Guys Go For Looks, Girls Go For Status

By the beginning of eighth grade, I had shot up myself, reaching 5'6" – what I didn't know then wasn't even my full height. If my mama hadn't drilled it into me to be well-behaved and gracious around adults, I would have thrown a temper tantrum right there in the doctor's office as soon as I was measured at my yearly check-up. If I had ever had any dreams of being a ballerina – which I didn't, I had given that up as a discipline when I was eleven and realized I hated the feeling of being out of control that came with spinning – they were gone with my height.

I was taller than all of my friends at this point – minus Mia, who had been a beanpole since we were kids. In middle school, she started dying her hair black, wearing thick eyeliner and dressing in all black – cultivating a look so maybe no one noticed she was taller than all the boys. I always noticed that her bony wrists poked out of the cuffs of her shirts, though. And I loved Mia, but that wasn't going to be me. I was little and cute Andi who the boys in The Group loved to pick up and throw around.

Luckily Alex had kept pace with me, height-wise. I could get away with the stacked heels I had gotten steadily used to over the past year around Alex and not tower over him.

Basketball boys and high school boys were growing steadily of more interest to me once my absurd height became clear.

"Andi, what the hell are we watching?" Alex asked, brashly and loudly, as he stared almost slackjawed at my basement rec room tv.

"My new favourite movie ever, Centre Stage," I replied promptly, twisting my head in time to see the "Romeo and Juliet" ballet clip. It was Karen Kain style choreography, the Juliet wasn't spinning so much. But you are no Karen Kain and you can't get away with being the same height as her and not spinning, I reminded myself wryly.

"You've got me watching a dance movie?" Alex said incredulously, arching one of his eyebrows.

"Mmmm," I replied simply, fluttering my eyelashes and flashing a close-mouthed Mona Lisa smile at the boy sitting on the other end of the couch. It was a Friday night at the beginning of the school year and I had lured my very best friend into hanging out with me instead of his boys with the promise of cookies.

I sighed, burrowing deeper into the couch, my feet pressing harder against Alex's leg. "My legs hurt," I whined.

"Why do your legs hurt?" he replied absently, one of his hands settling onto my bare left food, which maybe should have grossed me out. But it didn't.

"We were doing a bunch of lunges and balance stuff in my contemporary class yesterday. They're just sore." My voice took on a petulant tone, refusing to be grateful that at least I didn't have growing pains compounding the soreness.

"Awwww," Alex pursed his lips at me, not remotely sympathetically. Until he lifted my legs up and shifted down the couch to the centre cushion, placing my legs over his lap. Without a word, he started rubbing my legs with surprising gentleness, from the calves up.

I always knew that Alex was the nicest boy in The Group if you knew him like I did. I let out a happy little sigh, the movie forgotten as my eyes fluttered shut. "That feels so good, Alex. You should do that as a job or something someday."

"I'll keep that in mind when my pro ball career is over," Alex's voice drawled from the vicinity of my knees and I let out a giggle, my eyes still closed.

There was a long, comfortable moment of silence. "You know who I think is really cool?" I asked absently, stretching my toes out against the cushion of the couch arm.

"Who?"

"Stacey McGill." My eyes blinked open to see Alex giving me a puzzled expression. "She's in my English class. I like her. She's taller than me."

"You gotta get over the height shit," Alex commented offhandedly, pretending not to notice me squirm as his thumbs dug into my thighs. "Stacey... she's one of those girls who do the babysitting thing?"

Even Alex's voice held a small touch of the typical condescension when he referred to that club. I winced and the pressure on my legs abruptly let up. Alex had misunderstood where my expression had come from.

"Well... yeah, she is," I admitted grudgingly. "But she's way cooler than the other ones. Did you know she's from New York? And we've been talking in class while we're supposed to be working on our symbolism project and she just has the most fabulous taste in music."

I wanted a best friend. Deeply. Maybe it was baby-ish, but I desperately wanted one. My girls were great, but it always seemed to parcel off to Sheila-Mia and Jacqui-Heather. And then me. And Alex was double-great... but he couldn't help me pick out lip gloss or fix it if my bra underwire started lacerating me at school.

"Anyway. I just like having someone who isn't lame to talk to in class," I summed up pathetically, barely touching on any of my true emotions in that statement.

Alex just gave me a crookedly amused smile, his mind clearly still caught up in "babysitting = baby-ish".

Suddenly, he clapped his hands down on my legs. I jumped. Giving me a slightly abashed grin, Alex patted my legs again, gentler this time. "There you go, Princess. Your legs feel any better?"

"What did you just call me?" My legs tucked up under myself so I could slide in beside Alex. I bridged the two cushions, my knees pressed up against his leg.

"Uhh... Princess," Alex replied in a grumble, not meeting my eyes. I couldn't understand why he looked embarrassed.

"I like it," I declared, granting Alex a bright dimply smile that I had no idea then could be utterly devastating. My forehead wrinkled when he didn't turn towards me, missing the sneaky look he gave my smile out of the corner of his eye.

In a perfect unconscious imitation of a movie heroine, I extended my hand to cup Alex's cheek, drawing his face towards mine. "I like it," I repeated, my hand hovering on his cheek. "I mean, what girl doesn't want to grow up to be a Princess?"

I had a split-second to watch Alex's face before his lips met mine. Oh! My very best friend since the beginning of time was kissing me. When I kissed Jacob back before sixth, he had tasted like dust from the camp-wide games and my lips had been sticky and lemon-flavoured from the lollipop. The kisses since then had felt rather perfunctory – I and whatever boy were members of The Group and were grownups, so of course we should kiss.

Alex felt like confetti.

After what felt like a lifetime, Alex pulled away. My hand fell limply from his cheek. I opened my mouth, a translucent question on the tip of my tongue, before shutting it again.

Funfetti cupcakes.

His eyes met mine finally. "Do you want to go out, Andi?" asked my very best friend.

Raspberry gingerale bubbles.

I flashed Alex my second devastating smile of the night, my stomach filling up with the gingerale bubbles. I maybe should have thought about it. How it could change things. Maybe... probably. Instead, I just listened to the gingerale. "Yes."

"Cool." Alex placed a clumsy arm awkwardly over my shoulder, ducking his head so I wouldn't see his giddy smile. "Can we watch a different movie now?"

"Nope." I pressed my feet against the couch arm and laid my head against Alex's shoulder in a near perfect reversal of my previous position. Alex tightened his arm, drawing me into his side. Like a boyfriend. "But you can choose the next one."