Barbie Girl (Baby Doll Series) (4 page)

I tossed and turned all night with Barbie’s scheme running threw my head; she is a loose wire, an unsolvable p
roblem. She has the power to break me and I just put the fate of my reputation with the craziest person I know. Okay so I sound like a whiney girl, but that girl is a whack job.

I stare at myself in the mirror, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, a steady stream of toothpaste drool falling to the sink. I was desperate, a moment of insanity. That plea is good in any court of law, right? She caught me at a moment of weakness. She was wearing that revealing shirt, and I couldn’t think about what was right and what was wrong. It didn’t help with all of Third’s dripping sex talk either, that he continued with long after she left.

“That’s it, Dylan. You are going to find Barbie and tell her that the deal is off,” I say to myself in the mirror. She is just too unpredictable, she can either help me or destroy me and I am in no position to be destroyed, whatever little social life I have I need to preserve.

I worked too hard for what I have. Determined not to get beat up through high school, I grew my hair out, started lifting weights the summer before ninth grade and got a pair of contacts. Maybe I wasn’t one of the jocks or popular but I stopped getting picked on. I am not attending any parties, but I am not getting shoved up against lockers. I go back into my room and pull a rumpled gray shirt out of a pile of clothes on the floor I smell it. Clean enough. I lace up my converse. I am running late. Taking the stairs two at the time I go into the kitchen and grab the carton of milk drinking straight from the jug. “Dylan!” my mother scolds “get a cup.” I grab a cup and pour it until it is threatens to spill over the edges.

“Morning squirt,” I ruffle Emmy’s hair. She sits at the kitchen island eating Apple Jacks, in a purple tutu and striped tights, her hair sticks up in a brown halo around her head. She smiles at me her two front teeth missing.

“Breakfast, Dylan,” my mother says, it is not a question but a command.

“Can’t I am going to be late,” I say backing out of the door. I am almost at my truck when I hear my mother’s voice.

“Dylan,” she calls from the front porch. I groan inwardly and I slam the rusty door to my truck shut. She trots out to my truck in her pink fuzzy slippers and matching bathrobe.

“Breakfast, it is the most important part of the day.”

I take the paper bag from her and kiss her on the check. “Thanks,” I am going to need my energy for what I am preparing to do.

Who knows how Barbie is going to react to the news, “I can’t be your tutor.” I coach myself. I bet Jenny will tutor her, she needs community service hours. Maybe I will try to talk to her before school starts. I back out of the driveway. My mother shouts after me, “I love you.” Did I mention my social life hanging on by a
thread?

* * *

“I don’t know, Dylan,” Jenny pushes her glasses back up her nose for the hundredth time. “I really would love to…help…but I have a lot on my plate this semester, besides…Barbie doesn’t really seem like the type of girl who wants a tutor.”

I run my hand over my face. “I will owe you,” I plead.

“Sorry I can’t.” Jenny sighs. “I wish I could help.”

Yeah, right. She is backing up slowly toward the towering brick building behind her.

I decide not to mention calling it off to Third, because he is yapping about how absolutely rocking it is that Barbie is going to help me, therefore help him sky rocket into popularity by association. Third is wearing a backward black baseball cap, and a new gold chain around his fat neck. “Bro this is going to be huge.” He makes a fist in the air. “When you are done with her, you care if I hook up with her?” Third is pulling up his pants as he walks.

“Yeah
whatever man. She is all yours,
”
n
ow how to really make her not my problem anymore.

The sight of Katie in my first period class eases my hesitation. She is why I am doing this; I want to be with her. I am torn between safety and putting fate in the hands of freaking nut job. An uneasy feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. But I want to be with her. Katie glances over her shoulder and gives me a small smile. That smile is what I think about the rest of the day.

Barbie walks into the lunch room like she owns it, and
heads straight for our table. It is t
he second day of her making an appearance at our table. Normally the lunch room is not where she resides; she spends that either hanging out by the boys’ locker room or getting high out behind the bleachers. I hope she doesn’t think we all are friends now. She looks like some street gangster, or hooker Barbie. She has on a man’s white tank top, a black bra showing through the thin fabric. A
very
hot pink panties strap peaks out from her ripped-up jeans that sit low on her hips. Her arms are covered in thick black plastic bracelets that clink together with each movement she makes. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked, but I am. Third however is in love all over again, “She is my G to my gangster,” he pats his chest in a mock heartbeat. I roll my eyes at him.

“Hey, Lover boy,” she slides in next to me and all my senses are heightened. I am in panic mode. The sense of self-preservation kicks in. Should I run or play dead? She leans over me and picks up a piece pepperoni from my pizza and pops it into her mouth. That was rude. “I was going to eat that,” I tell her. She shrugs and takes another pepperoni. Manners, not her forte. I think she gets a kick out of annoying me, because she is doing a pretty damn good job at it. Be strong, don’t look down. Look her in the eyes. I try to think about Katie. You are putting up with her for Katie. Beautiful, sweet Katie.

“Here you can have my pizza,” Third offers his slice. For him that is like giving up a kidney. Lunch is his favorite subject, apparently hers too. She takes the pizza and devours it in three bites.

“Aren’t you supposed to chew your food completely before swallowing?” I say sarcastically.

She turns to Third, “Thank you, my friend. Unlike some people
you
are a gentleman.” She bats her eyes at him. Gentlemen, excuse me. She should know all about dealing with gentlemen, with the hand jobs she was rumored to be giving out.

“I love you,” Third is looking at her with longing.

“I tell you what, if lover boy here,” she gestures to me, “does not fall madly in love with me by the time this tutoring thing is over, I am all yours.” She winks at him turning him into a melted puddle of goo.

No wonder he is love with her, I have never heard a girl talk to him this long before. This is the most attention he has ever had from the opposite sex. This is the guy that is beat up on a regular basis. Girls look at him with disgust and only talk to him if it is to ask for notes from a class they missed or to take a picture of them making out with their boyfriend for their Facebook profile. Barbie is making him feel special and that has him eating out of her palms. She is smarter than I thought which makes her more dangerous.

“She is all yours dude,” I say.

Barbie rolls her eyes and changes the subject, “So I was thinking we need to come up with a plan for mission fire crotch.”

I choke on my Coke, spitting it out on to the table. “Don’t call her that!” I choke out. I glance over nervously at Katie’s table making sure she didn’t overhear her vicious words.

Third falls out of his chair onto the floor, he is laughing so hard. “Fine what do you want to call it? Mission lose your virginity?” she says completely unfazed at Third holding his stomach, rolling around the floor or the humiliation on my face.

“No ‘mission’ anything and I am not a virgin!” I snap. That’s a lie.

“He is so a virgin,” Third pulls himself off the floor and back into his seat.

“I can take care of that,” she winks at me.

“Yeah no thanks and can you please try not to talk about Katie like that,” I snarl.

“You can take care of that problem for me,” Third scoots closer to her.

“Fine you are no fun,” she pouts and reaches for my Coke. I grab it away before she can get it, and chug it down setting the empty can back on the table. Ha,
There
. She glares at me sticking her bottom lip out slightly.

Third is up, “You want Coke?” She smiles up at him batting her thick, black eye lashes at him “Please.” Third takes off jogging to the soda machine, I have never seen him move so fast before.

“Dylan you need to loosen up,” she points a long finger at me. Me loosen up? I am loose. “Or else little miss stick-up-her-butt will never glance your way. Look she has been sitting over there and not once has she acknowledged your existence.” She gestures over her shoulder.

“I am loose.”

She lets out a sound, that kind of sound like a pissed-off cat, “Really, you could have fooled me,” she rolls her eyes.

I glance over at Katie. She is sitting with a group of her friends deep in conversation. “What do you have in mind?” I ask cautiously.

She gives me a sultry smile and leans over toward me. “Tell me a joke,” she is so close I can smell her perfume; it is sweet like sugar or cotton candy. “Make me laugh,” she leans closer and I can see down her shirt. Her bra is black and lacey; her tan skin peeks out from under it. How am I supposed to make her laugh? I want to make her go away not laugh. Just then the sweet sound of Katie’s musical laugh floats to me. I look back up at Barbie who is staring eagerly at me. I feel desperate; I will try just about anything to make her stop staring at me with those freaky eyes of her. So I give it a go. “Well…there was this mathematician and his friend, and they went to a bar…and then they asked the bartender for one eighth of a beer.” Barbie holds up her hands.

“Stop. Please, before you hurt yourself,” she cuts me off. Fine, but now she will miss the punch line. She then does the most lunatic thing; she slams her hands down on the table hard drawing attention to herself as she throws her head back and starts laughing, really laughing, deep-belly laughing, a husky sound that vibrates over me. People stop chewing and look in our direction. It is clear she is not helping. She is turning us into a freak show. My face is on fire. I try to quiet her, I even make the universal sign for be quiet, pointer finger to perched lips, but she ignores it and continues to laugh. I want to make her go away.

Third is back, he looks back and forth at us like we lost our freaking minds. I think I have. I have gone over to the dark side and I want back. “What’s so funny?” he asks me, taking a seat. I shrug. He looks at Barbie who is still laughing; he must have caught on to whatever absurd motive she has, because he begins to chuckle which turns in to a belly-shaking laugh. When in Rome I suppose. People are looking at us like we are crazy.

“Forget it the deal is off,” I say through gritted teeth. “I didn’t realize the deal included me looking like a fool in front of the entire student body.”

Barbie stops laughing and looks right at me. “Look,” she gestures at Katie. I glance over and she is watching us, Katie Bloom wants to know what Barbie finds so funny in me. “You’re welcome. Now about that A you are going to get me,” she says.

Barbie shares a free period with me, whom she slept with to get one into her schedule, is beyond me, because it is obvious she needs to be in a class. I have never once seen her in the library and that makes me wonder what she uses her free period for. “You are not paying attention,” I say annoyed. I had been trying to explain to her linear equations that she is not getting. She is gazing off with this dreamy look in her eyes, great she is high. “If you look at example 1A, I push the book across the table to her. Frustration drips off me.

“I don’t get it,” she shoves the book back to me.

She is not even trying. I rub my palms down my face. “We have been at this for almost an hour, what don’t you get?” I ask trying to be patient with her

“The whole thing,” she gestures wildly around us. I need a new tactic to teach her, she is obviously not getting it the conventional way.

I sigh shutting the book, “We will try again tomorrow.” We still have thirty minutes to kill to next period. I dig out my homework to get an early start.

“What are you doing?” she asks leaning up against the table.

“Homework. You should try it sometime.”

She rolls her eyes, a favorite facial expression of hers. “Psshhh.”

I glance up at her, “What do you usually do with yourself during this time?” I can only begin to imagine the disease’s she spreads during her free time.

A smile spreads across her mouth, “Make out with Tyler under the bleachers.” Her eyes are glistening.

“Figures.”

The smile drops from her face, “What does that mean?” She sits up and crosses her arms over her chest.

“It just means you have a certain reputation around Central,” I say going back to my homework.

“So, because a few people talk you think you know me?”

I laugh, “A few people? Try the whole school.”

She leaps to her feet knocking over her chair. The few students that are trying to study glance over in our direction, “You know what…screw you and this whole fucking school.”

I watch her storm out. I now feel like the biggest tool I should have kept my mouth shut about her extracurricular activities. What business is it of mine what or whom she does with her free time. I stuff my books into my backpack and chase after her. I need to make peace…before she does something crazy that I will regret. Images of
C
arrie
flash in my mind. I follow the sound of her plastic bracelets clinking together.