The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady - Elizabeth Stuckey-French [77]
After the service was finally over, Ava wiggled out of the pew and into the aisle, catching her breath. Escape. She must escape.
“Hey, Ava.” It was Travis, blocking her path. Along with the Bartholomew Cubbins hat, he was dressed in a blousy white shirt and olive-colored knickers with brown socks and flappy leather elf shoes. “What are you doing here?” Travis asked her.
“My sister goes to church here,” Ava told him. People were jostling into her and Travis and giving them curious glances and then big smiles. “What are you dressed like that for? Are you in a play?”
“I’m a volunteer at Mission San Luis. You should come up there sometime.” Travis was taller than Ava, and not bad looking, his baby face balanced out by his sturdy build. He had a dimple in one cheek.
Before she could say anything in reply, like “sure” or “maybe I will,” Suzi came up from behind, plowing into Ava and propelling her forward with her body and her crutches, causing her to bump into people who were making their way down the aisles and out of the church.
Ava protested, but Suzi kept pushing her in her aggressive way, like Ava was a soccer ball she was moving toward the goal. “Let’s go say hi to Buff,” she said.
Up near the stage, Buff was talking to an older couple, patting the woman’s rounded back, his face furrowed with concern. He had nice thick, light brown hair, parted on the side. And a suntan. Didn’t he worry about getting skin cancer?
“Buff,” Suzi interrupted, shaking his elbow. “Here’s my sister, Ava.”
Buff dropped his hand from the older woman’s humped back and turned his attention immediately to Ava. Wow. He glowed like a movie star. He clasped her hand in both of his. “So good to finally meet you.”
“Okay,” Ava said, glancing off sideways. Buff was sending her messages with his eyes that were too intense, and she couldn’t interpret them.
“You are just as beautiful as Miss Suzi said you were!”
“Okay,” Ava said, meeting his eyes briefly and then looking at Suzi.
“I never said that,” Suzi protested, her face crinkled with disgust.
Buff wrapped his football player arm around Suzi’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze, causing her to stumble with her crutches. Suzi’s face changed from disgust to pleasure. Suzi’s goal, Ava’d figured out over the years, was to get all the attention, in any situation, focused on herself, and she was so good at getting it that Ava didn’t bother to compete.
“Nice to meet you,” Ava mumbled, and began backing away.
“Wait, wait,” said Buff, dropping his arm from Suzi’s shoulder. There were other people, teenage girls and one eager “cool guy” type lined up beside Buff, waiting to speak to him. “Suzi and I would love to get you involved in our youth group—wouldn’t we, Suze?”
Suzi nodded and did another fake, eager smile.
“Okay,” said Ava. Thank God the word okay had been invented. There was some debate about the origins of the word, she remembered reading somewhere. Some people thought that it came from the Choctaw Indians, and others that it came from the African slaves in America.…
Buff was talking to her again. “So, we’re taking a youth group trip to Wakulla Springs next Saturday. Have a cookout, grill some burgers and brats, swim with the gators. What do you say? We’d love to have you.” He was like a force, the combination of his personality and his manly good looks. Either you let yourself be drawn into his force field or repelled. That’s how Otis would’ve described it, though he would probably be even more scientific, mentioning atoms, neutrons.…
“Can you come? Next Saturday?”
“Well …”
“I’ll drop by to pick you both up myself.”
“Cool!” said Suzi. “I can’t swim, though, with my knee like this.”
“You can sit on the beach, looking cute,” Buff told her. “So I’ll pick you both up next Saturday at eleven.”
The boy standing at Buff’s elbow couldn’t contain himself for another minute. He elbowed Buff in the ribs. “You gonna pick me up, too?”
“With your foot odor?