Chicks, Man

She’s standing behind the group of girls, trying to squeeze into a photo. Rebecca is making it impossible, and Stacey is too far away to assist. I glower once again at Rebecca.

“You are looking at little Hannah Matthews. That’s bad. We need to get you laid tonight, bro.” Before I can retaliate, Agnes, Kip’s grandmother, walks up.

“It’s time, boys.”

Hannah

“Oh em gee, because we’re chicks, man. How else are we going to get their attention? It’s obvious they’re into at least one of us. Look at Chase Steinberg. Remember that guy? Huge slut in high school, but holy hell could he fuck,” Kristen, one of Stacey’s close girlfriends, blurts out at another girl I don’t remember.

I gasp at her vulgar choice of words, tossing my hair out of my face to get a good view of Chase, one of my brother’s best friends. I haven’t seen any of these guys in years. Probably since they all left for college. By the time they all graduated, it was my turn to test out the big leagues University, and our paths never crossed again. Chase looks the same. Typical playboy. Sandy hair whisked back. He appears more toned than he had in high school, and his eyes still scream he’ll do anything with a heartbeat.

I recognize Ben, one of Kipley’s nicer friends. Still buff in an athletic sort of way. Chestnut hair, short crewcut, and eyes you can get lost in. There are a few I don’t recognize. College friends, I assume. When my eyes land on Levi Dent, my breath stalls. Levi Dent. Former football legend. And it’s not because he was the number one pick for every college across the state…or that he won the title for First League Division three years in a row. It’s because, on top of being the best athletic star to ever attend Breckinridge High School, he was also the nicest. The town sweetheart.

Levi Dent always had a girlfriend. He never slept around, unlike the rest of Kipley’s friends, and he never spoke an ill word to me. He may have never really spoken a word to me period, but it was better than the teasing the rest of his friends did. Hannah Banana Matthews. The stupid nickname Chase Steinberg bestowed on me when I was young. The stupid name that stuck with me all through high school. Thankfully, by the time I left for college, I lost the braces, grew some curves—kind of—and lost my baby face. Mostly.

I stop trying to eavesdrop on the girls’ conversation and sit down at the head of the table where Stacey reserved me a spot next to her. I lay my purse down and squat just in time for the chair to be stolen out from underneath me.

“What in the…?” I cock my head to see Rebecca, the devil witch, behind me.

“I don’t think so, honey. Your seat is all the way at the end. I get to sit next to my girl.” I want to tell her she’s wrong. I mean, even the nametag on the table says this is my seat. My tiny palm itches to smack her fat fake lips right off her ugly over-Botoxed face, but I chicken out.

Because I am what they call me: timid little Hannah.

“Sure, you can sit here,” I reply, grabbing my purse. I shift my body toward Stacey to tell her I’m moving, but she’s talking to a relative, and I don’t want to disturb her. I barely take two steps before Rebecca is pushing my chair back in its place. It doesn’t fail, with my luck, the chair catches the bottom of my dress as I walk away. A loud tear ripples through the air, severing the back of my gown.

Dread fills my stomach. I gaze behind me, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. A cool breeze instantly assaults my backside. I stare at the back of my dress. The rip is all the way up to my butt, exposing my white lace underwear.

Kristen gasps as Rebecca investigates her handywork, laughing and pointing. “Oh my god! I thought only old people wore full underwear!” Her comment riles the rest of the wedding party. Peels of laughter sound out at my wardrobe malfunction.

I’m frozen in place, the humiliation paralyzing my legs. I should be used to being treated so poorly by this group. Stacey’s friends were always so horrible to me. Kip’s friends weren’t any better. A stupid part of me thought time and distance would allow them to finally see me as a human being, not Kip’s annoying little sister. My lower lip starts to quiver, and I fight with everything I have not to cry.

“Oh, Hannah, let me help you.” Stacey jumps into action, snapping me out of my horror trance. Grabbing my dress, she holds the material together. “There’s an emergency sewing kit in the ladies’ room. Let’s get you all fixed up.”