Ugly(5)
“Popcorn?” I’ve heard of that, too, even seen some kids eating it. But I’ve never had any, so I don’t know if I’ll like it.
“Popcorn. Made from corn. Popped with loads of butter and salt.” I simply shrug and shake my head slightly. “Wait, you’ve never had popcorn before?” I shake my head again. “Ever?” he asks, as he stops walking and gently grips my arm.
“No,” I say in a small voice. I lift my head to look at him, and now I know he thinks I’m stupid. Well… more stupid then I am.
“Really?” His eyebrows knit together. “You’ve been to the movies though, right?” His voice breaks in surprise when he asks.
“No, never.”
“Wow.” He chuckles and turns to keep walking. “I’ll have to fix that problem. Tomorrow night, I’m taking you to the movies,” he says so confidently.
“I’ve got to ask my Dad. I’m not sure I’ll be allowed.”
“You need to ask your Dad?” he repeats back to me. I nod my head but keep walking, head down, not looking at him. I can only just imagine what he thinks of me. Here’s this ugly, stupid girl who needs to ask her Dad’s permission. Why bother, when he can go find a cute girl who’ll cause him less trouble? “You know, that’s cool. I respect that. Can I have your number and I’ll call you later tonight?”
“My number?”
“Yeah, you know your cell number.”
“I don’t have a phone,” I say.
“That’s cool, I’ll friend you on Facebook.”
“I don’t have a computer either, so I don’t have Facebook.”
“You don’t have a computer, and you don’t have a phone?” I turn to look at him and he’s got a surprised look on his face. “I’ll just meet you at the bus stop tomorrow. Say about five? We’ll go have dinner first.”
I purse my lips together. I’m not sure what to say to him. I’ve got no money, how am I supposed to pay for myself. “Um,” I say, struggling with how to say no to him. I want to go, ‘cause he seems like a nice boy, but I don’t have the money to pay for anything.
He must be sensing my trepidation, my absolute unease in this entire situation. “I mean what type of gentleman would I be if I asked a lady to dinner and a movie and expected her to pay her way? I’ll meet you at five at the bus stop. If you’re not there by ten past, I’ll take it to mean you couldn’t come.”
I stop walking when we round the last corner to my house. “Okay,” I say looking up into his kind, brown eyes. “I’ll be there at five.” I look down at my shoes, then back up at Trent.
“See you tomorrow,” he says. Trent smiles then turns to walk away, “I hope you can come.”
I walk home, and for the first time in years I feel something happening to me. My face feels different. Suddenly, I feel the rays of the sun touch my skin, warming me and guiding me to possibilities.
As I get closer to home I see Dad’s car isn’t in the driveway; which means for now, he’ll still be at work. He works at a mattress factory, on the production line. He hates it there, but he hates being near me more.
When I open the front door, I’m met with the same sterile, cold silence I’m used to. Nothing inside the house has any life to it. Nothing has an air of living, it’s simply dead. A lot like I usually am…but not today. Today I was asked out on a date. And I can actually feel the warmth creeping back inside of me.
My stomach rumbles, and suddenly I’m reminded how hungry I am. Other than the half orange I ate yesterday, I haven’t had anything else to eat. One of the kids left their half-eaten sandwich on a table in the cafeteria today, and if there weren’t so many kids around I would’ve eaten it. But someone picked it up and put it in the trash, so I had to go without.
I go into my room and throw my old bag on the bed. Just as I swing it from over my shoulder, the strap breaks and my books go flying across the room. Slumping my shoulders, I know I still have a couple of months left before the end of the school year. And considering I’ve had this bag since the second year of high school, I know Dad won’t be getting me another one.
Right now though, my tummy takes precedence over the bag. The rumbling is so loud, I’m sure the people down the road can hear it. I go into the kitchen and stand looking at the empty fridge. I check the cupboards in case dad brought anything home, but he hasn’t.
Walking into the family room, I take all the cushions off the sofa and dig my hand down to see if there’s any loose change. I find a quarter and just as I think there’s nothing I can buy with a quarter, I find a scrunched up twenty dollar bill.