I saw Kya and James every day at work, but with the rainy weather, we hardly had time to talk. Rain meant better business at Splatterfest. Dad must have been rocking his rain dances in his back office. Kya spent most of her free time hanging out with Lucas, the way she always did in the beginning stages of a relationship. Poor James was busy with his mom, who was having a bad flare-up.
When the day came for us to go to Seattle, the sun finally came out and I spent most of the morning at work texting Levi. We’d been texting at least three or four times a day. We were getting to know each other and we’d had coffee together again without being interrupted by Kya. He even showed up for another yoga session.
But still nothing had happened between us. As in lip-locks. Or groping. My head was confused, my body a rage of chaotic hormones. Did he like me? I had no idea how to read the signs. I wanted to ask Kya, but she was busy with Lucas. A couple of times, I thought about calling Chantelle for advice, but that felt like cheating. James wasn’t any help at all when it came to relationships.
After work was finally over, Kya came to my house to help me get ready. She primped me, pulled me, sprayed me, and even lent me some clothes. When I started down the stairs, Indie was in the kitchen and he glanced up and frowned. I descended slowly, clutching the railing for support. The kitchen reeked of popcorn and he opened the microwave door and pulled out a fully popped bag.
“You look like a little kid playing dress-up,” he called as he dropped the bag of popcorn on the counter and reached for a bowl.
“You look like a grown-up who lives with his parents and has a tapeworm in his belly.” I kept my chin high and my expression regal as I continued sauntering slowly, trying not to fall over in the heels Kya insisted I wear. I nixed a shopping trip. The dress I’d borrowed from her was tight and short. Truthfully, I felt like an imposter.
“You want her to look like a little kid, Indie,” Mom said. She stood at the sink, drying dishes that couldn’t go in the dishwasher. “Look at her. She looks so grown-up I bet some of your friends would ask her out.”
“God, Mom.” Indie ripped open the bag of popcorn and dumped the contents into the bowl. “The thought of my friends checking out Grace makes me want to vomit.”
“Good,” she said. “Because your job as older brother includes keeping them away from your little sister. Especially the cop types. They’re the worst.”
“You should know, you married one.” He shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth and plunked himself down at the kitchen table, watching me attempt to walk.
“I married a good one,” Mom said. “Some get corrupted or let the groupies go to their heads. And into their pants. Don’t be one of them.” She waggled her finger at him and then dried her hands on her pants.
Indie laughed. I scrunched up my face. “Mom. Seriously.”
She smiled as she picked up a large silver bowl and tucked it into a cupboard.
“Kya looks pretty hot,” Indie said, and I glanced behind me. Kya was now working the stairs like a beauty queen doing a pageant walk, even using the railing to stretch out her strut. Her dress looked like someone had gone after the hem with scissors. It barely grazed her thighs. It also hugged her butt and everyone raved about her butt. She could be a butt model. That’s probably why she liked to shake it around so much. From what I saw checking out mine in the mirror, my butt was flat and boring as if someone whacked it hard with a two by four.
Mom went to the table and snapped a tea towel at Indie. He laughed and rubbed at his arm. “Owww. For a girl who is best friends with my little sister, hot. Like my own sister but not quite. That kind of hot.”
“Thank you for clarifying. Kya, you’re stunning, and, Grace, you’re beautiful.” She whistled. “God, weren’t you two running around in tutus and rubber boots a few days ago?”
“Um, no,” Kya said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in an outfit like that.” She walked over to Indie and stuck her hand in his bowl of popcorn.
“Hey,” I said. “I really did wear that.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” I gave her the evil eye but she laughed. “I love you, Grace. But you have no idea how to accessorize. Rubber boots with a dress?”
“I was five,” I said.
Mom laughed. “You were an individualist,” she said. “She was ahead of her time.”
Mom threw down her tea towel then and glanced down at herself. “But when did I get this old body? Where did all my youth and hotness go?”
Indie and I exchanged a look, knowing how the rest of the sentence would go.
“Oh, that’s right. I gave birth to two children,” she said.
“You look pretty good for an old gal,” Indie told her and shoved another handful of popcorn in his mouth.
I tried not to laugh as she gave us both a faux dirty look. “Damn right I do.” And then she clapped her hands together. “Okay, girls. Ready to go?”
Kya nodded and Mom pulled a cooler bag of snacks from the fridge, even though the drive was only two hours. I tiptoed closer to the front door where I’d put my overnight bag. Mom didn’t even mention that our shoes might be ruining her hardwood. Dad would have had a fit seeing us walk in high heels in the house. He probably wouldn’t be so forgiving of the short dresses either. Good thing he was at jury selection.
Mom slung the strap of the cooler bag over her shoulder. “And watch it, missy,” she said to Kya, eying her from her high heels to the top of her curled black hair. “I am the wife of a cop. I have good instincts. I have no qualms about embarrassing you. Remember, I know how to make people cry.” She walked toward me. “Especially boys who ogle.”
“She’s not kidding.” I plopped down on the bench beside the front hallway closet and pressed my knees tight. Mom put the cooler bag down beside our overnight bags that seemed to be waiting patiently to be carted off.
Kya giggled and swiped a handful of Indie’s popcorn. “Don’t worry, Mrs. B. I know how to make boys cry too,” she said with her mouth full.
Mom didn’t say anything, but I saw a hint of sympathy in the way she pressed her lips tight.
“Did you borrow that from Kya?” Mom asked, turning back to me. The dress was shorter, tighter, and blacker than anything in my closet.
“How did you guess?” Kya called from the kitchen.
“Maybe you’re less of an individualist,” Mom said, but before Kya could be offended, she continued. “So short. Dresses are so short these days. Please tell me you girls are wearing underwear.”
“Mom!” The things that came from her mouth shouldn’t surprise me, but she still managed to shock me sometimes.
Kya giggled.
“God, Mom, I’m eating,” Indie said.
Mom put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Sorry. That was entirely inappropriate. I’ve seen pictures of too many famous teens who forgot to put on underwear.” While I closed my eyes to rid it of images, she continued, “Don’t tell your father I said that. He’ll put me away.”
“Again?” I asked.
“Dad stopped trying to institutionalize her years ago,” Indie said. “Futile, I think he said. She’d only escape.”
Mom and Kya giggled.
“How on earth did such a conservative man marry a woman with such a foul mouth?” Indie asked, imitating Dad’s voice.
Mom waved her hand in the air as she went to the front hall and slipped flat sandals on her feet. “Oh, hush. I’m only having fun. And your dad loves me despite my potty mouth. Without me, this family would lack spontaneity.” She grinned. “But sorry, girls. That was a little over the top. Please erase that comment from your memories.” She stepped over to the bags.
“If only I could,” Indie called from the kitchen.
“Don’t worry, I grew immune to scarring from your comments years ago.” I hobbled toward her.
Mom shook her head. “Women went through so much to get equal rights and now we’re back to flaunting and sexualizing ourselves. It seems like a step backward in so many ways.”
“We don’t need the women’s lib lecture, Mom.” I tugged down my skirt for good measure.
Kya strutted toward us, not at all deterred by her shoes. “We’re showing we can do it all. Dress sexy but still demand respect. Anyhow, it’s a good disguise, Mrs. B. None of the baller guys will suspect that we can kick their butts. Then we hose them down.”
My feet hurt already. “If only I can walk in these heels for an entire night.”
Mom glanced at us both. “Why you two had to get all gussied up before our drive to the city I still don’t understand.”
“We want to go straight to the party as soon as we get there,” Kya reminded her for the millionth time. “Looking hot and ready to mingle.”
“More like finding Betty Baller to suck up to,” I clarified, poking Kya in the arm.
“I’m glad you want to impress the Grinders and not the boys,” Mom said, and squinted at Kya. She turned back to me. “Look at you in high heels! You’re actually taller than me with those on.”
“Ballet slippers or flats wouldn’t do these outfits justice,” Kya said. She stopped in front of the mirror on the front closet door and whirled in a circle.
Mom sniffed the air. “You even have on perfume? You smell delicious. Like vanilla sunshine.”
“She’s the vanilla, I’m the sunshine,” Kya said. “Will you take pictures of us?” She reached in her purse and handed my mom her phone and her purse to hold.
“So you can post them online for creepers who stalk teenage girls?” Mom said, squinting at the camera functions as Kya grabbed me around the waist, posing hard and using me as a prop. “Those really are short skirts.” Mom held the phone up and snapped a couple of photos.
She was right. If we wore these to school, we’d be sent home for dress-code infractions, but it seemed best not to point that out.
“Maybe I should come to the players’ party with you girls.” She snapped another photo while Kya posed like a superstar. “Of course, I don’t think my yoga pants and T-shirt will pass the dress code.”
“Key word for the party is player, Mom,” I said. “And no offense, but I’ve seen you play paintball and it’s not pretty.”
Kya giggled and took her phone and purse back and flipped through the pictures.
“Well, you two girls need to be careful. Maybe not in the paintball arena, but at the party. You may think you’re playing dress-up but you both look grown-up. And very beautiful.” She bent down to pick up her bag. “Honestly, you could wear something more comfortable and change when we got there,” she mumbled.
“We’ll be late as it is.” We’d both worked later than we wanted.
“There will be other girls there,” Indie said, as he got up from the kitchen table and tossed his empty bowl in the sink instead of the dishwasher. “But they might be wearing bathing suits and sashes and serving drinks.” He laughed.
I stuck my tongue out at him. Kya ruined my moment by striking another sexy pose.
“Should I pack my bikini?” Mom called back. “I could make a sash.”
We all ignored her.
“The Grinders are going to be there,” I told Indie. “They get respect. That’s why we’re going, remember? There will also be a few other girls trying to secure a spot on teams.”
“Just warning you, Grace, girls are treated like ornaments by some of those guys. The players’ party might be bad,” he said.
“I think we can handle it,” I said, and glared at him.
“Like we’re not used to that,” Kya said to back me up.
“These girls will be fine,” Mom told him, and then she opened the front door.
“We rule!” Kya called.
“We’ll be back tomorrow night,” Mom called to Indie. “Tell your dad I’ll text him when we get to Seattle.”
“Why don’t you text him to tell him that?” Indie called back.
“Why don’t you do as I ask?” she said. “Bye, Indie.” She headed off to the car. Kya and I picked up our bags and followed.
Outside, Kya handed over her phone for more pictures and Mom dutifully took a couple more shots of us putting our luggage in the hatch and then tucked in her own small overnight bag and cooler bag.
I heard a familiar little bark and saw James walking toward us on the sidewalk, with his Chihuhuaua mix, Brian, on a leash trotting beside him. James stopped. I waved as Mom slammed down the hatch. Kya bumped me to the side with her hip. “Come on. We should go.”
“We have time to say hey to James.”
“He’s probably getting an erection from seeing you in that outfit,” Kya whispered in my ear, low enough that my mom couldn’t hear. She smiled fakey-fake at James. “Hey, James,” she called, and strutted to the passenger door.
“Shut up,” I called to her ass. Her exquisite model ass.
“Grace Elizabeth Black,” Mom said.
I frowned but turned to James. Kya giggled and climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door behind her.
“Hey, James,” Mom greeted him. “How about these girls, huh?”
“Wow,” he said as he reached the driveway. “You look…amazing, Grace.”
Mom started humming the song. “Both of them do,” she said and turned, looking for Kya and frowning when she saw her already in the car. “They’re going to be majorly outnumbered. I wish you were coming with us to look after them.” Mom bent down to pat Brian.
James smirked. “Have you checked out my muscles, Mrs. B? Kya and Grace can probably handle themselves far better than I could. Besides, I’m not a player, so I wouldn’t even be able to go to the party anyway.”
“So not a player,” Kya called from the passenger seat. The window was rolled all the way down. She lifted her arm out and flexed, poking a finger into her bicep. “Sick. Right, James?”
He rolled his eyes, but at least they were talking.
Mom cooed at Brian, picked him up, and rubbed noses with him. James and I exchanged a look and he laughed. Mom and his little dog would nose-smooch for hours if we let them. She loved dogs but couldn’t get one because of Dad’s allergies to dander.
“You must be pumped to meet the Grinders,” James said.
I nodded happily. “Yeah, but I still wish you were coming along.”
“Not my thing.” He glanced at Kya, but she’d pulled down the mirror in the visor of the passenger seat and was wiping lipstick from the corners of her mouth.
“Have fun,” he called. “And good luck! Dazzle ’em with your charm.”
“We will, James!” Kya called, and flipped up the visor. She smiled and it was actually genuine. My heart did a happy skip.
“Thanks!” I said to James. “I’m pretty nervous.”
“Nervous.” Kya made a loud hmmph sound from inside the car. “They’ll be signing up for the Grace Black fan club.”
“How could they not love you, Grace?” James said. “You’re the real deal.”
“Thanks. Hey, did I tell you I found the perfect girl for you?” I asked him.
“You’re already taken,” Kya called from the car.
We both ignored her. “Her name is Chantelle. She plays paintball, and she’s super cute. And smart. Really, really smart.” I had no idea if that were true, but it seemed like a good selling point for James.
“I don’t need you to set up sympathy dates for me,” he said, and turned his attention back to his dog still in my mom’s arms.
“No sympathy. She’s awesome. I think you two would hit it off.”
“Sure. Whatever,” he said as he petted his dog’s head.
I glanced at my mom. “Come on, Mom, let the dog breathe. It’s time to go.” She reluctantly put Brian on the ground. “Can I set it up?”
James shrugged and I took that as a yes.
“You want to drive?” Mom asked. “I’ll sit in the back and read.”
“Sure!” I smiled at James, waving, and then wobbled in my heels toward the driver side.
“See ya,” I called, and slipped inside the driver’s seat. “Hey!”
James turned around.
“We’re still on for the Lavender Festival next weekend, right? The three of us.”
Our annual tradition. My favorite event of the year. A hokey little carnival with local crafters and musicians. A small town event but I loved it. Dad had given all three of us the whole day and night off.
James shrugged.
“James Edward McTavish,” I yelled. “You are coming and that’s final. Or I will kick your butt.”
He smiled. “My butt quivers with fear, Grace. We’ll talk. Have fun. Good luck.”
Mom slipped into the backseat and fastened her seatbelt.
Kya groaned. “I have no idea why you love that stupid festival so much.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Mom said. “Grace is a softie.”
I turned my head to glare at her and she laughed. “Sorry, Grace. It’s true, honey. You came out nurturing. And you’re not nearly as narcissistic as the rest of us.”
“Thank God for that,” I said.
“Much more like your dad.”
“She’s not nearly as hairy though,” Kya said. “And she looks better in a skirt.”
“Whatever,” I said to both of them. “We are going to the Lavender Festival and you’ll like it,” I told Kya.
I started the car and glared at Kya, waiting. She stared back and finally rolled her eyes and did up her seat belt.
“Thank you,” I said, and slid my own on and backed out of the driveway. James stood on the side of the driveway with his little dog and waved as we drove off.
“Aww. He looks like one of your dad’s sad little monkey pancakes,” Kya said, watching him in her side-view mirror.
“Poor guy,” Mom said. “He’s probably feeling left out of the girls-only weekend.”
“I asked him to come,” I said.
“I told him we’d be talking about our periods and bloating and cramps the whole way,” Kya said with a laugh.
“You’re evil,” I told her.
Mom leaned forward to give me instructions on where to turn to get to the highway and provide me with driving tips, as if I’d never driven on the expressway before. I rolled my eyes at Kya but she grinned, her head back against the seat, enjoying herself a little too much.
“Are you sure you can drive in those shoes?” Mom asked.
“We should send her back,” I said to Kya.
Mom laughed and leaned back. “I trust you but I have to fulfill my motherly obligations. At least some of them. And without me, you wouldn’t be going.”
I turned to give her a quick smile. She may not be the mom who gave out hugs like sunscreen on a sunny day but I didn’t question her support, as bossy and weird as it might be at times. I focused back on the road. And here she was now, sacrificing her weekend so Kya and I could go to Seattle.
“I can’t wait to meet the Grinders.” I reached to turn on the radio. A pop song blasted from the speakers and I turned it down, checked for cars in the rearview mirror, and then moved into the next lane.
Kya nodded. “The party is going to be epic. We’re going to be the hottest girls there.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Mom called from the back. “You’ll be like little lambs going to slaughter. Turn left up there, Grace.”
“I know,” I called, and put on my signal.
Kya turned to my mom. “So not a lamb. I’m the wolf in lamb’s clothing. But I promise to give a tongue-lashing to any boy who looks at your daughter the wrong way.”
I made a choking noise as I steered onto the highway. “They’ll be too busy looking at you. You inhale attention the way Indie inhales asthma meds. As if you need it to breathe.”
Kya pretended to be offended for two seconds. “I don’t need boys’ approval. Besides, I have a boyfriend.” She grinned at me and then glanced back at my mom. “So does Gracelet.”
“She does?” Mom said, sitting forward in her seat again.
“I do not have a boyfriend.” I frowned and checked my rearview mirror as a semitruck came roaring up behind us.
“Don’t let those big trucks intimidate you,” Mom said, turning her head. I did my best to ignore the truck trying to drive right up my ass.
“What about Levi?” Kya said in a singsong voice. The truck moved to the left lane to pass me and I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel. “He hasn’t kissed her yet, but she wants him to,” Kya told my mom.
“Oh my God, you are not talking about this with my mom.”
“Why not?” Mom called from the back, her voice singsong happy.
“Let’s talk about your love life instead,” I said to her.
“Okay!” Kya said and turned to my mom. I caught the wink with my peripheral vision. Kya and Mom giggled under their breath.
“La la la la, not talking about this,” I said, and turned up the music louder.
We drove for a while, bopping our heads, singing, and listening to my mom belt it out from the backseat. When a commercial came on, I turned down the music. “So number one goal is to meet Betty and the Grinders and show them how awesome we are,” I clarified.
“Of course.” Kya turned to stare out the window at a field of horses. Her favorite animal. She’d taken riding lessons when she was a kid and still talked about it.
“Not to flirt with paintball boys.” I put on my signal to pass a slow-moving tractor in the lane ahead of us.
“Maybe a little?” Kya said.
“I’m already visualizing putting duct tape over your mouth.” I smiled and she stuck her tongue out.
“Nothing says love like a little duct tape,” Mom called. “Ask your father.”
“I do not want to know about that,” I said.
Mom snorted and she and Kya laughed and laughed and laughed until I was forced to join in.
When we finally arrived in Seattle, the GPS talked us to the hotel next to the convention center. We checked in and went straight to the room to freshen up. I ran to look out our window and discovered a lovely view of the back parking lot and trash bins.
Kya and I dropped our stuff on the floor, pulled out our makeup bags, and hogged the mirror in the bathroom to fix ourselves up. When we came out, Mom had changed into her bathing suit and put on an oversized cover-up to head to the swimming pool. As much as she complained about getting old, she looked great.
She stood and tucked a book under her arm. “Try not to come back too late, okay? Not past midnight?”
“How about one?” Kya asked.
“12:30,” Mom said. She sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately, another lovely side effect of menopause besides horrifying cramps and fits of rage. I might take a sleeping pill.”
“Way too much info,” I told her as I slid on my shoes.
“You might as well hear about it. It’s your destiny,” she said.
“Our cue to go,” I said to Kya. She laughed as she put on her heels and we did last-minute checks of each other as we headed to the door.
“You have your tickets?” Mom asked. I patted my purse.
“Good luck!” she called. “Be good.”
“Depends on your definition of good,” Kya whispered as we headed down the hallway.
I frowned at her back as I tried to negotiate the floor in my shoes. She better not have any ideas of getting into trouble. But history wasn’t really on my side.