Road Trip (5 page)

“Neither have I,” I agreed, and I was thinking of all the way back to when we were in kinder-garten together. “I didn't even know you
owned
a dress.”

Tristan chuckled. “I didn't even know you were a girl.”

“Shut up or I'll — “Kia started to threaten and then fell forward off her platform shoes, landing in Mark's arms. They both struggled and strained to disengage themselves from each other and get her back on her feet.

“Everybody just stop!” my father yelled, and the room fell silent.

“I don't care what anybody thinks or says,” he continued. “I think you look just… just — ”

“Beautiful,” Mark said, his voice just above a whisper.

Everybody turned and stared at Mark.

“Is that a crack?” Kia demanded.

Mark turned beet red and stared down at his feet.

“No, you
do
look beautiful!” my father agreed.

“Yeah, you look sort of like — ” “And I don't want to hear a word from you especially!” Kia said, cutting off Tristan.

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you're the only one here who's dressed even stupider than me,” Kia snapped.

“I'm not dressed stupid!” he protested. “I'm sharp and stylish is what I am!”

“Enough, enough! You're all dressed wonderfully, and we're not going to talk anymore about it!” my father yelled. “All of you out into the hall… now!”

Kia opened her mouth to protest, but my father's angry gaze made her think better of saying anything. My father opened the door and pointed out into the hall.

David limped forward. Mark followed behind, still staring at his feet, avoiding any possibility of making eye contact with Kia. Tristan came next, head up, sort of strutting as he walked. Next, Kia stumbled, putting a hand against the dresser to steady herself. She mumbled something under her breath, but kept going.

Jamie looked at me. “Great, all we need is for
her to fall down and sprain an ankle or something,” he whispered.

I shrugged in response. Jamie and I followed after them. My father shut the door behind us, as he was the last to leave the room.

Coach Barkley stood in the hall, arms folded across his chest, surrounded by the other half of the team. All six guys stood there with their mouths open, staring at Kia. She had a scowl glued to her face. I knew she was just waiting for somebody to say something.

“Kia,” Coach said. “You look really nice.”

“Mark used the word beautiful,” Tristan added.

Mark looked down even harder at the floor, and unbelievably his face turned an even brighter shade of red.

“I do believe that Mark is right,” Coach said. “She looks downright beautiful. Don't you boys all agree?”

There were a few mumbled comments and nodding of heads. She
did
look really nice… different
than I'd ever seen her before.

“Actually, you all look handsome. You guys clean up pretty good… a lot better than I expected,” Coach said.

“I just wish their mothers were all here to see how good they look,” my father said. “We have to take some pictures just to prove it.”

“Don't worry about pictures,” Coach said. “There'll be lots and lots of pictures taken at the reception. Let's get down there.”

We followed Coach to the elevator. Just as we arrived it pinged. Loud voices and laughter flowed out as the doors started to open to reveal a whole group of boys standing inside. They were dressed in matching shirts and ties.

“No room in here… take the next one!” a voice called out.

“No problem,” my father called back.

The doors started to slide shut again. “Maybe there's room for the girl,” somebody called out, followed by giggles as the door closed completely.

“Stupid jerk!” Kia snapped.

“We'll see them downstairs and — ” “And what?” Coach demanded, interrupting Tristan.

“And… and thank them for offering to let Kia on the elevator.”

“That's all we're going to be doing,” Coach said. “Lots of the teams here are going to be talking
trash, both off and on the court. We're not getting into it. I'm counting on people to control their tempers, understand?”

“Sure, no problem,” Tristan agreed.

“I'm more worried about other people,” he said. “Kia?”

“Me?” she asked innocently. “You don't have to worry about me.”

“Good.”

The elevator pinged again and the door opened, revealing another completely filled compartment.

“Let's take the stairs,” Coach said.

“But we're on the eleventh floor,” L.B. said.

“But we're walking
down
, not climbing
up
,” Coach said. “If that's too much work maybe you should sit on the bench for the first game.”

“I think I'm okay,” L.B. said.

“Besides, it'll give everybody a chance to get the blood flowing in their legs again,” my father said. “After that long ride we could all use a little exercise.”

We filed after the coach down to the other end of the hall to where the “stairs” sign glowed red. He pushed open the door and we all went into the stairwell. The sound of our feet echoed loudly as we all thundered down the stairs. I looked back over my shoulder, up to the landing. Kia was gingerly making her way down the stairs, one hand holding onto the railing.

She looked down at me. “Do you think it's easy getting around in these things?” she asked, holding one sandaled foot in the air.

“Just be careful,” I said.

“Will you at least wait up?” Kia asked.

“Sure… no problem,” I said as everybody continued down the stairs, leaving us farther and farther behind, the sounds of their voices and feet disappearing down the stairwell beneath us.

“I feel so stupid,” Kia said. “I look so stupid.”

“You don't look stupid,” I said.

“Of course, I do… don't I?”

I shook my head. “Seriously, you look okay.”

“Just okay?” she asked.

“Okay… better than okay,” I said. What exactly was it she wanted me to say, that she was beautiful? She'd be waiting a long time to hear that.

“Well… even if I look okay, I still feel stupid, and I'm going to feel stupid in front of hundreds of people.”

“It'll be fine,” I offered reassuringly. “It's not like you'll be alone. We'll all be there with you.”

“Will you do me a favor?” she asked.

“I guess… sure… if you want… what's the favor?”

“When we get down to the reception…”

“Yeah?”

“Could you stay right there with me?” she asked.

“At the reception?”

She nodded her head.

“Why do you want me to do that?” I questioned.

“I just want you to!” she snapped.

“Sure, if that's what you want.”

“Maybe not the whole time. Just let me see how it goes.”

I nodded in agreement. “Are you feeling nervous?”

“No, of course not… maybe just a little.”

I tried to stifle a laugh, but it came out.

“What are you laughing at?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” I said.

“That's it, I'm not going down there,” she said, turning on her heel and starting back up the stairs.

“Kia!” I called out, and bounded after her. She moved so slowly in the sandals that I caught up with her before she'd gone no more than a few steps. I grabbed her by the arm.

“You have to come down,” I pleaded.

“I'm not going down there to have all those people laugh at the way I'm dressed.”

“I wasn't laughing at the way you're dressed, honestly!”

“Then what were you laughing at?” she asked again.

“Well… it just seemed sort of funny that I'm usually the one who feels nervous about things and
today it's you. That's all.”

“You'd be nervous too if you were dressed stupid.”

“You think I like wearing this get-up?” I asked, referring to my dress clothes and tie.

“I'd trade you in a second,” she said, and then burst into laughter.

“Now, what are
you
laughing at?” I demanded.

“I was just thinking of you wearing this dress… or even better, Mark. I'd just go right up to him and tell him how
beautiful
he looked.”

“I don't know,” I said, “but I don't think Mark would look that good in a dress.”

“Probably not, but why did he have to go and say that about me?”

I swallowed hard. “I don't think he was trying to make fun of you.”

“Then why did he say it?” she asked.

I swallowed even harder. “Maybe that's what he thought.”

“That I look beautiful?”

I nodded my head. I really, really didn't like where this was going.

“And what do you think?” Kia asked.

“I don't know… I hadn't really thought about it and — ”

“Nick… Kia?” my father's voice came echoing up the stairwell.

“We're up here!” I yelled back.

“Hurry up!” he called out. “Everybody else is waiting by the door to the reception hall. I'll wait for you down here at the bottom!”

“We have to go, Kia,” I said.

“Okay,” she agreed.

We started down the stairs. I led and looked back over my shoulder. Kia kept one hand on the railing as she carefully, and slowly, moved down the stairs. It looked like walking was a real effort, and she was very deliberate as she placed a foot on each step.

“I don't know why my mother packed these things,” Kia said.

“You didn't know she'd put those things in the bag?” I asked.

She shook her head. “She always packs my bag — correction. She always
used
to pack my bag.”

“But you knew we had to have dressy clothes,” I said, “so what did you think she was going to pack for you?”

“Dressy clothes doesn't mean a dress, you know. The first time I ever saw this dress is when I opened up my bag. She must have gone out special to get it. Why would she do something like that?”

I had a few ideas. Kia's mother was pretty cool about Kia being in basketball, but I'd once overheard her telling my mother that sometimes she wished that Kia did more “girl” things. I'd never
told anybody, even Kia —
especially
Kia — about what I'd heard.

Besides, as far as I was concerned, “girl” things were anything a girl wanted to do. This wasn't like the olden days when boys played sports and the only thing girls played was dolls. Of course, the same was true for boys. If a boy wanted to take up dancing that was all right with me. Not that I'd ever admit it to anybody, but I would love to bust a move the way those guys in rock videos do.

“I feel like such a
girl
in this get-up,” Kia said.

“Kia, I'd hoped you'd noticed before this, but you
are
a girl.”

“I know I'm a girl, but I'm not a
girl
.”

“Do you want to run that one by me again?” I asked.

“What don't you understand? I know I'm a girl, like female, but that doesn't mean I have to be a
girl
.”

“Gee, thanks for explaining that so clearly,” I snapped.

“Sometimes you're so dense,” she said, and let out a big sigh. “It's simple. I'm female, but I'm not like those stupid girls – you know the ones in our class – who wear dresses, and read stupid fashion magazines and wear nail polish and act so… so…
girly
. Can't you just picture Mandi
or Amy in this dress?”

I actually could picture them wearing Kia's dress because those two almost always wore dresses to school.

“So do you understand now?” Kia questioned.

“I think I get the idea,” I admitted.

“What took you two so long?” my father asked as we hit the bottom of the stairwell.

“You wanna try to walk in these things?” Kia questioned.

“I still think you look lovely. You should think about dressing like that more often,” my father suggested.

Kia glared at him with a look that could have melted metal, but she kept her mouth shut. She took a couple of steps and tripped, my father grabbing onto her as she started to tumble toward the floor.

“Gotcha!” my father called out as he made the catch.

“Stupid shoes!” Kia muttered.

“You just have to get used to them. Your mother wears heels, doesn't she?” my father asked.

“All the time.”

“Haven't you ever tried them on?” my father asked.

“I don't know.”

“Come on, you must have,” my father said. “I remember Nick used to wear his mother's shoes all the time.”

“When I was little!” I protested. “Really little!”

“Maybe we should trade shoes,” Kia joked.