Page 38 of Taking It To Overtime
Even at twelve she knows it’s ridiculous to be both bored to tears of an adult-only party, and be frustrated that they’re all treating her like a child, but that’s how she’s feeling and she can’t help it. And the collar still itches like crazy.
“I’m just…” she searches for the right words. “I’m sick of being seen as a baby, and thanks to this dumb dress, everyone is treating me like I am one.”
“Well, that’s dumb,” Robbie says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You’re obviously not a baby. You have boobs.”
He blushes bright red, and she crosses her arms over her small chest. There’s nothing there to brag about, not like Jennifer Donnelly or that girl Robbie took to the eighth grade spring dance. Not that she cares, she doesn’t, and it’s not like she wanted to go, anyway. It was just a dumb dance in the gym, but it was another thing that reminds her she’s younger than her best friend and she hates it.
“Barely.” She says, “Nancy Gallagher told me I have the body of a little boy when we were in P.E. last week. She said I have no hips.”
“Ignore her,” Robbie says. “Everyone knows that’s not how it works. Everyone is built different. You’re just…”
She doesnotlike the way he went silent there at the end. Not one little bit. If she’d been allowed to wear the yellow dress, her tiny boobs and hips would have been obvious. No one would think she was on that pageant show for toddlers. That, and the dress looked awesome with her black slides. Edgy.
“Yeah, I get it.” She turns her back on him because she suspects the tingling behind her eyes means she’s going to cry and she doesn’t want him to see that. Her sniffle gives her away.
“I don’t think you do.” Robbie says.
She can feel him step up behind her. It was a warm night anyway, but now it feels like someone turned the car heater on full blast.
“You’re pretty Vera. So you don’t have big boobs or hips or anything like that. Who cares? Only idiots would care more about that than about who you are.”
His words sound pretty, like they came right out of that book her mom loves, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s only saying it because he knows her. He likes her—as a friend—and of course he wouldn’tbeher friend if he didn’t think she was fun to be around. Especially when they became friends before anyone cared about puberty and crushes and boy-girl dances.
“You have to say that.” She shrugs. “It’s fine. Whatever. You don’t understand. I just don’t want to go back to the stupid party.”
“So don’t.” He grips her shoulders to turn her around, their eyes colliding in the dark. “And I’m sorry I said the wrong thing. You’re beautiful, and yeah, you’re my best friend, but it doesn’t make it less true. And,” he leans in, until she can feel his words fan over her cheeks. She always thought it would be gross to have someone breathing on her like this, but Robbie smells of toothpaste and the honey roasted peanuts he likes to eat after practice. “I don’t think you’re a baby at all.”
“You took Jenni to your dance. I hoped…” she claps a hand over her mouth, horrified that she let those words seep out. It’s not that she doesn’t like Jenni. She’d just assumed Robbie wasn’t going to the dance. He almostneverdid anything like that, and he’d skipped the fall dance—although he’d had a hockey tournament that weekend, so maybe that didn’t really count.
Robbie is frowning again, and he uses one hand to push his hair back out of his dark eyes.
“Of course I took her to the dance. Mallory and Jessica invited her to go with them and then bailed the day of. I felt bad she was alone and her older brother’s on my team.”
Right. She should have remembered that. Matthew played for the Shamrocks, too. Of course Robbie would be nice to his teammate’s little sister. The same way he was nice to her on the playground all those years ago, and tonight. He was a nice guy.
And she’d just made a fool of herself over something dumb. God, maybe she really was a baby.
“Did you…” she sees his throat bob as he swallows. “Did you want me to ask you?”
She wants to tell him no, but she can’t lie to him. Her gaze skitters left as she tries to come up with an answer. Any answer.
Yes.
“I didn’t think…” he clears his throat, “I wasn’t planning on going at all, and then I didn’t think you were in to dances.”
Something fizzles in her sternum. A pop like a soda bottle someone shook before cracking it open to bubble over.
“I went to the one in October.” She can almost see him counting back in his mind, trying to remember the dance. “You and the twins were at that tournament in Syracuse.”
“Alone?” His voice cracks on the last word.
“Annie Stein picked me up, but I danced a little with Drew Ward.” Dance is a bit of a stretch. They’d stood a few feet apart with her hands on his shoulders and Drew’s on her hips as they swayed side to side to some song she hadn’t known the words to.
“Drew’s a douche,” Robbie says, “And he cheats in math.”
She rolls her eyes. “You aren’t even in his math class. How would you even know?”
“Vic told me.” He shakes his head. “That guy is not a good guy, V. Don’t go to anymore dances with him.”
