We Know It Was You (25 page)

Benny took another sip of Coke. Once he'd started talking, it felt surprisingly easy. Why had he never tried this before?

“She has so many advantages,” he went on. “A great mind. Incredible beauty. But she's messed up. I think someone did something to her. I wish I could just ask her what's going on, but she'll never let me get close enough.”

“Hrm,” Mr. Flax said. His face twitched, drawing attention to the deep craggy lines around his mouth. Mr. Flax's face was old for his age, prematurely wizened as the result of testing planes at supersonic speeds in the '90s. It made him seem more like a grandfather than a father sometimes. His current senility and lack of mobility made that feeling even stronger. It was getting confusing, who played what role in the family.

As Benny was thinking of what to say next, his father's face looked so normal for a moment that he could have sworn he was thinking too.

“Dad?”

Then the front door opened. Mrs. Flax appeared with an armload of grocery bags. “Benjamin, could you help your grandmother?” she said, not saying hello first.

Benny looked at his dad. His eyes had glazed over again, and he'd resumed clumsily fiddling with the plane.

You're the closest person to him on the planet
. Benny heard Rodrigo's voice in his mind. He stood up and went over to the La-Z-Boy. He glanced toward the kitchen to make sure his mom's back was turned. Then he stooped and gave his dad an awkward half hug, patting him on the shoulder. Benny couldn't remember the last time they'd hugged.
None of the Flaxes were huggers, except for his grandma, who wasn't actually a Flax.

“Thanks for the talk, Dad,” he whispered. Then he pointed to the plane. “Keep practicing. I'm proud of you. You're doing great.”

The football stadium, 8:00 p.m.

WILDCATS FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER
AND EVER
AND EVER
AND EVER
AND EVER
, the enormous sign read, the “ever”s getting tinier and tinier until they were barely readable. Virginia stared at it from the front row of the bleachers. The message was supposed to be affirming—Wildcats forever!!!—but instead it felt vaguely ominous. Wildcats
forever
? Virginia prayed not. Hopefully at some point her life would become interesting enough that the fact that she went to Winship would no longer be central to her identity.

The sign was at least twenty feet tall, supported with poles on either side by two football players. The pep band started hammering out “Hang On Sloopy.” She could see Benny playing his flute, his head bobbing dorkily. Every time she started to think Benny was kind of a badass, she'd catch him doing something really nerdy, like using ten different colored pens to take notes, or playing his flute way too earnestly.

The entire stadium erupted into a cheer, even the half where the opposing team's fans were sitting. It was Catfight
Night, meaning the big game against the Lowell Lions. There'd been talk of canceling it after all the tumult of the week, but then it was decided that maybe a nice wholesome game of football was just what everyone needed. Not that tonight was really about football—it was about the cheerleaders. The huge, twenty-foot paper sign had been made with the idea that the girls would open the game by dramatically running through it onto the field. Everyone was there—even kids from Tate Prep and the Christian Academy had come, just to catch a glimpse of the magical twin from the “Cheerleader Survival” story. Even the little goth ninth grader was there, and Calvin Harker, who had a heart condition and never did anything. In fact, the only person who
wasn't
there, Virginia noticed, seemed to be Gerard. His usual spot on the bench by the water cooler was empty. Not that anyone really expected him to show his face after his total humiliation at the spirit show.

The cheerleaders appeared at the edge of the field. In the stands everyone stood and shouted and clapped joyously. For a too-long moment the clapping and exuberance went on, but nothing happened. Virginia squinted down the field. She could make out the two football players holding the posts on either side of the sign. They were gesturing toward the girls behind them, as if to say,
Come on!

The clapping grew a little scattered. Virginia saw a bulge
at the center of the sign, like someone was leaning on it. Then it tore open, and a cheerleader fell through. She plopped onto the grass, and then didn't get up. Another cheerleader fell after her, and then another. Soon there was a little pile of cheerleaders lying half-inert on the grass as the sign tore wider and more cheerleaders came blundering through. She saw Corny Davenport fall forward on her face, as if toppled by the sheer weight of her boobs.

“What the hell?” Virginia said.

It was not the rousing display of spirit that was expected. It was a bunch of really-out-of-it-looking girls tripping over one another and seeming utterly unaware of the embarrassing spectacle they were making. It was one thing to screw up; it was another to do it in front of the Lowell Lions, their biggest rival. The Lowell side of the bleachers was roaring with laughter. Virginia wanted to laugh too, but she didn't. It was funny, watching the usually Übercoordinated cheerleaders trip over one another, but also not funny. She tried to make eye contact with Benny in the pep band, but he was too far away.

Finally the cheerleading coach ran up and ripped the sign all the way open so the cheerleaders could come through without piling up like a bunch of zombies. The girls walked across the field in a daze to the track, where they ambled around looking lost. Some of them were trying to do choreography, their brows wrinkling in intense concentration as they swayed, seeming disconnected from
their limbs. Brittany and Angie looked particularly confused. Kirsten Fagerland started crying.

“ZAIRE BOLLO, PLEASE REPORT TO THE SKY BOX IMMEDIATELY,”
the principal's voice boomed from the loudspeaker. Virginia's heartbeat quickened at the sound of Zaire's name. She felt slightly queasy, a mix of excitement and dread.

“Virginia.”

She turned just as someone was squeezing into the spot next to her. It was Min-Jun, the bass player from Asian Fusion.

“Um, hi!” she said. “If it isn't my biggest fan!”

“I thought
you
were
my
biggest fan,” Min-Jun said.

Virginia looked down. “Well, I assumed it was mutual.” Then she forced herself to flash a smile.

“Oh, don't worry; it is. . . .”

He looked different in the bright stadium lights. At the Sapphire Lounge he could have passed for late-twenties, but here it was clear he was at least thirty-five. His teeth were yellow, and she could see strands of gray hair among the long, shiny black ones. But he was still good-looking, in a sort of flawed way. And Virginia preferred flawed men, really. They had more potential to be deep and fascinating than the Winn Davises of the world.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I'm here to see you.”

Virginia looked at him, expecting to see a big smirk on his face. But he looked cool and serious.

The horn blew and then the game started. The boys on the field started smashing into one another.

“Football is so stupid,” Virginia said. “You can't even see the ball half the time.”

“That's why they have cheerleaders. To give people something to look at.”

“Not much to look at right now.”

Half the cheerleaders were sitting down with their legs splayed out like little kids. The other half were staring vacantly at the football field or one another. Min-Jun squinted at them.

“Yeah, what's the deal with those chicks?”

“They lost their innocence from being sexually traumatized,” Virginia said. “They can't cheer anymore.”

“I wonder what happens when football players lose their innocence,” Min-Jun said.

“It probably makes them play even better.”

The crowd cheered as the ball sailed across the end zone. Everyone stood up but Virginia and Min-Jun. It felt suddenly intimate, like they were in a cave together created by everyone's feet and legs. Min-Jun looked directly at her for the first time. His eyes were dark, almost black.

“I like you,” he shouted over the noise.

Virginia was so startled she pretended not to have heard. “Wha—what did you say?”

“I like you.”

Virginia narrowed her eyes. “No you don't. I know who you like.”

“Huh?”

By now the crowd had quieted, and everyone was sitting back down.

“I saw your guitar case. I'm not your type.” Virginia nodded toward Corny Davenport, who was on the track staring at her hands like she'd never noticed them before.

Min-Jun threw his head back and laughed. “You're a little snoop, huh?”

Virginia shrugged. How was
he
making
her
feel bad right now? He was the one with pinups of underage girls in his guitar case.

“Well, I like you better than her,” he said.

Virginia scoffed. “ ' Cause I'm right here, and she's waaaaay over there?”

“No,” Min-Jun said. “There's more to you than your proximity.”

“Like what?”

“Like your legs.”

Virginia's heart pounded suddenly. Her face was hot. She glanced down at her legs, wishing simultaneously that she could cover them up and show them more. She'd
just
been thinking this the other day—that her legs were totally nice but no one ever noticed. People only noticed your reputation at Winship, and Virginia's reputation wasn't for being a leggy sex kitten. Min-Jun wasn't from Winship,
though. He wasn't even from the teenage universe. He had no idea what he was supposed to see.

“Thank you!” she breathed.

“And your business acumen,” he added.

Virginia didn't know what “acumen” meant, so she just said “thank you” again. Her business acumen? Maybe that meant her body or her cool attitude.

“You know that guy?” Min-Jun asked, looking out at the field.

“What guy?” Virginia asked.

Min-Jun pointed. “That guy's been staring at you.”

Virginia looked where he was pointing, expecting to see Benny. But it wasn't Benny; it was a football player—Winn Davis. He was standing on the sidelines, holding his helmet under his arm and gazing weirdly. At first it seemed like he was looking at the group of dazed cheerleaders. But he wasn't; he was looking
past
them. At
her
.

“Um, I don't really know him . . . ,” Virginia said.

“Hey, no problem with me! I like a little competition. Makes me feel like what I'm getting's worth it.” Min-Jun reached in his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. He handed it to her shadily, like it contained a big secret. Virginia took it and peeked inside. It was a bunch of twenty-dollar bills.

“I thought five hundred was a tad steep,” he said. “But I'll give you four. You said you were Choi's ‘little helper'?”

“Um . . .”

“That's
half, in the envelope there. The rest is in my car if you want it.”

Virginia didn't say anything. She just looked at the envelope, her mouth half open. Min-Jun glanced from her lips to the money.

“So do you want it?”

Pep band, 8:00 p.m.

The song was falling apart, and Benny was struggling to keep some semblance of order in the flute section, which was why he didn't notice what was happening on the field.

“ZAIRE BOLLO, PLEASE REPORT TO THE SKY BOX IMMEDIATELY.”

At the sound of Zaire's name, he looked up. He'd been watching for Zaire ever since he got there, but so far she hadn't appeared. Was she there now?

He saw the cheerleaders ambling across the field. They were supposed to have exploded through the sign in a burst of cartwheels and dancing and backflips. But instead they looked like a bunch of freshly lobotomized mental patients.

“Keep playing!” the assistant conductor shouted over the confusion.

Benny played but kept an eye on the field. He looked for Virginia, but he couldn't see her. Usually she sat in the front row at games, but the stadium was so crowded today, she could have ended up anywhere. The horn blew and the game began, the cheerleaders still looking vacant and
confused. Pom-poms hung from their arms like heavy pails of water.

On the ground next to Benny's flute case was a brown paper bag from Home Depot. Inside was a latch he'd bought for Virginia's door—or rather, his mother had bought it. Benny didn't have his own money, except for his bar mitzvah cash, which was all in a bank account. It had been awkward, trying to explain why Virginia needed a latch.

“The dorm isn't safe,” he'd said, and even though it was true, his voice had cracked, which made it sound like a lie. Mrs. Flax had given him a cold stare.

“I don't see why anyone your age needs a lock on their door. There's nothing you should be doing that can't be done with the door open.”

Amid the crowd, Benny noticed Zaire Bollo coming down the stadium steps with Principal Baron. As she passed, everyone turned and stared at her. From a distance it reminded Benny of a magnet pulling everything toward it.

Benny jumped off the bleachers, flute still in hand.

“Benny Flax!” the assistant conductor shouted. Benny ignored him. He walked across the track, trying not to be self-conscious of the fact that half the stadium was probably staring at him and wondering what he was doing. He could see Zaire and the principal standing in front of the cheerleaders. He caught up to them in time to hear Zaire
saying, “Breath in. . . . Breathe out. . . . This is a safe space. A space where you can be yourself. . . . You can be a cheerleader. You can be yourself. Be yourself. Be yourself. When I clap my hands, this will all be over.”

She clapped once.