Mick
Quinn is mooching French fries off my plate again.
“Get your own.” I jab at his hand with my fork.
“Now, now,” he says. “That’s no way to impress the ladies.” He lifts his chin in the direction of the salad bar. I turn and see Dalma coming toward us with a tray full of food. He steals half my fries while I’m looking at her, but I don’t really care anymore.
“I can sit?” she says. Her hair is so smooth and shiny, it’s like metal. Liquid metal, if there is such a thing.
Quinn goes, “Here, take my place” and gets up. “I was leaving anyway.” He’s the type of guy who thinks he sounds smooth even with his mouth full.
Dalma asks him to stay, but he shakes his head. He swipes his elbow across the table and brushes the grunge he left onto the floor. “For you, Lady Dalma.”
He bows at her, then gives me a big sleazy wink, tongue out the side of his mouth and everything. “Later, Mick.” She puts down her tray, tucks her hair behind her ear and watches him go. She’s wearing little gold hoops. “How he knows my name?”
Because I’m an idiot and told him about you even though I know he’s got a big mouth. I don’t say that.
I move a chicken nugget around my plate with my fork. “Everyone knows you. You’re the new girl.”
“Ah!” She bats her eyelashes. “I am starlet?”
That makes me laugh. Where would Dalma pick up a word like starlet? It’s something my great-aunt would say.
“Would you like to go to a movie with me tonight?” I don’t know where that came from, either.
She pulls back, eyes wide. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“Yes.”
“To movie?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she says, then laughs. She takes a big bite of salad. Her whole face keeps smiling, even while she chews. She doesn’t seem afraid of anything.
Some dressing dribbles down her chin.
I point at it. She looks behind her, then shrugs. “I see nothing.”
“I mean, your chin,” I say.
She squints one eye at me suspiciously. “How I can see my chin?”
This doesn’t need to be so complicated.
I take my napkin, reach across the table and wipe the dressing off her face.
In the process, I leave behind a smear of honey-garlic dipping sauce. I probably should have used a clean napkin.
For some reason, this strikes me as hilarious. I cover my mouth and laugh really hard.
Dalma goes, “What? What?”
She’s laughing too, but still, I shouldn’t leave her like that. I pound on my chest until I can pull myself together, then pick up an unused napkin, dip it in my water and try again. She scrunches up her face the way Gavin would if I was doing it to him.
“My mother. She do this.” Dalma pretends to spit into her hand, then rubs it back and forth in the air.
“Same here.” We both go, “Ew.”
“Look,” Dalma says. “Your friend.”
She waves. I turn and see Jade coming toward us. She usually has late lunch on Thursdays. I lift my hand. It’s not quite a wave.
“Chicken nuggets.” Jade nudges me with her elbow, then slides into the chair next to me. “I should have known.” She looks at Dalma. “He can’t resist them.”
I don’t think Dalma knows the word resist, but she smiles anyway.
Jade peels open her tub of no-fat yogurt. She scrapes tiny little blobs off the foil lid, then puts the spoon upside down on her tongue. It’s not the most efficient way to eat. The whole time, she’s talking to Dalma about the Newcomers Club, her tutor, the dress she’s wearing to the spring dance and Kevin Peters. I have no idea why she’s talking about Kevin. I didn’t even think she knew him that well. I’m positive Dalma doesn’t know him at all. I nod and say stuff like “Oh yeah?” and “No kidding,” but basically I’m out of the conversation.
The bell goes. We take our trays and dump the leftovers in the bins on the way out. Jade’s only eaten about two tablespoons of yogurt.
“Shouldn’t you finish that?” I say. “You’ll get hungry.” By which I mean “even skinnier.” It’s none of my business, but I’m seriously considering calling her mother about how much weight she’s lost. I wonder if she’s anorexic.
Jade looks at Dalma. “He always worries about me. It’s so cute.” She gives my arm a little slap.
We head down the hall. It’s really noisy. People are slamming lockers shut, bombing between classes, screaming at each other about stuff. Rory Steinberg jumps off the landing and practically knocks Kyle Dodds over. That’s not as funny as he thinks it’s going to be.
It must be hard for Dalma to understand what Jade’s saying with all the racket. I’ll have to find a quiet place to ask her about tonight. I don’t know where she lives yet.
Jade turns to go. “Oh, hey, Dalma. I’m thinking of having some girls over for pizza tonight. Why don’t you come?”
Dalma slumps her head to one side. “Sorry. I cannot. I go…” She points her hand at me. “I mean, we go…” she says. I don’t know if it’s the look on my face or the look on Jade’s, but Dalma stops talking.
“Oh, too bad,” Jade says. “Next time!” She twiddles her fingers at us, then runs up the stairs to Chemistry.
I arrange to pick Dalma up at her place at seven.