Barbie Girl (Baby Doll Series) (13 page)

“Loosen up,” I say through a smile. Dylan is as stiff as one of his number two pencils he carries in his
Star Trek
pencil case. He jerks around in weird jerky movements next to me.

“Excuse me for not being 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 love to ruin any moment I am having with Katie.” He does not seem upset. I give him a small smile. I don’t give into temptations to make crying noises at him like a baby.

“Why can’t you see brilliance to 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 looks at me with a look of contempt on his face. I dance around him. Getting him the attention of Katie is in the corner giving me the stank eye with her 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 in 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 bearing down at 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 say, his scornful look falling 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 the distance. Those types of girls are all the same, 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, steady, 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,” h
e 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 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 he is in ‘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 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 it happens, he skips right over the flying phase, leans over and pukes.

Hauling Third outside is no light task. We try to guide a him over the cobblestone walk way, without him falling because if he falls 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 giii
rr
rlll…and…” I wait for another string of I love you’s. He looks at me, his eyes glassed over. Shit. He vomits twice on my shoes then crawls into the back seat for the final phase, he passes out.

I drive slowly on our way back to Third’s trying to give Third a 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 what I thought she was; she is different. Each one of my opinions 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 like taking care of 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 idea of a good time. Not only did he manage to puke on her shoes twice, missing mine entirely. He even puked down the front of her dress. Most girls would be running for the hills, but Barbie… She just patted him on the back telling 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 vomit.

“Let’s do this,” Barbie gets out of the van unfazed. We pull him out of the van and half carry/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 me and not the girl half-naked in combat boots. Before I can answer Third vomits on his mother’s fluffy pink house coat, “Mommy,” he says before passing out again.

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

“Food poisoning,” she shrugs.

Mr
s. Cruz looks from me to Barbie, “f
ood poisoning?”

I nod my head like a bobble doll.

“I told him not to eat the raw oysters, but you know boys 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 and 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 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 eye at me. “Are you shocked?” she asks her pace picking up so I have to pick up mine to match hers. I insulted her and I don’t even know why. “Didn’t you know Dylan, that is what I do, I lie, cheat, steal, drink, drugs. But you know what I am really good at Dylan?” She stops walking and spins so we stand toe to toe and 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 behind 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 send 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 hai
r is whipping around her wildly, “b
ecause I am not the perfect Katie Bloom, because I dress like this, or is it my reputation? Why Dylan? Why do you no
t want to feel this way with me?
B
ecause 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 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.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did for me Friday night.” Third stares down at his Nike trainer’s embarrassment written on his face.

“Don’t even think about it,” I brush him of
f.

“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 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 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 deep inside me, and I hate them for making him feel like
this. Like he can never belong, “w
ho 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, but 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 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.”