Secondary Characters (Novella) - By Rachel Schieffelbein Page 0,28

white, razor-back tank with random clear sequin embellishments. The color pop? My red, open-toed heels. God bless Marissa for making me buy them.

My fingers twirl my auburn hair. Hopefully, it’ll dry in waves. I tug on my tank top, adjusting it over my curves. My shape’s not perfect but, like Marissa says, I have “something to work with.”

My butt’s not awful but my boobs are too big. I hate them. Marissa’s certain I’d look thinner without them. She convinced me to ask my parents for a breast reduction as a sweet-sixteen present. Mom nearly died when I asked. In fact, she yelled so much I thought she would.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory. That was not a fun fight. Mom will never understand that being curvy is no longer fashionable. Instead, she rants about culture and societal flaws. When I asked about the reduction, she started in on the MTV Music Awards and I foolishly rolled my eyes. All of my magazines ended up in the fireplace that night. They were “poisoning my body image.” So I rebelled, buying three-year subscriptions of People and US Weekly.

Take that, Mom.

I adjust my jeans and add a black belt, hoping Zach will like it. My cell phone flashes five past six. Fashionably five minutes late, as recommended in the latest Elle magazine. The Minnesota humidity makes my hair frizz the moment I step out of the locker room. Why do I even try? I search for Zach’s truck, hoping he won’t notice my funky hair.

But it’s not there. He must be caught in traffic. I sit on the bench and wait.

And I wait.

A long time.

My cell displays 6:37. Maybe work is keeping him? The Fireside Bowling Alley often has a dinner rush. I check my phone, but no calls. I text him.

Me: I’m sure Fireside is busy. Take your time.

I really can wait. I have nowhere to go until the party.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, enjoying the cooler evening sun on my face and praying it will calm my frizz. I hold my cell, waiting for it to vibrate with his response. As the minutes pass, I toy with the idea that maybe he forgot …

But he planned this. He wouldn’t do that.

A light laugh interrupts me. My eyes jolt open and I gasp. I hate how easily I startle.

“Sorry lady,” says a deep, smooth voice behind me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You just look so funny all dressed up but relaxing in the sun.”

“Oh, it’s ok.” Great. I pull at the bottom of my white tank. I look funny.

He clears his throat, waiting for me to do the social thing. Interact.

Not in the mood. Not now. The dent in my phone demands study. If I turn the phone upside down, the dent looks like a cow. I shift, making sure my back faces the voice. Maybe he’ll take a hint? My bench creaks with newly added weight.

Nope.

“So?” he says.

I force myself to glance up. My throat closes. Marissa would freak.

Justin stares back with that fake smile. “Who are you waiting for?”

“My boyfriend, Zach Filman.” Confidence, yes.

Justin nods, “Oh, Zach.” He looks at his watch and snickers. “I bet he’s late, huh?” His eyebrow flicks up with his smile.

“No. I’m a bit early.”

“You’re lying.” He moves closer to me.

Shaking my head, I focus on the lined pavement. The lines aren’t parallel at all. I really suck at lying, but the most popular guy in school doesn’t need to know my boyfriend’s late.

“Well, then,” he continues. “I’ll just wait here with you. You don’t mind.”

I do.

He taps his finger on the bench’s armrest. “Shouldn’t be long now.” His voice is thick with sarcasm which he pairs with his flashy, stupid smile. Justin may be gorgeous but he is super annoying. He clears his throat, “Might as well get to know one another. I’m Justin Marshall.”

No kidding.

“I’m Lucy.” He doesn’t need to know my last name.

“Well, Lucy.” He pulls out his phone. “It’s 6:52. When’re ya going on that date?”

“For real?” The heat from the sun must’ve fried my brain-to-mouth filter.

He claps his hands together, leaning back, enjoying my outburst. “Well, I’m bored. Jennifer doesn’t get off for another twenty minutes. I need a little fun.”

“Well, in that case, I’m pleased to entertain you.” Sarcasm rolls thick off my tongue.

“Wonderful.” His hands fold behind his head and his muscles twitch. But I’m steady, not a flinch and not even close to his regular swoon.

“So,