A Field Guide for Heartbreakers (7 page)

Mmm
.” The sound escaped from his mouth in a deep seductive hum. It traveled through the air and struck my body like electricity. After a couple more licks, he asked, “Hey, where’s the group?”Once we caught up to the tour I uncapped my water and took a long drink. In three blocks I’d finished the bottle.“Are you enjoying this?” Waller asked.“Yeah,” I said. “Except I’m looking at the back of a lot of heads.”Waller laughed. “Look. We’re here,” he said.It hadn’t occurred to me that the tour had an ultimate destination. “It’s amazing,” Waller said. He was right. I’d never seen anything like it before. Right in front on me, on a hill, sat a castle. The tall spires reached high into the sky, piercing the low, thin clouds. The castle was dark, almost like it had been burned; it didn’t resemble any of the castles I’d seen in Disney films. It was the sort of place that somebody mysterious and deranged might have once called home. “The president of the Czech Republic has his office here.”“That so does not look like an office building,” I said.“The first incarnation of it was constructed in the ninth century. But it’s been rebuilt a lot since then. It houses the crown jewels,” Waller said.“No way! I want to see those.”“We’d have to go on a tour, then.” An enormous dark river flowed at the base of the hill. Ferries and paddleboats glided under its many stone bridges. We followed Jiri until we were nearly at the river’s edge. “That’s the Vltava River,” Waller said. He pronounced it
vul-TAH-vah
. “And that’s the Charles Bridge, the one made with egg yolks. It’s a cultural landmark.”He pointed across the street to a bridge that was crowded with people and street vendors. Large statues rose up all along the bridge’s sides. They were saints, I knew from my guidebooks. They looked like protectors the way they hovered over the flocks of tourists.“Do you study numerology?” Waller asked.I did not think I could bluff my way through pretending I’d studied numerology. “No,” I admitted.“This is really fascinating. The foundation stone for the bridge was laid in 1357 on the ninth day of the seventh month at 5:31 a.m., so the date and time make a palindrome: 135797531.”“Cool,” I said.“It was done for luck. The court numerologists figured out this was the luckiest day, because that sort of palindrome won’t occur again until 2468.”“Is Jiri even mentioning these things?” I asked.“I think he’s talking about Emperor Charles the Fourth,” Waller said.I didn’t bother telling Waller that I’d never heard of this emperor, or that my knowledge of emperors in general was pretty scant.“There’s so much to see in Prague. Wenceslas Square. Powder Tower. Saint George. T´yn Church. Saint Vitus’s Cathedral,” Waller said. “You’re better than a guide book.”“I don’t know,” he said. “Guide books have pictures.”“Touché,” I said.Waller reached up and shaded the sun with his hand. “I feel like I’m being baked,” he said. “Like I’m a pot roast.”The image made me laugh. “I know,” I said. “I’m sweating.” Since I knew I wasn’t stinking, I figured it was okay to admit that I was sweating. We leaned against a stone wall, squinting in the afternoon sun. The rest of our group had disbanded. I watched Jiri cross the street toward the bridge and disappear in the crowd. “Did you like the tour?” Waller asked.“Yours or Jiri’s?”He laughed again and was about to say something else when Veronica, Frank, Kite, and Roger showed up.“We’re going to grab goulash. Do you want to come?” Kite asked.Hearing this, I realized how much I wanted goulash. Urgently. Even though I didn’t know what was in goulash. Fish fins? Horse intestines? Tiger genitals? I didn’t care. I couldn’t imagine anything better than sitting across the table from Waller. I looked at Veronica to see what we should do. But then I looked behind Veronica because I saw Mrs. Knox approaching.“Hi, girls,” Mrs. Knox said. “I got us a taxi so we can do our grocery shopping.”“Actually, we’ve been talking about grabbing some goulash,” Veronica said.Mrs. Knox looked surprised. “What about your snacks?”I knew that inside, Veronica was probably horrified to hear her mother championing snacks, but she didn’t show it in front of the guys. “Let’s shop later,” she said.Mrs. Knox frowned. Then things got worse. Brenda materialized out of nowhere. “Did I hear someone say goulash?” she said.I watched her smile a very beautiful smile. She had fantastic lips and teeth. Then I heard Waller invite her to join us for lunch.“I’m glad everyone enjoyed their tours,” Mrs. Knox said. “But the taxi is charging me. Girls, we need to go.”“Wait! I want a picture. Come here!” Veronica said.She stepped in front of Brenda, tugged on Frank, and let Roger and Waller move out of the way. Veronica tucked her chin down, smiled mischievously, and flipped her hair so that it tumbled over her shoulders. By the look on her face, I knew that these would be the pictures that she’d e-mail to Boz. She beamed as Mrs. Knox clicked the camera three times. “Okay,” Mrs. Knox said. “Beep, beep, let’s go!” She slid the camera into her purse.“Can’t we get goulash too?” Veronica begged.“Goulash sounds great,” I piped in.“Yeah!” Veronica said. “It’s what Czech people eat. And it would be culturally insensitive of us not to experience it.”“Groceries first. Goulash later. That’s practical.”I watched the guys and Brenda drift down the street. They hadn’t even said good-bye.“See you tomorrow in workshop!” Veronica yelled.“You don’t have to shout,” Mrs. Knox said. “That was right in my ear.”I watched Waller turn around. He saw me watching him, and he waved. I thought about waving back, but I didn’t. Because maybe he wasn’t waving entirely at me. He could have been waving at Mrs. Knox. And Veronica. Like a big group wave. Or maybe he was saying good-bye to the street performer behind me. Okay. I was overthinking. I’d just spent an hour with him. Of course Waller was waving at me.But what did it mean? That I wasn’t too young for him? Was it fine by him that I didn’t know about numerology? Did he have a universal attraction to blondes slathered in chocolate ice cream? He finally lowered his hand. But that didn’t stop my analysis of this complicated gesture. Waving. Veronica read my mind.“Don’t be an idiot,” she said. “Wave.”So I did.

Chapter Eight

I
woke up the next morning feeling nervous for a variety of reasons. First, I wanted to impress Waller and make him topple over in mad, disorienting, bone-burning love for me. Second, I didn’t know how to do that. Third, I really wanted to hone my writing skills, and I feared that my preoccupation with worry number one and worry number two might impede that.When I got back from my shower, Veronica had attached three new hot-dudes to her man-wall. “Where did you meet them?” I asked. It was a little shocking to see them multiplying at this speed. Though she
was
doing a nice job of keeping their heads and legs in scale with their arms.“The first hot-dude, I met in line at the grocery store. I accidentally touched his butt. His name is Mike. I’ve got his number here in town. He’s from England. He’s not that interesting.”“How come you drew stars on his shins?” I asked.“Oh.” Veronica tapped the paper cutout’s legs. “His shins are awesome. Perfect amount of hair and bone protrusion.”I sighed. “Did you meet the other guys at the grocery store too?” I didn’t exactly understand how she could meet guys in the checkout line. I mean, I had been right there with her, and I didn’t remember her touching some British guy’s butt or getting his phone number. “I met the second hot-dude in the lobby last night. You’d gone to bed. I felt like roaming. His name is Chad. He’s from New Jersey. He goes to a community college and has triple-pierced ears. He thinks he’s a playwright, and basically his life seems pretty hopeless. But he’s staying in the same hall as Frank and the guys, so he might be useful to me.”I sighed more heavily. “So between late last night and right now, how did you meet a third hot-dude?” I asked.She pointed to the most recent hot-dude on the wall. “Peter? I met him a few minutes ago while I was randomly riding the elevator. You were in the shower. He’s not part of the writing program. He’s here with a group of watercolor painters from Michigan.”“You’re out of control, Veronica.”“Seven hot-dudes on my man-wall isn’t even close to being out of control,” Veronica said. “Get ready. Let’s head to the university. We’ve got a lot of living to do.”I put on a T-shirt and jeans.“You’re going to be so overheated that your crotch will sweat,” Veronica told me.I changed into shorts while Veronica primped in the bathroom.I was surprised by how little we’d seen of our suitemates. I’d heard Brenda return last night, long after we’d come back from grocery shopping. In the middle of the night, seized by hunger and curiosity, I’d inspected the minifridge and found her leftover goulash stinking it up. “Their crap is everywhere,” Veronica announced on her way back from the bathroom. “Brenda keeps her natural toothpaste on the side of the sink. Annie Earl hangs a bathrobe on the only bathroom hook. And look at the table! There’s a dirty spoon on it.”“Didn’t you leave that there after you ate your yogurt last night?”“Oh, yeah.” Veronica slung her bag over her shoulder. “Are you stressing about Brenda? Don’t stress about Brenda.”“But I think she likes Waller.”“That chatty Mainer is a big yawn,” Veronica said as we walked to the dorm lobby. “Actually, so is Annie Earl. But Corky seems at least mildly appealing.”“Why?” I asked.“That whole business about looking for Prague’s counterculture. I mean, culture usually bores me. But
counter
culture might be worth investigating.” “Yesterday you acted like you had no desire to meet Corky. You insulted her. I mean, pick an opinion and stick with it. You’re totally jumping around.”Veronica commenced jumping. Down the hallway. Around the corner. Onto the stairs. She had so much energy pouring out of her that when I tried to imagine her seated for our three-hour workshop, I couldn’t. And this frightened me.When Mrs. Knox opened her door, she was still in her pajamas. “The workshop isn’t for another hour,” she said.“I’m trying to be hyper-responsible,” Veronica said.“You have no idea where the university is,” said Mrs. Knox. “You’re not going alone. You need to cool your jets.”“I do know where Charles University is,” Veronica said. “We went past it on the tour. The building is enormo.”“And I have a map!” I said, lifting up my bag. “Dejvicka to Staromeˇstská. We don’t get off the green line.”Mrs. Knox shook her head.“What’s the worst that could happen?” Veronica asked. “Death and dismemberment,” Mrs. Knox said.This wasn’t going well at all.“Dad let me take the metro in Rome by myself all the time,” Veronica said. “And the bus.”Mrs. Knox smoothed her bed-head with one hand.“We’ll be fine,” Veronica said. “There’s daylight every- where.”Mrs. Knox appeared unconvinced.“Seriously, Mom. I found the Coliseum and the Vatican all by myself.”I was surprised that Veronica had visited the Vatican. It was the first I’d heard of it.“Fine. I’ll see you in an hour,” Mrs. Knox said, then shut the door. “To the metro!” Veronica cheered.We walked outside into the muggy air.“It feels like the world has been wrapped in a hot towel,” Veronica said.“At least the sky is blue,” I said.“Oh no.”“What?” I immediately began surveying the scene for Brenda and pickpockets.“I forgot to bring snacks.” Since going back wasn’t an option, we stopped at a small market along the way. The store had only three aisles, and on the counter next to the cash register was a big stack of pornographic magazines. Veronica saw them and smiled. Then she bought crackers, apples, and two candy bars, and dashed out to the street.“Why are you running?” I asked, jogging behind her.She glanced back over her shoulder and laughed. “We can’t leave anything to chance. We’ve got to scope the room.”I hurried after Veronica, hoping she’d stop running when she reached the stairs that led to the metro escalator, but she didn’t. “You’re getting too far ahead,” I called down to her. I raced down the stairs, made a left, and got on the escalator. Riding down, I could see the machine where you purchase your tickets, in the middle of the platform. I edged past a large man and a woman with shopping bags. When I got off the escalator, I ran to the machine. But I didn’t understand what I was supposed to do. It had about twenty buttons, and everything was a different color. “What do I press?” Nobody answered me. “We’re taking the green line, so do I press the green button? Why does it have a sticker of a dog on it?” I was officially panicked. Did this thing even take debit cards? How had Veronica already managed to purchase a ticket? I felt completely abandoned. The train was coming. At the other end of the platform, Veronica positioned herself next to the yellow line. That’s when I remembered my travel pass. I grabbed my wallet and ran for the approaching train. “I can’t believe that you were going to leave me!”“Nobody left anybody,” Veronica said as she stepped onto the train ahead of me. The car was crowded, and neither Veronica nor I could find an open seat. “Commuters,” Veronica said. “And tragically, no hot-dudes among them.”I scanned the car twice, and she was right. “We can’t be lucky every day of our lives,” I said.She frowned at me. “Sure we can.”We both hung on to a bright orange pole near the door. The orange seats held people reading newspapers and magazines. Even the standing people were reading. And the few women who had purses were clutching them tightly in their laps, fearing pickpockets, I guessed. Following their example, I unslung my backpack and set it at my feet, where I could keep a vigilant eye on it. At every stop the train lurched with dramatic force, sending me sideways into fellow passengers. It didn’t matter how tightly I held on. The same thing happened to Veronica, though I don’t think she minded, because she was positioned next to a young, dark-haired businessman wearing what looked to be a soft and expensive dark gray suit. “Where did
he
come from?” she whispered.“Malostranskeˇ stop.”I decided our fellow passengers didn’t really look all that different from Ohioans. Their clothes and faces resembled those of people I’d expect to see walking through the mall on a Saturday. The only exception to this was their footwear. Both the young and elderly were clad in shoes that looked considerably orthopedic. When the metro stopped at Staromeˇstská, Veronica was first off the train. I clumsily dashed out behind her.We rode an escalator up into the daylight. Hurrying down the sidewalk, I realized that we were at the same place where the tour had ended yesterday.“There’s the castle,” I said, pointing across the river.“I’m not blind,” Veronica huffed. “This way. The school is around the corner.” Charles University was old, stone, and impressive. I didn’t remember seeing it on the tour. We climbed a set of shallow stone steps and entered through a set of heavy wooden doors. Veronica immediately began climbing the central stairs. When we got to our room on the second floor, Veronica yanked on the door and then said, “Shit.”“Is it locked?” I asked.She pulled a credit card out of her purse and wedged it into the door near the lock.“What are you doing?” I asked. I was shocked. Unless you count her locker, I’d never seen her break into anything before.The door popped open and she smiled. “Entering. Now, the reason we’re here early is so we can secure our seats strategically.”“Good idea. We should sit by the door in case we need to use the bathroom.”“Yeah,” Veronica said. “Because nothing turns a guy on more than a girl who’s intent on emptying her bladder. Seriously, Dessy, can you try to think like a cheetah?”“Probably not,” I said.“We want to penetrate the guys’ circle,” she said.“You make it sound so sexual. Can’t you just say that we want to sit next to them?”Veronica walked to one of the chairs and smiled like a devil. “This is how it will go. Guy ass. My ass. Guy ass. Guy ass. Your ass. Guy ass.” She walked down the row and slapped the back of a chair each time she said the word “ass.”“How on earth do you know where the guys are going to sit?” I asked.“A lot of it’s mental,” she said.I glanced around the classroom. Things looked dilapidated. Huge maps of Europe hung on every wall except the windowed one. There was an aquarium too, containing a keyboard and several feet of cable. Was this an omen? Veronica remained fixated on the chairs. “And how will that work?” I asked.“Don’t you remember that time that I moved a balloon across the floor using just my mind at your birthday party two years ago? It’ll be a lot like that.” Veronica tapped her temple.“Oh my god,” I said. “This plan is bonkers.”“You’re not going to say that after it works.”“You really think you can control the other workshop participants?”“Yeah.” She plopped down in a chair. “We need to capitalize on every moment. Every second.” She snapped her fingers in quick succession to emphasize, I assumed, the dramatic passage of time. “Do you want to know what I said in my e-mail to Boz last night?”The way she was treating Boz upset me so much that I hadn’t asked her about it.“No,” I said.“I said, ‘I’m enjoying every second of this place.’ And it was the truth. And I will continue to live my truth.”She climbed onto her chair and then up onto a table. She lifted her index finger and jabbed it heavenward. “My truth!” she yelled.“Get down,” I said. “You’re going to freak people out.”Veronica leaped off the table. “Adventurous girls make guys horny,” she said. “That’s why superhero chicks give guys boners.” “Superhero chicks? Are you serious?” I asked.“Hawkgirl, Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Zatanna, et cetera, et cetera. It’s way obvious.”“Maybe it’s their low-cut tops, skintight clothing, and gargantuan breasts.”“Either way, adventurous girls are turn-ons. Big time,” Veronica said.“You act like you know everything,” I said. “I know a lot,” she said. “Admit it.”I didn’t want to fight. Why was I picking a fight? Why not just agree with her? Veronica Knox
did
know a lot. Even her superhero-chick observation had merit. “You’re right,” I said.She ran to my side and hugged me. “Isn’t it amazing how we’re incapable of fighting for longer than thirty seconds?”“Yeah,” I said.“Okay. You sit here,” she said. I sat.“I’m going to sit here.” She slid into a chair and pulled out the stories for workshop.“Now that you’ve actually met these people, are you really going to make snarky comments about their work?” I asked. Veronica looked at the ceiling and blinked several times. “Probably,” she said.“Why?” “I want to look smart. I mean, it’s a lot easier to rip something apart than to offer useful feedback. Have you ever wondered why delinquents vandalize cars and mailboxes and abandoned buildings? It’s because it’s so much easier to wreck something than to build it.”What she said made sense. “Besides, the stories are a little freaky,” Veronica said. “I like Kite, and I wouldn’t mind hooking up with him, and going all the way to first base, or possibly second. But after reading his piece, there’s no way he’s going to third with me, because I think it’s pretty obvious that he’s a sexually injured person.”“I’m not sure I’d say that,” I said.“You’re not sure of a lot of things, Dessy.” Veronica looked down and started to read. “How can you tell that he’s sexually injured?” I asked. “He wrote about a goat.”Veronica groaned. “You
think
he wrote about a goat. And on the surface it may look like he wrote about a goat, because he was using the word
goat
, but trust me, the goat is a metaphor.”“It is?”“Yeah, Kite is either talking about his last failed love or his mother. Either way, he’s sexually injured. That becomes totally obvious during the milking scene.”“Wow. I completely missed that,” I said.“We’re not dealing with high school material anymore, Dessy. We’re tackling college issues.” I was already nervous about commenting on the stories. It was pretty clear that they had been submitted by people who were older and knew what they were doing. Would they even want my opinions? Probably not. My anxiousness turned into nausea. I glanced at Veronica. She appeared fine. I took a deep breath and tried to appear fine too. Today we were discussing two stories: Kite’s and Brenda’s. Yes, I’d already scribbled comments. But after Veronica’s revelation about Kite’s goat, everything I’d written seemed so obvious. Why hadn’t I dug a little deeper? I flipped through both stories again. Brenda’s was set in Maine. It was about a woman who buys a lobster at the grocery store and then takes it to the ocean and sets it free. The story ends with her returning to the grocery store to buy a crab. “The lobster story isn’t about sex,” I said.Veronica kept her head down while she talked. “Right, it’s about confronting mortality.”“Exactly,” I said. “That’s what I wrote. Because the lobster lives.”“We don’t know if that bottom-feeder survives,” she said. “She never even tells us if she took the blue rubber bands off its claws.”“We’re definitely supposed to root for the lobster,” I said. “Dessy, the story isn’t really about the lobster or the crab. It’s about