Saving Montgomery Sole (16 page)

“Fine.”

“Okay.” Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I thought you said you were going to be the Joker for Halloween.”

“Yeah, I forgot.”

Next to my locker a crew of Jefferson's most popular stood comparing costumes.

Madison Marlow had come as Hillary Clinton, which impressed most of the teachers. I didn't think she looked all that much like Hillary Clinton except that she was wearing kind of a business-suit-type outfit. It looked a little slutty to be Hillary. I don't think Hillary wears a lot of miniskirts.

About a dozen other girls were dressed up in … basically what looked like underwear to me.

Sixteen-year-old fairy time.

I looked over to catch Thomas giving an appraising look.

“Your drag is way better than theirs,” I whispered, opening my locker.

“The Kardashians stuffed their butts,” Thomas whispered back, pointing at the Parte twins.

“With real butt stuffing,” I sneered.

I was about to close my locker when I was hit with a heavy thud against my back. “
What are you supposed to be?
A black hole?”

“Hey!”
I spun around.

“
Oooohh
. Testy!” It was Matt. Wearing what looked like a weird mix of a Walmart ninety-nine-cent witch costume and a pound of horror makeup. He leaned against the row of lockers. “How do I look? I know you gays are the fashion committee around here, so I thought I'd ask. Do I look like a leading man?”

“MATT!”

Matt threw his hands in the air. “Hey, man, relax! Okay? I'm getting into character. Ready for my big debut.”

“Go away.” I stepped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the twinkle of Thomas's crown as he hovered.

“You don't like my outfit? Maybe I just need a prop. Excuse me, Propmaster.” Matt spun around, snatching Thomas's apple from his hand.

“Hey! Give that back!” That was me, not Thomas, by the way. Thomas just rolled his eyes.

Matt tossed the apple in the air, caught it, and walked off down the hallway.

“Did he really just steal your apple?” I screeched.

Thomas brushed the wig hair out of his eyes. “It's just an apple. I've got fifteen cents to get another one.”

“It's not about fifteen cents, Thomas!”

I am standing in a hailstorm, and I'm the only one who can see it's raining
, my brain screamed. It cooked with the thought till my eyes watered.

Thomas looked at me. His lips were painted cherry red, outlined so they curled up. So it was an effort to frown. Which he was, just a little. “I know it's not. But it's
still
only fifteen cents,” Thomas said, adjusting his crown. “Cue bell.”

 
Why Thomas puts up with everything and doesn't get mad

That day, instead of study hall, we had Intramural Sports Day.

So everyone had to do an intramural sport.

Mandatory physical fitness.
GOOD FOR US ALL
, read the poster decorated with stock photos of smiling kids.

For whatever reason, I'd signed up for soccer.

Some of the kids showed up on the field in their costumes. One kid just changed out his pants so he was an intergalactic warrior in track pants. A girl named Susie insisted on wearing her bunny ears.

I threw on the only sports gear I had, which was an old pair of track pants and one of Momma Jo's field hockey jerseys. I took a very, very, very wide, and de facto defensive, position.

Which is to say I walked to the edge of the field and lay down on the grass, hoping not to be noticed.

 
Matt Truit

Matt Truit.

There are so many reasons not to like Matt Truit.

It is not even worth counting.

He is obnoxious.

He is mean.

He is a jerk.

The worst thing about Matt Truit, the worst thing of all, is the fact that I didn't always hate Matt Truit.

The word I was looking for earlier popped into my head. Like a beacon or a crooked cartoon halo.

Enchanting
.

 
Enchanting Jerks and ME

Right.

For seventy-two hours, his first seventy-two hours in Aunty, when he transferred last year, I actually liked Matt Truit.

Maybe even a lot.

I remember what he looked like that first day. I can actually see him standing at the front of the class. From Ohio, the teacher had said. Matt's one foot was kind of shaking a bit, but he had this big smile on his big lips. And he was wearing a T-shirt that said
HUG ME
on it.

Mr. Todd told him to sit next to me, and I was supposed to, like, show him around. Thomas and Naoki were both out sick, so I was kind of like, you know, “Hey, why not?”

And so there was Matt Truit plopped down next to me. Smelling like soap.

“Nice shirt,” I said.

And Matt smiled and he said, “Are you the official fashion police?”

It wasn't a mean or shitty statement back then. It was just, like, a joke.

And I said, “There's not really a police so much as a Committee of Appropriate School Wear, of which I am a member.”

Anyway. He drew this weird little potato man on my math book for me. This angry potato that could cook himself and then eat himself.

It was really funny.

For lunch, he took me out to McDonald's to thank me for helping him, which was kind of cool because, you know, it wasn't like I was tutoring him or anything. I'd been asked to sit with him in a class.

While we waited in line, he did all these impressions of all these dopey kids from Ohio. And he said California was full of hippies, which it is.

I did my impression of this art teacher we used to have who used to praise everyone's work with this deep “
whoooa
,” which always sounded like “
duuuude
” to me.

“Whooooa. Look at your painting, Montgomery. It's like … whoooa.”

After we got our food, I didn't know where to sit or whether to sit. All the tables were full of Madison Marlows and their posses. So I just stood there, holding my tray like a dork, until Matt stepped ahead of me and walked over to a booth.

“You just gonna stand there?”

Halfway through his burger, Matt looked up and pointed at me with a fry. “You have really cute lips,” he said, then popped the fry in his mouth. “Like, they're a cupid's bow. That's a thing, right?”

“Oh yeah?” My hands shook a little as I tried to casually sip on my soda and not choke on my straw.

“Yeah.” Matt looked down at his burger, smiling. “They're really cute. They're like a painting or something. You have a boyfriend?”

My body forgot how to stop drinking from a straw. I had to literally lift my head off it. Like a crazy person. “Uh. No.”

Matt didn't seem to notice. “You should. You're too cute to be single. You a virgin?”

A little chill ran up my arms. “What?”

“It's a joke. You should wear skirts. I bet you've got nice legs.”

Why hadn't I seen it?

Because I'm an idiot.

The next morning in math, he carved all this stuff into my textbook, then he kind of ran off after class. Then, in the afternoon, he ran into me in the hallway and asked me to come help him with his math homework at lunch the next day.

“After you carved up my textbook?” I said, standing in the hallway, wearing the only short skirt I owned (a garage sale find).

Matt stared at my legs, then looked up at me and smiled a huge celebrity smile. “What? That was art! That was me giving my art to you! You should be grateful.”

I said yes.
Yes, I will help you.

Because I'm stupid.

“Nice skirt.”

We sat on a hill by the soccer field, his notebook half on his lap and half on mine. He slid his hand under the flap, up onto my thigh. His hand brushed over my skin, over my fuzzy legs that I hadn't shaved because I almost never thought about my legs as something someone would see or touch.

My body quaked a bit. I started to shift away.

“You know what? I bet you want to kiss me,” he said. And he smiled. A new smile I didn't know yet.

I could feel the skin on my thigh getting warm under his touch. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you do.”

I leaned forward and I kissed him. He basically asked me to. And I wanted to because at the time I thought he was cute. I thought he liked me. I thought, you know, he's funny. He's not like the kids here. He's different.

I was enchanted. We had three soft kisses. They were these amazing little melty kisses.

Then his hand grabbed my thigh. Clamped down. And all the sudden it was just like
tongue
. And I pulled back.

“Relax.” He smiled, and he pulled me on top of his lap. I remember the pencil in my pocket jabbing into my side as I crawled on top of him and shoved the textbook aside. And I felt—okay, yeah, I felt this immediate surge. Like, a want. Like I wanted him.

We kissed again. I learned to manage the overwhelmingness of tongue. And the meltiness came back.

But that feeling was quickly replaced by something else, specifically his hand pushing under the front of my sweater. I could feel him searching for my boobs, like, clawing past my T-shirt in this weird, frustrated way.

“Uh. Wait! Wait. No.” I put my hand on his, which was firmly entrenched on the edge of my bra.

“Uh! What?” Matt rolled his eyes.

I started to sweat. “Um. I mean. It's just … really public here. I don't want to—”

Matt leaned back. Appraising. “What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing! I just—”

“Oh my God, I knew it.” Matt slid out from under me, stood up fast, brushed the grass off the back of his jeans. “You're a dyke, right?”

I sat in the grass, curled my knees up. “No! Wait. What? Why would you ask me that?”

“Forget it.”

It was weird, suddenly not knowing what someone knew. Had someone told him about my moms? I mean, I would have said something, I guess. I just hadn't gotten to it yet.

The sun beat down on the top of my head.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Later.”

And he just walked away.

The next day, Matt didn't sit next to me in math. He sat at the back with these other guys. After class I found him in the hall, and I grabbed Thomas, who was finally back in school, to introduce him to Matt.

As I grabbed Matt's arm, I felt him pull away. And he kind of let out this noise. This, like, scoff.

And I was like,
Oh. Wait.

Oh wait, this is not what I thought it would be for a teeny-tiny second. Oh wait, it's what I've thought it would be since I got to this crummy school and realized everyone who goes here is an asshole. Oh wait, never mind. Never mind whatever I said to you, I wanted to tell Matt. I “un” this whole week. I take it back.

I
un
-kiss you. I
un-
like you.

I
un-
touch you and
un-
want you to touch me.