The Wildest Kind of Pretty Read online

  Chapter 7

  “How long do you think you girls will shop?” Trevor parks his tracker in the parking lot and whips out his phone to shoot Kim a text.

  Evan, Trevor and Blake decided they wanted to hit pause on cleaning up the house to join us at the mall, “I don’t know,” I give a noncommittal shrug. Sometimes I shopped quickly and other times I took hours, just looking at everything in every store. Just like every other teen girl; it all just depended on my mood. We exit the tracker and enter the urban jungle; I whip out my phone and shoot Kammie a text. Not even a minute later my phone beeps with a reply, “Well I’m going to Victoria’s Secret,” I give the guys a wave, but they’re already long gone and heading to the food court. I shake my head and smile to myself, it is crazy how guys always eat but never get full.

  I find Kammie and Kim digging through the clearance bin talking wildly a mile a minute. I laugh at the two, but join in. We’ve got our hands full of bras when Kim shoves a hot pink Bombshell in my face. “You totally have to get this,” Kim says. “Kammie told me you don’t have a Bombshell,” she arches her brow in disbelief, then her face gets solemn when she adds, “Every girl should have at least one.”

  I stare at the bra like it’s a leopard ready to pounce, “um I think that’s more you than me,” I dismiss the bra and give a smile that I don’t feel but hope that she’ll appreciate. I eye the bra in her hand with disdain, it’s supposedly makes your boobs look two cup sizes bigger, my stomach coils at the thought. I still wasn’t use to the fact that I have boobs now, thanks to the change. I was already uncomfortable; I just knew wearing a bra that would make them look even bigger would only make it worse. Yeah, I definitely wasn’t ready for the Bombshell.

  Kim makes a face, “What’s wrong with it? It’s pink!” She says this like she thinks I don’t like the bra because of the color. It has nothing to do with the color, but everything to do with me. Always divided in two, sometimes I thought I was pretty and other times I thought I looked like a stork with boobs; all out of place and awkward. Today was an ugly-fat day, a day where it didn’t matter what anyone said, I’d think I was hideous.

  I don’t know if that’s normal or not, sometimes I feel like a crazy person. I’ll have all these twisted thoughts, leaving me in a total mess, caught in the snares of indecision; not knowing if I felt like laughing or crying. Yeah, I definitely sounded nuts, Melissa told me every girl has days like that. She says it’s our hormones; Melissa blames everything on hormones, so I’m not sure she’s a credible source. She’s also my aunt, she could have said whatever it took to get me out of the dumps and not feel like a crazy person. So here I was, chained by my insecurity and indecision. I didn’t want Kim to think I was lame because I didn’t want the beloved Bombshell, but I also didn’t want her to think I was crazy if I told her I was self-conscious about having bigger boobs. And this was Kim; she’s definitely not my aunt, she didn’t have to love me in spite of my lunacy. Besides, how could someone that looked like her relate to someone that looked like me? She couldn’t.

  Kammie nods and gives it a thumbs up. I attempt to catch her eye so we could share some secret bestie signal, but again it doesn’t work in my favor. I make a face and stare her down when Kim isn’t looking at me, she just smiles and breaks eye contact. Maybe she was playing dumb, or maybe she really didn’t pick up on it, either way it was a wasted effort.

  My stomach drops, yeah I think the bra is awesome, and part of me wants to buy it. But today’s my ugly-fat day, I just knew the Bombshell would make me look like a bloated stork with boobs. “Um I think girls that look like me shouldn’t wear stuff like this,” I wave my hand at the bra. I don’t elaborate. I don’t tell her that wearing anything that’ll draw attention to all of my awkwardness is an act of self mutiny. When you looked this damn goofy, you had to have some sense of self-preservation. Again, someone that looked like her just couldn’t relate.

  Kim looks confused and Kammie groans, “She thinks she’s fat and ugly,” I glare at Kammie for leaking my secret to probably the prettiest girl in the school. Kammie rolls her eyes at me, I love how she chooses this moment to pick up on my vibe and vocalize it in front of Kim. I feel vulnerable now, thanks to Kammie’s blabber mouth, there’s just something about Kim that makes me want to hide my insecurities. She’s got the it factor, something I want, and admitting that I was insecure to her was the last thing I wanted to do. I think maybe it’s because I didn’t want her to think I was weak, I wanted her to think I was like her. But that’s just dumb on my part, because I was miles away from being like her. I couldn’t even make a Bombshell work.

  Kim looks me up and down and shakes her head, “there’s no way I’m going to stand here and tell you how pretty you are,” I nod. Well, at least she’s not going to lie to me, I could respect that more than I could someone that was fake. “I mean your self-worth should never depend on anyone else.” She looks me in the eye, I squirm under her scrutiny, my mouth starts to go dry. It feels like minutes, but maybe it’s only seconds that pass when her face breaks into a smile. “But, I can tell you’re not fishing for compliments,” I mentally slap myself; I didn’t want her to think I was that lame, maybe it wasn’t too late to recuperate. I’ll just buy the damn bra and play it off as a joke.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I flinch without meaning to, I look her in eye to see if she’s messing with me like a lot of girls like her do. But her face is kind, her smile is genuine when she says, “you’re definitely blessed with good looks.” She shrugs, “Don’t expect me to do this again.” She says.

  I frown without meaning to, I’m just trying to figure her out. I don’t get where she’s coming from, I glance at Kammie, she looks just as confused as I do. Maybe Kim isn’t the type of girl to give compliments, or maybe it’s more than that. Trevor seems to think she’s got a heart of gold, I believe that he believes that, but I want to know if it’s true. “I won’t, and didn’t mean for you to this time.” I say, worried that she lied about not thinking I was fishing for compliments.

  She shakes her head, “It’s for your own good you know,” she says while she tosses a bra back into the bin and rummages around for a different one. “It is,” she says again. “Don’t make a habit out of relying on someone else making you feel better about yourself.” She looks at me again. “There’re lots of reasons you shouldn’t do that. But the main reason is, there’re a lot of nasty people out there who will tear you down, and if you let them, they’ll make you feel like you’re nothing.” My eyes widen when she pokes my collar bone with her index finger. “And they’ll especially be after you because you’re the total package and they’ll feel threatened by you.” She rolls her eyes. “Girls, are the worst at treating other girls like shit because they feel inferior or threatened by another girl that they view is prettier than them.”

  I think she’s done, but she’s not. “I should know, my mom’s one of them,” she clucks her tongue. “She’s all the time telling me who to hang out with; it’s all about image with her. This girl will make you look prettier, this girl will make you seem more legit in your social status, stick with this girl, she’s got connections in her family.” She goes on and on. My mouth goes dry while I listen to her talk. “My grandma is the total opposite of her, she’s a real person. She says mom’s just like that because of her job,” Kim makes a face, “She’s in real estate, as-if that’s the reason, I know grandma’s just making excuses. But, excuses don’t mean shit. A spade’s a spade; she’s as shallow as they come. And she’s fucking miserable, and I don’t want to be miserable.” Kim pauses, and I think about how the two of us could bond, talk shit about our selfish moms together, but I don’t. Not because I’m scared of what she’ll think, but because I feel like now’s not the time. It might not be the wrong time, but it wasn’t the right time.

  The moment passes, and she shakes her head. “I use to be like her, sometimes I still am. I try not to be, but sometimes I slip, catch myself playing her games.” Her voice is soft as
silk, quiet as a trickle of water when she says, “It’s like I’m stuck, caught in a dream where I’m about to wake, and I’m at that point to where I’m still dreaming, but I know it’s a dream,” she squints her eyes and looks at the two of us. Kammie gives her a shrug, but I don’t because I know just what she means. She laughs, “It’s like that moment I realized Catwoman was a villain, when I always thought she was a hero.”

  Kammie gives me a look behind Kim’s back, I don’t feel like indulging her, instead I give Kim a smile. I think Kim just opened up to the both of us, and I got everything she said. I got the whole stuck in a dream and knowing it’s a dream, representing trying to change from your old ways. Like when she said she slips into playing games with people, she knows she’s being catty, but she keeps being catty anyways. I blame the wicked curse of muscle memory. I battled it all the time, my sick obsession with self preservation kept getting in the way of my morals.

  I think about Catwoman and Kim’s mom. It’s not rocket science to make a connection. Everyone’s got a hero they idolized when they were younger, eventually you discover their flaws. It’s that moment when it happens, the discovery, that you decide to look up to them no matter what, or you discard them and move on to someone new. I think Kim was beyond that, it’s obvious she discarded her mother, and she became her own hero.

  Blind-sided by her heart of gold, I don’t know what to think about her now. She made me nervous for numerous reasons, but mainly because she wasn’t the queen bee I expected. Like puffs of smoke slithering inside my head, I realize I really like Kim. Something’s changed, and I feel all kinds of guilty. I feel all kinds of guilty for using Kim for social gain, sick. I feel all kinds of guilty for deceiving a friend, sick-sick. Right or wrong though, I’d never betray Trevor, and I’d be loyal to him to a fault.

  We all help each other choose outfits and take turns showcasing our findings, Kammie crashes into my changing room and lifts her finger to her mouth urging me to be quiet. She locks the door behind her, “I feel so crummy,” I nod in agreement.

  Kammie covers her face with her hands, “I’m going to make things work with Blake,” I bite my lip and try not to let anything show. I mean this is a good thing, I feel a little something swirl in my gut but I can’t quite place it so I choose to ignore it, “do you think I will always feel so guilty?”

  I shrug, “look maybe you should come clean?” I say it because it’s the right thing to say, right thing to do. But sometimes saying the right thing was just bullshit. It’s bullshit because it’s hard to do the right thing. Trevor is top-notch, I don’t care what anyone says, one mistake does not shape the person you are for the rest of your life. But it’s tough, because if someone cheated on me, I’d ditch them for sure. But Trevor’s not just someone, he’s special; different. And none of that’s going to do him any good, because more than likely if Kim finds out he’s toast. I didn’t want his heart to get broken, but I bet Kim didn’t want hers to be either. Always divided, fifteen was overrated.

  Kammie looks like I slapped her face, “Are you insane? I could never tell her what happened, not even if I wanted to.” I don’t say anything because sometimes there’s nothing you can say; nothing at all. Kammie and I are too close to shoot out space fillers that mean nothing.

  “Next time a situation like this pops up please don’t let me in on it okay? Just keep me in the dark because shit like this breaks my moral compass.” At that a loud knock breaks our conversation.

  A loud voice bellows, “Hey! One to a room. You’ve got five seconds to get decent before I unlock the door.”

  Kammie and I giggle as we open the door to see a stocky old fart glare at us, “sorry,” he shakes his head and we decided we were done looking around in this store. We find Kim looking at dresses. After we tell her what happened the three of us laugh and decide to meet up with the boys.

  The food court is roaring with good times and laughter; packed with teens to the brim, this place is happening. It takes us a few minutes before we spot the boys sprawled out in a booth. Kim tried to call Trev a million times but he most likely couldn’t hear his phone over the noise. Trevor was in the middle of some elaborate story and had the guys cracking up, “Well I’m telling you his face was classic.” Blake and Evan spot us first, because Trevor has his back to us. They smile and wave us over.

  “Done already?” Evan stands and walks over to me. My eyes swallow up my face, but then I relax, and remember we may be an item. I’m not actually sure because we haven’t really talked about it, but I think he probably likes me.

  I nod, “yeah, for now at least,” Evan nods and I rack my brain for something to say but once again can’t think of anything cool, “but I’m probably going to Sephora.”

  Evan doesn’t look like he knows what I’m talking about and I’m about to explain to him that it’s a beauty store when Trevor groans, “not the clown store! She’ll be in there for hours.”

  Evan makes a face and he looks ten types of confused, “you’re into clowns?” He tucks his hands in his pockets and I laugh.

  I laugh mainly to give me something to do not really because anything is funny, “It’s a beauty store, actually,” I nod, “yeah it’s a beauty store.” Trevor mouths clown store to Blake and Blake laughs at his stupidity.

  Evan rubs his stomach and I can’t help but watch his hand swirl around and then I look away, embarrassed that he may have noticed me watching him so closely. But in my defense, everyone’s eyes follow movement. Evan stretches and then takes my hand, “hungry?” I nod “what sounds good?”

  I look around at all the options, “Chinese? Chili dogs?” he laughs and tugs me in the direction of the food booths. We all divide and conquer, and make a plan to meet back at the booth. Evan sticks with me, and we decide on a chili dog and sweet and sour chicken.

  We consume our chili dogs while we stand in line for our chicken, “well this isn’t strange at all,” I giggle as Evan polish’s off his dog and finishes mine. This was fine with me, since he insisted on buying my meals today. “You know you don’t need to pay for my chicken, you already paid for my chili dog.”

  Evan smiles, “It’s no big deal, I want to ask you something anyways.”

  My mouth goes watery and dry, how it manages to do that at the same time I’ll never know. But what I do know is, that it always makes me nervous when someone announces they’re going to ask me question. I don’t know why it makes me nervous, but it does. “Yeah?”

  He laughs and dimples bubble to surface making him a couple degrees hotter, “Okay this is stupid, but whatever, do you want to be my girlfriend,” his eyes widen, and he starts to blubber. “I mean you being my girlfriend’s not stupid.” He closes his eyes and rubs his face; he opens eyes and takes a deep breath, in an attempt to rewind. “I’m stupid by the way, stupid because I can’t even ask a girl out.” He laughs. “It’d be really stupid if I didn’t speak up now because I’ve heard a couple of guys at school mention you.”

  I shake my head in disbelief, there’s no way multiple guys were gunning for me, it was hard enough to believe Evan liked me, “you’re crazy.” I must have said something wrong because Evan’s face melts into a look of disappointment. Then I replay what he said and I realize my response was taken wrong, “I mean that is crazy that you thought so many guys would like me,” I shut up because I really can’t be smooth to save my life right now and everything I say is so lame.

  A smile breaks his face, “so you’re not saying no?” I shake my head and smile. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do after you agree to be someone’s girlfriend. So I crush him in a hug, I don’t know if Evan feels like forever, but I know it feels good to be in his arms, so I don’t let myself wonder if he’s a distraction or not. But then I open my eyes and see Blake glaring from over Evan’s shoulder at a distance, he’s sitting with the rest of them at our booth. I don’t understand what his deal is, I’d thought we’d made progress, I thought that he was warming up to the idea of being friends. I gue
ss I was wrong, I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter, but it did. I break out of the hug and take Evan’s hand. We order our food and join the others.

  Trevor has a mouth full of something when he asks, “So you guys in for a movie?” I make a face at him and tell him to swallow before he speaks.

  Evan kneads my shoulders while I finish up my chicken, “do you want to?” he whispers in my ear and chills radiate all over my body.

  I smile, “if everyone else does I don’t care; I mean I’m always down for a movie.” One look at the smirk on Trevor’s face was enough to make me mentally smack myself. I never should have said a word because without him saying anything I just knew he was going to push that we see a scary movie.

  While I like the idea of the thrill of being scared, I actually hate being scared. I can’t stand the suspense, or when they buildup the scene with the heart pounding music; it makes me wild with anticipation. It’s enough to make me want to scream and screaming in movies doesn’t go over well with fellow cinema watchers. Trevor eyes me with a shit eating grin, and I know he plans to torment me after the movie. He’ll probably scare me or something, I’m already scared and we’ve not even picked out a movie. This was lovely, I should speak up now, I should let the others know I’m not up for a scary movie, but I don’t. Instead, I just keep my mouth shut and go along with whatever the group wants.