But mostly, it smelled like bleach. Everything was white, like a hospital, like the whole building had been dunked in Clorox. It was still pretty early and the crowds were thin. Dodge’s cowboy boots echoed loudly on the ground when he walked, and he hoped Nat wouldn’t find it annoying.
Once inside, Nat consulted a small flyer she had pulled from her bag, and announced that she would meet up with the group in an hour or so, outside the Taco Bell in the food court.
“You’re leaving?” Dodge blurted out.
Nat looked to Heather for help.
Heather jumped in: “Nat has an audition.”
“An audition for what?” Dodge asked. He wished he didn’t sound so upset. Immediately, Nat began to blush.
“You’re going to make fun of me,” she said. His heart practically ripped open. Like he, Dodge Mason, would ever dream of making fun of Natalie Velez.
“I won’t,” he said quietly. Bishop and Heather were already wandering off. Bishop pretended to shove Heather into the fountain. She yelped and walloped him with a fist.
Wordlessly, Nat passed him the flyer. It was badly designed. The font was practically illegible.
WANTED: MODELS AND ACTRESSES TO SHOWCASE THE BEST AND THE BRIGHTEST AT DAZZLING GEMS!
COMMERCIAL AUDITIONS:
11:30 A.M. SATURDAY AT THE HUDSON VALLEY MALL.
MUST BE EIGHTEEN OR OLDER.
“Your birthday’s on the twenty-ninth, right?” Dodge said, hoping he might get extra points for remembering.
“So? That’s only three weeks away,” Nat said, and he remembered she was one of the youngest in their graduating class. He passed her the flyer, and she shoved it back into her bag as though she was embarrassed to have shown him. “I thought I’d try, anyway.”
You’re beautiful, Natalie, he wanted to say to her. But all he could say was, “They’d be morons to take anyone else.”
She smiled so widely, he could see all of her perfect teeth, nestled in her perfect mouth, like small white candies. He was hoping she might kiss his cheek again, but she didn’t.
“It won’t take more than an hour or two,” she said. “Probably less.”
Then she was gone.
Dodge was left in a foul mood. He wandered behind Bishop and Heather for a while, but even though both of them were perfectly nice, it was clear they wanted to be alone. They had their own language, their own jokes. They were constantly touching each other too—pushing and shoving, pinching and hugging, like kids flirting on a playground. Jesus. Dodge didn’t know why they just didn’t get it on already. They were obviously crazy about each other.
He made an excuse about wanting to get something for his sister—Bishop looked vaguely surprised he even had a sister—and wandered outside, smoking three cigarettes in a row in the parking lot, which was beginning to fill up. He checked his phone a few times, hoping Nat had already texted. She hadn’t. He began to feel like an idiot. He had all this money on him. He’d been planning to buy her something. But this wasn’t a date. Was it? What did she want from him? He couldn’t tell.
Inside, he wandered around aimlessly. The mall wasn’t actually that big—only one floor—and there was no carousel, which disappointed him. One time he’d taken a carousel ride with Dayna at a mall in Columbus—or was it Chicago? They’d raced around, trying to ride every single horse before the music stopped playing, yelling like cowboys.
The memory made him happy and sad at the same time. It took him a moment to realize he’d accidentally stopped in front of a Victoria’s Secret. A mom and her daughter were giving him weird looks. He probably looked like a perv. He turned away quickly, resolving to go to Dazzling Gems and see whether Nat was done yet. It had been nearly an hour, anyway.
Dazzling Gems was all the way on the other side of the building. He was surprised to see a long line snaking out of the boutique—girls waiting to audition, all of them tanned and wearing next to nothing and perching like antelope on towering heels, and none of them close to as pretty as Nat. They were all cheesy-looking, he thought.
Then he saw her. She was standing just outside the boutique doors, talking to an old dude with a face that reminded Dodge of a ferret. His hair was greasy and thinning on top; Dodge could see patchy bits of his scalp. He was wearing a cheap suit, and even this, somehow, managed to look greasy and threadbare.
At that second, Nat turned and spotted Dodge. She smiled big, waving, and pushed toward him. Ferret melted into the crowd.
“How was it?” Dodge asked.
“Stupid,” she said. “I didn’t even make it through the doors. I waited on line for, like, an hour and barely moved three places. And then some woman came around and checked IDs.” She said it cheerfully, though.
“So who was that?” Dodge asked carefully. He didn’t want her to think he was jealous of Ferret, even though he sort of was.
“Who?” Nat blinked.
“That guy you were just talking to,” he said. Dodge noticed Nat was holding something. A business card.
“Oh, that.” Nat rolled her eyes. “Some modeling scout. He said he liked my look.” She said it casually, like it was no big deal, but he could tell she was thrilled.
“So . . . he just, like, goes around handing out cards?” Dodge said.
He could tell right away he’d offended her. “He doesn’t just hand them out to anyone,” she said stiffly. “He handed one to me. Because he liked my face. Gisele got discovered in a mall.”
Dodge didn’t think Ferret looked anything like a modeling agent—and why would an agent be scouting at the mall in Kingston, New York, anyway?—but he didn’t know how to say so without offending her further. He didn’t want her to think he thought she wasn’t pretty enough to be a model, because he did. Except models were tall and she was short. But otherwise, definitely.
“Be careful,” he said, because he could think of nothing else to say.
To his relief, she laughed. “I know what I’m doing,” she said.
“Come on. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
Nat didn’t like to hold hands because it made her feel “imbalanced,” but she walked so close to him, their arms were almost touching. It occurred to him that anyone looking would assume they were together, like boyfriend-girlfriend, and he had a sudden rush of insane happiness. He had no idea how this had happened—that he was walking next to Nat Velez like he belonged there, like she was his girl. He thought, vaguely, it had something to do with Panic.
They found Bishop and Heather arguing about whether to go to Sbarro or East Wok. While they hashed it out, Dodge and Nat agreed easily on Subway. He bought her lunch—a chicken sub, which she changed at the last second to a salad (“Just in case,” she said cryptically)—and a Diet Coke. They found an empty table and sat down while Heather and Bishop stood on line at Taco Bell, which they had at last agreed on.
“So what’s up with them?” Dodge said.
“With Bishop and Heather?” Nat shrugged. “Best friends, I guess.” She slurped her soda loudly. He liked the way she ate: unselfconsciously, unlike some girls. “I think Bishop has a crush on her, though.”
“Seems like it,” Dodge said.
Nat tilted her head, watching him. “What about you?”
“What about me what?”
“Do you have a crush on anyone?”
He had just taken a big bite of his sandwich; the question was so unexpected he nearly choked. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wasn’t lame.
“I’m not . . .” He coughed and took a sip of his Coke. Jesus. His face was burning. “I mean, I don’t—”
“Dodge.” She cut him off. Her voice was suddenly stern. “I’d like you to kiss me now.”