Page 41 of Leo
“No, that’s alright.And Ambrose is a very kind man.I know he’d take me back on and never mention this again, but I just can’t bring myself to go back.I’m too embarrassed, frankly,” she said with a twist of her lips.“Oh, lordy.This whole visit has been one long adrenaline rush, and I think I need to go home, have some tea, and lay down for a bit.”
“Ms.Lund, I know you didn’t ask, but I do forgive you for the whole thing.”I followed her from the office to the front of the home, holding the door open for her.“I don’t think you need it, but you can have it if you want it.”
Her smile was sweet then, and she patted my arm where I had it braced to hold the door.“I think the person I should ask it from never existed.The version of Delia Dennis who’d have been hurt by my, ah, prank was never one I knew, and she’s the one I want to apologize to now.”
CHAPTER14
AMBROSE
Bethany was waitingin the kitchen when I rolled up to work two hours later than my usual for a Sunday.I said a silent thanks to whomever had organized these lock-ins, arranging for the rec center transport vans to drop the kids off back at the high school when the lock-in was over.“How was your walk?”I asked, grabbing my apron from the hook in my office.“See any neat bugs?”
“So,” she said slowly, eyeing me up and down with a frown.“Have a good night while I had to suffer through a lock-in with the Plastics?”
“Seriously?We’re goingMean Girlsnow?”
She gave her ponytail a firm tug, looking so much like Mom when she was in a bad mood that I nearly choked on the sudden, sharp grief.“If the name fits,” she muttered.“It was boring and justugh,” she complained.“The guidance counselor is full of shit, by the bye.The only art stuff they had was some weird foam plastic picture frame crap where we were supposed to glue on flowers and these sparkle letters to spell outProm NightorBestiesorLove My Friends.”She slid me a sideways glance as she pulled a bottled water from the fridge.“I spelled outbullshitand had to throw out my frame.”
I barely managed to hold in my snort.“Sounds like something I’d have done.And you need to pay for that water, by the way.We keep the staff fridge stocked with the free stuff for a reason.”
She rolled her eyes and fished a few dollar bills out of her pocket, heading to the register to ring herself up.“So, am I done yet?Am I real girl now?”
“What?”
“These workshops and crap.They’re supposed to make me normal, right?Make me less me?”
She stared so hard at her water bottle, I almost expected to see it burst into flames in her hand.“Bethany,” I whispered.“Is that what you think this is about?”My chest ached.I wanted to grab hold of her and squeeze her in a hug, squeeze her till the doubt was crushed to dust.“How could you—”
“Because,” she said, barely audible.“You used to be all cool, you know?Told me the other kids could fuck off.But like, last year?You started getting all weird with me.”
What had happened last year?I shook my head, unable to pinpoint just what she meant.“I didn’t start treating you differently,” I swore.“What do you mean?”
“When Jacob Wright asked me to go to the swim-in movie at the community center pool,” she gritted out, cheeks flaring pink.“You said I was too young to go on a date butthenI heard you talking to Aunt Sharon on the phone like a day or two later, and you said I wasn’t the sort of girl to go to one of those things and that Jacob Wright was no good.”She sniffed, dashing her arm across her nose, fixing me with a glare that could’ve melted steel with its intensity.“And like a week later you signed me up for that stupid class at the center, with that stupid lady who talked about how to be asocial butterflyand she had this stupid bug zapper prop and…” Bethany trailed off.
“I hated it.All those classes you put me in about freaking making new friends andget to know other teens through shitty craftsor whatever they’re called.They’re not for people like me, Ambrose.They’re not for peoplelike me.” She finally looked up then, her face set in hard lines.“I’mme,” she said, broken breaths punctuating her words.“If you don’t like it, you can eat shit,” she snapped, eyes bright with tears.“It wouldn’t make a difference!Ilikewho I am!Idon’tlike who everyone else is!They’re all so fucking fake!All smiles and buddies and going to freakin’…” she threw her hands up, making a frustrated noise.“I don’t know, art classes and hanging out on the beach, and they invite me, but I can tell it’s out of pity.And I’m not someone’s project, okay?Not the stupid senior buddy program, not the guidance counselor, not the community center, and notyou,Ambrose.I’m not your project to fix up and make nice.”
My heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, and if I felt that much pain, I could only imagine how intense Bethany’s was.“I don’t want to change you, Bethany,” I whispered.“I don’t want you to be different.I mean,” I rushed when her face screwed up in anger, tears spilling down her cheeks in muddy black streaks, “I don’t want you to change!I love you.Mom and Dad loved you.And maybe still do—I don’t know what’s after this but if theycan, they do.And Bethany, all of this shit with the classes and workshops and everything?”I sighed, raking my hair back from my face as she let out a tiny sob that sounded so childlike, it reminded me that she wasn’t the young adult she played at being but really still a child herself, barely a teenager.“I thought maybe it would help you find some people you liked hanging out with, who weren’t going to give you crap for what you’re into.”
“I have Mika,” she pointed out.“And her theyfriend, and I’ve got Amy—she just joined the poetry club and she’s pretty cool.She collects fossils and she’s getting her eyebrow pierced—”
“Isn’t she your age?”
Bethany rolled her eyes.“I didn’t say she was getting it donenow.Just she’s gonna get it done.And anyway, Am, I’ve got people.Maybe not the people the stupid school counselor thinks I should but…” she shrugged.“I do.”
“I’m sorry, Bethany,” I said quietly.“I didn’t want to hurt you, you know?I thought what I was doing was the right thing, what Mom and Dad might want for you, you know?And I had no idea that this lock-in thing was going to be so… so…”
“Cis-normative and dumb?”
“That too.”I chuckled weakly.“I’m not trying to change you, I promise.You’ve just been miserable lately and I thought these would be good ways to find some social circle or… Hell, I don’t know.I just wanted to help, Bethany.”
She sniffed hard, scrubbing the back of her wrist under her nose before making a face and grabbing for the tissues we kept under the counter.“I’m miserable because everyone treats me like a freak,” she muttered.“They want me to be different.If I hear one more adult sayyou’d be so pretty if…Oryou’ve got such a pretty face, if you’d only lose weight…”She tugged at her sweater, far too heavy for Gaynor Beach’s warm autumn weather, and folded her arms around her midsection.“And I like my makeup.I like being weird,” she gave the word air quotes.“I’m not waiting to be rescued or get some godawful teen movie makeover.Taylor can eat a bag of fucking hair if he thinks I’m going to do any of that for him,” she added bitterly, then froze.
“Ah.”Shit.“Is this the Taylor from your creative writing class?”
Bethany set her chin mutinously for a moment, then crumpled, folding in on herself and nodding.“He’s, um.He’s not a fan of this,” she waved her hand up and down to indicate her entire aesthetic.“He said he liked me.He asked me to go to the movies but said I’d have to meet him in the theater.”She sniffed hard, her chin trembling.
“Was this last week?When you said you couldn’t watch Edward because you had plans?”I asked gently, taking a step toward her.When she didn’t pull away, I took another, then another, closing the distance with my arms open.She hesitated, then leaned into a hug.“I remember you got real dressed up and said you had some after school thing.”
She nodded miserably.“I didn’t want you to know.It’s embarrassing, talking to my brother about dating, okay?And I thought you’d tell me I was too young again but ugh, it was just a freaking movie, you know?”
