Kaia: Where are you? I heard what happened.
“What? No! Noooo! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” I dropped to my knees, clutching my phone.
The door opened. Kaia poked her head in, smiling a little. “I thought I heard someone in there. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I jumped to my feet and brushed off my pants, then shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to look like I just hadn’t been having a complete mental breakdown. “Oh. Hey. Hi.”
Kaia entered the room all the way, gently closing the door behind her. “Are you okay?”
“What? Me? I’m fine. I just wanted to reference the periodic table for a minute.” I gestured vaguely to the poster at the front of the room.
“Everyone’s talking about the diaper.”
“Oh. Wow. They are?” I tried to play it off. Maybe I’d misunderstood her text. I mean, yes, “I heard what happened” sounded pretty damning, but maybe she meant all the social media buzz we were getting from the hashtag. That was a possibility. Maybe. Right?
“I guess you made quite a statement,” she said. Her cheeks colored.
Nope. She knew exactly what had happened. She’d probably seen pictures. Pictures of my diapered erection. I sat down on the edge of the desk, my vision suddenly a little dim. Kaia rushed over.
“Hey, Cam. Relax. It’s okay. I was just teasing.” I couldn’t breathe. “It’s okay,” she repeated.
“It’s not okay!” I managed to gasp. Great. I was now melting down in front of her. But I couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t know what happened. I was just standing there. And then it . . . it . . . Did people think I meant to do that? Oh god.” I tried to breathe. Failed. Tried again. “Do they think it was some weird sex thing? Like I got off on it? Am I a sex offender now? Does that make me a sex offender?” I knew I was being ridiculous, but the thoughts were piling up too fast.
Kaia laughed a little. “Stop. Please.”
“You must think I’m a weird, perverted sex offender now.”
“Cam, no—”
“But—”
She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Cam, I promise I do not think you’re a weird, perverted sex offender.”
Feeling her hands on my shoulders, my breathing began to slow. I dropped my head. After a moment, Kaia stepped away. I chanced a look up. “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice small.
She put her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing. “Is there something I don’t know?”
“What? No!” I yelped. Kaia could be straight up terrifying. “Of course not.”
Her face broke into a smile. “Then there you have it. Not a sex offender.”
I laughed a little, scrubbing my eyes. “This is so embarrassing.”
Kaia sat down next to me. “No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Okay, it is.” We both chuckled. Kaia smirked. “Apparently Mrs. Cotes had to go to the teachers’ lounge to recover.”
“Really?”
Kaia threw her head back and cackled. “Wow. You really have a high opinion of the power of your junk.” I blushed, embarrassed. But somehow her teasing didn’t have any sting. She knocked me on the shoulder and stood. “Come on. We should get to class.”
I remained sitting. “Oh. Right. I guess.” I wondered if I could hide in the supply closet at the back of the class all day.
As if she could read my mind, Kaia smiled and dragged me to my feet. “Come on. I’ll be your bodyguard. Keep all those geriatric teacher ladies from mobbing you.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” I laughed. Kaia looped her arm in mine and we set out.
Arm in arm, we walked through the halls now packed with people on their way to class. Most everyone ignored us. Once or twice someone shouted “Nothing to see here!” but it was accompanied by high fives and laughter. Somehow with Kaia right there, laughing along with me, it didn’t seem that bad.
We got to my first-period class and Kaia stopped at the door. “Good luck,” she said, and left. As she disappeared into the crowd, she turned around to smile at me one last time. I watched from the entrance of the classroom until I couldn’t see her anymore, a warm glow filling my chest.
That glow completely disappeared when my phone buzzed halfway through class.
Steve: Saw the pics. Thanks for taking such a FIRM stance against cancer.
Steve: That was SWELL.
Steve: You really ROSE to the occasion.
I typed under my desk.
Me: I could just show Kaia those pictures you sent.
Steve: Go ahead. Tell her everything. I will too.
I started and deleted four different responses.
Steve: Thought so.
Steve: Can’t wait to see what you do to save me next . . .
10
I manned the Save Steve donation table at the CIF Girls’ Soccer Championship and searched the crowd for the next attack. I had successfully reset my password for the site after hours with customer service and regained control. But I was sure Steve was still plotting away at home. A loud laugh swung my head one way and then a bang swung it back the other. Maybe he’d have one of his bro friends jump out from behind a bush or throw a water-filled condom at me.
Or maybe he had just begged Kaia to come play nurse to him so that I would be stuck raising money by myself. She was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. Wouldn’t she have texted me if she was going to bail? I checked my phone again, but there was nothing new from Kaia.
I texted her: I’m at the game. You?
I didn’t want to be too demanding. But still, she seemed excited to see the new Save Steve T-shirts and hats that I had convinced Gary’s Customizables to expedite. They looked pretty cool, if I said so myself. And Steve shouldn’t be embarrassed, since I got them in Pricedown Black, the Grand Theft Auto font.
I checked the website again just to be sure nothing had changed. I still couldn’t believe we had already raised almost a thousand dollars off the diaper. At this rate we’d have twenty thousand within a month and then I’d—
SLAM!!
I jerked back in my seat, almost falling over, then ducked and covered, expecting an incoming projectile. But it was just two shaggy seniors who bumped into the table. They were wearing diapers over their shorts in solidarity with Steve. “Nothing to see here!” one of them shouted, and then held up his hand for a high five from me. I gave him one, still a little uncomfortable with the catchphrase I’d apparently inspired. Hopefully if we reached our goal, I’d be remembered for more than that.
“Sorry! Late!” I looked up and there was Kaia hurrying into her seat behind the table. “I got asked to be on the prom committee. Of course the first meeting had to be right after school.” She stopped and took in the new Steve merch. “These are awesome, Cam!” She held up a shirt and admired it. I got a little light-headed at the compliment. Then she put on a hat. I needed to take a big drink of water because Hat-Kaia was even cuter than Hair-Kaia. “We’ll sell a million of them. Even people who don’t know Steve are gonna want one.”
“We’ve sold eight hats already and a couple of shirts.” I showed her the spreadsheet where I was keeping track of sales. “I think maybe I’ll ask if Gary will make us some hoodies and—”
“Cam Webber?” A short man in a black shirt and baseball hat interrupted.
He didn’t look like one of Steve’s bro friends, but I still winced. “Uh, yeah . . .”
“Your dinner is here.” He lifted up a couple of large red coolers and set them down on our table.
“I didn’t order dinner.”
“Looks like it was paid for by Steve Stevenson.” I froze. Was the cooler gonna explode? Would snakes pop out?
“Really?” Kaia lit up.
“He included a note.” The delivery guy handed it to me.
This was going to be the explanation of the joke. Something about meat and how I should man up and eat it. But as the guy unloaded pile after pile of hot veggie burgers, fries, and shakes fro
m the awesome farm-to-table café on Loma Vista, I began to doubt my assumption and read the note. Dear Kaia and Cam, Dinner’s on me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything. Don’t worry, it’s vegetarian. Respect, Steve.
“Awwww. He’s so sweet,” Kaia swooned.
I read it again twice, looking for the clue or hidden message. I even turned it upside down. But it was just a nice note. I scanned the massive amount of food he’d ordered for something gross. Was it covered in worms? But the only odd thing was that he ordered enough for ten of us. “Are we expecting anyone else?” I asked Kaia, wondering if she’d invited the prom committee.
“I don’t think so. But I’m starving.” She grabbed a bag of fries ravenously.
I watched her take a bite and felt a little bad that I was waiting to see if she had any adverse reaction. What was I worried about? He ordered his girlfriend . . . and me . . . dinner. That wasn’t weird. We were raising money for him. I should be able to accept a little generosity. From Steve. Maybe my “going high” had shown him a new way. Also, the burgers smelled delicious.
Kaia’s phone buzzed to life. “Steve?” I assumed.
“No,” she said, a little stressed. “I just have to tell the women’s shelter I’ll be there for my shift tomorrow.” She began replying when another thought hit her. “Oh, shit. I’ve got academic decathlon this weekend.” She flipped through her calendar and then assured herself, “Oh, it’s Sunday. I can make it.”
The women’s shelter. Academic decathlon. The prom committee. She did it all. And now Save Steve. She clearly only gave her time to things that were really important. Which meant I—I mean, Save Steve was really important. I absently ate a fry as her thumbs tip-tapped on the screen. The rhythm of her altruism was entrancing. “Wow. You never stop, do you?”
“There’s just so much to do. Anyway, you should talk.” She gave me a playful shove.
I dropped a couple of fries and tried to hide my goofy smile. “Not like you. Right now, I’m just doing the Steve stuff and the shark thing—”
“Oh my god! Did you check your email?” she asked. I panicked. What had Steve done? But she continued, “The city council is going to consider a law to ban captive sharks! The petition worked!”
“Wait. Seriously? Holy shit!”
“Right!” The thrill of this small victory rushed through us and then she hugged me.
The rotation of the earth slowed. Flecks of dust from the nearby field glittered around us. And I was again bathed in some sort of amazing coconut infusion.
Then almost as soon as it began, we both became aware that we were hugging in the Save Steve booth at the CIF Girls’ Soccer Championship and we separated. I saw her start to awkwardly laugh and I laughed back to make sure she knew that I also thought that was super weird.
Our eyes caught. I froze and searched hers for the answer to the most important question. Was that just a hug? Or was that a hug?
She looked at the bag of fries and began picking at them. “Anyway, um . . . Steve was really nice to get us dinner.” Guilt seemed to wash over her and the energy between us evaporated.
We were quiet. The crowd roared for what sounded like an amazing goal. I felt bad she was feeling guilty. I’d never caused guilty feelings in anyone before. Actually, I usually carried enough guilty feelings for everyone else.
My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my little moment. It was a text from my mom.
Mom: Your petition worked! My boy kicks ass!
This was followed by a series of emphatic Bitmojis of my mom carrying a trophy, knocking people out, etc. I laughed.
“Blowing up there, are you?” Kaia asked.
“Um, if you consider my mom ‘blowing up,’” I joked. “She just saw the news about the shark petition.”
“That was quick.”
“She, uh, has a Google Alert for any cause I’m involved in.” Kaia’s eyebrows rose a little. “Yes. I’m aware that is deeply embarrassing.”
Kaia held her hands up and shook her head. “No, no. That sounds totally normal. In fact, I need to hear more about this super normal mom of yours.” She leaned into me with exaggerated interest.
“There’s not much else.”
“Nope, don’t believe it.”
“Really, we’re pretty much just a typical family.”
Kaia waited.
“Fine. I’m pretty sure she moisturizes my elbows at night when I’m sleeping. I can’t prove it, but they are unusually silky.”
Kaia snorted. “Ha ha. No, she doesn’t. Try again.”
“She does,” I said with great seriousness.
“Nope. That’s not a thing someone would do.” Kaia shook her head to doubly emphasize the insanity of it.
“And yet my elbows say otherwise.”
“Okay, I need to see these suckers.” She grabbed my bare arm.
“What? No! Stop. Those are private,” I said, even though, who was I kidding? She could take my elbow wherever she wanted.
As if chalking a pool cue, she rubbed her palm over it. Incredulous, she grabbed the other one and compared it. She even ran my elbow along her arm. Her shock was real. “They are like a toddler’s!”
“I told you.”
“Cam, your mom is not normal,” she said, a little concerned, “but those things are a work of art.”
“I’ll let her know.” Actually, I had never confronted my mom about this. I probably should.
“Does she do it for your dad, too?”
“Oh, no. He left when I was seven.” I could feel the “poor Cam” section of the conversation coming on. That’s what usually happened when I told people my dad left. They either looked away, embarrassed, like I’d just said I was dying, or they become way too touchy-feely and wanted to show me how much they were concerned about me.
“Oh, wow. Sorry. We were just having a fun conversation and now it’s a bummer.” She made an “oops” grin and ate a fry in mock awkwardness. I laughed, so relieved she didn’t pity me. It made me like her even more. Which really shouldn’t have been possible.
“It’s actually good he left. My mom is, like, twice the parent he would have been.” After throwing my mom under the bus with the whole elbow thing, I wanted Kaia to know that she wasn’t a serial killer. It also gave me an excuse to bring up a story I hoped she’d be impressed with. “I mean, there’s no way that guy would have waited in line for four hours to get a signed photo of Michelle Obama and a copy of Becoming.”
“Hold on. You met Michelle?”
“I did.”
“Did you let her touch your elbows?!”
“No. But it was the greatest day of my life. I keep the photo of her by my bed. She watches over me while I sleep.” Kaia gave me a funny look.
Oh no. She didn’t realize I was joking.
“Kaia! Oh my god. How are you holding up?” a girl I think I knew from English class asked Kaia, interrupting us. This was bad. I shouldn’t have tried to joke, but Kaia had said the elbow thing and I wanted to keep it going. But now she thought I had some weird thing with Michelle. Shit. I mean, I did talk to her sometimes. But I didn’t really believe she could hear me.
“This must be so hard,” the English-class girl said to Kaia.
“Um, that was a joke! You know that, right—” I tried to squeeze in, but I didn’t think Kaia heard me. The dramatic girl was getting her full attention.
“You are so brave,” the girl continued with a sympathetic sigh.
I tried again. “The Michelle thing. It was—”
Kaia shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “Oh, um, thanks. But Steve is really the brave one.”
“But it’s kind of romantic, right?” The girl seemed to be picturing Kaia dabbing Steve’s head with a cool cloth.
“Uh, I don’t know . . .” Kaia deflected to me. “Have you met Cam?” The English-class girl looked at me, trying to place my face and then shaking her head. Kaia continued, “He’s got a photo of Michelle Obama by his bed. It watches over him at night
.”
I froze.
The English-class girl gave me a creeped-out grin and then quickly excused herself.
But then Kaia burst into laughter. “The look on your face!”
“You suck so much.” My body temperature plummeted back to normal.
“Come on. That was hilarious.” She patted me on the back. I’m sure she felt the moisture on my shirt, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned in, propped her chin on her hand, and said with great interest, “Now tell me everything about Michelle.”
An hour later, empty burger and fry wrappers had piled up in the small garbage can under our table. I usually didn’t eat much when I was nervous, but our conversation was so effortless and relaxed that I’ve been absently gorging nonstop. I swallowed a burp as I wondered out loud, “Would it be better if I was pre-law or environmental science? I kind of want to work at the NRDC, but Tesla is also doing amazing stuff.”
“Right? I can’t decide between the ACLU or Médecins Sans Frontières or Greenpeace. I mean, those are all totally different things. I’m just worried I’ll pick one and then I’ll find out that someone else needs more help and I’ll already have specialized and . . . arggh!”
“Exactly! I—”
Kaia’s phone buzzed and I was disappointed when she checked it. “Oh my god! I knew I shouldn’t have gotten roped into this. They are still debating between ‘Under the Sea’ or ‘Atlantis’ for prom. Can’t they figure this out without me? Why do I have to be the deciding vote?” She yelled into her phone, “They are the same, people! It’s blue balloons either way!” She let out an exhausted groan.
“Is there a balloon substitute?” I tried to sound helpful. “Like something they could recycle or donate after?”
“I wish! They’d kill it anyway. I tried to get them to include an endangered coral reef display to raise awareness. But they thought that was a ‘downer’ for prom. Which it probably is.”
“If it were you and I planning it, the dance floor would be a floating plastic island.” I was only half joking, but she laughed.
“Can you imagine? It’s probably good we aren’t. Can I tell you a secret?”
Save Steve Page 7