Dumplin - Julie Murphy Page 0,43
pay,” I lie as I lean forward, practically laying my upper body on the counter. “How much do you think I can get a formal for? This pageant isn’t going to be cheap.”
She shrugs. “Maybe a couple hundred bucks. You could try Goodwill, too.”
The cowbell above the door rings. I stand up, totally caught off guard by the prospect of a customer. Ellen doesn’t budge.
Millie Michalchuk waves at the two of us as she walks in. She smiles at me and an immediate guilt for any less-than-nice thing I’ve ever thought about her weighs me down like an anchor.
“Hey, Millie.” Ellen gives a short wave.
“So what can I get you today?” I ask.
She drops her keys down on the counter, and there are at least twenty-six key chains on her key ring with all of two keys. “A pint of house chili.” She pauses. “And some crackers.”
“You got it.”
After she pays, Millie picks up some plasticware from the condiment bar while I spoon her chili out from the pot.
“So,” Ellen says, “the registration fee can’t be more than two hundred bucks, right?”
“I guess. I have five hundred and sixty-eight dollars in savings, so if the whole thing costs more than that, I’m going to have to get a second job.” I press the lid down on Millie’s to-go cup. “Here ya go!”
Her eyes skip back and forth between El and me before taking her chili and walking out the door.
El watches as Millie pulls out of the parking lot. “That was weird-ish.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Well, she’s kind of weird all on her own.”
We hang out all night and when Alejandro comes out from his office, Ellen slides off the counter and pretends to be a customer. He runs the nightly report on my register and as he’s walking back to his office, he calls over his shoulder, “Tell your friend we’re hiring!”
TWENTY-EIGHT
I run into school, shielding myself from the rain with my backpack held up above my head. I stop to wipe my feet on the doormat.
“Will?” Millie stands off to the side against the lockers, wearing floral leggings with a matching tunic.
I step toward her to get out of the way of incoming students. “Hey. What’s going on, Millie?”
She pulls on her backpack straps so that they dig into her shoulders. “I heard you talking last night to Ellen. About the pageant.”
I’m taken aback. “Yeah, we—”
She leans in and whispers, “You’re entering, aren’t you?”
“I . . . well, yeah. I am.”
A wide grin spreads across her face, pushing her cheeks up and out. She claps her hands together like I’ve done some sort of trick. “That’s amazing.”
I turn toward her so that my back is to the stream of students. “Listen,” I say. “It’s not a secret, but I don’t wanna make a big deal of this, okay?”
“Yes. Right, of course.”
Something about her smile makes me uneasy. “Okay.”
When I catch up with El later that day, I tell her about my odd exchange with Millie.
She grabs my shoulders and leans into me. “Will, you’re, like, her inspiration.”
I shake my head vehemently. “Am not.”
“Oh my God, you have a little fan club.”
“Eat shit.” A small speck of me swells with pride.
The rain brings in a few customers in search of chili. It’s the most business I’ve seen at once here. I serve up a few bowls, and without looking up to see who my next customer is, I say, “Would you like to try our new white bean chili?”
“Uh, yeah. A cup or a bowl or whatever.” That voice.
I don’t look up. “What do you want, Bo?”
“I came for some chili. This is a chili restaurant, isn’t it?”
Words bubble in my chest, but none of them are right. None of them say exactly what I want. Because I don’t know what I want. “Can I get you anything else?”
He bites down on his bottom lip. It disappears beneath his teeth. I love his teeth. They’re all so perfect, except the front two. They overlap. Just slightly. It’s like the universe decided he was too perfect and had to give him one tiny flaw. “No,” he says.
I watch as he walks back across the street with his to-go cup of chili. He pulls his visor from his back pocket and tugs it down on top of his head as he jogs into Harpy’s.
Over the next two days, I open my mouth at least twelve times to tell my mom that I’m entering the pageant. But I can’t. I can’t have this