Just Another Girl (10 page)

I don't even look up or respond to this potentially volatile suggestion. I simply lace up my shoe, then stand up and force a smile. For Crystal and Lily's sake, which is ultimately for my sake, I will be civilized to Rose. “Or maybe I'll just keep shopping thrift shops and save tons of money.”

She frowns. “Don't you wonder whose feet were in those shoes, Aster?”

“Not particularly.” I give my hair a quick second glance in the mirror. I decided to wear it down with just a bit of it pulled back to keep it away from my face. Still, I'm not quite comfortable going out with this huge mane of hair.

“What if she had athlete's foot?”

“Huh?” I look back at Rose, trying to remember what she's babbling about.

“The person whose shoes you're wearing.”

I stick out a foot, admiring how fantastic the shoes look and still slightly surprised at how long my legs are. I'm thankful that Owen is tall. “These are my shoes, Rose. I paid for them myself.”

She makes a harrumph sort of noise, and I must say it's unbecoming. I tell her to have a nice evening, then go out to check on Lily and Crystal.

“It's my turn,” Lily is insisting.

“No,” Crystal says. “You don't get a second turn this time.”

“Hey,” I say as I get down on my knees next to Lily. I send Crystal what I hope is a visual clue with my eyes. “I think it
is
Lily's turn. See?” I point to her marker as if that explains everything. The truth is, Lily cheats. And I let her. It's just easier that way.

Crystal looks slightly confused, then quickly nods as if she gets it. “Oh yeah, I guess you're right. Go ahead, Lily.”

“See?” Lily says with satisfaction. She takes a card and moves her marker to the lollipop space, then turns and frowns at me. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Like what?”

“Fancy.”

I kind of shrug. “I'm not fancy.” Then I stand up and go sit on the couch. Lily follows me with an expression that I can only describe as suspicious.

“What you doing,
Aster?
”

“Sitting on the couch.” I smile at her. “Hey, it's almost time to watch
Shrek
.”

This distracts her, and she claps her hands in delight. “
Shrek! Shrek!
We're gonna watch
Shrek!
”

“But we have to finish our game, don't we?” Crystal says. “I mean, after all, you are winning, Lily.”

“Oh yeah,” Lily says. “I am winning.”

While they return to their game, I make two bags of microwave popcorn and pour them into a big bowl. Then I get out several cans of soda and pour a bag of Reese's Pieces into Lily's favorite pink bowl. I put all this on a tray and carry it out to the family room.

“Wow,” Rose says. She's standing over Crystal and Lily now. “Looks like you girls are having quite the party.”

“A slumber party,” Lily proclaims proudly.

“That's nice of Crystal to babysit you.”

Lily scowls up at Rose. “Crystal is not babysitting me,
Rose
!”

“That's right,” Crystal says quickly. “We're friends. I'm here for the slumber party.”

Now Rose laughs. “Yeah, whatever.” Then, as usual, she walks away, and I'm left to pick up the pieces.

“You're right,” I tell Lily. “Crystal is
not
a babysitter. There are no babies here, right?”

“Right.” But Lily is still scowling.

“This is a slumber party,” Crystal says. “We're going to watch
Shrek
and eat junk food.”

“Yeah,” I say as I go over to put the DVD into the machine and get it ready to go. “This is girlfriends just hanging together and having fun.” I can hear Jared's voice in the living room now, followed by the sound of the front door closing. It takes all my self-control not to shout, “Good riddance!” Sometimes I feel like I could kill Rose. Not literally. But sometimes she makes me crazy.

Soon we're all settled into the beginning of the movie. I watch the clock, counting each minute like it's my last and actually praying that this will go smoothly. Despite Rose's attempt at sabotage, Lily is into the movie now. She's junking out and almost doesn't seem to notice whether I'm here or not. My plan is to simply slip away without making a big deal. I think it will be easier on everyone that way. Lily will probably assume I'm in the bathroom or kitchen. And she'll be so absorbed by the movie that she should be fine. By the time the movie ends, my mom will be getting home, and Crystal will be free to go. We've got it all worked out.

I give Crystal a little nod as in
hint hint
. “I'm going to the bathroom,” I announce. Lily doesn't even look up from her beanbag chair. I go toward the hallway, then detour into the living room, where I keep one eye on the driveway and one toward the family room.

Finally I see a familiar white pickup pull in. Before Owen
is out of his truck, before he can come to the door, I quietly open the door and slip out.

I am free! Gloriously, wonderfully, amazingly free! I want to dance and sing and shout. But I simply smile at Owen, who is halfway up the walk now. I explain that, for Lily's benefit, I had to sort of sneak out.

“Oh yeah,” he says quietly. “No problem.”

“My friend Crystal is babysitting—no, not babysitting.” I correct myself as Owen opens the passenger door for me. “Lily is
not
a baby. Anyway, everything is cool, and Lily is going to be just fine.”

His eyes light up as he helps me into the cab. “And you are
looking
just fine.”

“Thanks.”

“So, just relax, okay?”

I kind of laugh as I get in. “You must think I'm neurotic.”

“I think you obsess over your sister. And that you need a break.”

As he closes the door, I tell myself to forget about Lily now. She will be fine. Crystal will be fine. This is my night for freedom, and I intend to enjoy it to the max.

“You really do look pretty tonight, Aster.” Owen starts his engine and backs out.

“Well, thanks.” I smooth my skirt, which is a little on the short side, but Beth told me it looked great. “Shoot, girl, with legs like yours,” she said, “why not?” Even so, I'm not so sure.

Owen is good at making small talk. Socially comfortable. And I pretend that I am too. Still, I feel a little over my head right now. Like what made me think I can pull this off? It turns out the movie he wants to see (I tell him I want to see it too, although it's sci-fi and not my favorite genre) doesn't start until nearly nine. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah, a little.” Okay, that's an understatement. I had an apple for lunch, then a few bites of popcorn and some Reese's Pieces, which are sitting like rocks at the pit of my stomach. I am starving.

“I was thinking about how you didn't get to eat your lunch the other day,” he says, “and how we both like Greek. Want to go to Anatole's?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?”

“Just that it's a really cool place to eat.” I actually have never been there, but I've heard it's awesome. “But don't you need reservations?”

He gives me a quick grin. “As a matter of fact, you do.”

“Did you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Okay, this is feeling like a real date. I mean, it is a real date. But dinner at Anatole's and a movie. How much more datelike can you get?

“Wow, that sounds great,” I say.

So it is that I find myself in one of our town's better restaurants, sharing falafel mezes
(meze
is Greek for “appetizer”) with Owen. Next we have Caesar salads, followed by moussaka and gyros. Everything is amazing, or else I'm just so ravenous that I would eat wood. No, it's amazing.

We finish off with baklava and some very strong coffee. I'm not really a coffee drinker, but this is a night for new things, right?

“My grandma was Greek,” Owen says. “She used to make baklava too.”

“Used to?”

“She died when I was fifteen.” He forks a piece of the flaky crust. “I still haven't found anyone who can make it as good as hers.” Then he goes on to explain how she would let him help her roll out dozens of paper-thin sheets of phyllo dough on a big marble slab. “Then we'd drape these sheets all over the place, over her tables and chairs, like we were hanging up the laundry, except it was pastry. Then she'd layer all those sheets into a huge pan with syrup, spices, and nuts and things.” He smacks his lips. “Really good.”

“This is good too,” I say.

He nods. “Yeah, it is.”

Okay, I know I'm too young to fall in love. Really, I am. But I sure do like this guy. Hearing him talk about his grandma, how they made baklava together—well, it's very charming, very endearing, and slightly mind-boggling. I wonder what Crystal would think if she knew he was like this. But then I
think I don't want to tell her—I want to keep some of these tasty little morsels to myself. Of course, thinking of Crystal only makes me think of Lily, and I can't help but glance at my watch and feel anxious.
Please, let it be going well
.

“You okay?” Owen asks.

I look up. “Sorry. I was thinking about Lily and hoping everything's okay at home.” Then, whether it was stupid or not, I actually tell him about the other time Crystal stayed with Lily and how she got locked out and questioned by the police. But Owen simply laughs at this story, and I realize it doesn't hurt to be honest about my life. After all, I am who I am. It's not like I can hide anything. Not with a family like mine. Why try?

I feel like God is smiling down on me as we leave the restaurant and walk across the parking lot to Owen's pickup. It's one of those perfect summer evenings. The air is still warm and luxurious against your skin, and the sky is rosy pink, the way it gets just before the sunset. Even the Greek music being piped out into the parking lot is enticing.

For the second time tonight, I feel like throwing up my arms and dancing. Then, to my stunned amazement, I actually do. Kind of a little Greek happy dance. Owen laughs, but being a good sport, he even attempts to dance with me, although we kind of stumble around, and I actually step on his foot.

“Sorry,” I say as he helps me into the pickup. “I couldn't help myself.”

“Hey, I thought that was totally cool.”

“It's just that freedom like this . . . well, it's kind of intoxicating.”

He throws back his head and laughs loudly. “And to think the rest of us just take it for granted.” Now he has both hands planted on either side of the opening for the passenger door, he's leaning forward ever so slightly, and I'm almost worried that he's going to kiss me. Instead, he slowly shakes his head like he's amazed. “Man, Aster, I just don't know how you do it.”

“Do what?” I look at him curiously.

“You know, take care of your sister like you do.”

“Oh . . .” I think I'd almost forgotten about Lily just then. “I guess it's like the old Nike saying. I just do it.”

He nods, then closes my door, and I find myself sitting there thinking that instead of bringing up Lily . . . I wish he would've kissed me. How weird is that?

“I told my mom about how you take care of your sister, and she thought you should probably be recommended for sainthood.”

“Or committed,” I say flippantly. Actually, I'm shocked that Owen told his mother about me. I wonder if he and his mother talk about a lot of things. For some reason I find this concept totally mind-blowing. How is it possible that he would be close to his mom, when my mother usually feels like a stranger to me?

Once again, I get that old feeling like I will never fit in . . . like I'm really an alien dropped down from Planet Weird. Seriously, what do I have in common with this boy who made baklava with his grandma and actually has a relationship with his mother?