Barbie Girl (Baby Doll Series) by Heidi Acosta Page A

that’s right. I want this with Katie. Not her.
    I am late to Bio but I don’t give a shit. I do not pay attention in Bio, a first for me. I sit at the very back of the room and lay my head on my desk. What’s wrong with me, why did I feel like that when I kissed her? My head is still foggy from kissing her. I bounce my knee nervously up and down. I am fighting the urge to run out here and find her and kiss her again, I want to know if I’ll feel fireworks again, and see if she really tasted like vanilla or that was all in my head. I can’t feel this way for her. I do not want her. Then why is my skin craving to touch her.
    * * *
    “So today when I picked Barbie up, she slipped coming off the steps, I almost peed I was laughing so hard. I guess you had to be there.” Third wipes at a tear in the corner of his eyes reliving a moment he shared with Barbie.
    “You picked her up?” I ask undoing a screw on the lawn mower that his momma asked me to fix.
    “Yeah, and you know how she loves those ridiculous heels.” Third continues.
    “Heels?” I wipe the grease off my hands onto my pants.
    “Yeah, you know her favorite ones, the black ones with the hot pink toe,” he shrugs as if knowing her favorite pair of shoes was common knowledge.
    No I didn’t know she had favorite shoes that she slipped in when walking down the stairs. “How long have you been picking her up?” Jealousy drips off me as I pull the blade off the mower.
    “I dono, a couple of weeks. Want a Coke?” He walks over to the fridge in the garage. “It doesn’t bother you man, does it?” He hands me a red and white can.
    “No, why should I care. She is not my girl.” I open the can and drink.
    “Are you sure, because if it bothers you I will stop,” he says unsure.
    “No man. Why would I care? She is not my girl.” I say again confirming it more for myself, she is not my girl. So why should it bother me if she spends all her time with Third. Hell they can do ‘it’ for all I care! Why should I care? Why should I care if he knows what her favorite colored shoes are! Or that she is funny and makes him laugh. I swallow back my resentment. But it pisses me off that Third now thinks he is the shit because he’s hanging out with her. He will not shut up about her, he keeps yapping about how funny she is and what funny thing she did or said. “Cool, she is a real chill girl.”
    I get back to fixing the mower so we can go see Zombie Slayer in 3D. I need to clear my head and stop thinking about Barbie. What better way to not think about a girl than to be surrounded by zombies reaching out of a big screen trying to eat your brains.
    * * *
    “Popcorn?” Third asks. We are at the arcade in the movie and Third just handed Barbie a handful of quarters.
    “Extra butter, and will you grab some junior mints,” she smiles at him.
    “Sure thing,” Third gives her two thumbs up before jogging up to the candy counter. I exhale an annoyed breath out of my nose. Tonight was supposed to be a guys’ night; we have been talking about seeing this movie since last summer. I wanted to forget the feeling I had when I kissed Barbie. I wanted to not feel the possessiveness over what is not mine. I wanted to stop wanting to punch Third in the face every time he mentioned Barbie’s name.
    Barbie leans her hip against the game she is playing. She looks freaking ridiculous, like a bag lady. She has on a pair of distressed jeans under a loose fitting, flowered print dress. She wears a large mood ring on her index finger that has been swirling between green and black. Her hair is in two messy braids like when we were kids. Black ballerina-looking shoes peak out of the bottom of her jeans that she taps in time to the music coming out of the game.
    “Nice hair,” I pull on one of her braids, daring her to punch me or chase me.
    She looks up from the game, “Thanks.” She goes back to shooting the alien spaceships. I have been avoiding her the last few days, but