Still a Work in Progress (3 page)

“That is so unsanitary,” Sam says.

Curly ignores him and keeps licking until Ryan takes his hand away.

“What’s wrong with it?” Ryan asks.

“Are you going to wash your hand now?”

“No.”

We throw our lunch bags into our lockers and go to class. Curly follows.

“Now she’s going to want to lick everyone,” Sam says. “I can’t believe you.”

“What’s wrong with licking everyone?” I ask. “Dogs do it.”

“She’s not a dog. She’s more like . . . a wingless bat.”

Curly tilts her pointy head up at us. It’s hard to picture a bat wearing a hot-pink sweater-vest like the one she has on today. Of course, it should be hard to picture a naked
cat
wearing a hot-pink sweater-vest, too.

“Guess I know what’s going in the Suggestion Box next,” Sam says. “‘No licking.’”

“You need to lighten up,” Ryan tells him. “And you might want to be a little more specific if you put that note in the box.”

“Why?” Sam asks.

But Ryan doesn’t have the patience to explain.

Sam is an odd duck. My dad says he “lacks a filter.” He says whatever pops into his head. Sometimes it’s something brilliant, and other times it’s just too much information. Sometimes we learn interesting stuff, like about the possibility of life on Mars, especially since Mrs. Phelps keeps telling us that global warming is happening faster than anyone predicted and in the next few decades the planet could get so hot and the storms so severe that no one will survive. But then other times we learn stuff we wish we could unlearn, like the details of Sam’s poop — how often he goes, what color it is, what size it is, what
texture
it is, and what it smells like. Sam is the king of oversharing.

Ryan and I follow Sam into our language arts class and sit at the big circular table Mr. Marshall set up so the students can see one another during discussions. Today we’re talking about the first half of
Lord of the Flies.
So far, this book is creepy and disturbing.

Emma says the book is going to steal away my innocence like it did hers, and that they should stop teaching it. She had to read it in middle school, too. She got in big trouble because she made a list of which of her classmates would go crazy and turn into savages if they got trapped on an island, the way most of the boys in the book do, and which wouldn’t. Unfortunately, Ms. Cliff saw the list and felt the need to discuss it “anonymously” at Community Meeting. It didn’t take long for everyone to figure out who she was talking about, and for a while, Emma was the most popular girl in school, not because she was the prettiest and smartest but because everyone wanted to find out if she thought they’d be a savage or a Ralph. Ralph’s the main character and the only one who doesn’t either die or turn into a beast follower, which is what happens to all the boys who become savages. Pretty soon, it didn’t matter who she labeled what, because the whole school was fighting about it and calling one another savages and it was all Emma’s fault. And just like in the book, they turned on her. Emma, who everyone loved and adored, suddenly became the outcast. I’m pretty sure she started out convinced she was a Ralph, but in the end she came to believe she was the beast after all. The entire incident changed her in a big way. It was like she’d seen how she was capable of being a terrible person without even being stranded on an island. Even though eventually people forgot about it and moved on and forgave her, Emma couldn’t. She started trying to be more perfect and more adored than she was before, but to do that, she was secretly punishing herself. It’s not a time we like to talk about.

Emma used to want to be a psychologist someday. I think she liked to study people to find out if they had a dark side. Sometimes when I had friends over, she’d ask them weird questions, like if they killed insects quickly or tortured them first. I’m glad no one admitted to doing anything worse than squishing a spider with a shoe (Sam) and swatting flies with one of those flyswatter guns you get from the dollar store (Ryan). Sometimes I’d catch her watching me, like she was trying to figure out if I’d grow up to be a serial killer.

But that all stopped after the
Lord of the Flies
incident. It’s really too bad, because as mean as it was to make that list, I bet she was right about a lot of people.

“Noah, what was the beast?” Mr. Marshall asks me. “Why do you think the boys all believe in its presence?”

Mr. Marshall never starts class in the usual way, like by saying hello to everyone or telling us what we’re going to do that day. He just launches into a discussion as if we never stopped talking from the day before.

I think a minute before I answer. Unlike Mrs. Phelps, who gets closer and closer to your face until you answer, Mr. Marshall seems to put the whole room on pause to wait.

I think of the boys on the beach and how they all act kind of scary. Even Ralph, the one who’s supposed to be the good guy.

“I think the beast is the thing inside you that makes you tempted to do bad things,” I say. “It’s . . . something some people have and some don’t. Or maybe we all have it. When we’re put into a bad situation, like being stranded on an island, the beast inside wakes up, looking for who will follow him. The boys believed in the beast because they could feel it waking up inside themselves.”

“Fascinating,” Mr. Marshall says. “Sadie, what do you think of that?”

Sadie looks at me and smiles shyly. “I agree with Noah.”

Ryan nudges me under the table. I nudge back.

“Care to explain?” Mr. Marshall asks.

Her face turns bright red. “No,” she says quietly. “Noah said it really well.”

“Did you read the assignment?” he asks her.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t have any thoughts of your own to add?”

She shakes her head. She looks like she wants to crawl under the table.

“What about you, Lily?” Mr. Marshall asks hopefully.

Lily starts talking, but I don’t really listen because Ryan slides a slip of paper over to me:
S likes u.

I roll my eyes.

Ryan crosses out the words and draws a heart with my and Sadie’s initials in it. Sometimes I think he forgets we’re not in third grade anymore.

“Ryan? You seem busy over there. Do you agree with Lily?”

“Huh? Um. Sorry?”

“What do you think of the beast?”

Ryan takes his time, then finally answers. “I think we’re all beasts. This book is insane. I don’t know who I’m supposed to like.”

“Why do you think you’re supposed to like someone?”

“Isn’t that the point of books? To care about the main character so you want to keep reading?”

“Is it?”

Ryan sighs. “Who’s to say?” he asks. This is the old answering-a-question-with-a-question trick.
Who’s to say?
is a good way to reply to a question which you sort-of know the answer to but are not willing to expand on. Mrs. Phelps always used to answer questions with “What do
you
think?” which is honestly one of the most annoying replies ever, when you just want to know something. Then Ryan figured out to answer
that
question with “Who’s to say?” which we then
all
began doing, and now she never does that anymore.

“Well, I’d like
you
to say,” Mr. Marshall says.

He got him there, I guess.

“Do you want to finish the book or not?” Mr. Marshall asks.

“Only to find out if anyone is left standing.”

“Then I guess the author did his job, even if you don’t like any of the characters.”

Mr. Marshall walks back to his desk and grabs a stack of papers. “Your next assignment is to write an expanded paragraph on the beast. Details are on the handout, but if you have any questions, ask. Due next Friday.”

He hands out the papers and then starts reading from the book. It’s hard to listen. We’re at the part where things are going downhill fast. I’m sure if anyone is going to die, it will be Piggy, who kind of reminds me of Sam because he’s so innocent and loyal. This makes me sad. Why is the trusty sidekick always the one to bite the dust?

That afternoon, Harper and Stu don’t need a ride, so Emma’s friend Sara gets in the car before my mom even says she can come over. It doesn’t matter. It’s always OK. My mom always seems so relieved when we have friends over, like she’s worried we’ve become outcasts if we don’t. The
Lord of the Flies
incident with Emma really put her on high alert.

“Do you have any dietary restrictions?” she asks Sara. My mom actually uses phrases like that.

“She’s vegan, like me,” Emma tells her. “But we’ll cook dinner.”

Great. Whenever Emma cooks dinner, we end up having to try all of her disgusting “healthy” meat alternatives.

“No seitan,” I tell her. “That stuff is disgusting.”

“Satan?”
Sara asks.

“Not like Satan, the devil.
Seitan.
It’s a meat substitute,” Emma tells her. “But if you’ve had meat recently, you might not think it’s very good. It’s an acquired taste.”

I will never acquire a taste for that stuff.
Satan
is definitely a more accurate way to describe it.

“Sara is new to veganism,” Emma explains.

“Is your family vegan, too?” my mom asks.

“No, just me. My parents are all stressed-out about it. They think I’m going to become anemic or something.”

Emma sighs dramatically, as if to say,
So typical.

My mom clears her throat uncomfortably. “We were worried about Emma, too. But she’s very aware of her dietary needs. Right, Emma?”

“Kind of hard not to be with you and Dad obsessing about everything I eat,” Emma says sarcastically.

My mom doesn’t answer, just grips the steering wheel tighter. Sara shifts in her seat awkwardly, probably remembering the time a few years ago that no one talks about. Even though she and Emma weren’t good friends then, everyone knows about the Thing That Happened.

When we get home, Emma takes Sara straight to her room and shuts the door. I go to my own room and figure out the minimum amount of work I have to do to get credit for it. Our dog, the Captain, carries his ratty tennis ball to me and drops it at my feet. He doesn’t really like to fetch; it’s just his way of letting me know he needs some love. Even though he’s Emma’s dog, he seems to love me best. He probably resents her for giving him a stupid name. We got him right after she’d seen this old movie called
Dead Poets Society
about an English teacher who tries to save a bunch of kids from boredom, and they all say to him “O Captain! My Captain!” when he gets fired, which is a reference to some poem, and I guess she found it really moving, so she named our dog Captain. Only somehow we all got to referring to him as
the
Captain because he’s so special. And by “special” I mean no one smells like the Captain, no one snores like the Captain, and definitely no one
farts
like the Captain.

I kick the ball gently for him, and it rolls across the room. He looks up at me with his “Is that really all you’ve got?” look of disappointment.

“Sorry,” I say. “Too much work to do.” But before I can start, I get a text from Ryan asking what I’m doing. I tell him homework. A few minutes later, he calls.

“Are you done with homework yet?” he asks.

“It’s been three minutes,” I say.

“So, are you?”

“No?”

“I’ve been thinking about Molly Lo.”

“Not this again.”

“I decided I really don’t want to go out with her.”

“I already knew that,” I remind him.

“I’m just not that into her,” he says, ignoring me.

“I know. Too L.L.Bean.”

He’s quiet for a minute. “I’m just . . . not attracted. In any way.”

“Are you basing this just on looks and how she dresses?”

Another pause. “No?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “You really are shallow.”

“I can’t help it. There’s no
chemistry.
”

“There’s one-way chemistry.”

“You can’t have a chemical reaction if there’s nothing to charge with.”

“Love isn’t scientific,” I tell him.

He ignores this. “Can you just tell her I’m seeing someone else?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not true.”

“You wouldn’t lie for me?” He sounds genuinely shocked.

“Not really.”

“Fine. I’ll get Sam to do it. Jeez, you’re really disappointing, Noah.”

“I bet you ten bucks Sam won’t do it either.”

“Why not?

“Because it’s
wrong.
”

“Why?”

“Listen,” I say. “Think. This is middle school. Saying no if a girl asks you out is not earth-shattering. Get a grip and just be honest with her.”

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“No offense, but you’re not
that
amazing. She isn’t going to jump off a cliff if you say no.”

He sighs heavily. “Fine, then.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to try to avoid her anymore? You’re going to be normal from now on?”

“I guess.”

“Good. I have to do my homework now.”

“But you never want to do your homework.”

I let the meaning of that sink in for him.

“Call me back when you’re done,” he says.

“All right,” I say, and hang up.

But by the time I finish, Emma and Sara’s vegan dinner is ready. It’s also disgusting, as predicted. Even Emma slips half her food to the Captain, who waits patiently under the table. Only, after dinner when we’re cleaning up and my mom finds the uneaten seitan on the floor, I get blamed. The Captain looks at me guiltily, but I really can’t fault him for coughing it out. Emma doesn’t confess her part in all this, and since I’m not a rat, I end up having to do extra cleanup as punishment.

“Hey, thanks for not telling on me,” she says later, coming into my room to say good night. She’s always done this since we were little. We used to read together before bed, but now I’m too old for that.

“I thought you loved seitan,” I tell her. “Why didn’t you eat it?”

She gives me a strange look and shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry. Never mind. I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Emma,” I say. “You’re OK, right? You really just weren’t hungry?”