Revenge of the Girl With the Great Personality Page 3

He shakes his head softly. “Not really …”

  I go to turn back around to get a better look, but Benny kicks me under the table. “Stop it! He’ll see.”

  “Who’ll see?”

  Then something hits me: Oh my God, does Benny have a crush? I can’t even hide my excitement. Benny’s never had a crush on a real boy, just celebrities. So if he does, this is huge.

  “Chris.” He says it so quietly I’m not even sure that’s what he’s said.

  I lean in so we’re only inches apart. “Which one is Chris?”

  “The one with the hat.”

  Both Cam and I try our best to nonchalantly look over at the table. Cam has it easier since she only has to look to the side. I have to basically turn all the way around. I decide to first rub my chin on my shoulder, then steal a quick glance. The guy with the hat, Chris, looks familiar. He’s got a wool hat on, but has dark straight bangs swept over to the side, peeking out. He’s got on a black hooded sweatshirt and black skinny jeans, with a chain that hooks his wallet to his belt buckle.

  “He goes to LBJ?” Cam asks.

  Benny nods. “He’s in my study hall. A sophomore.”

  “He’s cute,” I offer, to see how Benny will react.

  “Yeah, but he saw everything.”

  “Go talk to him!” I urge.

  “Yeah!” Cam agrees. “Seize the day!”

  Benny leans back in his seat. “I’ve been humiliated enough for one day, thank you very much.”

  “Benny …” I say softly.

  “Can we please talk about something else? I can’t deal with this right now. I’m sure there’s some horrific story from today’s pageant, right?” He looks at me expectantly.

  “Well …” I don’t want Benny to give up so easily, but I know when to not push him any further. “I think I should prepare my speech for the Worst Sister of the Year Award.”

  Benny’s eyes get wide. “What happened?”

  “Mac called me ugly.”

  “She did WHAT?” Cam’s voice raises, and a couple near us pick up their trays and leave, probably concerned about what that girl who just scared off three boys will do next.

  “Yeah, Mac called me ugly. But you know, it was at the end of the day. She was tired.”

  “You’ve got to stop making excuses for her.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s seven.” My mind flashes to just an hour ago. “What excuse does Brooke have?” I fill them in on what happened at work.

  “Oh, Lexi …” Cam shakes her head. “Brooke’s pure evil, and you shouldn’t pay any attention to her. But as far as Mackenzie’s concerned, there’s absolutely no context in which it’s okay to call anybody ugly.”

  I want to say, And there’s no context in which it’s okay to throw something at a complete stranger’s head. But I know Benny doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  “So what did you say?” Benny asks.

  I feel even worse having to repeat those words. “I basically said that I’d rather be ugly on the outside than on the inside, and the only thing that separates me from her precious beauty queens is some makeup.”

  Benny looks thoughtful for a second. “You know that you’re right.”

  “I do. I’m a horrible sister.”

  He shakes his head. “No. If you put some more effort into your appearance, you could look just like one of the Glamour Girls.”

  I laugh. “Oh, come on, there’s more difference than that.”

  Benny sits up a little straighter. “Well, yeah. Unlike Brooke, you have an IQ and a soul. But the outside … Brooke could never be you no matter how hard she tried, but you could easily transform into one of those girls.”

  It would take a lot more than some foundation and lipstick to make me look like one of the Beautiful People. But I can’t help smile at what Benny’s said. He always knows what to do to make me feel better. Why can’t he believe these kinds of things about himself?

  “It’s weird,” I say. “Logan” — both Cam and Benny groan at the mention of his name — “basically said the same thing today. Not like anything I could do could stop him from thinking that I’m just a girl with a great personality.”

  “Great?” Benny teases. “I wouldn’t go that far. Adequate perhaps.”

  I reach over and throw one of Cam’s fries at him.

  “Not the carbs!” he shouts in mock horror.

  I’m happy to see a smile return to his face, especially since I have to go back to work.

  As I get up to leave, I whisper into Benny’s ears the three little words that make everything better, “New York City.”

  Benny and I have already decided that we’re both going to New York once we graduate. I want to go to college at FIT and he wants to get into the creative writing program at NYU. Every once in a while, we’ll go online to look at apartments and start to imagine our new lives, even if all the apartments are basically glorified closets. But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’ll both be able to have a fresh start.

  But even as I leave them, I know that’s not good enough. Yes, New York will be amazing. But does Benny really need to wait another eighteen months to finally feel like himself?

  I’ve got to figure out something to make him realize that all is not, in fact, lost.

  My mind has been swirling with what to do about Benny. It’s all I could really think about this morning and afternoon. I head over to his house after work to try to encourage him to do something about Chris, even if it’s a simple “hello.” I hate seeing him so miserable. He deserves to have whatever or whoever he wants.

  Benny’s mom answers the door and gives me a big hug.

  “Hi, Mrs. Bayer.” I hand her a package. “This was at the front door.”

  She looks at the package and shakes her head. “More of those crazy T-shirts for Benjamin.”

  I’m always a little in awe when I walk into Benny’s new, huge house. They moved in last year after his dad became a partner at his law firm. You walk into a vast entranceway with a spiral staircase stretching up to the second floor. You could fit my entire house in the foyer. (I didn’t even know what a foyer was until I saw this house and Mrs. Bayer explained.)

  “How’s your mom?” Mrs. Bayer asks. “We’ve really missed y’all in church. We’d love to have you back.”

  I give her a noncommittal smile. We used to go to the same massive church with Benny’s family back when my family was unbroken. Many of the parishioners were really helpful to us after Dad left, providing day care and casseroles in the beginning. Then Mom got into an argument with the pastor’s wife over pageants. Mom wanted some monetary help from the parish, but they didn’t approve of something that valued looks over someone’s faith.

  There are many things that I don’t agree with the church on. However, in this instance, the pastor’s wife was truly preaching to the choir as far as I was concerned.

  But Mom didn’t see it that way. She turned her back on them and hasn’t returned since.

  “Well” — Mrs. Bayer can tell she’s not converting me today — “anytime you need some guidance, hon.”

  Thankfully, Benny comes to my rescue as he descends the massive staircase. “We’re doing homework. Can we meet in my room?”

  “You know the rules. No girls in your room.”

  I was always allowed in Benny’s room when I was little. But I swear, as soon as we turned twelve, Benny’s parents started all these rules about where we could or could not hang out together. Things got even stricter when Cam came along freshman year. Benny decided having a girlfriend would make his life easier with his family. So Cam became Benny’s fake girlfriend for a couple months.

  At first I was offended he didn’t ask me (I can’t even get a fake boyfriend), but as he explained, he’s known me “since the womb,” so Cam would be easier to explain to his parents. Now when Cam comes over, we have to stay in the living room. Even though they “broke things off amicably.” It was kind of fun when it was going on, because I felt like we w
ere playing different roles: Benny, the stud with the hot new girl in class as his girlfriend; Cam, the aforementioned girl; and me, as um, I guess the friend … with the great personality. Gag.

  One perk to being seen as relatively asexual by Benny’s parents is that I’m allowed in the game room, which is in an adjacent wing and has way more privacy than the living room, where the sound travels upstairs. Plus, it might possibly be the greatest room in the history of modern architecture.

  Their game room has overstuffed chairs that you literally sink into and never want to leave. Plus, it has foosball and air hockey tables, a full-size Ms. Pac-Man arcade game (I’m currently the highest scorer, thank you very much), and pretty much every movie ever made, which we can watch on their gigantic drops-down-from-the-ceiling screen.

  When I first saw this room, I immediately thought about all the amazing parties we’d have here. Then I had to remind myself that Benny and I aren’t the type of people to have parties (that people would show up for).

  “Do you want to see what I got?” Benny tears open the box and pulls out a few more T-shirts. He starts excitedly showing them off to me, but I have no idea what any of them really mean.

  “Who is Charles and why do you want him ‘in charge’ of you?” I ask.

  “Are you kidding me?” Benny teases me by hanging his head in shame.

  “Ah, you know I wasn’t alive in the eighties, so …”

  “It’s called the Internet,” he counters. “I found this awesome website with all these hysterical T-shirts. I bought pretty much anything that made my mom laugh or my dad groan.”

  “Like, totally awesome.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language.” Benny examines his recent purchases and I can’t help but be excited for him. Sure they’re just some funny shirts, but I know what it’s like to have something that makes you happy. I hope to someday make clothing that makes people feel good about themselves, no matter what their size.

  He gasps. “I totally forgot about this one, and I know you’re going to approve.” He holds up a T-shirt with a drawing of Beaker from The Muppet Show.

  “You know he’s my favorite!” I exclaim. I can’t help but have an affinity toward Dr. Honeydew’s long-suffering lab assistant. We have a lot in common: We’re both forced to do degrading things at the hands of our bosses (in my case, my mother at the pageants), and we’re not allowed to speak our minds. (At least I can talk, but I’m pretty sure when I do protest, my mom only hears “meep.”)

  “If you’re lucky, I might even let you borrow it … as a tent.” He doesn’t even give me an opportunity to protest. “By the way, Mom’s really excited that you’re staying for dinner,” he says as he packs up his purchases.

  “Me too.”

  I went through a phase last year where I didn’t like going over to Benny’s house. Not because of anything the Bayers did; his parents are pretty much perfect. Well, maybe not perfect. Benny’s convinced they would disown him if he told them he was gay. The pastor at his church once even referred to being gay as a “disease.” But I’m not sure that’s how Benny’s parents would react. I see the way they look at him, and it’s obvious they love him. Sometimes I think his mom knows. Or maybe I’m just transferring my ideals of a mother onto his mom.

  The reason I didn’t like being at Benny’s house was that being with them made me realize how much my own family had deteriorated. At Benny’s, everybody sits together at the table to have dinner; TV isn’t allowed since it’s time to catch up on everybody’s day. His mom makes real food like baked chicken with rice and green beans, lasagna with salad, or (tonight’s menu) roasted salmon with spinach and butternut squash.

  Sitting with them makes me happy. It makes me feel like I belong somewhere.

  But then I’m reminded of what I lost. What I’ll never get back again.

  Cam may have been Benny’s fake girlfriend. But Benny’s family is my fake family.

  I guess in some instances, fake is better than the real thing.

  “So what’s the plan?” Benny brings me back to what’s supposed to be our homework time.

  “You mean besides me kicking your butt in Ms. Pac-Man?” I give him a mischievous grin.

  “Yes, besides that.” Benny picks up his stack of books in front of him. “Should we start with English or history?”

  “I was hoping we could first talk a little bit about last night,” I say cautiously.

  Benny nods like he’s expecting this. “Yeah, I want to talk to you about that, too.”

  I feel a swell of relief, hoping that Benny realizes that he’s way too hard on himself.

  I’m surprised when he speaks first. “Yeah, you know I love you, Lex, but you’ve got to stop being such a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  Wait, what? He thinks that I’m the one with the self-esteem problem?

  “Look at you. Look at what you’re wearing.”

  “What?” I look down at my dark jeans and black V-neck top. “What’s wrong with this?” It’s pretty basic, but I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up for dinner at the Bayer house.

  “It’s only about two sizes too big. Come here.” He leads me to a mirror in the hallway. He stands behind me and grabs the sides of my shirt and tightens it. “Oh, look what we have here. A figure. Curves. Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be into fashion?”

  I’m used to people looking at me and thinking, You want to be in fashion? I do love clothes, although Benny’s right, I pretty much only wear jeans and cute, somewhat baggy shirts. I’ll admit to being envious when I see the Glamour Girls with their expensive outfits. They usually have on the latest dresses and skirts. I don’t really need to remind him why I don’t bother dressing to impress.

  I wiggle away from Benny. “You know why …” I let the words hang in the air. Benny’s well aware that there was a time when I liked wearing pretty dresses and would even sneak into my mom’s dresser to put on some lipstick. But we both know that girl went away a long time ago.

  “But you could change all of that. You could be that girl any guy would fall for, but you don’t believe in yourself. You hide behind messy hair and no makeup.”

  “I don’t hide.” For the first time possibly ever, I find myself annoyed at Benny. “And what about you?” I give him a taste of his own medicine. “It was devastating to see you yesterday. You just think you don’t deserve happiness until we get to New York, but that’s ridiculous, Benny. You’re amazing. When are you going to see that?”

  “When are you going to stop thinking that there can only be one beautiful sister in your family?” he counters.

  “Well …” My mind races. “When are you going to put yourself out there?”

  “You first.”

  We’re both staring at each other, neither daring to blink first. Benny’s lips start to quiver and I can tell he’s about to crack. I hold my gaze a few more seconds before he bursts into laughter.

  “I’m sorry.” He holds up his hands. “I’m only looking out for you.”

  “Me too.” And I don’t know why, but I feel like humoring him. “What do you want me to do?”

  His face lights up. “Wow. So many choices. Rob a bank? No, too complicated. Shave your head? No, too dramatic. How about you go up to a guy tomorrow at school and just talk to him? That’s easy enough, although you can’t be self-deprecating or be funny. Be you.”

  “But I’m hilarious.”

  He groans. “You know what I mean.”

  Even though I feel sick to my stomach, I find my head nodding in agreement. “Okay, but if I do this, then you need to do something for me.” I reach my hand out to him. “Deal?”

  He takes a moment before he hesitantly shakes it. “Deal.”

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this. It’s not like I haven’t talked to guys before, but I’m used to being the jokester. I can’t believe Benny expects me to flirt with Grant “you want me to take Lexi to Homecoming?” Christensen.

  “I heard that Grant’s
throwing a huge party while his parents are out of town next weekend,” Benny whispers in my ear as we study Grant and Josh at their lockers. “He was bragging about it in class today and invited the usual suspects. So maybe you’ll get invited!”

  He’s trying to sound optimistic, but I can see in his eyes that we both know this is going to end in disaster. It’s not like I’m uncomfortable with making a fool of myself — I do it all the time. But being self-deprecating means that you’re the one poking fun at yourself. It’s others laughing at me that’s the problem.

  But if I’m going to get Benny to talk to Chris, I need to just suck it up and talk to Grant.

  “Okay, I’m going to show you that this is so simple.” I’m sure the quiver in my voice betrays the confidence I’m trying to project to Benny.

  I decide to stop avoiding the inevitable. I can feel my heart thumping in my chest as I approach them. I don’t really like Grant, but I figure it’s way better to do this with someone I’m not attracted to, who doesn’t already have a girlfriend.

  “Hey, guys, what’s up?” I lean against the locker next to Grant and pretend like it’s the most normal thing in the world for me to be hanging out with him and Josh between classes.

  “Ah, what’s up, Lexi?” Grant gives me a little nod and waits for it. “It” is what I usually say — something funny or witty about class or a teacher. But there is nothing remotely funny about what I’m about to do. Actually, it’s pretty hysterical, emphasis on the hysterical.

  “Not much,” I say in a hushed tone. I arch my back so my chest sticks out. I smile warmly at them both. “Just so over classes already. Can’t believe we’ve got so much homework to do.” I wrap my finger around an errant strand of hair. Maybe I should bat my eyelashes at him.

  Grant nods. “Yeah, did you finish the assign —” He stops and looks at me. “Do you have something in your eye?”

  Apparently my attempt at flirting resembles someone who has something in her eye. Sexy.

  “Sorry.” I smile at him, lean in, and touch him on the arm. “What were you saying?” I try to talk in a sexy low voice, but instead it sounds like I have emphysema.