Dumplin - Julie Murphy Page 0,36
I sift through the stacks of Lucy’s records before placing one on the player. I watch as the needle follows the grooves of Dolly’s voice.
TWENTY-ONE
Last night was my first night at the Chili Bowl. No one, I mean no one, comes into the Chili Bowl. If my first shift was any indication, it is mathematically impossible for the electricity to still be on.
At the end of the night, when Alejandro locked the door behind us, he sighed through his nose and said, “Just not chili season yet.”
I can’t imagine the time of year makes all that much difference when South Texas is only known to have two seasons: Hot as Balls and Not Quite as Hot as Balls.
Because I had nothing to do last night except relive the most awkward date ever, I compiled a list of pros and cons regarding my most recent life choice.
Pros and Cons of Working at the Chili Bowl
PROS
• I can wear jeans. No more polyester dresses that zip up the front.
• I don’t like chili, so I won’t be stuffing my face any time soon.
• No Bo.
• No drunk teenagers who want chili five minutes before we close.
• Minimal cleaning because of the whole no-one-comes-here thing.
• It’s quiet.
CONS
• I smell like chili.
• Fewer hours = less money
• No Bo.
• It’s too quiet.
Bo is everywhere. His lips red as ever. In fifth period, I feel his eyes on me like a shadow. Sometimes I find myself roaming the halls, not quite realizing what I’m doing until I catch a glimpse of him.
But not only that. My whole mind has turned against me. Every time I blink, all I see are my flaws. My body in a fun-house mirror. Hips too wide. Thighs too big. And a head too small for the rest of me. Before this summer, I’d always been happy in this skin. Proud even.
But then came Bo. Since that first time we made out in the cab of his truck, I’ve felt myself cracking. Something about the way his skin felt against mine drew all these doubts to the surface that I didn’t even know I had.
I thought that when he went away, so would these feelings. But they’re there, and the best I can do is try to ignore them.
I ask Miss Rubio for a bathroom pass. I don’t have to go to the bathroom, but I need out. Fifth period has become this horrible little slice of hell where the volume in my head is turned up.
I let the combined aromatic scent of metal and sweat shock my senses as I walk through the hallways and to the nearest bathroom.
I’m splashing my face with water when the door swings wide open and a voice calls, “Hello?”
“Um, yeah?” I pull a paper towel from the dispenser.
“Willowdean?” Bo holds the door open and glances back to the hallway. “Is anyone else in here?”
“Are you kidding me? This is the girls’ bathroom!”
“I need to talk to you.” He walks in.
“There could be girls in here.”
He shakes his head, his brown hair swishing. “They would’ve said something by now.”
“You can’t be in here.”
“Give me five minutes.”
I emit a heavy sigh and lean up against the door, prepared to stop anyone who might try to come in. “What?”
“You quit.” He crosses his arms and holds a wide stance. “What did I do?”
I pull my ponytail loose to let my curls breathe.
“Are you trying to get me to kiss you?” he asks.
“What? No. Why would you say that?”
“Then put your hair back up.”
Jaw slack, I stare at him, waiting for him to say something else.
He doesn’t look away. “I’m serious.”
I flip my hair over and gather it into a ponytail so that he can’t see the blush spreading across my cheeks and down into my chest. With my teeth, I pull the hair tie off my wrist and whip my head back up, hoping that the redness is gone. Or that maybe he’ll think it’s from hanging my head upside down. “Listen, you’re in one of my classes. Things didn’t work out between us. But I can’t work with you and go to school with you.”
“Things didn’t work out? You ended it. I didn’t even get a choice.”
“Yes, you did. You made choices all summer.” But so did I. “Listen, I can’t do this. Okay? I can’t.”
He shakes his head, but that doesn’t stop him from leaving.
I wash my hands over and over again, trying to force the noise out of my head.
The door to the handicap