A Field Guide for Heartbreakers (4 page)

Chapter Five

A
trillion hours later, we landed. We’d had a long delay at Heathrow, which gummed up the works for our connecting flight, and now it was nighttime. I wasn’t sure of the date anymore. After our layover, and countless bags of mini pretzels washed down with Sprite, time felt muddy. The interior design of the Ruzyneˇ International Airport was sleek and European and bright. Every- thing was glass or metal and curved. In the duty-free area, most of the signs were written in English, but the “price attack” discounts were written in a currency with which I was unfamiliar. And who buys Giorgio Armani at an airport? In a near comatose state, Mrs. Knox and I staggered through Terminal One toward the luggage carousel. “It smells funny here, don’t you think? And I feel totally different. I think my aura has changed. Do I still look pink? Can you see any blue?” Veronica hopped back and forth, from one foot to the other, in front of the conveyer belt. International travel had a unique effect on her; she acted like somebody who’d just eaten her own weight in Skittles.Mrs. Knox sat down on the carousel’s metal ledge and rubbed her eyes. “It’s very important to force yourself to go to sleep as soon as we get to the dorms. Otherwise, jet lag will hit you like a Mack truck.” She clapped her hands together—hard. “Blammo!” she yelled.Mrs. Knox looked tired, but beautiful, even without makeup. She had exceptional bones. I’d felt terrible when Mr. Knox left Mrs. Knox and fled to Rome. I spotted my suitcase tumbling out of the chute. Veronica’s followed. They were easy to tell apart because she’d decorated hers with an Australian flag.“Americans are targets for pickpockets and scam artists,” she’d told me the night before our flight, as she’d secured a small, cloth replica of the flag to her bag. I’d felt like telling her that unless she schlepped her suitcase with her through the city at all times, people wouldn’t think she was Australian. But I let it pass. Veronica, Mrs. Knox, and I dragged our suitcases across the glossy airport floor. An announcement in another language blared through the loudspeaker. It sounded vaguely like a warning, but the place was practically empty and nobody seemed alarmed. Flickering fluorescent lights overhead made me sneeze and sneeze. “I know what this place smells like,” Veronica said. “Ham!”“Keep moving,” Mrs. Knox said. Veronica pressed her finger to her nose to imitate a snout and glanced back at me, snorting. Her nostrils looked dark and cavernous.“Cut the porcine references,” Mrs. Knox said. “This country has endured enough already.”Veronica rolled her eyes and ceased snorting.I watched Mrs. Knox hustle over to an ATM. All around me, people chattered in different languages. My knowledge of languages wasn’t at all refined, but I could pick out the cadence of Spanish somewhere behind me. And thanks to my two years of high school French, I was able to translate a four-year-old boy’s remark that his endives had been acrid. I peeled my ears for Czech. I’d only memorized a few words for the trip.
Dobr´y den,
which means
Hello
.
Pomoc!
which means
Help
. And
Kde je vécé?
which translates to
Where is the toilet?
At the moment, nobody seemed to be uttering those phrases.Mrs. Knox returned and led us toward the giant automatic doors. They parted, and we stepped into the damp Prague evening. The terminal was bright but quiet. A handful of people were boarding a bus dozens of yards away, but we appeared to be the only travelers in line for a cab. “This place is dead,” Veronica said. “Where are the taxis?”“It’s the middle of the night,” Mrs. Knox said. “Give it a minute.”Beyond our bubble of light, the Prague landscape was cloaked in darkness. A soft mist floated through the air at my knees. Without thinking, I reached down and trailed my hand through it.“Did you drop something in the land-fog?” Veronica asked. “No,” I said. I watched the mist part like a curtain around me. A Czech candy bar wrapper fluttered by. Before I could try to read it, a white cab pulled up and crushed it beneath its front tire. An unsmiling blond man got out of the cab and brusquely hefted Veronica’s suitcase into the trunk. Then Mrs. Knox’s, then mine.“Thakurova Forty-one Praha Six. Masarykova Kolej,” Mrs. Knox told the driver.We climbed inside and sped through puddles down a dark, broad street. We passed under streetlamps every few seconds, and I caught glimpses of houses, apartments, and trees. The scenery grew increasingly urban. We passed under what appeared to be a metro platform. My stomach flipped. I was dying to take the metro. I wanted to speed through this foreign city upright, like people did in movies, holding on to a pole. We didn’t pass a single McDonald’s. Or Taco Bell. Or billboard. The urban scenery gave way to a stretch of grassy fields. The air rushing through my window felt heavy, like you could wear it. Ohio was chemical and fishy. But this place was sweet and metallic. It made me thirsty. The driver pulled onto a major roadway, and suddenly, through the fog, I could see a dense cluster of lights dotting the horizon. In the mix of black-and-gray darkness I searched for Prague’s famous skyline, its countless dramatic spires and steeples rising up in the distance. “Look!” I said, nudging Veronica. We were in Prague! “I will never remember any of these street signs,” Veronica complained. “Italian is way easier.”I pulled my Czech dictionary out of my bag. “We’re good. This has all the phrases we’ll need.”“But look at that street sign!” Veronica said. “
U dejvichého rybnicˇku
. Do you see all those letters and accent marks?” She leaned into me and whispered, “We’ll never be able to get far on our own. We’re screwed.” It was 2:07 a.m. when we got to the dorm. The building loomed in front of us like an enormous and boring block of cement with windows.“This place is so square,” Veronica said.“It’s supposed to be,” Mrs. Knox said. “It was built by communists.”“Ugh,” Veronica said. “The whole thing is pigeon-turd gray.”I wished the whole thing had been pigeon-turd gray. Inside, we encountered the dorm’s two dominant colors. Dull white. And bright yellow.“Whoever designed this place must worship the egg,” Veronica said. “Let’s try to say as little as we can until we get a good night’s rest,” Mrs. Knox said.A tired young woman with dark hair eyed us from the front desk. When Mrs. Knox introduced herself, the girl silently slid a fat envelope over the counter. Mrs. Knox tore it open and dumped out the contents.“We’re staying in separate wings,” she said.Veronica poked me and smiled.“Let’s get you to your rooms first,” Mrs. Knox said.But before she could guide us anywhere, a group of people burst through the front door. They were guys. Two brown-haired and one blond. I suspected they were drunk. They stumbled more than walked. The first brown-haired guy doubled over in laughter. “Peat bog!” he said.“Peat bog, man!” said the second brown-haired guy. His hair was considerably longer and better maintained than the first brown-haired guy’s. It appeared extremely touchable.They stood near the doorway and didn’t make any movement toward the inside of the building. I thought maybe they were too inebriated to take more than five steps in a row.“I’m wasted,” groaned the third guy, the blond.Mrs. Knox glowered at the threesome until they noticed her and lowered their voices.“Sorry,” said the second guy. “Hey, are you checking in? Do you need help with your bags?”Veronica’s smile was wide and freakish. “They’re hot,” she whispered. “It’s time to launch the plan.”I shot her a nervous look. Because I didn’t know the plan yet.Veronica stepped closer to her mother. “These three look like college students,” she said. “I wonder if they’re in your fiction workshop?” All three guys straightened and attempted to look less inebriated.“Are you Tabitha Knox?” the first brown-haired guy asked.“I am,” Mrs. Knox said.“I’m in your workshop,” he said. “I wrote the story about the goat.”Veronica batted her eyelashes and stepped forward. “I’m her daughter, Veronica. This is my friend Dessy. We’re in the workshop too. We’re from Ohio.”I waved. “Parma,” I said. “It’s near Cleveland.”“Cool,” he said. “My name is Kite.”“Nice,” Veronica answered.“Well, Kite. We’d love help finding our rooms,” Mrs. Knox said. She handed him a card with our room numbers on it.“Very cool. Welcome to Masarykova Kolej,” he said, grabbing the handle of Mrs. Knox’s bag. “We checked in this morning. Have you been here before? This building was designed by the KGB. It’s a total maze.”Mrs. Knox turned her head away from Kite’s beer breath and nodded politely.The second brown-haired guy reached for Veronica’s bag. His cheeks were flushed, and a drop of sweat was sliding off his temple toward his ear. “I’m Waller,” he said. “It’s actually a nickname. It’s short for ‘Walnut.’” He wiped away the sweat bead and ran his hand through his long hair. “I have a talent.”“I’ve seen it,” Kite said. Veronica surrendered her suitcase handle and giggled. I raised my eyebrows at this, because giggling was something I’d never seen Veronica do. I figured the blond guy would take my bag, but he didn’t. I watched him teeter and fall face-first into a very large plant.“Awesome,” Veronica said.“Is he okay?” I asked.“It’s Frank’s first time in Europe,” Waller explained, sweeping his long hair behind his ear.I nodded and made a mental note. Even though I was a first-timer in Europe too, I promised myself I would not ingest any substance that would cause me to topple like a drunken fool into a ficus tree in a dorm lobby.Mrs. Knox looked on with a pained expression. “We can’t let Frank remain in the plant,” she said. Then, as if on cue, a fourth guy, taller than the others, walked through the door. I couldn’t tell what color hair he had. He wore a baseball cap so low that it hid even his eyes and ears.“Hey, Roger, can you get him?” Waller asked.“Sure,” Roger said, giving a stoic thumbs-up sign. “I’ll drag him to the room.”I pulled my own suitcase as we followed Kite and Waller through a maze of white hallways. Kite may have made a few wrong turns, but these went unacknowledged. When we finally reached room 106, Mrs. Knox opened the door with a magnetic card. We stepped into a small galley kitchen equipped with an undersize stove and a minifridge that was way too mini. Adjacent to the kitchen was the bathroom. And beyond these rooms was a hallway that led to three more doors.“It looks like you’re sharing room B,” Kite said. “Here’s your keys for that door.”Veronica gasped. “We’re sharing? I thought Dessy and I had our own room.”“You do,” Mrs. Knox said. “But you have suitemates. Two girls in room C and one in room A.” “What if they have atrocious hygiene? Or are pathologically immature?” Veronica asked.“You’ll deal with it,” Mrs. Knox said. The guys backed into the hallway to wait for Mrs. Knox. I thought I heard them doing an impression of Frank.“I’m hungry,” Veronica said.“I’ve got a protein bar in my bag,” Mrs. Knox said.“That sounds terrible,” Veronica said.“Here’s some money for the vending machines,” her mother replied. “Good night, girls.”In our small kitchen a large window opened up into the hallway. Through it, I watched Mrs. Knox follow Kite and Waller to an elevator.Veronica threw her big suitcase onto a bed and began unzipping it. I rolled mine over to the corner and figured I’d hold off on unpacking until tomorrow. Everything I needed for a good night’s sleep was in my overnight bag. Clean socks, a T-shirt, and boxer shorts. “Are you really hungry?” I asked. “I’ve got crackers from the plane.”“No, I just wanted money. Do you want to go check out the vending machines?”“I’d like some water.” I reached toward my throat.“I feel parched too. Let’s go.” The hallway was silent. “Those college guys were so cute,” Veronica whispered. “I hadn’t expected to run into them first thing like that.” She peered over her shoulder, then turned to me. “So which one did you like the most? And you can’t penalize the one who passed out in the tree.”“Why not?” I asked.“Because that kind of crap happens to everybody at least once. For guys, usually a couple of times a year until they turn twenty-seven.”“It’s not going to happen to me,” I said.“Don’t get all judgmental. I’m trying to talk to you about men.” Veronica giggled again. “It doesn’t matter. I already know who you like.” “No you don’t,” I said.“I sure do. You like Waller. He looks a lot like Hamilton, except Waller has better hair.”“That’s not true,” I whispered. I worried that our voices might carry through our neighbors’ doors.“You cannot be serious. Hamilton Stacks’s hair looked like an eagle’s nest. I’m surprised he didn’t have a major large-bird-attempting-to-roost-on-his-head-every-other-day issue.”“Here’s the vending machine,” I said. “Where are you going?”Veronica kept plodding down the hallway. “I’m going to check things out.”“We need to get to bed or jet lag will smack us like a truck. Remember?” I clapped my hands. “Whammo!”“I believe the correct sound effect was
‘Blammo,’”
Veronica said.“Either way, we don’t want to get jet lag,” I said.“Yeah, I don’t really care.” I watched Veronica turn a corner and disappear. As I stood in front of the vending machine, I realized that I didn’t have any useful money. Why hadn’t Mrs. Knox suggested that I pull out some money at the airport too? I thought about calling for Veronica, but I didn’t want to wake anybody up. Nor did I want to chase after her.“Do you need something?” I turned and saw Waller standing next to me. Had he heard what Veronica said? The part about my possibly liking him? The part about Hamilton’s wacked-out hair? This was terrible. Where had Waller come from? And why was he so sneaky? Why hadn’t he made his presence known to me immediately? By clearing his throat. Or saying, “Hi, Dessy.” Luckily, I didn’t have to admit that I was crownless and somewhat desperate. “I wanted water,” I told him. “But the machine only has soda.”“You can drink the tap water here,” Waller said. “It’s totally safe.”“Really?” “Yeah. Me and my friends have been drinking it for two days. If you’re worried about diarrhea, you shouldn’t be. It’s fine.”My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe that Waller was so comfortable using the word
diarrhea
. “Thanks,” I said.“Not a problem.” Waller dropped some change into the machine and bought a bag of potato chips. He smiled at me and then walked off. I realized he did look a little bit like Hamilton. Same height. If they were wrestlers, they’d probably be in the same weight class. But he didn’t seem self-conscious at all. I mean, he was walking around in a T-shirt with a stain on it, and flip-flops. He even had a little bit of BO. And it didn’t seem to affect his interpersonal skills at all. It was like I’d just encountered a new species of guy.Maybe Veronica was right. Maybe college men were the answer. I wandered back to the room, floating in a new, Waller-filled, optimistic, and marshmallowy place. But when I got there, the positive energy ended. The door was locked. I had our room key, but I’d forgotten the magnetic card. Dizzy and exhausted, I sat down in the hallway. There was nothing I could do but wait. Orientation was tomorrow, and I wanted to show up to it well rested. When I didn’t get enough sleep, sometimes my eyes grew dark, ugly bags. That’s not the first impression I wanted to make. I was single now. I needed to look good. Cute. Slowly I lowered myself into a horizontal position. The floor was hard and it smelled like wax. Carpet would have felt better, but I had what I had. I hoped Veronica would end her expedition soon. I needed a blanket. I needed a pillow. I needed a softer place to dream.