Until There Was You(22)

Emma’s hand went over her mouth. “Oh, Posey, I didn’t mean… I’m really sorry, I am.”

It was Emma’s niceness that did Posey in. To her horror, she started to cry in earnest, the words tumbling out. “It’s just…I can’t even wear girl clothes. Do you know where I shop? In the junior boys’ section, ages 8 to 12. Not one guy has ever checked me out, let alone asked me out.”

Emma came around the counter and put her arm around Posey’s shoulders. She guided her to a table, pulled some paper napkins from the dispenser and handed them to Posey.

“The stupid doctor told me I have to gain weight,” Posey said, her voice wobbly. “All I do is eat, and I just burn it all off, and I hate the way I look.”

“But why?” Emma said. “You’re so cute, Posey! You are!”

“Right. Which is why my nickname is Anne Frank.”

“No! Who calls you that?”

“The mean girls.” Posey cut her a look. “You know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Emma said grimly. She sighed. “So your doctor said you have to eat ice cream? I’m sorry, but that’s hardly cancer, okay?”

Posey couldn’t help a smile. “I know. As prescriptions go, it’s pretty good.”

“Exactly. So listen. Come here every day, and I’ll help you, okay?”

And so began a sort of friendship. Not that they hung out. The two-year age difference was significant, at least in high school, and Emma was one of the popular kids. She was going to Pepperdine in the fall, she had friends, cheerleading, student council. And Liam, of course. Emma seemed so much older, so much more…together. But at school, Emma did something rather stunning—she acknowledged Posey. Said hi sometimes, or waved in the halls, causing Kate to ask if Posey was blackmailing Emma.

About six weeks after she started the Campaign for Boobs, as she thought of it, Posey was power-eating a Snickers ice-cream sundae with caramel sauce and Reese’s Pieces when Emma asked, very casually, “Posey, has anyone asked you to the prom yet?”

Posey snorted, having become quite comfortable with Emma. “No. And no one will.”

“Well, if someone did ask, would you be interested?”

“Sure. I’d also be interested in taming a unicorn,” Posey answered, flicking through a magazine. “Also, I always thought it’d be cool to talk to undersea animals, like Aquaman.”

“Listen,” Emma said, ignoring the sarcasm. “Rick Balin just broke up with Jessica, who had it coming, let me tell you. He said he’ll go to the prom solo, but I thought you and he would make a cute couple.” She wiped her hands on the dishcloth. “So what do you think?”

Rick Balin? Blond, rich, good-looking Rick Balin? Second to Liam, Rick was…well. It was silly even to discuss. “That would never happen,” Posey said.

“I think it would!” Emma bounced over to her and sat down, golden ponytail swinging. “You’re wicked cute, even if you don’t know it. And you’ve gained a few pounds, haven’t you?”

“Four,” Posey answered. The ice cream had definitely been helping, as well as the three scrambled eggs with cheese she ate right before bedtime.

“And if we got you one of those demi push-up bras from Victoria’s Secret, you’d have a nice little package there. I totally bet he’d ask you! Especially if I give him a nudge!”

How could Posey resist? It wasn’t lost on her that if pigs did fly and Rick asked her out, she might be hanging out with Liam a little more. And just being near him, outside of the restaurant…that would be worth quite a bit indeed. Not that she wanted to break him up from Emma or anything. Just the chance to get him to remember how they’d bonded over Joe…to be able to tell him something funny and get him to laugh, just to be—perhaps—his friend…that would be enough. More than enough. That would be wonderful.

A week and a half later, and one pound later, and one thirty-five-dollar push-up bra later as well, Rick Balin approached Posey at her locker. “Posey, hey.”

“Hi, Rick,” Posey said, as if she’d ever said anything other than “excuse me” to him.

“So, Emma said you might be free for the prom,” Rick said, his famously soulful brown eyes scanning her up and down, pausing on her chest. That bra was worth every cent.

“Um, yeah. I’m free,” Posey said casually, her cheeks scalding. But Emma had coached her on strategy, and she knew to play it light.

“So, you wanna go with me?” Rick asked, grinning.

She shrugged, though her hands were shaking. “Sure.” She glanced at him, gave him a little smile, then looked back into her locker.

“Great. I’ll call you with details. Ciao.”

“Ciao.”

Rick sauntered off. Posey fought off the urge to faint.

Emma was smug with pride. Gave dress advice, discussed hair styles. Kate was a little grouchy, but Posey reveled in the glamour of prom, of Emma’s friendship, of possibly changing her status in Liam’s eyes.

On Saturday afternoon of the sacred event, Posey had her hair done at Curl Up and Dye, the best salon in town. Her short hair was highlighted, trimmed and blown dry so that finally it seemed to have some semblance of style. Then she dropped by the restaurant to meet her mom so they could go home together, do makeup and put on her beautiful shimmering green dress, take a thousand or so pictures. This night was a coup for Stacia, too. Gretchen, also a sophomore, hadn’t been asked to the prom, something Ruth tried very hard to pretend didn’t matter.