Free Perfectly Dateless by Kristin Billerbeck

down as far as I can be without being on the floor. I open my eyes and shoot her the stare of my life. Please, Mother. I’ll never ask for anything again.
    “Our daughter Daisy . . .” My father continues in his Elvis voice with his tilted lip and popped collar. He’s the old Elvis. The fat one who OD’d, who is hardly the model for a talk on self-restraint. Or bullying, or whatever this hot mess is about. “She says no one at this school knows her, but that isn’t true. We all feel like we don’t fit in, and it’s hard to trust those around us. That’s why we wrote this play about the trials of peer pressure, so you could know you’re not alone.”
    My mom meets my gaze again. “You’re not alone.”
    I may not be alone, but how I wish to high heaven I was at this juncture.
    My dad rips off his Elvis jacket, slaps on a baseball cap, and flips it backward. My mother rips off her red wig. She’s wearing some form of Lego hair that appears snapped onto the top of her head. She flicks her suspenders on her shoulders, and they’re joined by two young break-dancers in saggy jeans. Rap music pulsates throughout the gym. Chase backs away slowly.
    “Yo! Yo!” my dad chants directly at Chase. “I may not be cool or dress like you, but I got deep feelings roiling round in me too.” He hammers his hands toward the ground and back at his chest. “Yo! Yo! Don’t want to be a label sleaze. Hear me out, I dress as I please. Don’t judge me by my size, shape, or color. I am the way God made me.”
    “I’m so tall!”
    “I’m too short!”
    “My face is a wreck!”
    “I might as well be invisible!”
    “That’s how we roll. That’s just how we roll!” the chorus goes.
    It continues, painfully, for a full ten minutes. I can’t watch! All I can remember is something about getting jiggy with it and how we roll.
    When it’s over, I’m numb.
    Claire grins. “Well, you’re not invisible now. Be careful what you wish for.”
    “Are they kidding me? I can’t go to a dance, but my parents can sing in front of the entire school and get jiggy with it?”
    Sarika shrugs. “That’s just how we roll.” She starts to laugh.
    I rush out the door, but I’m surrounded by students and get stopped in the crowd. There are so many talking at me, I get only tidbits.
    “So cool!”
    “That rocked!”
    “I wish I had parents like that!”
    “You’re so lucky!”
    I scramble away with Claire next to me. “Did you hear that? I’m lucky to have deranged parents? Are they kidding?”
    Claire’s expression turns somber. “In some ways, you are. It wasn’t that bad, Daisy. It was kind of cute.”
    “Shut up.”
    “Seriously, it was. Besides, no one knows who you are. What are the chances they know you’re their daughter?”
    “Daisy!”
    “Shh!” I snap at the sound of my name. “People will know who I am!” I turn to see a guy following us out of the gym. “Do I know you?”
    “Your parents just pointed you out,” he says.
    My life is over.
    “I don’t think so.” Suddenly I’m Peter denying Jesus, and the guilt overwhelms me. “Yeah, I’m Daisy.”
    As the stranger approaches, I see he’s about the same height as me, maybe a tad shorter. He’s tanned like a Spanish warrior with dark chocolate eyes, cropped hair, and seriously cute dimples. He has a regal, Spanish-royalty look to him, and I could easily picture him in a brightly colored uniform with gold buttons.
    “Did you know dimples are actually a birth defect? The result of a shortened muscle.” I did not just say that.
    His hand covers his left cheek, and I feel Claire slap my back.
    “Hi, I’m Claire.” She thrusts out her hand, but I push it away.
    “Isn’t Greg looking for you?” I ask her.
    “Excuse my friend, she spouts useless trivia when she gets nervous. Which I take to mean she finds you cute. If she starts talking numbers, I’d run. See ya.” Claire bops off like the traitor she is. Chase is standing by the gym doorway