Page 42 of The Puck Bunny

I swat her. “Keep your hands on the wheel.” I don’t bother telling her she’s wrong about Sheila and Mindy. I can’t explain how I know.

I have every intention of doing everything I can to see that Jonas and Mindy get together because I know they belong. I have good instincts about romance—everyone elses but mine—based on years of observation. I’m not exactly sure what else I can do for them, but I’m a smart girl. I’ll think of something.

* * *

We arrive at my house five minutes before dinner. The small driveway is full so Billie Mae parks by the curb in front of the gray, clapboard, double-decker and we jump from the car.

I’m in a hurry, but as I walk up the short walk I blow a kiss to the statue of Virgin Mary, who mocks me and instantly activates my guilty conscience every time I see her in our tiny front yard surrounded by a short chain link fence. I don’t know if the fence is for protection to keep her oblivious of the sin-riddled outside world, or if it’s to keep her from escaping. I identify too closely with that statue sometimes.

“We’re here.” Billie Mae walks inside ahead of me.

We’re the last to arrive and go straight to the dining room where my two brothers, dad, mom, Aunt Yolanda, and Grandma Zanetti are already seated.

Bobby gives me a hug and then he helps himself to a hug from Billie Mae.

She tries to stay cool, but I know she’s having a fit of giddiness on the inside.

What’s more interesting is Bobby’s reaction to Billie Mae. He pulls out her chair for her while I struggle with mine, jockeying for space at the over-capacity table.

My younger brother, Paul, has always had a crush on Billie Mae, but this behavior is new from Bobby. He stares blatantly at her as he takes his seat across from her.

If I didn’t treasure my right arm so much, I’d offer Bobby a napkin to wipe his drool. But he’d rip my arm off for a lot less than that—although he insists that the time I’d ended up in a cast was an accident. It probably was. I don’t hold it against him. He was a rambunctious kid.

“It’s been a while, Billie. You’re more gorgeous every time I see you,” he says to her.

He’s a rabidly-horny twenty-four-year-old on the make having gone through way too many girls since puberty to count and I don’t want him to take advantage of my best friend. I step in to cool him off though I know she won’t appreciate it.

“Billie Mae’s been dating a new guy. Tell us all about him—”

She pinches my thigh. I swear I ought to start wearing pads there to keep my bellagambas from bruising.

“It’s nothing.” She smiles that flirtatious one I’ve seen her use before and does an accompanying eye-lash flutter. “I swear, app dating doesn’t work anymore.”

“As if it ever did,” Bobby says, nodding as if he knows.

“I still say you girls are working in the best place to meet men,” Mom says. “You ought to be taking home one of those hockey players by Christmas if you play your cards right.” She gives me a look I’m sure that’s meant to encourage me, except for the skeptical squint of her eyes.

The table quiets as our dishes are filled with pasta, and eating—or, rather, scarfing—commences. Meanwhile, I’m still suffering from my unrequited big O and something nameless making me feel sad and restless, so I barely eat a mouthful of my otherwise favorite pasta. Even my mother notices my mopishness underneath the excitement about Bobby’s homecoming.

“What’s with you?” she asks in her usual caring way.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“I just expected more excitement from you is all.” She looks to Billie Mae for an answer.

“Maybe it’s all the excitement of working alongside Quinn James that has her worn out,” my former best friend says.

I try sending her daggers, but Mom grabs me by the shoulders and Paul, still young and energetic jumps from his seat to join the upcoming inquisition.

“F-ing cool,” Paul says.

Dad eats his pasta and Bobby grins, mostly at Billie Mae. Aunt Yolanda fans herself and Grandma Zanetti chuckles, shaking her finger at me, mumbling about paying attention to my mother. Even Grandma is turning on me. I’m only twenty-two and the pressure of not ending up an old maid is already getting to me.

“You work alongside Quinn James?” Mom asks. “And when were you going to mention this?”

“No big deal, Mom. We worked with him at the pop-up event yesterday. The whole team was there and lots of staff. It’s not like—"

“Did you get tickets to a game?” Paul asks.