And, at any rate, I didn’t want Leah flirting with Kyle. He wasn’t a friend of a friend I was tutoring. He was a guy I was interested in.
So again, I was back to thinking about getting that moldy bun away from my hamburger, while also trying to figure out what Leah, and most likely Aimee, were doing to my sister. These two goals had nothing to do with each other, but both made anxiety pulse under my skin. Despite our differences as sisters, I knew that the more important goal here was helping Helen, and I might not get another chance. But confronting Leah about Helen might make me seem petty and gossip oriented in front of Kyle.
Still, Melissa’s strategy of overt hostility wasn’t working. I tried something less direct.
“Hey, Leah,” I said, trying to sound completely neutral instead of completely rattled by her presence. “What was it that you and Helen were talking about at Superior Grill? You know, when you and Sean came to dinner with us?”
I couldn’t stop myself from emphasizing Sean’s name, even when the goal was to figure out what was going on between her and Helen. For a half second, Leah pursed her lips together like I’d caught her at something, and she needed a moment to make an excuse.
“Oh, that?” She shook her head. “I...heard some nice things about her, you know? She’s really getting to be so popular.”
I had to hand it to her—Leah was good. Taken at face value and to an outside observer, everything she said could be a compliment, like she was flattering Helen, not tearing her down, no trace of sarcasm in her voice. But I’d been there and seen how she made Helen, usually a fount of confidence, quake in her platform boots.
“What, exactly, have you been hearing?” My voice strained with reined-in anger. I couldn’t let Leah know that she was getting to me, but she was more frustrating than Wisteria had been. Especially since I knew Leah was doing it deliberately.
She smiled sweetly. “Oh, you know. And if you don’t, you should ask around. I’m sure you’ll hear some great things. Anyway, I’m sure that Kyle doesn’t care about gossip, do you?” Leah turned to him. “I hear you’re really good at math and science. Almost as good as Athena. And, actually, I think Aimee and I need a tutor.” She pouted at Kyle. “Math is hard.”
Seriously? Math is hard? Was she that awful talking Barbie? My throat burned with anger, with all the words I wanted to say but wouldn’t let exit my mouth. It would make me look terrible in front of Kyle. To an outside observer like him, I’d look like a catty bitch.
I hated myself for thinking something so antifeminist, but the situation wasn’t exactly giving me a lot of options for practicing riot grrrl revolution.
“You know, Athena’s a really good tutor.” Melissa leaned across the table toward Leah. “Just ask Trip Wilson. He wouldn’t have passed algebra last year without her.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Leah said, ignoring Melissa and me in favor of training her laser-beam attention on Kyle. “Anyway, Kyle, I’ll be in touch. It was very nice meeting you.”
Leah smiled at him again and trailed her fingers over his arm as she left the table, a much-more-than-welcoming, totally unnecessary gesture.
She was diabolical. I needed to tell Sean about this, but he’d never believe me. And even if he did, he’d probably dismiss it as Leah “teasing” me, like she’d “teased” Trip. He always said I could only see bad things about her, and maybe that was true, but he didn’t see any of the bad things about her, and that just killed me.
“Is she always that friendly?” Kyle asked. An extensive blush spread over his face. I would have thought it was adorable, if not for the fact that Leah had caused it, and that he was nearly stuttering from it.
“Only to guys,” Melissa said. “God! She makes revolution girl-style now so hard!”
I laughed at Melissa’s petulant delivery of the riot grrrl slogan, but I felt a sick mix of jealousy and fear at the back of my throat. I tried to push it down with a reminder to myself about how I shouldn’t compete with other girls. Jealousy—especially over a guy—was antithetical to riot grrrl. But Melissa was right. Leah was hard not to hate, especially now that she seemed to be taking aim at Helen and at Kyle in different ways.
“Are you okay?” Kyle leaned across the table toward me. “You’re pretty quiet.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, trying to push down the feeling that Leah was going to ruin every aspect of my life, and, more than likely, Helen’s. I couldn’t explain any of that to Kyle, though, mostly because I didn’t know what exactly she was doing. Besides, she’d been nice to him. “It’s nothing.”
He looked as if he wanted to question me further, but instead he asked, “So, where do you usually hang out?”
“Wherever, I guess,” I said absentmindedly. Baton Rouge wasn’t particularly exciting. “Depends on who I’m with. Chimes Street if I’m with Melissa, the Daily Grind if I’m with Sean, home if I’m with my sister, Helen.”
“What are you doing—”
The bell rang, drowning out the rest of Kyle’s words.
“I’ve gotta go. My Latin class is all the way across the school. I’ll be late.” I got up from the table, trying to balance my lunch tray and heave my backpack onto my shoulder at the same time. I couldn’t wait for this conversation to end.
“Wait! I—” Kyle said.
I was already in the hall when I realized that Kyle was maybe, sort of, possibly in the process of asking me out.
7
“I can’t believe I didn’t know he was asking me out.” I must’ve repeated it at least forty times, both in my head and out loud, on our way to Chimes Street, the only vaguely cool area near LSU. The street was about three blocks long, its short length illustrating how little coolness Baton Rouge had. Chimes contained Highland Coffees, plus a cool used record store and The Bayou, the one bar that I vaguely aspired to get into. It was right around the corner from the Varsity, the only decent music venue for miles, and Paradise, the best place for new records.
Chimes was also the home of the fake abortion clinic, which Melissa always wanted to spray-paint a message on; a head shop that sold all things related to marijuana consumption; and a used textbook store. Those weren’t places I frequented, but they fit the general demographic of the denizens of Chimes Street.
“Look, it’s not that bad,” Melissa said, squeezing her Subaru into a tight parallel-parking spot like a master. “You should be celebrating! We should be celebrating! My mom didn’t ground me for getting detention, and you escaped punishment altogether, which I would be mad about, except it’s not your fault. But on top of all that, we’re going to see Lydia’s Dream! The only local band that doesn’t suck!”