thoughts.
“A little,” she replied, fanning herself for good measure.
“Well, the air conditioner’s on, but the drinks are outside,” Abby informed her. She led Tildy to the living room. Off to the left was the open kitchen, where Tex was busy at the counter slicing avocados. Beyond the living room was a sliding glass door that led to the back yard where a crowd of people were milling around, talking and laughing. Tildy couldn’t see Hawk from where she stood, and instinctively took a step toward the door.
Abby stopped.
“Why don’t you sit here, where it’s cool, and I’ll bring you something?”
“Um,” Tildy looked from the door to Abby and back again. She realized that Abby hadn’t actu ally invited her to the party, and Abby, while being very nice, didn’t seem to want her here.
Not knowing what else to do, Tildy asked, “Is Hawk here?” Even though she knew he was.
Tex called out from the kitchen, “He’s-”
“He might be here,” Abby interrupted forcefully. “I don’t know , I’ll check.” Abby took off toward the back yard.
Tildy looked at Tex. She knew Hawk was here. She’d seen his Harley out front.
Tex grinned at her. “I’m pretty sure he’s out back.”
He had that look again , like something was funny. Tildy didn’t like it. Taking Tex’s word for it, she stepped out onto the back deck. There were a lot of people, none of whom Tildy recognized. Most of women were in various combinations of bikinis, shorts, and t-shirts. A lot of men stood around, beers in hand, and Tildy was certain they weren’t telling the same fishing story over and over again.
She s potted Abby several yards away, talking to Hawk, and neither of them looked happy. At that moment, Hawk glanced up at her. Instead of smiling, he scowled. Tildy’s heart sank. He had changed his mind about inviting her.
She felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. They’d kissed in the parking lot, but maybe Hawk was just a kiss-slut. Tildy wasn’t a kiss-slut though. Between the necklace, the kissing, and Hawk being so intense, she’d made a huge mistake.
Abby noticed her too, and the redhead’s scowl mirrored Hawk’s.
Now a few other people were eyeing her curiously. They knew th ey hadn’t seen her around. Something, something about Tildy marked her as different, and she would probably never be about to figure out what that something was.
Outsider , the voice in Tildy’s head screamed. It was the same way at home, at school, everywhere. One of these things is not like the others .
She could run. She’d done it enough times growing up. Kids of her parent’s rich friends would say, “Why do you speak Spanish? Preparing for your career as a maid?”
It was no secret that Tildy’s parents thought s he was stupid. Having to ask her teacher to sign off on each day’s list of homework assignments in an effort to improve her grades had made it pretty obvious. Tildy’s grades hadn’t even been dismal. When your mother had a degree in accounting and your dad had a degree in finance and they both ran one of the largest banks in the city, a B- in math was unacceptable. They had seemed genuinely relieved that Tildy had even been accepted to SDSU.
But Tildy didn’t want to run anymore. She’d suffered enough humiliation in her life to know that one more knock wasn’t going to kill her or even put her on the ground.
She carefully arranged her face into a smile. It was easy enough to do; she’d had enough practice. Just seconds after a pinch or a hair pull, Tildy could look as serene as a cool, blue pond. Not a ripple of discontentment would mark her features.
She approached Abby, Hawk , and their friends. “Hi,” she said in a careful, measured tone that contrasted the bubbliness that sometimes escaped from her when she was excited.
She just wanted to get it over with and go back to her life, where there was never, ever anything like disappointment, because there was never anything to get her
“A little,” she replied, fanning herself for good measure.
“Well, the air conditioner’s on, but the drinks are outside,” Abby informed her. She led Tildy to the living room. Off to the left was the open kitchen, where Tex was busy at the counter slicing avocados. Beyond the living room was a sliding glass door that led to the back yard where a crowd of people were milling around, talking and laughing. Tildy couldn’t see Hawk from where she stood, and instinctively took a step toward the door.
Abby stopped.
“Why don’t you sit here, where it’s cool, and I’ll bring you something?”
“Um,” Tildy looked from the door to Abby and back again. She realized that Abby hadn’t actu ally invited her to the party, and Abby, while being very nice, didn’t seem to want her here.
Not knowing what else to do, Tildy asked, “Is Hawk here?” Even though she knew he was.
Tex called out from the kitchen, “He’s-”
“He might be here,” Abby interrupted forcefully. “I don’t know , I’ll check.” Abby took off toward the back yard.
Tildy looked at Tex. She knew Hawk was here. She’d seen his Harley out front.
Tex grinned at her. “I’m pretty sure he’s out back.”
He had that look again , like something was funny. Tildy didn’t like it. Taking Tex’s word for it, she stepped out onto the back deck. There were a lot of people, none of whom Tildy recognized. Most of women were in various combinations of bikinis, shorts, and t-shirts. A lot of men stood around, beers in hand, and Tildy was certain they weren’t telling the same fishing story over and over again.
She s potted Abby several yards away, talking to Hawk, and neither of them looked happy. At that moment, Hawk glanced up at her. Instead of smiling, he scowled. Tildy’s heart sank. He had changed his mind about inviting her.
She felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. They’d kissed in the parking lot, but maybe Hawk was just a kiss-slut. Tildy wasn’t a kiss-slut though. Between the necklace, the kissing, and Hawk being so intense, she’d made a huge mistake.
Abby noticed her too, and the redhead’s scowl mirrored Hawk’s.
Now a few other people were eyeing her curiously. They knew th ey hadn’t seen her around. Something, something about Tildy marked her as different, and she would probably never be about to figure out what that something was.
Outsider , the voice in Tildy’s head screamed. It was the same way at home, at school, everywhere. One of these things is not like the others .
She could run. She’d done it enough times growing up. Kids of her parent’s rich friends would say, “Why do you speak Spanish? Preparing for your career as a maid?”
It was no secret that Tildy’s parents thought s he was stupid. Having to ask her teacher to sign off on each day’s list of homework assignments in an effort to improve her grades had made it pretty obvious. Tildy’s grades hadn’t even been dismal. When your mother had a degree in accounting and your dad had a degree in finance and they both ran one of the largest banks in the city, a B- in math was unacceptable. They had seemed genuinely relieved that Tildy had even been accepted to SDSU.
But Tildy didn’t want to run anymore. She’d suffered enough humiliation in her life to know that one more knock wasn’t going to kill her or even put her on the ground.
She carefully arranged her face into a smile. It was easy enough to do; she’d had enough practice. Just seconds after a pinch or a hair pull, Tildy could look as serene as a cool, blue pond. Not a ripple of discontentment would mark her features.
She approached Abby, Hawk , and their friends. “Hi,” she said in a careful, measured tone that contrasted the bubbliness that sometimes escaped from her when she was excited.
She just wanted to get it over with and go back to her life, where there was never, ever anything like disappointment, because there was never anything to get her
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