Margo Zimmerman Gets the Girl by Sara Waxelbaum

Author:Sara Waxelbaum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Published: 2023-03-06T13:33:37+00:00

* * *

Margo’s mom answers the door, holding onto the collar of the chestiest brindle pit bull I’ve ever seen.

“Abbie?” The dog’s pulling at its collar, but in a friendly way, not like an I want to rip out your throat, you interloper kind of way. “Sorry, I meant to have the dogs out back when you came. They’re all nice, just...”

“A lot,” Mendel shouts from somewhere behind her. Then, “Dammit, Julie Andrews!”

“Language, Mendel,” Mrs. Zimmerman says off-handedly, wrestling the door open. “You’re not afraid of dogs, are you, Abbie?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do you mind if I let Sean Connery go, then?”

I don’t even know how to process this when Mendel says, “Mom, he’s a Peer of the Realm.”

I say, “Sure?” and. Uh. Sean Connery? Apparently? The dog. Licks my hand. Then runs off back down the hall to Mendel, and I can hear him saying, “Good boy, Sir Sean Connery, good boy.”

I love this house. I love everything about it. Even the weird dog names.

“Margo’s upstairs in the FROG,” Mrs. Zimmerman tells me. “Do you want something to drink before you go up there?”

“There’s a mini-fridge up there,” Mendel says. “I’m sure Margo’s stocked it already. You know how she can be.”

“Well-prepared?” Mrs. Zimmerman asks.

“Yes,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like that’s quite what he’s saying. “There’s probably like a homemade quiche up there, too.”

“Mendel,” his mom says, sighing. “Go feed the dogs. Abbie, you know where the stairs are?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say again, because I don’t know how else to respond to her. She’s so...warm. And I’m not emotional about it or anything, but. I mean. I am.

She walks me to the stairs, anyway, and says, “Let me know if you need anything, okay, sweetheart?”

“Sure.”

I go upstairs to find Margo on the couch, her legs crossed in front of her. I won’t tell her—I don’t want to spook her—but she’s sitting completely wrong, and I’m honestly a little proud. I’m sure it’s only because she knew I was coming, but sitting wrong takes commitment.

Margo looks up when I climb the top step. “Hey,” she says, laughing at something that happened before I walked up. Her ponytail swings with her movement, slipping over her shoulder. Her shoulder, which is bare in a black racerback tank top. Her shoulder, which has more defined musculature than we’re led to believe The Popular Girl would have.

Her shoulder, which slopes up to her neck, to her jaw, to her—why am I like this?

“Hey,” I say, because I don’t know, she probably caught me staring at her neck. Like a weird gay vampire. “I didn’t know your dog was a Peer of the Realm.”

She smirks. “Ah, you met Dame Helen Mirren?”

“I—no? Sir Sean Connery. I can’t believe I just—are all your pets? Peers? Of the Realm?”

“Yes,” she says, faking offense. “You’ve met them. They’re regal. I should have known it was Sean. Dame Helen Mirren is shy.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that, and I don’t know if it’s because of the

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