“Stop changing the subject. You look great in forest green.”
It was the night of the Henley High School spring mixer—an informal dance as a precursor to prom. Oliver had convinced me to wear a sleeveless sheath dress. It was simple but, surprisingly, gave me a feminine shape.
“Marlow!” he called.
“Shhh. Do you always have to be so loud?” I scolded.
He ignored me, and Marlow breezed in. She appeared impossibly fresh, with rosy, dewy cheeks that stood out above her fuzzy white sweater.
“Oh, Isla!” She put her hand to her cheek.
Oliver gave a thumbs-up.
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, both of you. Stop with the dramatics.”
“You look so pretty,” she said, putting her hands on my arms.
I believed her for once. My body was finally starting to cooperate. The blockish and padded figure had melted slightly. I had hips and a waist. But I was no more comfortable in this body than the one before. I moved with uncertainty, a hermit crab that had found a newer, shinier shell, yet missed her old one.
“Why can’t eighth graders go to this again?” Marlow sat hard on my bed.
Oliver plopped next to her. “Is it true you got asked by a junior?”
“Does it even matter? I’m not allowed,” she whined.
I stared at myself in the mirror again, starting to doubt the initial rush of euphoria I’d had. Wouldn’t everyone wonder why I was wearing a dress? Would I look like I was trying too hard?
“I can’t wear this.” I started to reach for the back to unzip.
“You’re crazy!” Oliver leaped up to stop me.
“Isla, you have to be kidding me. You need to wear this!”
“What’s all the yelling about?”
Sawyer entered my bedroom, and I instantly felt a rush of embarrassment, a need to cover up any exposed skin. I felt so visible and bare, a specimen under the microscope.
“What are you doing here?” I said this more as an accusation, my voice coming out irritated.
He held up his hands. “Whoa. Sorry, what? I ran into Moni earlier this week and she told me to come over to eat something before the dance.”
“And?”
“And? I wasn’t going to miss out on that. Do you know how often Ada actually cooks real food?”
He quickly looked me up and down and then turned away. “You look really nice, Isla,” he said to the wall.
I didn’t respond. He’d always had manners. Why wouldn’t he say something so polite? So respectful? I would have rather he’d thrown a barbed comment at me—something that didn’t resemble the stale dialogue of coworkers in an office.
Downstairs, Moni had bowls of hot rice she had stir-fried with chopped-up kimchi, spam, and egg.
“Korean junk food,” she said, chastising the dish.
“Moni, stop saying that,” Marlow said. “It’s delicious.”
Moni spooned more rice into Sawyer’s bowl. She patted his head. “You need eat more. Too skinny.”
He smiled fondly and patted her hand. The rice couldn’t go fast enough into his growing and stretching teenage body.
It suddenly felt like we were little kids again—Moni doting over us all, clucking and spooning more food into our mouths. The wave of nostalgia almost made me dizzy. It was broken when Sawyer scooted his chair back, thanking Moni and saying something about having to meet up with Topher and his older cousin for a ride.
Later, when the gym was packed full of high school kids, sweat, hormones, and nerves, I told Oliver I needed fresh air. We stood with a line of other freshmen in the back, spectators of the bobbing and grinding in front of us that was to be construed as dancing.
“I can’t take another second of this!” I yelled into his ear.
He nodded and proceeded to dance in place all by himself. I had to admire his lack of inhibitions. Sometimes I wondered if he was simply that unaware—that he was blessed with a naivety when it came to other people’s judgment.
I burst out the side doors. The heat of the gym had somehow shrunk the stiff material of my dress. It felt tight, and no longer moved with my body. I tugged at the bottom hem and sighed at the instant quiet—only disturbed slightly by the distant humming and buzzing of the dance music.
“You couldn’t stand it either, huh?”
Sawyer stood to my right, leaning against the brick wall.
His sudden presence wasn’t startling to me. “Stand?”
“It was getting hard to breathe, even.” He moved down and rested his head next to me.
“For me it was more the smell of all the kids who I suspect don’t shower, collecting in one space.”
