Just Another Girl (2 page)

In fact, I'm so desperate that I actually consider loaning Lily my Gap T-shirt, even though it would be skintight and she'd probably look indecent, plus my shirt would be completely ruined. Sort of like my life.

2

Unwilling to give up and hoping I can find a shirt to tempt Lily, I dash back to my room—rather, the room I share with Rose, the room that Rose rules. She still resents that I insisted on switching from sharing a room with Lily. After more than ten years of listening to Lily belch, fart, throw tantrums, or wake up screaming from a nightmare, I told Mom that I either moved in with Rose or moved out. I was nearly thirteen at the time and felt the need for some autonomy (that means some control over my own life, although it's laughable). Anyway, Mom caved and Rose raged. In the end, I'm not even sure it was worth it. At least when I shared a room with Lily, I sort of ruled—or at least I told myself I did.

I rummage through my half of the closet (okay,
half is
a real stretch, it's actually more like a fourth) until I finally find a shirt that might work for Lily. It's a red and white soccer jersey that she used to lust after on a regular basis. But to seal the deal, I quickly pull off my Gap shirt and pull on the jersey.

“So, Lily,” I say as I casually meander back into her messy
room. “I guess you just want to be stuck home all day. You can help me do the laundry, and then we'll clean the garage and work in—”

“No!” she says. “I don't wanna stay home.”

“Well, do you want to wear your pajamas to the—”

“No!” She's staring at my jersey now. “Why you wearing dat, Aster?”

“Because I want to.”

Her eyes narrow with suspicion. “You play soccer today?”

“No. I just felt like wearing it, Lily. It's comfortable.” I kind of strut now, like I think I'm being really fashionable.

She stands up, and with her lower lip sticking out, she points at me. “I wanna wear dat shirt!”

And just like that, I rip off the shirt and toss it at her. “Fine,” I say as if I'm miffed. “You want all my best things.” Then I dash back to my room and pull my Gap shirt back on, and within seconds I have grabbed up her scruffy pink backpack and am running for the front door. “You probably even think you can run faster than me too.”

“I can! I can!” she yells as she clumps through the house behind me.

“I'll beat you to the corner,” I yell as I open the door. I wait for her to run past me and then lock it. I take off after her, playing the game, pretending like she's beating me and I can't stand it.

We're almost to the first corner when I see a shiny white Chevy pickup driving toward us, slowing down at the inter-section
as if to see what we're doing. I know Owen Swanson owns that pickup. Rather, his dad owns that pickup because his dad also owns Swanson Chevrolet, where Owen gets the use of vehicles fresh off the lot—maybe it's a form of advertising. Anyway, during the last week of school, Owen was driving around in that white pickup, showing off his latest set of wheels.

Why am I so cognizant of this fact? Because, like dozens of other girls, I've been watching Owen Swanson for years. Sure, he's totally out of my league, but that doesn't mean I can't look. I just wish that he wasn't looking my way right now. The last thing I want this morning is to be spotted by Owen—to be seen running down the street like a lunatic, pretending I can't even catch my mentally retarded sister, and struggling along like my legs are full of cement. And, oh crud, I'm still holding her stupid Hello Kitty backpack. I resist the urge to toss down the pack and run in the opposite direction.

“Where's the fire?” Owen calls out casually.

I look at him with wide eyes, shocked to see that he's actually talking to me. “Huh?” I shove the backpack toward Lily.

“Are you late for something?”

“We going to the rec center,” Lily answers for me. She stands up proudly now, as if she thinks that Owen is directing his question to her. Is she actually sticking her chest out at him? Mom needs to talk to her again.

“Need a ride?” he offers.

I'm stunned now. Is he kidding?

“Not supposed to ride wif strangers,” Lily chirps. She's still sticking her chest out and smiling smugly.

“I'm not a stranger,” Owen says. “I know Aster.”

I cannot believe he actually knows my name. Owen Swanson knows my name! “We're late,” I say stupidly. Like, duh, hasn't that been established?

“Come on,” he urges. “I'll take you there.”

And the next thing I know, I'm shoving Lily and her pink backpack into the pickup, she's sitting between Owen and me, and he's driving us toward the rec center.

“We going swimming today,” Lily tells him. “Then we eat lunch in the park.”

“Nice.” He says this almost like he means it, which I know is not possible. None of this seems possible, and I try not to lean over and stare at him. I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. Or maybe I just stepped into the Twilight Zone. But I cannot believe that Owen Swanson is driving me and my retarded sister around town in his brand-new truck.

“This is a nice pickup,” I say, feeling like an idiot. Seriously, couldn't I think of something more intelligent to say?

“Thanks,” he says. “I was thinking about switching back to a car, though. I have to pay for my own gas, and this isn't exactly economic—”

“The bus!” Lily cries, pointing to the bus already going down the street.

“Oh no.” I watch as the bus turns directly onto the expressway. “We're too late.”

“Is the bus going to the pool?” Owen asks.

“Stanley Pool,” I say.

“The one with waves,” Lily mutters. She sounds like she's about to cry. “Why didn't they wait for me, Aster?”

“I told you, Lily.” I shake my finger at her to make a point. “You can't be late like that.”

“I wanna go to the pool,” she says, sobbing. “It's not fair!”

“I can drive you over there,” Owen offers.

“Yes, yes!” Lily cries. “You can! You can drive me there.”

“You don't mind?” I ask hopefully.

“No problem. I wasn't doing anything anyway.” Owen looks slightly perplexed, like he's wondering how he got into this mess. But he turns toward the expressway, and it seems the decision has been made.

Lily claps her hands now, pointing to the big yellow bus now only a few cars ahead of us. “Catch them!” she cries.

“I'll do better than that.” Owen steps on it and switches to the fast lane. “I'll pass them, and we'll beat them there.”

“Yes!” Lily says, clapping her hands even more frantically. “We'll beat them!”

And we do beat them. In less than ten minutes we're there. “Here you go.” Owen looks relieved as he pulls in front of the pool's entrance. “Enjoy your swim, ladies.”

Lily laughs as she reaches for her Hello Kitty pack. “Aster's not going swimming,” she says like it's a joke. “Just me, silly. Me and my friends in the bus. Then we go to the park to play.”

“Oh?” Owen glances at me as I climb from the pickup and help Lily out. “So what are you going to do, Aster?”

I kind of shrug, wishing I'd thought to grab my purse and my bus pass. I can't imagine how boring it will be to be stuck here all day, although I do have my cell phone in my pocket, so I might be able to guilt Rose into giving me a ride home during her lunch break. Or not.

“Need a ride back?”

“Sort of.”

“Hop in.”

I glance over to where the bus is pulling up behind us to unload the other kids now. “Do you mind if I go tell the director that Lily's here first?”

“No problem.”

Of course, Lily has already run ahead of me and is now informing her special friends about how she got to ride in that cool white truck and how we passed the bus and beat them . . . yada, yada, yada. I quickly find Kellie Martin, the woman in charge of the park district's special program, and I explain about Lily missing the bus.

“Well, I'm glad you made it,” she says as Lily greets her with a big bear hug.

“Me too,” Lily says.

“Have fun,” I tell her.

“Bye, Aster.” Lily waves, then puckers up her lips with an impish expression. “Don't you kiss that cute boy!”

Naturally she's said this loudly enough for everyone in the
parking lot and several blocks away to hear her. I make a face at her, and then, trying to appear nonchalant, I shove my hands into the pockets of my khaki shorts and stroll back to the pickup. Oh, Lily, whatever will we do with you?

“Everything okay?” Owen asks as I climb back in and fasten the seat belt.

“Yeah. I just needed to make sure they knew she was here.”

“Do you always take care of her?” Owen asks as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Not always.” I consider this and wonder. “I mean, not 24-7. But I guess when it comes to getting Lily to where she needs to go and all that . . . yeah, that's kind of my responsibility.”

“That's a big responsibility.”

“Well, my mom works full-time. And she expects me to do what I can.”

“And your parents are divorced, right?”

I glance at him, surprised that he knows this much about me. “Yeah . . . my dad left about seven years ago.”

“I remember.”

“You remember?”

“Sure. We were in fifth grade together. Remember, Mrs. Blanton's class?”

“You remember me from way back then?”

He laughs. “Sure. I thought you were cute with your red pigtails and freckles. And you were a killer soccer player.”

I blink and feel tempted to pinch myself. “Yeah, right.”

“You were.”

I want to ask if that means he thought I was cute or a killer soccer player, but I don't. Both are pretty high compliments. And so I just sit there in shock, trying to wrap my head around this whole thing. How is it possible that Owen Swanson is not only chauffeuring me around town, but that he thought I was cute back in fifth grade? Then I remember how Owen used to be friendly to me when we were kids. He was just an all-around nice guy back then. But when we all moved to middle school, everything seemed to change. Owen grew a few inches, got rid of his braces, and got better at sports. As a result he became extremely popular.

It all seemed to happen so quickly. About that same time, I lost my old best friend, the only real best friend I'd ever had. Or so I thought at the time. Katie Wick and I had been inseparable up until middle school. But Katie, like Owen, got popular. In fact, I think they even went together for a while. Not that I was privy to these things—well, other than observation. I did not get swooped up into that popular clique, and consequently Katie's and my paths parted. That's when I started to live up to my name (asters are shy and easily overshadowed by other more flamboyant blooms) and turned into a real wallflower.

I suppose it didn't help matters that my mom suddenly decided that since I was almost twelve and “practically an adult,” I should assume even more of the responsibility of caring for Lily. This meant getting her to and from her special class in school as well as other activities, and so I could be seen dragging
her around town, placating her when she had a tantrum, defending her if someone teased . . . whatever it took.

“It's funny,” Owen says as he exits the expressway, “but you kind of seemed to disappear off the radar after grade school. Did you move away for a while or something?”

I sort of laugh. “No, we never moved. You just got too popular to notice someone like me.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Seriously,” I persist, thinking I've got nothing to lose. “You were Mr. Popularity, and I was Miss Nobody. It's no surprise that you didn't know I was still around. And I guess I kept a low profile too.”

He clears his throat. “And, well, there was that thing with your sister.”

I nod. “Oh yeah, let's not forget I was that pathetic loser dragging around her retard sister—” “I didn't say that!”

“I know . . . at least you didn't today. But you might have back then. I mean, pretty much everyone else did in middle school. But that was a long time ago.” I'd like to act like it's all behind me now. Like high school kids are more mature . . . and for the most part they are. But there are still some idiots out there.

I'm about to tell him to turn on Larch Street, but he seems to know the way to my house. Once again, I'm surprised.

“I don't know why kids are so mean,” he says as he pulls into my driveway.

“Because they're ignorant,” I suggest.

“Fortunately, we grow up eventually, and hopefully, we get less ignorant.”

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I reach for the door handle.

“No problem.”

“Seriously, I really appreciate it. If you hadn't got Lily to the pool, I would've been stuck with her all day.” I sigh. “I mean, I do love my sister, but sometimes I need a break.”

“So what are you going to do with your break?”

I consider admitting that I'm going to do about three loads of laundry and clean the kitchen and do a few other boring chores, but I realize how pitiful that sounds. I mean, get real, he's going to think I've got a serious Cinderella complex. And I don't. I mean, I do have a life. Don't I?

“Oh, I don't know,” I say as I slowly open the door. “It's such a pretty day . . . maybe I'll take a bike ride.”

“Want any company?” he says quickly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I haven't ridden my bike in ages. It sounds kind of fun.”

“Seriously?” I say again, knowing how idiotic I must sound. I actually do have a vocabulary, why don't I use it?

“Yeah. I used to ride the river trail all the time before I started driving. Then bike riding just seemed, well, you know . . . kinda uncool.”