“Don’t you be nervous about being with these guys,” she told me, misreading my silence. “They may be a few years older, but they’re not an inch better than us.”
Us? Was she trying to make me feel better by including me, or did she really believe that? I knew little about psychotherapy, but now I wondered if it could really be this effective. She had been going to therapy for some time. Why would the court send her if the judge didn’t believe it might change her, help her?
As if she could read my thoughts, she said, “I can’t wait to tell Dr. Ralston about this. He’ll surely be impressed, and maybe he’ll see an end to my therapy. Therapists can keep you going for as long as they want and keep that cash register ringing along the way.”
She looked at me. This time, I was sure she had read my mind.
“That’s not why I’m doing this with you, Sasha. I don’t really care if the therapy goes on for the rest of the year. My father can afford it, and it’s no big deal. The fact is, Dr. Ralston is easy to talk to now. I don’t resent him as much.”
“Really?”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore, especially in front of these lamebrains, okay?”
“Why do you like them if they’re lamebrains?”
“Simple. Because they’re fun,” she said, and laughed. “It’s all about fun. You’ll see,” she told me, and drove on.
When we got to Westwood, Kiera parked, and we walked two streets over to meet her friends. The four of them were there already and also ready to complain about how late Kiera was, but when they saw me, they were speechless for a moment.
“Who’s this?” Ricky asked, smiling. “This is not your little square cousin, is it?”
“You look terrific, Sasha,” Boyd said. They both looked impressed. I didn’t know what to say.
Kiera spoke up for me. “I made a few small improvements with her clothes and makeup. It’s no big deal. Don’t salivate in the street, Boyd. It’s unbecoming.”
“Oh, I’m becoming,” he said, and everyone laughed.
We went into the restaurant. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought the people already seated watched us from the moment we entered.
“There are UCLA college boys here,” Deidre whispered, “and they’re looking at you.”
“Me?”
“Get used to it,” Margot said. “As long as you hang out wi
th your cousin.”
I glanced at the college boys who were looking our way and smiling. Was she right? They were looking at me? It wasn’t so long ago I had thought no boys would be looking at me with any interest, and not only because of my limp. Despite all I had now and all I had been given, the magnificent mansion in which I lived, the beautiful private school I attended, I couldn’t help believing that the stigma of Mama’s and my street life lingered. Somehow they would see through the expensive clothes and see the stains. Maybe they would still smell the odors of the street on me, no matter how much perfume I used.
Right from the first day I had entered Pacifica Junior-Senior High School, I had feared that someone might recognize me. So many people had walked past Mama and me while we were selling on the sidewalks or the boardwalk. Why wasn’t it possible that one of these students, if not more, might look at me and think, Isn’t that the same girl who sold lanyards on the boardwalk? Maybe one of these UCLA college boys was thinking that right now.
“Don’t look back at them,” Kiera whispered. “They’ll get annoying if they think any of us is showing interest.”
I looked down quickly, and she slipped me the menu.
“The burgers are out of this world here,” Boyd told me.
“Since you’re not from this planet, it makes sense that you’d know,” Deidre told him.
“I’ve sent you out of this world from time to time,” he retorted.
“Shut up,” she said.
Everyone laughed, but I didn’t. Why were they always trying to hurt each other if they were such good friends?
“You’re wrong, anyway, Boyd,” Ricky said. “I’m the one who sent her out of this world. You barely got her off the ground.”
“Big shots,” Margot told me, pointing her thumb at them. “Or should I say single shots?”