We Know It Was You (12 page)

Maybe not calling them “the ladies” as if they were some strange alien species,
Benny thought, but he didn't say anything. There was no way he was participating in this embarrassing and debasing forum. What made it even worse was that half the guys were still wearing their tiaras.

“We protect them,” Winn declared. Benny looked at him and felt a twinge of envy. Only Winn could look that manly and dignified in a cheap plastic tiara.

“That's right,” Coach Miles said. “We use our bodies”—he made a weight-lifting motion—“to protect their bodies.”

“We, like, open doors for them,” offered Tyler Jeter.

“Yep, yep. You gotta imagine what it's like to be a woman. It's hard! No one cares about their sports teams.
They go apeshit on the monthly and can't even help it. They wake up at the crack of butt so they can do their hair and look nice for us stupid ogres. The least we can do is open the fuckin' door. Got it?”

“Got it!” all the football players boomed in unison.

“Got it,” Benny joined in, a little too late.

Then Coach Miles clapped his hands together loudly, making Benny jump. “All right! That's that!” he shouted. “Now get outta here and be a force of good in the world. Respect the ladies!”

Wednesday

The sophomore lockers, 8:00 a.m.

A single long-stem rose with pale yellow petals was taped to her locker. Virginia stared at it, her heart speeding up. A
rose 
? For
her 
? She carefully took it down and sniffed the blossom. It was the familiar rosy perfume, but with a touch of honey and butter and earth. She tried to guess who it could be from. Benny? Skylar? A note was attached to the stem. Virginia unfolded it.

Sorry I was a dick yesterday. I will make it up to you, with said dick (Just kidding) Your the best

Virginia scowled.

“Do you have an admirer?”

She turned around. It was Benny.

“No,” she said sourly. “Corny Davenport does. This idiot person keeps mixing us up. They dumped her pom-poms at my door last Saturday. And they always spell ‘you're' wrong.”

“Can I look at the note?” Benny leaned in to read over Virginia's shoulder.

“I'd say it was Winn, but Winn should know where his girlfriend's locker is. Do you think Corny's cheating on him?”

Benny wasn't listening. His own locker, midway down the row with
F
s, had a little slip of white wedged into the door.

“Hang on.”

He went over to the locker and pulled it out. It was a grubby index card with words scratched so deep into the paper it had almost torn in places.

DON'T GET SO CLOSE TO HER

DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND

“Oh my God. Is it
you
?” Virginia burst out laughing.

Benny quickly folded the note, not realizing Virginia had been looking over his shoulder too.

“Is what me?”

“The guy—the guy Corny's cheating with!” She was laughing so uproariously it was hard not to be insulted.

Benny looked around. People were staring at them. Why did Virginia always have to be so loud? “Gimme your note,” he said. Virginia handed it to him as her laughter dissolved into breathless sighing.

“Benny and Corny, class couple!”

Benny ignored her, feeling his cheeks heat up. He compared
the two notes. It was hard to tell whether they could have come from the same person. Virginia's note seemed to have been written by someone normal, at least, while Benny's was written by a psychopath. The pen was the same—black ballpoint—but that didn't say much. Black ballpoint was pretty much the most common pen on the planet.

Don't get so close to her.

“Her” couldn't mean Corny, could it? Benny had hardly ever talked to Corny in his life. The only “her” he was remotely close to was Virginia.

“I think it's about you,” he said, bracing himself for one of Virginia's loud and annoying reactions. But she just gawked at him, the rose hanging limply in her hand.

“Moi?”

“Well, is it true? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No!” she snorted.

Benny looked at her.

“What? I don't! Do you think I'm lying?”

Benny shrugged.

“Stop looking at me like that. Come on, it's a small school. Don't you think if I had a boyfriend you would have heard?”

“I'm not exactly looped in, if you hadn't noticed,” Benny said. “Do you have a boyfriend at home? In Florida?”

Virginia visibly stiffened. She didn't answer.

“Or from wherever,” Benny amended lamely, feeling a flush of discomfort.

“No,”
Virginia said finally. “I do not have a boyfriend. Anywhere.”

“Okay!” Benny said, his voice squeaking.

For a second they stood there, avoiding each other's eyes. Virginia rustled around in her backpack, pretending to look for something. The stem of the rose bent and snapped, and one of the petals dropped to the floor.

“Well . . . the bell's about to ring,” Benny said. “I guess we should go.”

“I'm skipping homeroom,” Virginia said. It was one of those things people weren't supposed to do, but no one ever actually got in trouble for. Benny couldn't picture himself skipping, though. He just wouldn't be able to relax, so what would be the point?

“I'm getting a muffin from the caf. You want one?”

Benny shook his head, giving her a quick look. She was already walking away.

“See you tonight,” she called over her shoulder.

Benny opened the note and read it again.

Don't get so close to her.

The Boarders, 7:00 p.m.

Virginia frowned at the pile of clothes on her bed. It was really frustrating when you had an idea of what you wanted to look like, but none of the pieces in your wardrobe added up to it.

“What are you doing?”

Virginia turned around. Zaire Bolo was standing in her doorway sipping coffee and holding a thick book under her arm.

“I'm trying to find something to wear to the Sapphire Lounge tonight,” Virginia answered.

Zaire raised her eyebrows. “You're going to the Sapphire Lounge? Gosh. I'm impressed.”

“Well don't be,” Virginia said back. “I go to cool places like the Sapphire Lounge all the time.”

“I wouldn't call the Sapphire Lounge
cool
, necessarily,” Zaire said.

“You've been there?” Virginia asked.

Zaire shrugged noncommittally.

She's never been there,
Virginia thought. Zaire just couldn't stand the idea of anyone being more sophisticated than her.

“You can come with us if you want,” Virginia offered, less to be nice than to be cool. “Benny's mom's driving us.”

“No thanks,” Zaire said. “I don't really do moms.”

Virginia turned back to her bed so Zaire wouldn't see her rolling her eyes. Zaire thought she was better than everything, including moms apparently.

“Do you want to borrow something of mine?”

Virginia whipped around. “Really?” Zaire had fantastic clothes, which seemed like a waste, because all she ever did was study. Who needed plush velvet skirts from Milan to read
Moby Dick
and do algebra?

“Sure. Come on.”

Virginia followed Zaire across the hall to her room. Zaire's room was very tidy. Even the piles of books on the floor—too many to fit on the small standard-issue dorm bookshelf—were stacked in neat, perfect towers. Virginia sat on the edge of the flawlessly made bed while Zaire rummaged through her closet.

“Omigod, Wildcat!” Virginia squealed, noticing a small furry lump nestled among Zaire's satin pillows.

“Oh yeah,” Zaire said casually. “He sleeps with me all the time.”

“Seriously? He doesn't maul your face?”

“Wildcat loves me. Watch this.” Zaire clicked her tongue and wiggled her fingers. “Wildcat, darling, hop up!” And in an instant Wildcat uncurled himself and trotted across the bed to Zaire, rubbing his whiskers against her outstretched fingers and purring.

“Wow,” Virginia said. She'd never seen Wildcat acting so friendly. She reached out to pet him, but Wildcat immediately turned and hissed at her. “Okay, okay, jeez.” Virginia snatched her hand back before Wildcat could scratch it.

“How about this?” Zaire carelessly tossed a beautiful black cashmere sweater and a gold pleated skirt on her bed.

“Oh my God,” Virginia said. It was perfect. But she didn't love the idea of borrowing it from Zaire, because then it meant she'd have to be nice to her.

“Are you going anywhere for fall break?” Zaire asked.

“Probably not. Maybe Boca Raton if the schedule works out.”

“Boca's . . . nice,” Zaire said, as if struggling to compliment a trailer park or the site of a famous nuclear spill. “I'm going to Barcelona. You should come with me. My dad will buy you a ticket.”

Virginia narrowed her eyes. “No thanks. I don't really do Spain.”

Zaire looked at her. “I think you'll look great in that outfit,” she said.

“Thank you,” Virginia said back. “It's definitely better than anything I've got.”

Zaire sat down next to her on the bed. She leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes. “I can just imagine you walking into the Sapphire Lounge in that skirt. You know what people will see? Not some gauche fifteen-year-old. They'll see a confident, poised, mysterious female. Order a sidecar, not some nasty candy-flavored thing with an umbrella in it. Sidecars are ultra stylish. Just make sure they use Cointreau and not some low-shelf triple sec. Don't let them sugar the rim, and say you want it dry.”

“Dry,” Virginia repeated, hoping she'd remember. Her head felt kind of fuzzy all of a sudden.

“Confidence is everything. But I don't think you'll have any trouble, not in that outfit.” Then Zaire stood abruptly. “Can you help me with the computer in the common room? I can't get the Internet to work.”

“Um, sure,” Virginia said, gathering the clothes in her arms. She reached out a hand to pet the cat, then thought better of it. The cat's eyes followed her as she left, as if daring her to try.

The Boarders driveway, 7:20 p.m.

The Boarders always looked creepy at night. One of the streetlamps blinked, and a pair of enormous magnolia trees cast mottled shadows on the gray stone. You never knew if Mrs. Morehouse would be there to yell at you, or if it would just be empty.

“I'll only be a minute,” Benny said to his mom. He shut the car door and walked up the stone steps. He was about to press the call button to Virginia's room when he saw her through the window. She was sitting in the common room with Zaire Bollo. The window panes were made of old glass, the kind that's a little thicker and foggier at the bottom, perpetuating the myth that glass was a liquid. Old glass was rare in this region and highly prized, because General Sherman had scorched everything in his March to the Sea. Anything that hadn't been destroyed—glass, furniture, square dancing, family names, unburned tracts of land—became a precious symbol of survival. Benny found the enduring obsession with “Dixie Land” weirdly touching. It was like their Israel. Except rather than being a hope for the future, it existed only in the past. If it had ever existed at all.

What is Virginia doing?
Benny peered through the window. Virginia and Zaire were sitting side by side at the computer. He tried to see what they were looking at, but the warped glass made it hard to tell. Was that the bridge? Was she showing Zaire the footage from Mr. Choi's camera?

Benny lunged to the door and started pounding on it. “Virginia!” he called. “I'm here!”

He heard movement inside, and after a moment Virginia opened the door. “What?” she said, giving him a weird look. “Why are you banging on the door like a freak?”

“I'm just . . . We have to go.” He arched his neck to see if Zaire was still in the common room, but he couldn't see her.

“Were you just showing Zaire the bridge footage?” he whispered.

“What? No.” Virginia stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her.

“I told you not to show that to anyone else!”

“And I didn't!” she insisted.

Benny opened his mouth to argue, but was startled by Virginia's outfit. She was wearing an expensive-looking sweater and a very short gold skirt. It was hard not to notice her legs; he could see their entire shape, and his eyes felt commanded to look at them. He wasn't sure if he should give her a compliment. Sometimes compliments were tricky—like if you told a girl she looked nice, but sounded too surprised, she might end up being insulted.

“Good choice of clothes,” he said carefully.

“Thank you! It doesn't look like a costume?” Virginia looked down at herself.

“No . . . You're a natural.”

“Benjamin?” Benny heard his mom call from the car. “Are we going?”

“Yes, ma'am!” he called back. “Come on,” he said to Virginia. As they walked down the porch steps, Benny glanced over his shoulder at the common-room window. There was no one inside. Like a ghost town, the Boarders was empty.

Peachtree Street, 7:30 p.m.

Virginia sat in the passenger seat of Mrs. Flax's car. Benny had insisted that she sit in the front. He probably thought he was being gentlemanly, but Virginia wished he would just be a normal guy for once.
It must be a Jewish thing,
Virginia thought. Benny was the most well-mannered boy in school; he was also the only Jew she knew. It seemed like there was probably a connection. In any case, Virginia wished Benny had just sat in the front with his mom, even if it wasn't the polite thing to do. Mrs. Flax was incredibly scary, and Virginia was having a hard time coming up with conversation points.