Mother Talk III

I scream inside to Big Sister and pretend to disappear into the pink Halloween wig on my head.  Soccer Boy has stopped by our table, he’s checking out Adrianna’s curves. 

I remember the way he said, “How about a tour of your new neighborhood?” and then the way I let his good gaze peel off my shirt.  I disappear into my hair and wrap my thoughts around a talk about fathers.  Big Sister whispers in my ear.  Super stars impress her.   And I turn this future conversation with Adrianna into a gossip fest about the Academy Awards.  Though I don’t know much about movie stars.

“She will push around her food,” Big Sister says.  “Maybe it will be meatloaf next time, but red carpet fashion will get her gabbing and isn’t that how you make friends?”

“Julio will have moved on by then,” I say.

“What was that?” Adrianna asks.

I peer out from my hiding place behind the cotton candy disguise in front of my face and glance over at Adrianna.  She seems energized and happy after her brief conversation with Soccer Boy.  Is this the same Adrianna that does not believe in mothers and fathers?

“Where is Julio going?” She asks.  But her question lacks its usual edge.  I notice her sandals that don’t look as if there is anything wrong with them and the fact that she dresses like a copy cat Gitt.

“I was just wondering how long it will take him,” I say.  “To find another transfer student with a D-cup that sits next to him in English and wears chunky sweats.”

“Someone desperate for his compliments and fashion advice,” Big Sister says.

“Are you hearing voices from all the chemo?” Adrianna laughs.

“Like I’m back in L.A.”  And I smile wide as if my dad is sitting there whispering secrets about the universe and boys like he did when I was nine, things I wish I remembered when I moved here.

I look down at my faded, dirt caked sneakers.  I see those shoes transformed into Clipper’s Colors, a bright happening red.  And I hear my dad’s voice again.

People pay thousands to get messed up gorgeous like you.

And my hair inside the wig begins to itch.