Barbie Girl Read online

  “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 an
yone 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.”