Boy Meets Boy (12 page)

I hit the peak with Tony and then we turn back around. I am conscious of this in my silence, but I am also conscious of Noah and Kyle at their different destinations, miles away. I am conscious of Joni, who is no doubt somewhere with Chuck, not getting any silence unless he permits it. (Is this an unfair thought? I'm truly not sure.)

I don't know where Tony is while he's with me -- maybe he's simply concentrating on the birdcalls and the slant of the sunlight, which hits through the trees in a pattern that decorates his arm with the space between leaves.

But maybe it's more than that. As we get back to the main path, Tony turns to me and asks for a hug.

Now, I don't believe in doing hugs halfway. I can't stand people who try to hug without touching. A hug should be a full embrace-- as I wrap my arms around Tony, I am not just holding him, but also trying to lift off his troubles for a moment so that the only thing he can feel is my presence, my support. He accepts this embrace and hugs me back. Then his posture raises an alarm--his back straightens out of the hug, his hands fall a little.

I look at his face and realize that he's seen something behind me. I let go of him and turn to find two adults gawking.

"Tony?" the woman asks.

But she doesn't really need to ask. She knows it's Tony.

After all, she's his mother's best friend.

Everybody Freaks Out

Tony is grounded, and his mom's best friend can't keep her mouth shut. The church group network goes into overtime, and by the time I get to school on Monday, I find out that Rip's odds on my love life are now twelve to one for me and Noah, ten to one for me and Kyle, eight to one for me and Tony, and one to two for me botching everything up and spending the rest of my life unrequited.

By the end of the day, the odds have changed even further, and I'm a total basket case.

It's no use protesting to people that Tony and I are just friends (only the people who know us believe me, and all the rest want to believe the opposite because it's a better story). I can't even talk to Tony anymore--I tried on Sunday but his mom hung up on me, muttering something about the devil's influence, which I think was a little overstated.

"Do you think I'm an agent of the devil?" I ask Lyssa Ling after she briefs me on Rip's odds and hands me my Dowager's Dance committee list.

"I would hope that an agent of the devil would be more attractive than you," Lyssa zings back.

Before I take offense, I look at the committee list . . . and gulp.

"Um, Lyssa? You've put both Trilby Pope and Infinite Darlene on my committee?"

"So? It's already posted. A done deal."

"Clearly, you don't realize the implications of this. They both HATE EACH OTHER'S GUTS.

They can't be on my committee together."

"They both wanted to architect, and I'm not going to be the one to play favorites. They'll just have to deal. And so will you."

With that, she pulls her clipboard back to her chest and walks away.

I've gotten to .school early to find Noah and see how his weekend went. But before I can find Noah, Kyle finds me.

"We have to talk," he says urgently.

"How about after school,?" I ask.

"No. Right now."

As Kyle drags me into the janitor's closet, I can see the whole school watching through the eyes of the few people in the hall. I can only imagine what they're thinking, and what they'll say.

The janitor's closet has the usual brooms, mops, and buckets. At its center, though, is a state-of-the-art computer. Our janitorial staff is one of the richest in the country because of their day-trading skills. They could have retired long ago, but they all have a compulsion to clean schools. <

"What is it?" I ask Kyle, trying to ignore the stock ticker scrolling across the computer screen.

Some of the confusion has lifted from his face, replaced by this decisive urgency. He doesn't look sad or happy. He looks as emotionless as a fact.

"My aunt died this weekend," he says, "and I decided that we should be together."

Before I can say anything, he continues.

"She wasn't very old, only a few years older than my mom. She always lived far away, so I didn't really know her until she moved out here for treatment. Her husband was with her; they got married two days after she got her diagnosis. He vowed he would never leave her side, and he didn't. I don't know how to describe it. She could be retching or shaking or not really there, and he would kneel right beside her, look her right in the eye, and say, 'I'm here.' And the way he said it--
I'm here'
--was an 'I love you' and a 'Hang in there' and an 'I'll do anything, absolutely anything'--all these intense feelings in this one calm phrase. If he had to leave the room, he made sure she had this teddy bear propped up next to her--they called him Quincy--to take his place. Toward the end, there were these few moments when she got all anxious a few minutes after he left the room, and he would come right back in, as if he knew exactly how she felt. I came to the room early on Saturday and I saw him curled up in the hospital bed, singing Beatles songs to her and looking her in the eye. I couldn't go inside. I just stood in the doorway crying, because it was so sad and it was so beautiful.

"That night I stayed awake thinking about things. I thought about all the stupid things I've done, and you were at the top of the list. You gave me something, Paul. And I don't think I realized it until I saw Tom with my aunt Maura. Then I knew. I knew what I wanted."

He sees my expression and laughs, which makes it worse, because I like him more for it.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'm not asking you to marry me, or to curl up with me in a hospital bed. I don't know what I'm asking you. All I know is this: I want something
real.
I know I'm young, and I know 'real' doesn't mean forever, like it did for Tom and Aunt Maura. But I want to feel like life matters. I had something real with you, but then the realness scared me. I decided to go for other things instead."

"Like Mary Anne McAllister?"

"Look, I freaked out on you. And now I'm freaking out about it. I'm a mess. Aunt Maura died last night, as we were driving back.

I have to go to the funeral tomorrow morning. It's going to be the worst thing. And I. . . I don't know. I wanted to talk to you before that."

What can I say to him? I think about him standing in that hospital doorway--
it was so sad
and it was so beautiful.
Because, yes, I see it: Right now, tears in his eyes, not yet released, Kyle is so sad and so beautiful.

He needs me.

I know I must step to him. He won't step to me. I open my arms and he folds himself inside. I hold him as he shivers. I stroke his hair. I whisper caring, words. Then he pulls his face back, tears now released, and I kiss him. Just once, so I can take some of the tears away. Just once, because I want him to know something.
I'm here.

We hold each other again, and I can feel the moment drain from us. We are transitioning to the moment when we have to open the door and head to class. What we have right now is real, but it is an isolated reality. It is the reality of a moment, of a separate calm. When we open the door, life will resume. We will be confused once more.

I know Kyle will not ask anything else of me. I know I have taken some of his freak-out and made it my own.

Even in the janitor's closet, the bell-for first period rings. Kyle wipes his face with his shirtfront--not the most delicate of gestures-- and picks up his book bag.

"Thanks," he says.

"No problem," I say, and immediately regret my choice of words.

Once in the halls, we go our separate ways. I don't have time now to find Noah. Part of me is relieved.

I expect to see him after first period, by which time I've managed to turn the moment with Kyle into a dreamlike surreality, to the point that I can pretend it didn't really happen. I have a note in my hand for Noah, but he never shows up to pick it up.

Bad timing, I figure. After second period, I head straight to the classroom he's coming from.

But he's not waiting for me there, either. And while an hour and a half ago I was somewhat happy to avoid him, now I'm somewhat worried that he's avoiding
me.

At the next break, I head to the fourth-period class he's going to instead of the third-period class he's coming from. Sure enough, our paths cross. He
seems
happy to see me, but I'm not sure he
is
happy to see me. He takes my note and says we should "touch base" at lunch.

He doesn't have a note for me in return.

I stress about this on my way to lunch, also wondering what Kyle's reaction will be if I see him again. As I head distractedly to the cafeteria, I am waylaid by Infinite Darlene.

"I
must
talk to you right this moment--I am
outraged}"
she exclaims.

Here it comes,
I think. Infinite Darlene has no doubt heard she's on the same committee as Trilby Pope. And she is no doubt aggrieved.

"It's not my fault," I say defensively.

"How could it be?" Infinite Darlene asks, shooting me a tilted look. "You had nothing to do with Truck kidnapping Joni's heart. And now all my fears have been realized. He is an awful, awful, subhuman being."

"What are you telling me?" I ask her.

"My goodness, haven't you heard? Truck and I had something of an altercation yesterday, and I'm afraid the truth came out." Infinite Darlene pauses dramatically. Then, seeing that I'm still in the dark, she resumes. "It was on the bus ride home from our game in Passaic. He was brooding like a pit bull because he felt I'd called the wrong plays. Please note that we won the game anyway, but that's beside the point. I said something that set him off--I honestly can't recall what it was -- and he said something like, 'Well, maybe we would have scored more if you'd made more passes my way' and I shot back, 'Honey, you
know
I'm not going to be making any passes your way.' This evil grin popped onto his face and he said, 'Well, I'm scoring anyway, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.' I said, 'So* is
that
why you're doing this?' He grinned even wider. His eyes were pure spite. And I knew. That's what this is all about. Not Joni. Not love. He's getting back at me. He's going to hurt one of my friends, and it will be my fault unless I stop it. He hates us, Paul. Make no mistake."

Even for Infinite Darlene, this seems a little far-fetched. "Don't you think Joni could see through him if he was really doing this out of spite?"

Infinite Darlene puts a hand on my shoulder and looks me deep in the eye. "C'mon, Paul," she says. "We all know love makes you do stupid things."

This close, I can see through all her layers. Beneath the mascara and the lipstick and the chicken pox scar on her lower lip, beneath the girl and the boy to the person within, who is concerned and confused and sincere. I wonder if she can see through my layers as well, right through my badly held peace to all of the love confusion underneath. There's no way she can know I kissed Kyle unless she sees it in my face. I wonder if my freak-out is as legible as hers.

"We have to do something," she 'says. "We have to stop him,"

"How?"

"I don't know. First and foremost, you have to talk to Joni."

I knew this was coming.

"You want me to tell her that the only reason Chuck is going out with her is to get back at you?"

"Not in those exact words, but yes."

"And you think she'll listen to me?"

"Honey, if she's stopped listening to you, then that's a bigger problem than anything else."

I know this much is true.

"Fine," I say. I expect Infinite Darlene to be relieved by this,; but she doesn't look relieved.

"They're over there," she says, pointing to Joni and Chuck in the cafeteria, somehow eating and snuggling at the same time. "Now's as good a time as any."

Naturally, I want to look for Noah (don't I?), but I can't find a way to say no to Infinite Darlene. I head over to Joni under her watchful eye.

Joni doesn't even detach herself from Chuck when I come into range. She lets him put his hand in her back pocket. I fight the urge to
ewww.

"What's up?" she asks. She sounds defensive, so the
ewww
must be noticeable.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure." She doesn't move.

"I mean, somewhere else."

She looks at Chuck, who's looking at me.

"We can talk here, can't we?" she says, turning back in my direction.

"No."

It's such a simple word--
no.
But it has the force of a slam. I am not going to talk to Joni in front of Chuck because that's not what I came over here to do. And Joni's not going to budge.

I know this already. And that sound you hear--that
no,
that slam -- is the sound of our friendship taking on the tone of a war.

"Why can't we talk here?"

"Because I want to talk to you alone."

"Well, you can't now. I'm busy."

Busy with Chuck's hand in her back pocket, and him stuffing french fries into his face, possibly thinking that his revenge against Infinite Darlene is working perfectly.

"Sorry to bother you, then," I say, hoping to thrust one last dagger of guilt her way. I turn away abruptly because I'm too afraid to see if I got the reaction I wanted.

I can't find Noah anywhere in the cafeteria. I really want to see him now. I ask around, and Eight tells me she saw him out by the soccer field with his camera. I immediately head in that direction.

He is exactly where Eight said he'd be. He is on the edge of the field, in the space between the goal line and the surrounding woods. His camera is held to his eye, his posture silently observant. I am walking up behind him, but I cannot figure out what he is taking a picture of.

I see an empty set of bleachers with a half-full garbage can at its side, nothing more.

There is a faint click, then another. I circle around into Noah's side view. I look at his haphazard hair and his blue hooded sweatshirt and I realize how much I've missed him. More than touching him or kissing him, I just want to talk to him.