Scott can’t sing, but he tries. I asked him once why he takes choir. Any guy who signs up is instantly labeled “gay” by Colby and his jocks—and the rest of the school.
Scott turned kind of pink. “So I can hear you sing.”
That was probably the nicest thing any guy had ever said to me. Not that Scott was serious.
I played along. “Be careful.” I punched his arm. “You’ll ruin your reputation.”
He got serious then. “I’m not gay, Beth.”
“Of course, you’re not.”
He was going to say something else, but he just shook his head and walked off.
I dare you to say I’m not ugly.
So, back to this morning. Scott’s halfway down the hall, but I catch up easy. Long beast legs cover ground quickly. “Thanks, Scott. I mean it. School would be hell without you.”
He puts out his arm like he’s a prom princess escort. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
A shuddery, weak laugh comes out of me. I rest my arm on top of his and let him lead me down the hall, grateful for the support.
He smiles up at me. No braces for him now, either. Teeth recently whitened. A bit dazzling. “I wonder what people think when we walk down the hall together.”
I laugh, stronger this time. “Beauty and the Beast. Dr. Namar did a great job on your face.” We go to the same dermatologist. So far the miracle of clear skin hasn’t happened for me. Dr. Namar keeps trying. He says the scarring will be minimal. But I have eyes.
Scott stops and turns to me. He’s got a dreamy look on his face. “Beauty and the Beast? So if we dance in the moonlight—”
“You better bring a stool.”
“One of the wheelie ones from the library?”
“Perfect. Mind if I lead?” Then I feel dumb. This giant girl dwarfing sweet, little Scott. I let go of his arm and move forward, head down, withdrawing into myself again. My shoulders round to their usual downward curve.