Dumplin - Julie Murphy Page 0,86
the back of his hand. “Maybe I could be your escort. I went to the pageant a few years ago, and I know girls have to get guys to escort them. I could, like, rent a tux. Is that dumb? You were probably supposed to ask me, but you wrote on your face for Sadie Hawkins, and I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I . . . I—yes. That would be good. Great.” I want to take the words right back. This is more than a friendly gesture. Yet, selfishly, I do need an escort. And Bo didn’t technically offer. Besides, if I can’t handle the idea of walking down a hallway with him, how will I cope with him escorting me in front of the entire town?
“Okay, cool. Should I get something to match your dress? Like prom or whatever?”
“I think black is good. And you can wear a suit. You don’t have to rent a tux.”
He shakes his head. “My mom’s idea. She’s all on board for this.”
Oh God. His mom. “Great.”
“She really loves that you’re doing this. She says it’s brave.”
I smile. But I don’t want it to be brave. I want it to be normal.
After school, Millie tracks me down in the parking lot, which isn’t hard since I’m just standing around, hoping to catch Ellen on her own.
Today Millie is a ball of mint green, including her backpack. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail with a matching scrunchie, because Millie might be the only person I know who still wears scrunchies.
“Hey,” she says. “So, Friday was pretty great.”
“Yeah, it was.”
She rocks back and forth on her feet, her hands twisting together. “I’m—my family is kind of religious. Actually, really religious. And my parents. Well, they wouldn’t be super happy if they knew where I was. And who we were with.”
I feel my shoulders slump. “Okay?”
“I say that because . . . I always thought people like Lee and Dale were wrong. Like, they were living in sin.”
I hate phrases like that. “Jesus vocab,” El would call them. Things you learn in church that are hammered into you until they’re so normal that you expect everyone else who doesn’t go to church to know what you mean.
Millie shakes her head. “My words are coming out all wrong. What I’m trying to say is that I liked Lee and Dale and I had fun that night at the Hideaway. I keep thinking about it and they’re good people. I wish everyone could see that.” She smiles. “I just wanted to let you know.”
Something I can only describe as pride swells against my chest. I grip Millie’s shoulder. “I’m glad.”
“Pageant piggies!” someone yells from the other side of the parking lot, breaking the moment between us. “Oink! Oink!”
“Eat shit!” I bark back. I turn to Millie. “I’m sorry.”
She tucks a stray hair behind her ear and takes a step back. “It’s whatever. It’s fine.”
I knew this was bound to happen eventually. With the pageant two weeks away, the town’s attention is all on us. And in our case, that might not be a good thing.
Millie pulls on the straps of her backpack. “I was thinking of having you, Amanda, and Hannah over for a slumber party. Amanda will go, but I don’t think Hannah will if you don’t. So . . . will you?”
As a rule, I don’t do slumber parties, unless you count spending the night at El’s. Nothing about sleeping in little more than a T-shirt and underwear on Millie’s floor while her parents check in on us every few hours appeals to me. But I don’t have it in me to say no to her right now. “Sure,” I say. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
The next night, after I pick my mom up from work, she says she’s made some adjustments to my dress and would I mind trying it on.
She leaves me, again, in her room to change by myself. The top half of the dress is a perfect fit. I can’t even imagine how long it must have taken her to get the darts right. But the bottom half is something else altogether. She said she would take it out as far as she could, but it’s still snug. I feel fine in it. I’m not embarrassed or anything.
But I see it in her frown.
“The top is good,” I say. “Like, perfect.”
She presses her palm against my back. “Try standing up a little straighter.”
I do.
She makes a tsk noise.
The sound of her disappointment