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“Ooh!” Ruby exclaims, the scrape of the hanger sharp as she yanks it off the discount rack. “What about this one?”
Beth considers, taking in a somewhat modest red cotton dress decorated with bright white daisies. It was cute, but was it worthy of a first date with a senior?
“It’s perfect.”
“You think so?”
Beth’s not so sure, but Ruby nods vigorously.
It was better than the boxy plaid one or the shapeless striped one she’d tried at the last store, but it wasn’t exactly what she’d pictured, either. She’d imagined something a little more… cool. Not that she thought she could pull off leather pants like Dylan Moore or the band tee crop tops and high-waisted shorts of Rhea Almanza—but she thought she might do something more drastic than a floral scoop neck, knee-length dress. A V-neck, at the very least.
Beth wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“Not sure? How? It’s practically a sign.”
“What are you talking about?” Beth asks as Ruby reaches over to grab her hand and then drag her in front of a long mirror, holding the dress up against Beth’s body as if the visual will somehow prove her point.
It doesn’t. Beth looks just like… well… Beth.
But Ruby widens her eyes and gestures at her reflection like, See?
“I like it,” Beth assents, “but you really think this is first date material?”
“It is when I’ve watched you doodle a hundred and fifty daisies all over the margins of your English notes while you daydream about him in class.”
Suddenly, Beth’s skin flushes redder than the strawberry color of the dress, and Ruby grins, vindicated.
“Now go try it on.”
Speechless, Beth allows Ruby to shove her into a dressing room, but her mind is going a hundred miles a minute. She didn’t know that Ruby had noticed her mind drifting off during Ms. Tibbets's soothing recitation of a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning or Emily Dickinson, but, more than that, Beth hadn’t noticed what she herself had been drawing when it was happening.
Fumbling with the buttons of her blouse, Beth wonders:
Had anyone else in class seen her doodles?
Had Rio?
Sucking in a breath, Beth closes her eyes. She was being ridiculous. Of course he hadn’t. Not only did he sit on the other side of the room—even if he had, it’s not like it would mean anything to him. It would just be a daisy. A common flower that could be found anywhere. Nothing special.
After all, it wasn’t like he would remember stealing one off of Mrs. Selinger’s window box planter on one of their walks home from school.
“Well?” Ruby prods.
“Still changing.”
Beth twists up her blouse and tosses it onto the bench behind her, then unhooks the button of her jeans and starts unzipping. She doesn’t say anything about the daisies. Ruby didn’t know about Rio—or rather, she knew that Beth had complained when he had suddenly started sitting next to Beth on the bus a few months ago, but when she freaked out over Beth sharing a seat with a drug dealer, Beth had stopped mentioning him. Now Ruby only knew what she saw in English class: their verbal spars over Austen, Hemingway, Plath, and anything else under the sun. Whatever stance Beth took, Rio made sure to take the opposite. He loved annoying her like that.
It had been the same with the daisy. A couple of days after he’d started following her off the bus a stop early, Beth had whirled around and demanded to know why he insisted on bugging her so much.
“Coz you make it so easy,” he’d said, completely honest.
“Do not,” she’d protested.
He’d arched a brow, lip trembling and threatening to burst into a laugh. Beth had huffed, picking up her speed, but Rio caught up with her in two short strides of his long legs, reaching out to poke her rib.
“Kinda provin’ my point, though, yeah?”
Beth had pursed her lips, but she’d slowed.
“Why are you wound so tight anyway? Don’t you ever relax?”
“I knit.”
Rio threw back his head and cackled, white teeth gleaming.
“I think you need someone to teach you how to have fun.”
“What, by partying in someone’s dusty basement? No, thanks.”
Beth knew he wasn’t seriously offering anything, but her palms had gone sweaty anyway. She hoisted her backpack higher on her back, fingers curling around the straps.
“Noted.” Rio tapped a finger to his temple. “But when’s the last time you did somethin’ you weren’t supposed to?”
A tube of stolen chapstick burned in the bottom of her jeans pocket, but Beth didn’t dignify his question with a response. Somehow she knew if she told him about her petty theft habits, he would just laugh again.
“Let’s do somethin’ now, then.”
Beth glanced around the quiet neighborhood, eyes drifting over neatly trimmed lawns, faded welcome mats, and a sleeping cat curled up on a porch railing.
“Like what?”
“For our first lesson, we’ll start small.”
Then he’d loped away from her, hopping into Mrs. Selinger’s yard, footprints sinking into the manicured grass, and plucked a long-stemmed daisy from the dirt before Beth could even get out a reprimanding, “Rio!” Mrs. Selinger was maniacal about her garden—something Beth was sure Rio could gather considering how pristine it was, how everything was exactly in its place.
“That’s your idea of fun?” Beth asked, lingering on the broken stalk poking out of the planter box. Eyes darting, she scanned the windows, checking for Mrs. Selinger’s glare—until suddenly she felt soft fuzz against the tip of her nose, and she blinked and recoiled, startled.
“Yeah, kinda,” Rio said, twirling the yellow center of the flower against Beth’s skin. When she scrunched her nose, he grinned. “Broke a rule, got away with it. Plus, I got you all twisted up, proved my point." His gaze drifted over her and Beth felt her cheeks burn. "What’s not fun about all that?”
Before he could notice her blush, Beth scoffed, batting his hand away and stalking off again. She’d figured Rio had ditched the flower on the sidewalk before he’d caught up with her again, but when she got home and tossed her backpack on her bed, she’d found it tucked under the grab handle, petals as white as his perfect teeth.
(Maybe now she had it tucked away, drying out in between the pages of her battered copy of Pride and Prejudice).
In the dressing room, Beth pulls the dress over her head and examines herself in the mirror. It’s tighter than her other dresses, hugging her curves and showing off a peek of cleavage, and it lands just above her knees. Beth has to agree with Ruby now. It’s just different enough from her normal look, but it’s still her, and it’s even below her budget. It really is kind of perfect.
And who cared if she was buying it for a date with a different boy? Beth thinks when she places the dress on the checkout belt. It wasn’t like Dean knew what it meant. Rio wouldn’t even know—let alone care—even in the unlikely event that he did show up to the same party…
…Right?