“I guess so,” Tyler said. He seemed nervous, agitated.
“I’ve barely seen you since soccer ended.” Immediately Ben regretted the way he sounded, whiny and needy.
“I’m glad it’s over,” Tyler said. “And I’m sick of everyone asking me about it. It’s so freakin’ gay. Life goes on, you know. Soccer’s over. Find something else to care about.”
“Whoa,” Ben said, “aren’t you still going to play club in the spring?”
Tyler looked at him oddly. “Of course,” he said, and Ben thought perhaps he’d missed the point entirely.
They stopped in front of a large brick colonial house with a winding pathway up to a large front door, framed by columns and decorated with tasteful white lights and pine garlands. Megan came out the front door as soon as they pulled up. Ben considered moving to the backseat but didn’t. Megan was on her phone. She looked up briefly when she got in the backseat and then immediately went back to it. Tyler barely even greeted her. Ben didn’t understand. This girl seemed so indifferent. Or maybe she didn’t say anything and that was the whole point? Maybe that was exactly why Tyler had chosen her.
The car was silent all the way to the movies except for the light tapping of Megan’s texting. Finally Tyler adjusted the radio to one of his favorite hip-hop stations. Ben kept expecting her to explain what was so important, some girl crisis or something. When they pulled into a parking spot at the Cinemagic, Megan put her phone away and they walked in together. Tyler sat in the middle, and if Ben didn’t lean too far forward, he could easily pretend it was just the two of them. But before the movie started, he deliberately leaned forward and asked Megan how her Christmas break had been. So at least Tyler couldn’t say later that he had been the one being rude.
“Oh,” she said as if this were a difficult or surprising question. “It was okay. Kind of boring though, you know.” Ben nodded. But there was something weird about her response. It seemed like she was talking a bit too loudly.
“Did you go away or anything?” he asked, not because he cared but because he wanted to test his hypothesis.
“No,” she said. Yup, definitely too loud. “No, I didn’t,” she reiterated, and this time he noticed that she was over-mouthing her words. Did Tyler notice? He was staring at the screen where a stupid trivia question about Steve Carell was flashing while dancing bags of popcorn wiggled in the background. Megan pulled out her phone again, and Ben leaned back. Maybe he was being paranoid. But he was paranoid for good reason. This girl had barely spoken to him, and she’d already hit two of his top three most annoying habits:
Speaking too loudly
Over-mouthing your words
Making excessive eye contact
At least he didn’t have to worry about number three. The only thing Megan seemed interested in making eye contact with was her phone.
After the movie, he ducked into the bathroom to take a piss. When he came out, Megan and Tyler were having an animated discussion about something. Tyler even pushed her playfully, but when he approached the conversation dropped.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“I don’t like Orcs,” Megan said and rolled her eyes.
Ben shrugged. “No one likes Orcs.”
“See?” Megan said. “They’re so nasty and their teeth are, like, all black and disgusting.”
“Yeah,” Tyler interrupted. “Dental care in Middle-earth was really subpar.”
Megan whacked him with, of course, her phone. “Shut up! I’m serious. And why does he have to make the battle scenes so bloody and loud? All the gushing and chopping.” She looked at Ben. “You’re lucky that—” And then she stopped. “I mean, maybe . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Ben stared at her. He braced himself, waiting for the explosion from Tyler in his defense. This girl was history. But Tyler’s face gave nothing away, no emotion at all.
“Let’s get out of here,” Tyler said.
Ben waited for Tyler to say something on the ride home, something that would clear the sour burning feeling from the back of his throat, but Tyler was quiet. And then Tyler took Ben home first. That was the final humiliation. The fact that his house was, in fact, slightly closer to the movie theater meant nothing. He got out of the car and shut the door maybe a hair too close to a slam.
He went straight to his room and sat down in the darkness. He tried to put together what was making him feel so crappy. It wasn’t just Megan. It was all the Megans and Ilonas and Darcys of the world: the people who seemed so determined to call him out when all he wanted to do was quietly blend in. Was it so wrong not to want to be an individual all the time? And the one person who always made him feel part of things, who put him at ease and made him feel perfectly accepted—that person seemed lost to him and, truthfully, had been for some time.
Chapter 16
“Absolutely not,” was Mrs. Watson’s response when Ben went to see her about dropping Kapstein’s class. The college counselor was glaring at him over the top of his transcript. “You’re fine on credits, but you don’t have any other electives. And let’s not pretend that Tennis counts for anything. Colleges are going to look at this and wonder about someone who drops a class during senior year.” He must have looked especially dejected, because she softened her tone slightly. “Is this a personal thing with Mr. Kapstein? Most kids love his class.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Well, do you think you can tough it out for the semester?”
“Yeah, probably.” Not that he had much choice.
She stared down at his transcript for a minute, looking puzzled. “Ben, when was the last time we checked in about your applications?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I don’t have a list of your schools. Where are you applying?”
“I don’t know. UMass, I guess.”
“Ben,” Mrs. Watson said, “have you even started getting recommendations or filling out the application? The deadlines are coming up.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “But I don’t think I’m applying early decision or action or whatever.”
Mrs. Watson gave him a puzzled look. “Ben, those deadlines were several weeks ago. You’re looking at regular admissions at this point. Some of them are as early as next week.”
“Oh.”
“Would you like me to schedule a meeting with your parents?” It did not sound like a question.
“No!” he said too forcefully. “I mean, why?”
“It might be helpful to get your college ball rolling. I don’t want to see you limit yourself here.” The idea of his future as a rolling ball was amusing. His future, to him, seemed more like a giant concrete block of inertia.
“Look, I’m going to apply to UMass and probably a couple other ones too.” He got up. Meeting over. He hadn’t even gotten out of Kapstein’s class.
Mrs. Watson was still wearing her concerned face. “Okay, well, I’m going to check in with you next week and find out how it’s going.”
“Okay,” he said and ducked out of the office. He briefly considered going to see Abby Simmons about Kapstein but then reconsidered. However awful working with Ilona turned out to be, it wasn’t worth letting Abby Simmons in on any of the details of his personal life. He tried to forget about it until the next day when Ilona tracked him down in the hallway.
“Hey, freakshow!” He ignored her even though he could tell she was walking fast to catch up to him. He was on the way to gym and was almost to the boys’ locker room, but this time she shouted it so that he had to turn around.
“What do you want?”
“Did you complain about me to guidance?”
“No,” he said. It was mostly true.
“Huh, well, maybe it was Kapstein then. Because this morning in the middle of my period two class, I got yanked out to guidance. Mrs. Watson said Kapstein thought you and I might be having some kind of an issue.” Ben tried to control the heat that was rising from his chest. How much worse could this get?
“She asked if I was your girlfriend.” Ben couldn’t control the snort of disbelief that rocketed out of his nose and mouth. “Yeah,” Ilona drew out the word. “I thought it was funny too.” She tugged the collar of her flannel shirt up over her collarbone and shoulders. It looked like she was wearing a black tank top underneath instead of a bra. “So we’re cool for next Friday?”
“I guess so.”
“Don’t act too thrilled.”
He took a deep breath. “Look, will you stop calling me that?”
“What? Freakshow?”
“Yeah, freak, freakshow, jockstrap, whatever. Just stop with the weird names, okay. I don’t care what you call your friends, but it’s not cool with me.”
“All right.” She held her hands up like she was putting down a weapon. “Sorry,” she added more quietly.
He exhaled loudly, the relief of saying something directly. But the force of his breath caused a coughing fit so strong that he had to throw down his backpack and run for the nearest water fountain.
“Wow,” she said. “You’re still really sick!”
“Thanks for noticing.” She was standing over him, and he couldn’t figure out why she didn’t just walk away.
“So you’re really going to gym like that?”
He swallowed a mouthful of water, stood up, and nodded. “I guess so.”
“Dude, just skip it. I’m sure you could get someone to write you a note. Actually, screw that. Just go down there looking like that, and tell them you’re too sick to play. Or you could do what I do, and just tell them you have cramps.” She grabbed at her middle and the shiny blue leather belt slung around her jeans. “But I don’t think that would work for you.” She started tapping her foot against the tile.
He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to leave. He gave a tired glance at the locker room. It was the last place he wanted to be right now.
“So, do you want to go or not?” she said.
“Go where?”
“Oh, oops,” she snorted. “I thought I already said it. Get a cup of coffee or something.”
“I don’t have a car.” This seemed easier than saying no.
“I have some in my locker,” Ilona said.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah, come on.” He hung back, a little conscious that he could be seen as going somewhere with her and not sure if he was committing to that yet.
But unable to summon a reasonable argument, Ben found himself back at the Bridge with Ilona. “I don’t know why we have to come out here to drink coffee,” he muttered. It was a warmish day for January, probably thirty-four degrees, but it was still cold enough to send his breath out in steamy puffs.
“Well, it’s a little more than coffee.” She pulled a tall plaid thermos from her backpack and unscrewed the two plastic cups from the top.
“What is it?” As soon as she pulled the stopper off the top, he could smell the alcohol that wafted toward his nose on a cloud of steam.
“Just a little something extra to help perk you up.” She passed him a plastic cup half-filled with coffee and whatever she had spiked it with. It did smell incredible— the bitter, burned, roasted coffee and the sweet tang of an alcohol he couldn’t name. “Come on, sit down over here by the vent. It’s not so bad.” There was an old blue gym mat squished into a crevice between two sections of brick. Just above the mat, an enormous vent was blasting warm air. Ben sat down with a thunk. The liquid in his cup sloshed forward and back, almost cresting over the side of the cup. He leaned against the bricks, which were surprisingly warm. She was right; it wasn’t so bad there. He took a sip. The liquid was hot and the alcohol buzzed the back of his throat without burning.
“That’s good,” he said.
“It should be. It’s some fancy brandy.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to put that in coffee.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Ilona said. “But it’s funny. Every time I try and bring the bottle to school to drink it straight, someone gives me shit about it. Teachers—they’re so uptight.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
He took another sip. Either the booze or the coffee or some combination of the two was making him feel warm right down to his toes, which he was particularly enjoying wiggling around in his socks. “So are you, like, a booze expert or something?”
“Nah, I’m just going through my dad’s stash.”
“Is he away?”
“Oh yes. Like, permanently.”
“Sorry,” Ben said quickly. Despite his initial judgments about Ilona, he was, in fact, curious to know more about her.
“Oh, he’s not dead.” Ilona laughed. Her laugh sounded a bit like a cough and seemed to come out in short bursts from one side of her mouth. “No, but he’s long gone. He left Judy years ago.” Ben nodded. “But luckily he left his booze collection too, and he’s got decent taste.” Ilona opened up the thermos again and refilled her cup. She gestured toward Ben, and he held out his cup for her to top off.
“Where is he?”
“North Shore. He lives in some giant castle right on the beach in Marblehead.”
“He didn’t go very far.”
“He works for Blacksmith-Waterson. So I guess he’s close to that. Make sense; it’s the only thing he appears to care about. They’re a defense company, so I don’t even really know what he does except he’s got crazy security clearance. He can probably see us right now with one of his super spy cams.”
Ben held up his plastic thermos cup like he was toasting. “Thanks for the drink,” he said.
“No problem, son,” Ilona said in a deep voice, “just keep your hands off my daughter.”
Ben flinched. Surely he had not given Ilona the idea he was interested in her in that way.
“Kidding,” Ilona said, “he probably doesn’t even know I’m in high school or that half my friends are guys. I mean last year when I had friends. I swear he still thinks I’m ten years old. You know what he sent me last year for my birthday?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Headbands. Ignoring the complete lack of personality in the gift, not to mention the cheapness. Headbands? They were purple with blue flowers and rhinestone shit on them.”
“Huh,” Ben said.
“I gave them to my boss’s daughter. She thought they were great. She’s seven.”
“Where do you work?” Ben asked.
“Uh-uh,” Ilona said. “I get to ask a question now.”
“All right, shoot.” He looked at his cup and took a sip to dissipate the nervous energy.
“Your parents, they’re together?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought so. You have that look.”
“What’s that?”
“Well loved.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Ilona grabbed his bag. “Someone had your initials monogrammed on your backpack for Christ’s sake.”
“That was my grandmother,” Ben said. He waited for the familiar rush of blood to his cheeks that always accompanied this kind of direct confrontation. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it didn’t come.
“Proves my point even more. Look, they’re together. They both have jobs—careers, probably the kind they care about where they do good things for people. And probably you’re the youngest. Maybe you have an older brother.”
“Sister.”
“See. I knew you were a youngest. You have a little bit of that woe-is-me, center of attention thing going on.” She held a finger up when he started to protest. “Takes one to know one. It’s all right. We’re allowed to be brats, at least a little bit. I mean, we’re kind of afterthoughts, really. The whole ‘Oh my God, we had a kid’ thing was over by the time we rolled around.”
Ben didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if there was anything he could say. He had been pretty sure going anywhere with Ilona would be a complete disaster, and he was totally surprised that he liked her peculiar and honest take on things. Something about the knowl
edge that she was the bigger weirdo made him feel like he had nothing to prove to her.
“Where do you work? You said you gave the headbands to your boss’s daughter. Where?”
“Broadway Gardens.”
“In the winter?”
“All year, actually. I mean, I have a lot more hours in the summer, but there’s still stuff to do in the winter. They have greenhouses. They do roses and shit for Valentine’s Day.”
“Do you like it there?”
Ilona looked at him. He wondered for a second how he had ever mistaken her for a boy. Her eyes and her soft upturn of a nose, her lips that seemed unnaturally pink though it was clear she wasn’t wearing makeup—these were all very feminine things. “I love it,” she said. “If I could live there, I would.”
“What happened to your friends?”
Ilona jumped to her feet. “Nope,” she said.
Ben stood up too, but when he was on his feet his eyes seemed to slide to the back of his skull. He stepped awkwardly sideways to catch himself.
“Lightweight?” Ilona said, smirking.
Ben ignored her. “What did you mean, nope?”
She waved her hands around in front of her face. “I just meant, you know, enough getting-to-know-you chatter for one day.” She seemed uncomfortable for a second, and then, just as quickly, the sarcasm in her voice was back. “I mean, we have to hang out for a whole twenty-four hours next week. What if we run out of things to say? Awkward!”
“Yeah, well, I have class now anyway,” Ben said.
“Oh, me too. I have class too.”
There was that sarcasm again, but he hadn’t meant it as an excuse, just a fact. “So, thanks for the coffee.”
“What time? On Friday, I mean. We could blow off the whole day, but Judy doesn’t work until the afternoon so unless you want her in our face the entire time, being annoying and trying to change the channel, I suggest we wait until after school. Is that cool?”
“Sure,” Ben said. He thought about offering his house as a location potentially free of all whack-job parental intervention but reconsidered. Talking to Ilona had been pretty cool, and he wasn’t dreading the assignment as much, or even at all, now. But everything about her was a little wild and risky, and after her spot-on observations about his parents and his backpack, he wasn’t sure he was ready to expose his house or his family to her critical eye.
Wired Man and Other Freaks of Nature Page 11