Dilynne
Flashbacks & Doubt
Age Fifteen
The bell rings, signaling the end of fifth period, when I finally get to go to my favorite class of the day: auto shop. Hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder, I weave through the crowded hallway to the door leading outside, where I can cut across the basketball courts to the auto building.
Laney doesn’t have this class with me, otherwise I would walk with her.
But the truth is, I’m the only girl in the whole school who takes auto, a detail that is becoming more obvious and more annoying with each passing day.
I knew it would make me stick out like a sore thumb, but I’m surprised at just how much it’s become a topic of conversation, especially among the boys.
“Hey, Dilynne!” Justin Cook calls out to me from the other side of the asphalt, jogging in my direction.
“Hey, Justin.”
“You ready for auto shop? Today we’re gonna learn how to change a tire, right?”
I scoff. “Child’s play. I can’t wait until we actually get to take the engine apart, especially a big block 454.”
Justin’s brow furrows. “What’s that?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Amateur.”
“There goes the grease monkey!” some boy calls out, drawing our attention in his direction. I recognize Nikko Ventura’s voice immediately, and my eyes narrow. “Oh, and her little fanboy!” Nikko laughs and then high-fives his friends, which includes Elliot Thorne.
Elliot is one of my brother’s best friends, also a senior. Normally I wouldn’t care who he’s hanging out with, but seeing him laugh at Nikko’s remarks stings more than I would have expected.
Justin grabs my upper arm gently. “Just ignore them, Dilynne.”
“Trust me. I could give a rat’s ass what Nikko Ventura has to say about me.”
“Where are you going, Dilynne?” Nikko calls. “Home Ec is in the other direction!” He doubles over laughing at his own outdated joke as Justin and I turn the corner and head into the auto building.
Our teacher, Mr. Porter, gives us a demonstration on how to change a tire, which nearly puts me to sleep, and then we pair off to help each other perform the steps he demonstrated.
I complete the change before any of the boys in the class can get their lug nuts loose, adding to Justin’s dismay.
“I should get a new partner,” he grumbles as he takes a seat on the stool, ready for his turn.
I rub his shoulder playfully. “Oh, don’t cry just yet, Justin. We haven’t even gotten to the hard stuff.”
He rolls his eyes, picks up the torque wrench, and struggles to loosen the first lug nut.
“Dilynne?” Mr. Porter calls out from the front of the shop, holding the classroom phone to his ear.
“Yeah?”
“You need to go to the office to pick up something from your counselor.”
“Okay!” I peer down to where Justin still struggles with the torque wrench. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”
“Did you turn into the Hulk overnight or something?” He grunts. “You put this tire on so tight I’m never going to be able to get it off.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “Use your legs to turn the wrench, Justin. I’ll be right back.”
Leaving the shop building, I turn the corner and see the football boys heading out to practice.
My eyes land on my brother and Fletcher, already on the field messing around, and then when I turn to my left, I see Nikko and Elliot again, tying their cleats while sitting on a bench.
Not wanting to alert them to my presence, I slip down one of the halls between the two buildings adjacent to the bench, but Elliot’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Dude, I’m right there with you. I mean, why auto shop? It’s like…the least girly thing she could have picked.”
My throat grows tight as Nikko chuckles. “I know. Like any guy is gonna want to date a girl that knows more about cars than he does.”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t. Trying to talk to her is like talking to a dude, but one that has boobs. She doesn’t know how to have a normal conversation.”
Nikko laughs louder this time. “Maybe that rumor about her being a lesbian is true.”
I peer around the corner just as Elliot shrugs. “I have no idea. All I know is that Dilynne Clark is the last girl on earth that any guy would want to date.”
They both grab their helmets from the bench before jogging toward the field with the rest of the team.
My back finds the brick wall behind me and before I realize what’s happening, a tear slips down my cheek.
“Jackass,” I mutter, swiping my tear away before looking from side to side to make sure I’m alone.
The thing is, I don’t know why Elliot’s words affected me so much. I’ve heard Nikko say so much shit since the beginning of the school year when people started to notice that I was the only girl taking auto shop. But I thought after a month or so, things would die down.
It seems I was wrong because not only is Nikko still flapping his jaws, but now he’s recruiting other guys to talk about me too, and one of them is a boy I never thought would agree with something like that.
Elliot and I aren’t close by any means, but he is one of my brother’s friends, and I did consider him my friend too. I’ve spent so much time around him over the past four years, and not once has he ever said anything to me that made me question what he thinks about me.
I shouldn’t care what he thinks anyway, but hearing him talk about my femininity, and how my interests make me undesirable to guys just doused my biggest insecurities in gasoline.
My dad tried to warn me about the reaction I might get stepping into a male-dominated space. But Elliot isn’t even in shop. Neither is Nikko.
Why are these boys so threatened by a woman and her mind? Or her ability to learn something and be good at it? Even better than them?
Tears are streaming down my face at this point. When I dart to the bathroom to clean myself up, the last person I want to see is in there too.
Tori Michaels’ eyes land on me. She’s standing at the sink, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror and snickers when she takes in my face. “Oh my God. You know how to cry?”
I enter one of the stalls and slam the door shut behind me. “Fuck off, Tori.”
“It’s just that I didn’t realize you actually had feelings with all that masculine energy, you know?”
“If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to take out my masculine energy on your face.”
Tori’s evil laugh echoes against the tiled walls. “Homecoming is coming up, so I’m going to have to pass. Quick tip, though…if you blot instead of wipe with the tissues, your makeup won’t get messed up…but you’ll still look like a lesbian.”
I hear the door shut and wait for the quiet to last long enough so that I know she’s gone.
And then I let the sobs out—the ones that no one else will ever hear because keeping my shield up is the only way I’ve been able to survive, and I’m not about to stop that now.
***
Present Day
“We’re ready for you, Miss Clark.” One of the production assistants waves me over to a director’s chair in front of a green screen where they’ll be filming my interview.
I take a seat and situate myself toward the camera. “Is this okay?”
The assistant comes over to me, placing her clipboard under her arm before directing me to turn. “Move your body this direction.” I follow her lead. “Excellent. Do you mind if I adjust your hair?”
“Sure.” I have it up in my signature messy bun and bandana. It started as practicality—since loose hair and working on cars don’t mix—but now, it makes me feel more like myself. So, even if this interview called for a more polished version of me, I wasn’t about to give that up too.
“There.” The young woman smiles and then walks back over to the camera, standing behind the operator while we wait for the interviewer to come in. “Just relax. This won’t take long.”
“I’m relaxed.”
Her eyes drop down to my hands clutching the arms of the chair. “You sure? You seem a little tense.”
Releasing my grip, I lean back in the chair, adjusting my black silk top.
I paired it with my nicest pair of jeans and sneakers, since my feet won’t be on camera.
Heels are the devil and only worth suffering for on special occasions, like one of my best friends getting married. But that’s about it. “I’m good.”
A few minutes later, Tony Franklin—the man I was most nervous to meet today—enters the set from the right, and it takes everything in me not to jump from my seat and rush over to him. He looks exactly like he does on camera, every bit the industry legend I grew up watching on TV.
“Good morning,” he says, smiling broadly as he walks over to me.
I return the smile and nod, trying not to look as starstruck as I feel. “Hi there.”
He stops in front of me and extends his hand. “Dilynne Clark?”
Shaking it, I say, “That’s me.”
“So nice to meet you. I’m Tony Franklin.”
Nervous laughter bubbles out of me. “Um, yeah. I know who you are.” Tony used to be a host for the auto auctions I watched with Nick on TV. Now, he only does certain events in the automotive space, like Motorlux. He’s a legend in the industry and definitely knows his shit.
Some girls worship pop stars or celebrities they aspire to be like. I worshipped Tony Franklin.
Tony smiles, releasing my hand before taking his seat across from me. “I assumed so, but it’s still nice to introduce myself in person, you know?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re shorter than I thought.”
Tony laughs as the production assistant hands him index cards with the Motorlux logo printed on the back. “No offense taken. I get that quite a lot, actually.”
“And I just want to apologize formally right now if I act a little too much like a fangirl,” I continue, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I’ve been watching you since I was a pre-teen, so this is like meeting my idol.”
Tony chuckles. “Now that’s something I don’t hear every day. But then again, it’s not every day that women break into this industry and stick around.” I know his comment isn’t meant to make me feel insecure, but it feeds right into the reason I feel so on edge today.