enough. Go get ’em,” Colleen said. “I’ll be eavesdropping.”
She held the door for Paulie and went behind the bar, pulled a Guinness for Gerard, automatically smiled at his compliment because he was a schmoozer of the first class, and watched her protégé.
There weren’t too many people here; it was a Tuesday in late May, and the summer season hadn’t really begun yet, so she had a great view.
She really hoped this went well. She owed Paulie a little happiness.
When they were in sixth grade, something happened to Paulie. Her hair turned greasy, her face broke out and she thickened without growing in height. Not a big deal. After all, Faith had epilepsy, Jessica Dunn wore hand-me-downs, Asswipe Jones’s dandruff could’ve been covered by The Weather Channel. Paulie’s awkwardness wasn’t that big a deal.
But then came The Smell. A not-very-good smell that wafted from Paulie. The other kids noticed it but didn’t say anything. Not at first. But then whispers started, and Paulie seemed completely unaware, smiling, blushing, always being so damn nice.
One day, several of Colleen’s crowd decided to talk to their English teacher about it. Mrs. Hess was young, pretty and nice and had a Southern accent, which they all found terribly exotic. Sure enough, the teacher listened sympathetically.
“I hear what y’all are sayin’,” she said. “And here’s what I think should be done. It’d be a genuine favor if one of y’all took Miss Paulie aside and just told her the truth. Otherwise, how’s she gonna know, bless her heart?”
Colleen was immediately elected as the bearer of bad news. If anyone could say it, it was Colleen. Personally, Coll thought Faith would be even better at it, but no, the other girls said Colleen was good at that sort of thing. And so, the next day, Mrs. Hess asked Paulie to stay in at recess, and then said, “Colleen here has something she’d like to discuss with you, Paulie,” she said with a smile, then slipped from the room.
“What’s up?” Paulie asked. There was a hopeful look in her eyes, and Colleen felt her heart spasm a little. She’d been sick with nervousness all day long as it was, and the greasy cafeteria pizza at lunch hadn’t helped.
Colleen was popular; not mean-girl popular, just really well liked. She had the glamour of being a twin, not to mention her prettiness and ease with boys. Paulie had none of those things (except that everyone thought she was nice). But already, before she said a word, Colleen knew this wasn’t going to go well.
“So,” she said, sitting next to Paulie, who was clad in rust-colored corduroys and bedazzled sweatshirt. Damn. Faith would’ve been perfect for this job...Faith the sweet, the kind, the slightly tragic, would’ve had just the right touch. “Okay, well, here’s the thing, Paulie.”
“Yeah?”
Colleen’s stomach didn’t feel so good. She could almost taste the bitter smell. Didn’t Paulie’s mother talk to her about stuff? She cleared her throat. “Some of us were talking,” she said, biting her thumbnail. “And...uh, it was about things that, um, happen to some people when you’re a teenager and stuff.”
Paulie frowned. “Oh.”
Colleen’s stomach lurched. “It’s nothing bad, Paulie. You’re really nice and smart and stuff. But, um...well...there’s a certain...smell? There’s a funky smell around you.” She winced. “I’m sorry.”
Paulie looked at Colleen a horrible, long minute, then bowed her head. “I don’t smell,” she whispered.
Colleen swallowed. There was that taste again. Why had the other girls elected her? Why hadn’t Mrs. Hess said something instead, or had Paulie see the nurse, who could talk about hormones and whatever? “I’m sorry,” she said again. “But you do. It’s hard to sit next to you sometimes.”
“Who was talking about this?” she whispered, and a single tear slid down her face and landed on the molded plastic desktop.
“Just...a few of us. I—we thought you should know.”
“I don’t smell!” Paulie yelled, then pushed back from the desk and ran out of the room.
And Colleen threw up. Not because of the smell...because of shame. Shame and greasy pizza. But the rumor flashed—Paulie smelled so bad that she made Colleen puke.
Paulie didn’t come back to school for the rest of the week, and Colleen had never felt so small. She told only Connor about the conversation, and when he said, “Oh, Coll,” she knew for sure she’d done something terrible.
Later that month, they learned that Paulie had bigger problems. Her mother had run off with another man, and Paulie would be living with her dad from now on. When she returned to school, she had a new haircut. Her clothes were better, and the smell was still there, but it was fainter. Eventually, it went away altogether.
A thousand times, Colleen wanted to apologize; a thousand times, she convinced herself that it was kinder not to bring it up. In tenth grade, they were assigned to the same group for a social studies project, and Paulie couldn’t have been nicer.
So if Colleen wanted to help Paulie with her love life, who could blame her?
Paulie stood in the vicinity of Bryce’s usual spot at the bar. Gerard said hi to her, but Paulie didn’t answer, just stared at Colleen as if she was facing a firing squad.
“How about a mojito, Paulie?” she said cheerfully, tossing some mint into a glass.
“Sure,” Paulie mumbled, rubbing her hands on her sweater.
And then in came Bryce Campbell, all easy male grace, tall and lanky, dressed in a white polo shirt and jeans. He waved and made his way to his usual place at the horseshoe-style bar. A strangled noise came from Paulie.
Colleen handed her the drink. “Hey, Bryce, don’t you look handsome tonight,” she whispered.
“Coll, you could whisper to me?” Gerard said. “I can think of a whole bunch of things I’d like you to say.”
“Shush, child, I’m talking to my friend,” she answered. She gave Paulie a firm smile. “Now’s good.”
“I’m not ready,” Paulie whispered.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I can’t. Can you do it for me?”
“Like we’re in third grade, and you want me to tell him you like him?”
“Yes. Please.”
“No. Come on now. Handsome, shark, boobs, smile. And then you’re done. Now go.”
With a faint groan, Paulie inched toward Bryce, who was at the end of the bar, talking to Jessica Dunn. Hmm. Jess was way too pretty, all blonde and super-modelesque, Bryce’s usual type.
Paulie stopped just behind him and shot Colleen a terrified glance and appeared to freeze. Luckily, Hannah was behind the bar, too, so Colleen boob-skimmed her.
“Get your boobs off me. Sexual harassment and all that,” Hannah said.
“Shh.”
