Gimme Everything You Got - Iva-Marie Palmer Page 0,52

fluffed my hair. “Let’s go make some money.”

We ended up washing cars for more than two hours past the time we’d planned to be outside. I was pretty sure at least one woman slipped Bobby her number and another one had given him what looked like panties. His shirt was wet and clinging to him, and he had a red lipstick mark on his cheek from a grandma type who’d told him what a nice boy he was. When all was said and done, we had more than four hundred dollars, most of it thanks to Bobby.

But when he counted the last bill, he just said, “We did it, team! We’re going to Wisconsin!”

We were cold and wet and our waterproof mascara hadn’t held up, but none of it mattered as we let out a whoop so loud that passing cars honked in support.

Fourteen

I spent the day after the car wash catching up on homework and babysitting Kevin, this four-year-old who lived on Keating and always made a point of telling me that his previous babysitter had been prettier, and that was probably why she had been caught by his parents for having her boyfriend over when they weren’t home. Still, Kevin was better than Randy the Terrible, and the money I earned by not entirely neglecting Kevin would help pay for some new pajamas for the trip. On the off chance Bobby saw me dressed for bed, I did not want to be wearing my holey Barraco’s Pizza T-shirt and the shorts from my old gym uniform.

On Monday, in the midst of a detailed dream in which I had a yellow Gran Torino and Bobby washed it carefully while wearing a tight mechanic’s jumpsuit, my mom knocked on my bedroom door. “Susan, did you forget?”

“Forget what?”

“Dresses, with Polly. I need to drop you at Donna’s Bridal on my way to work,” she said.

“I didn’t forget, but . . . it’s Columbus Day.” I moaned. “He discovered a whole continent—can’t I stay in bed?”

“Correction: He found a place to park his ships—people had already discovered it just fine. And you need to discover a dress.” Mom came into my room and found a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, which she threw at me. “Polly’s treating you, so you can at least be on time.”

Mom seemed edgy in the car, and she was still wearing her jeans and a plain blue blouse. “I thought you had to work?” Normally, she wore slacks or a calf-length skirt to work, with a pair of stacked brown loafers that she got resoled once a year.

“Late start,” she said. “I’ll go change after I drop you off.”

When she pulled up in front of Donna’s, I hopped out of the car. “I bet dusty peach is going to make me look more like a moldy peach.”

“Be nice,” Mom said. She raised an eyebrow. “What goes around comes around.”

“Not bridesmaids’ dresses,” I said. “They follow you to the grave.” But seeing the elegant mannequins in the store’s window did make me the slightest bit excited. The last time I’d gotten a fancy dress had been eighth-grade graduation, and that one had had a Peter Pan collar.

As soon as the tinkling bell chimed on the glass door, Polly rushed toward me, partially wearing a wedding dress that hadn’t been fastened up the back yet. She held it against her chest with one hand as she hugged me with the other. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I’m trying a few on early. I’m coming back with my mom tomorrow, and I want to have the choices narrowed down before she sees anything. My mother is . . . very opinionated.”

“That one’s nice,” I said of the long-sleeved lace dress that was askew across her chest. I really couldn’t tell with it only half on, but with her shiny hair and long neck, she resembled a bride on a cake topper.

“You’re too sweet, but I think it will give me too much cleavage,” she said, lamenting a problem I couldn’t imagine having. “I’m going to try something with a higher neck.” She went back to the dressing rooms, and I wandered deeper into the store, unsure what to do. I saw some dresses on a rack, but nothing that looked dusty peach.

“Can I help— Susan?” Dawn Murphy came out from the dressing room area and squinted at me. “You’re not getting married, are you?”

“Uh, no. . . .” I pointed toward where Polly had gone. “I’m