what invite me in for some milk and cookies, and I would pound the shit out of this guy? The person who broke her, the strongest person I know.

Tears burn at my eyes threatening to spill over. "Let's go around back," Third suggests. I follow; I don't have a better plan. Broken brick steps lead up to the back door, the glass door is flung open it is missing a pang of glass. Third pushes the door open and I follow him into the kitchen. Something crushes under my foot in the dark. Lights blind me temporarily "What the hell," Third looks around. He doesn't know what happened and I didn't offer up any information. Barbie can tell him. I am done betraying her. A chair lies toppled over, drawers thrown about the room, and glass is shattered on the floor. A streak of blood runs down the cabinets to the floor. Third looks at me for an explanation but I don't offer it to him. I step around him and walk down the dark hallway. Blood is smeared down the walls. My stomach lurches.

***

Over the next few days cops and my new social worker come through the revolving door that is now my life. I refuse to talk to any of them. I was already informed that Everett was placed in state housing. I go ballistic and despite the IV that I rip out and the broken ribs, I try to kill someone, anyone who is close enough. They took my poor baby and put him in a home filled with messed-up kids. He must be so scared not understanding why I have not come to get him. Someone sticks a needle in my arm and I float in and out of blackness. When I come to, a guard is posted outside my door in case I try to run or kill someone. Roxie is lying in my bed trailing her finger over my nose.

"Hi, Chica," I crumble into her arms and cry. She holds me until I cried myself dry.

Third and Roxie take turns staying by my side. I refuse to see Dylan, he betrayed me. I can never trust him. I hate him.

### Chapter 32.  
Broken

I am staring up at my ceiling each picture a stab at my heart. I was sent home, threatened if I didn't leave my mother would have security escort me out of the hospital. I am supposed to be getting some sleep but how can I lie here, in my comfortable bed, in my comfortable life safe and sound, when she is out there, each breath she takes hurting her. My chest feels like it is about to split open with the thought of her. I answer each call on the first ring, but hang up the moment it is not my mother or Third with information. Katie must have given up, because my phone lays silent on my chest.

A car door shuts. I roll over on my side staring at the blue walls. I think about going over to the barn and working more on the room. But I don't see the point.

I must have dozed off because my mom is shaking me awake. I sit up straight, "Is she okay?" I practically leap out of my skin.

"She is okay...in a lot of pain." She shakes her head in disbelief. "She is one tough kid. She refuses anything more than aspirin for the pain." Of course she is. Why would she use something to help dull the pain? She wants to remember each and every feeling. It is what will fuel her through the fight.

I flop back down against my pillow and cover my eyes with my arm, "Has she said anything? Has she asked about me? Does she want to see me?" I hate myself for being so selfish and thinking about myself.

"No." She laughs before she says, "She is something else, has quite a mouth on her. She almost gave poor Doctor Grant a heart attack.... Something about giving his wife a run for her money," she lets out a nervous laugh. I drop my arm and look at my mother, she still wears the teal scrubs from last night's shift, her brown hair falls out of the messy ponytail it is in and she bites at her lip nervously.

"Mom, what is it?" she stands and walks over to the pictures I have hung, and looks at a picture of me at the fifth grade science fair holding a second-place ribbon. First place went to Jenny she made a volcano. That was the year Grams got sick and stopped taking pictures.

"There are going to be some rules that are going to be in place, one toe out of line and I am pulling the plug on this," she turns in my direction.

Confusion must read on my face. "I am not stupid. I know what might happen. Having two teenagers with raging hormones under the same roof."

I sit up all the way now. "Mom?"

"And you are going to have to move down to the basement."

Before she can finish anymore, I have crossed the room and start hugging her. She is so much smaller than me. She laughs and pushes me off her.

"I am serious, if I catch you in her room... Or her in your room she will have to go. I cannot risk my family's well-being no matter how much I want to help." She sighs.

"Mom you don't have to worry I have a girlfriend." Or at least I did. She doesn't seem convinced. "Mom I am with Katie. Remember?" she sighs and shakes her head.

"Fine," I hug her again picking her up off her feet and spin her in a circle. "This is not going to be easy, there or a lot of...issues we are going to have to deal with..." She bites at her lip again when I set her back down.

"Mom," she looks at me her eyes matching my own. "Thanks."

She smiles. "Don't thank me yet. Now clean your room," she wrinkles her nose at me. "Your father went to go get Everett."

Third comes over and helps me move a few boxes of clothes and a couple of books down to the basement. Everything else I leave. "You are going to leave you _Star Wars_ Lego set for the kid to destroy!" Third carefully examines the _Death Star_.

I shrug, "What am I going to do with it."

He gapes at me. I sit down on my bed, I need to do this. This is going to be harder than it seems. Just a few words, but they are caught in my throat "Third...I...I am sorry" I look up at him, his round fat checks blow in and out.

"It's cool," he finally says.

"No, no it was not cool I was a shitty friend. Hell, I have been a shitty friend for a while. I am sorry man."

It is the beginning of a very long list of "I am sorry" that I will be giving out. Next is Katie. If I want things to work out I have to fix things with her. "Can I ask you a favor? Will you drive me over to Katie's?"

Third sighs shaking his head, "Sure."

### Chapter 33.  
Time

I don't know how long I have been sitting here like this, hunched over staring at the chipped nail polish on my hand. I don't move when the door to my room opens, another nurse to check on me and take my vitals, to look at me with sympathy and shake her head. I hate them. I hate every one of them. I hate Dylan for betraying me, for making me feel something other than numb. The shuffle of white nurse shoes comes into focus.

"Barbie?" I know her voice it is the nurse who has come in repeatedly to take care of me, insisting I talk. She wears his face and I hate her for that. "Barbie I have come to talk to you," she says her voice soft, a whisper. I hate her.

"Dylan already spoke enough for me, don't you think?" I snap. Pain shoots through me with the utterance of my words. She ignores my jab at her son.

"I came to talk to you about a proposition," she says her voice stronger, business-like. I look at her now in the face, her eyes the same dark brown like his. I want to rake my fingers down her face. I hate her. I hate him.

"I don't want anything you have to offer, so save your breath," my words are cold and clipped. "Barbie I can't even begin to imagine what happened to you... What you had to live with all these years." She lets out a long breath as if her next words are heavy in her mouth "My kids are my world and I would do anything for them. That's the first thing you need to know, if you hurt any one of them or put them in danger, I will end this." She continues to ramble on with this nonsense, "Of course I will expect from you, exactly what I expect out of my own children. Go to school, get good grades, help out around the house...watch your mouth."

I blink at her several times what is she saying? "I don't understand."

She looks at me locking me in place with her eyes. "I am offering you to come and live with us, Everett too." She adds quickly.

"But, I already spoke with a social worker. I am being sent to a home for troubled girls, or didn't you hear the news?" Everett they are placing him with foster parents, it is easier to place younger children is what she said. I guess I didn't help my case of not needing to be in a home for at risk girls when I tried to attack him. "Why?" I ask. If this was Dylan's doing I want no part of it, of him trying to make up for the damage he did. He cannot fix this.

"Because I cannot believe your mother did not try to help you," she says honestly. "And if you were my child I would hope someone would step up and try to help," she sighs. I can now see the tiredness in her eyes. I have not been an easy patient, after the social worker visited. I now had security set outside my room. I tried to run, I wanted to find Everett and run. "What about Dylan?" I ask. I hate myself for wanting to know how he feels. "He doesn't know yet. I wanted to come to you first."

***

Two days after my mother came and spoke to me in my room; my dad has his hands warped around Barbie's waist as he helps her climb the steps. With each step I could see the hurt pass over her face. I hate my dad for touching her so carefully, his patient words with her slow incline. I hate myself. I lean against the landing of the stairs watching, not speaking, and not apologizing for the betrayal she feels toward me. I hate myself that she will not make eye contact with me and every piece of me is screaming at her to just look at me. She reaches the top of the steps and her eyes catch mine for a moment and I shatter in a million fragile pieces.

***

Each step is hell, a new form of pain. I was not sure it was possible for me to feel any more pain than I did that night. I was wrong. I grit my teeth through it, and smile at Mr. Knight. He is such a sweet man generally concerned about my wellbeing.

His son is the one I hate. I feel his eyes on me each step I take, and I hate him more. I avoid eye contact with him. I might scream at him, lunge at him. Does he know how much I hate him? That if I had any other choice I would have taken it. I did not choose this. Him. I chose Everett. Each step I repeat that over and over to myself and it helps me propel myself forward. _Step. Breathe._ For Everett. On the last step I make the mistake of catching his deep dark eyes. I have never been so thankful that Mr. Knight has his hands on my back; because I am sure I would have fallen and shattered into a million fragile pieces.

Mr. Knight ushers me past Dylan to my new room. No. This is not my room. It will never be my room. _Step. Breathe_. For Everett. This is temporary as soon as I can run; I will take him and run. I can almost feel the hot California sun on my face. Of course I agreed to Mrs. Knight's terms. _Whatever. Whatever it takes for me to keep Everett and me together._

I have a parade of people behind me. Dylan lingers outside the door keeping his eyes on the dirty chucks on his feet. Emmy comes bouncing pulling Everett by the hand. I want to drop to my knees and pull him to me. But the pain in my side prevents me from any sudden movements. Emmy trails him over to me and I pull him to me despite the pain.

"Do you like it?" Emmy bounces on the bed with her knees. "Me and Evie picked out the blanket for you." I look over at the pink polka dot blanket, and shudder inside. It is something I imagine Katie would pick out, then I have a sickening feeling, did she help? As far as I know Dylan and she are still a couple.

"Love it," I say weakly giving them a small smile. Her mouth spreads into a toothless grin, satisfied. Mrs. Knight the ever-nurse takes my weak smile as distress and ushers everyone out so I can rest. Dylan hesitates for a second that feels like hours burning into my back.

### Chapter 34.  
Healing

We have an unsaid agreement, we don't speak, avoid each other, but the problem with avoiding someone in such close corridors is you are bound to run into them in the most awkward moments. Like when you are grabbing some chocolate milk in your boxers, when you think everyone is a sleep, or when someone forgets to lock the bathroom door before they take a shower and you stand there like an idiot your mouth on the floor. But other than a few incidents I manage to avoid her. At school it is like she doesn't exist, nobody asks why she has not been at school. I guess the only other people who care already know why she is not in school.

I managed to fix things with Katie, she knows about the arrangement with Barbie and her brother. She does not like it but she "trusts me," those were her words. As long as I answer her calls she seems to be fine, half the time I walk around with the phone glued to my ear, pretending to listen to her talk.

There is an awkwardness with me and Third. I glance at him during lunch; he sits at our old table with Tim and Bret from math leagues and that girl Roxie. It looks like they are together. He nods in my direction. We have not spoken since I apologized, an unspoken agreement between us. Lines have been drawn and he chose Barbie. Hell, I chose her too. That's why I sit with Katie at a table with her friends and their endless gossip.

Barbie is ready to return to school, the bruises on her face have turned yellow. My mother insists that I give her a ride to school, she does not argue but I see the disgust on her face. My mother wears the same face when she asks her if that is what she is wearing to school. I bite back a laugh, my mother in her conservative cardigans, and Barbie in her little brother's power ranger T-shirt that shows her midriff and short ripped denim shorts, a pair of knee socks and her red combat boots.

Barbie just shrugs, my mother lies to her telling her she looks nice, and suggests that after school she will take her and Everett shopping. When Barbie protests she says it is required by the state she spends so much on clothes, Barbie doesn't argue. We ride in silence not speaking but there are a million words that dance on the tip of my tongue.

### Chapter 35.  
Conflict

It is not that bad being at the Knights; sometimes I have to remind myself not to get too comfortable. No matter how numb I try to become to them, I can't help that my heart melted a little with the way they treat Everett. Emmy pulls him around like he is her personal living doll, but Everett does not seem to mind he follows her. I even catch him holding eye contact with her for a few seconds before he looks away. He taps his finger on his leg happily.

I am lost in my own internal babble waiting in the lunch line. I don't pay attention to what is being slipped on to the tray in front of me.

"Move!"

I turn to the voice behind me. Katie's red untouched hair pulled back into a perfect pony tail, not a hair daring to be out of place. She is a head shorter than me. I have to look down at her green eyes that are narrowed in on me. Her thin lips are pressed into an even thinner line. I blink several times as if I am waking up from a dream. As I take in her appearance, her perfectly pressed white shirt tucked into a khaki knee-length skirt, her brown ballet flats matching her belt perfectly. _Huh? Do people actually match their belt with their shoes?_

"Are you stupid? Move," her voice is a harsh reality shaking me awake.

"What the hell is your problem?" I ask in a low voice trying not to rouse suspicion. I have been doing exactly what Mrs. Knight has asked of me, and it is harder than it seems but I have been trying to keep my head down, my nose clean, and my mouth shut. I owe her. I owe it to Everett not to fuck things up for him.

"You know the only reason that Dylan is being nice to you is because he feels sorry for you and your little retarded brother."

White hot anger burns in me. I grip on to the tray line to keep myself steady. "He feels bad that your druggie mother didn't even want you." Now her eyes flash with something, anger, hurt, disgust.

"Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about," I hiss.

She smiles at me "Oh trust me, I do." I turn and continue to push my tray down the line. I work on steadying my breathing, calming my shaking fists. _Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

"You know he can't even believe he went out with you." She follows me down the line mocking me. "I mean look at you," she looks me up and down, her lip curled in disgust.

I can't stop myself; I bring my hand for a second up to my hair, long enough for her to notice, to use it as a weapon against me. She laughs but there is no humor behind it. "What, you think if you dye your hair a different color than trashy blonde he would notice you? Think you are something different? That you are not a slut?" My hands ache at my side, I clench them in and out. "You will always be trash, no matter what side of the tracks you live on," she says. The lunch room has suddenly become quiet; people want to see a fight. They would love that. I would love nothing more to shut her mouth with my own fist.

My heart is pounding from the adrenaline that rushes through my veins. Stay calm. Be cool. I put my tray down placing both hands on my hips, sticking out my chest. I can see her falter a bit, her eyes glancing up at my chest. I let Mrs. Knight bring me to her hair salon and dress me up. I didn't want to change anything about me, but she was so excited about giving me a fresh start I went with it. I didn't want to screw up anything for Everett and if that meant dying my hair and wearing loose fitting clothes, then hell I was going to do it. I also wanted to make her happy. She kept Everett and I together, the state was all too happy about tearing us apart and sticking me in a home for troubled girls. I flip my now light brown hair with lots of honey highlights over my shoulder, and smile. "You are right Katie, no matter how much pink I wear or what color my hair is I will never be like you. I will never be good enough for this fucking school," I yell. "I will always be a slut from the wrong side of town." I poke her in her shoulder. "So fuck you, Katie." I give her a smile, "At least I am not hiding who I really I am, and pretending to be an uptight bitch, when really I let Tyler feel me up under the bleachers when I think no one is looking." I push past her, my shoulder hitting into hers. She almost drops her tray but recovers quickly not wanting to spill the greasy mess on her perfect white top.

"You are such a liar, Barbie!" She shrieks behind me. I ignore her, I have one direction and I walk fast, head held high before I lose my nerve. The room is silent. Watching. Waiting. The only sound is the click of my new pink ballet flats against the old black and white tiles. I walk fast with a purpose. I stop. Dylan barely has time to rise before I press my body up against his and kiss him on the mouth as hard as I can.

### Epilogue

The world stops spinning. She is the ocean crashing into me, tossing me, drowning me. I can't breathe. I do not care. I want to die right now. I want nothing more than to drown in her. My head is filled with a gray fog. I am being pulled toward heaven and my angel is kissing me. The smell of sweet spun sugar wraps around me. Pulling us closer together. Then quickly pushing us apart. I need her, I pull her closer. I want her. I need to feel her soft skin. I need to breathe her in. I want to taste her sweet taste. I need her more than breathing. Then I need life its self. She is keeping me alive. She is love. Then she pulls away too soon.

I am dying. Every part of me is shattering; falling to the floor, a hole in my chest is ripped wide open for the world to see. The earth is set into motion again spinning faster than before, nothing makes sense, but everything makes sense. I watch her walk away, each sway of her hips teeters the world a little more. Someone is screaming but I can't look away to see how many casualties there are. I am trapped by the girl who just shattered my world. I watch her walk away.

The End 
Acknowledgments

Thank you! Thank you, to all my family who has supported me in my life ventures. Without you I would never have the courage to write. Each and every one of you is my inspiration, and in the pages of Barbie Girl.

Mom, thank you for teaching me to read and giving me the love of reading, I love you!

Madison my sweet baby girl I love you so much you are the reason I do anything in my life, I love you. Thank you for giving my life a purpose, keep on dancing and fallowing your dreams.

Joe thank you for all your support and the push to write, and dealing with the extra emotional baggage of mine that went with writing Barbie Girl I love you.

Holly, my sister and best friend, thank you for your encouragement and honesty and for reading Barbie's story first.

My brothers through your annoying antics, and funny tidbits on life, I get inspiration. I love you three.

Aunt Susan for keeping my essays, this is not an article in the Reader Digest, but not too bad. I love you so much you have always been there for me no matter what. Words will never say how much I will appreciate the things you have done for me.

Uncle Bill thank you for all the hours and time you spent revising my papers, and the countless hours spent on Facetime for you I owe my education.

Of course to my grandmother who made me practice typing on an old fashioned type writer for an hour a day when I was little.

To Jordan every day is a challenge and you taught me to never to give up in the face of challenge, and to keep on shuffling. You are a pretty awesome kid always remember that.

Cheryl for all the support and therapy sessions, Lauren for always being there and listening, the two of you are my best friends, and I miss you every day we are apart. I love you, thank you for being you. And of course last but not least, to all my aunts, uncles, and cousins I love you all, you are the most supportive loving family I could have asked for. I love you!

This is for ya'll

Look for Barbie and Dylan to continue in Barbie World, the second installment in the Doll Series coming soon.

http://Authorheidiacosta.blogspot.com

http://Facebook.com/ Authorheidiacosta

<http://Twittter.com/Authorheidiacosta>

