Free Damsel Distressed by Kelsey Macke Page B

with her to the Rally and ask to see her boob! Dear, Cinderella, even though my best friend is your sister and you make her have all of these horrible feelings, I’d like to spend more time with you! And also, please let me see your boob!”
    He’s waving his hands around and saying every word with such ridiculous emphasis that I know in a second I was wrong. The words could never have come out of his mouth any other way. He stands and holds one palm up to the ceiling.
    â€œOh, Cinderella, wherefore art thy boobs?”
    â€œGrant, that doesn’t even make sense! And stop saying boob!” I’m laughing and also trying not to cry, but I can’t figure out why. I’ve managed to confuse myself, so I walk toward my window.
    â€œYou said it first! How do you expect me, a mere male mortal of seventeen, to let it go when someone just starts screeching about boobs?”
    â€œStop saying boobs!”
    Our laughter dies down, and we’re both just standing there. He’s at the foot of the bed, and I’m to the side. The air between us thickens, and the silence swells and pushes against my skin. We’re standing there, and I know I have to turn away from him or move or jump out the window or something. He scares me when he speaks into the quiet.
    â€œYou could show me your boob.”
    The spell is broken, and I lurch forward and smack him on his chest. “Grant, you’re such an ass.”
    â€œI know. That’s why you love me.”
    â€œYeah, sure, that’s one reason.”
    Out of a million.
    We sit again on the edge of the bed, but the weight of the unanswered question is still on my shoulders. I bump his knee with mine and hate myself as I open my mouth to speak.
    â€œDid you really tell her no?”
    â€œGen, of course I told her no. I told her—and I quote—I wasn’t interested in going with her. And I told her I’d be going, as I do to every school function, with my best girl, my best friend, Imogen.”
    Oh, my heart.
    â€œCase closed. No lasers in her eyes or talons or animal sacrifices or anything. Honestly, Gen, she didn’t really seem to care.”
    â€œYou told her I was your best girl?”
    His best girl. Not an ugly stepsister.
    He nods. “How could you doubt me? Do I need to remind you that I just asked to see your boob?”
    I reach over and punch him just above the knee. “Thanks. For, you know, not falling for her siren song.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t have had to ask.”
    â€œBut, I did, Grant. I did have to. I know it’s hard for you to get it because you’re not a girl, but there’s something about the way she treats me that I can’t figure out. Like with the towel thing. That’s not just nothing. That was mean. Like, really, really mean.”
    â€œI can’t figure out what would have made her do that. And you’re right, that wasn’t cool.” He uses his most assuring tone, but I’m not soothed.
    â€œI would have been so sad if you’d decided to go to the dance with her, but I think more than that I would have been scared.”
    â€œOf what? What do you have to be scared of?”
    â€œI don’t know how to say it, but it’s, like, I’m afraid that somehow having her here, in the house I grew up in, asking my best friend on a date, being all of these things that everyone sees as wonderful…I’m worried I’ll just fade away. Like she’ll scoop up all the good things that might have been mine if I’d been her.”
    â€œGen…” He smirks my favorite special-occasion smirk, the one that reveals the secret dimple on his left cheek. “You are not her, and you would never have been her.”
    â€œI know that. But, without all of this…” I make a vague gesture to my belly and my legs and my scarred-up arm and my head. “Without all of the messed-up parts, maybe I could have