“Oh, it’s fine,” my mother said, trying to pull him from the door. “It makes a noise. That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

“I’ll bring my tool kit next time. Do some rewiring.” He then looked at me and back to my mother. “I thought you said she’d be at Ruby’s.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

I hated when they talked like this, as if I were on the other side of a glass panel. “Ruby had plans,” I said.

“Plans that don’t involve you?” my mother said. “That’s new.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a boyfriend,” Gary said, and winked at me. He loved to have a reason to wink at me.

The idea of Ruby having a boyfriend made my mother laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m being mean. I’m sure Ruby’s the talk of the town. Anyways, we should get going.”

Once they were gone, I pulled a tub of Moose Tracks from the freezer and ate it with a grapefruit spoon. It was meant to cheer me up, but instead I felt bloated and ugly. I’d been told by more than one authority figure (my mother and Miss Hawthorne, the gym teacher) that I should watch what I eat. Curves are hot but fat is not. Their concern was not unjustified. I had a rash on the inside of my thighs from where my legs rubbed, and you could grab a generous handful of meat from my hips. But my desire for food was as strong as my desire for beauty. Little made me happier than a warm biscuit or an appointment in front of the television with a bowl of cheddar and sour cream Ruffles. What else in life was as loyal, as predictably satisfying as food? Certainly not people. Definitely not Ruby.

I let half an hour pass before I called her. She answered on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting by the telephone. I took this as a good sign and asked if she wanted to do something—watch a movie, walk to the Walgreens to try on nail polish.

“I thought I told you I was busy,” she said.

“Well, you answered the phone, didn’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not busy.”

I didn’t want to ask but I had to. “Are you hanging out with Brandon tonight?”

“Lottie,” she said. “Is it so hard to imagine I’d rather be alone than hang out with you?”

Before I could say anything, she hung up.

My mother kept the Yellow Pages on the bookshelf, between the Webster’s dictionary and a photo album of her and my dad’s honeymoon. When I pulled it out, a fine layer of dust came with it. I set it down on the table and turned randomly to the V section. The first thing I saw was WHIRLTECH VACUUMS.

The man who answered sounded young enough. His voice was low, like a rumble of thunder. I made my voice deeper, more mature, and explained that I was looking for a new vacuum. A friend of mine told me how much she loved her new WhirlTech. “I was wondering if you could come by and do a demo,” I said.