Riding the Universe

by Gaby Triana

  “Have you ever skipped class before?” I lay on his bed and watch him pick the DVDs off the floor.

  “All the time, but I usually skip to other teachers’ classes. To study. My teachers never care.”

  “But not for going home, right? Not for being with a girl.”

  “No, not for coming home.”

  “Then you’re becoming more like me,” I tell him. “That must scare the crap out of you.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I gasp. “No likey!”

  He chuckles, lying on the bed next to me, taking my hand in his. “Yeah, but you’re becoming like me, too. Studying, acing tests…”

  “I never said I aced my test,” I remind him, swallowing my dread. God, he really thinks I did well.

  “So maybe we’re meeting in the middle somewhere.”

  “Maybe we are,” I say, moving closer to him. I want to feel his arms around me. But I’ll wait for him to make the first move. How far do I want to go? Am I ready for this?

  “Maybe that’s how couples are to supposed to be—flexible.”

  So we are officially a couple, straight from the know-it-all’s mouth. I refrain from doing little cartwheels in his bed. “Maybe.”

  He stares up at the ceiling. “Maybe I need to get my butt back in time for the calc test at one o’clock. Maybe we’re full of shit, and coming here was a huge mistake.”

  I close my eyes. “Maybe we should stop saying ‘maybe.’”

  “How are we supposed to know, Chloé?” Sexy, full mouth, tinged with uncertainty. Stubble, so hot.

  “We’re not. We’re supposed to figure things out as we go along.”

  “Typical Chloé answer. Fortune-cookie queen.”

  “You’re mean.” I press my forehead into his.

  He laughs, and I may be mistaken about this, but he seems almost pleased with that, like he likes being called mean.

  “Gordon?” I take his hand and feel the smoothness of his nicely squared nails.

  “Motor Girl?”

  “I’ll ignore that.”

  “Why? That’s who you are. You said so yourself. You love riding Lolita. It’s not an act.”

  “You’re right, but I hate that people who don’t know me call me that. Like Sabine when I first talked to her in tutoring.”

  “Maybe she thought you were proud of it. I thought you were proud of it.”

  “Why would you?”

  “Well, because it’s not really an insult. It’s a name based on observation.”

  “I guess you’re right. Speaking of Sabine,” I say, playing with a piece of thread to keep my eyes off him. “Did you guys…you know.”

  He shakes his head. “No. We were together for a few months, but nothing like that ever happened. Which is probably why my parents liked her—still like her. But last year, before I moved here, I had a serious girlfriend in Boston. And…yeah.”

  “Ah, sorry I asked.” My mind conjures up an image of Gordon and another girl naked in bed, having experiences I haven’t had yet.

  “Don’t be.” He presses his hand against mine. His is much bigger. “What about you? Have you ever been with anyone?”

  I shake my head.

  “Never?”

  “Geez, don’t act so surprised, Gordon. We Motor Girls are sensitive creatures.”

  He’s quiet, thinking about things. I watch him blink every so often, the tips of his lashes glowing from the light coming in through the window. I bite his fingertips and wait for the words to spill from my lips. “You’re so focused. I wish I could be more like you sometimes.”

  “No, you don’t. Trust me.”

  “Yeah, I do. I wish I could balance life out more and focus on school the way you do.” I want to tell him more about the way I feel, but I’m scared to. What if I end up pushing him away instead of bringing him closer? I decide to risk it a bit. “I care about you, Gordon. A lot.”

  He links his fingers through mine and presses my hand against his face. I love the way it feels. “Of course you do,” he says, trying to hold in a laugh.

  “Wha—you egomaniac!” I hit him in the arm and chest.

  He lets out the laugh and rolls me onto him so easily and smoothly, it makes my limbs weak. “I care about you a lot too, Chloé. Do you think I’d be here with you if I didn’t? The truth is, no one has ever made me feel this way before.”

  “No one?” I raise my eyebrows. Not even Sabine, nor his girlfriend in Boston?

  “Nope. Not like this.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “It feels dangerous. The way I could easily fall for you.”

  “That it does.”

  His eyes flit across my face. “You know, you’re really beautiful. I mean, I always knew you were pretty, but I’m looking at you now, and man…”

  “What?”

  “Amazing.”

  I’ve never been one to blush, but this would be the moment to start. “Wow, Gordon. I don’t know how to react to that. Thank you, I guess.”

  “Don’t thank me. It’s true.” He kisses me, softly at first, then it turns really hot. Slowly, as if gauging whether or not I’m up for repeating Saturday night’s episode, his hands slide through my hair, down my arms, and then to my breasts for a moment. Suddenly I feel like I do when I’m taking Lolita for a ride on an open road in the middle of the Everglades—nothing ahead of me, nothing to stop me, no road signs, no cops, no parents. Where I go from here is entirely up to me.

  My mother’s words dangerous and reckless slide out of my consciousness and try to warn me. But as I also do when I’m on Lolita, I push them out of my mind and prepare for the adrenaline rush ahead.

  Nineteen

  Throughout February, it feels like someone has lit a bottle rocket inside my soul. Right through our standardized testing and February’s romantic activities, I can’t think of much else except the next time Gordon and I see each other again. Even my last test, which I failed. It’s getting more and more difficult to focus during tutoring, but I’m still going. It’s the only time I can be sure to see Gordon at school. Otherwise, we see each other at the dock, whenever we can sneak into his house during the day, and at my house on weekends.

  My parents love him. Of course they do. How could I have landed such a responsible young man as this? Rock, however, is a different story. Gordon and I have been together seven weeks now, but Rock still treats him with much the same indifference as I showed Amber. As if dating Gordon and dating Amber are anything alike.

  From time to time, I still think about Rock’s comment about how Gordon would always have higher priorities than me. When it comes to study time, yes, he’s pretty disciplined. And also during the day, because he needs to stay focused during school hours, but after school, he’s pretty much all about me, with nothing to interrupt us. My only complaint is that I still haven’t met his parents. I know they’re strict, so I haven’t pressed the issue, but still, it would validate our relationship in a huge way.

  On St. Patrick’s Day, we forgo any festivities and just hang out at the dock, which, thank goodness, is still standing. Our heads touch, our fingers link, nice and tight. I feel like I’m on the edge of something, but I don’t know what.

  Most of the stars are covered by a thick stretch of clouds tonight. I focus on one very faint star just within the cloud cover. “Do you think there’s life on Gliese 581c?” I ask, pretending it might be the faraway planet itself.

  “Gliese 581c?” Gordon brings my hand down to his chest and lays it flat.

  I turn to him. “You mean to tell me that Brain Boy doesn’t know about the planet in another solar system that might possibly have the same watery conditions as our own?”

  “I knew about it. I just didn’t know it was called Gliese 581c.” His smiling voice resonates in the chirpy night. Add to the crickets a light breeze and saw grass rustling, and this is a beautiful lullaby of a night. “Couldn’t they have given the thing a better name? I mean, Earth isn’t called ‘Sun 14b.’
It should be, like, Magnus or something.”

  “Right? Or ‘Ratatooey,’ or ‘Bunsolar,’ or even ‘MegaPlanet’ would’ve been better.”

  He laughs quietly.

  I smile and close my eyes. I wish this night could last forever. His shirt smells like his room, a smell I’ve come to associate with some pretty interesting goings-on. Everything except the final deed, that is. For that, I’ve been waiting for the moment when I realize I love the right person—and after almost two months, that time has pretty much arrived. Because it does not get any better than this right here.

  The clouds move away, exposing the sky again, and the stars sparkle like a glitter-on-black-construction-paper project I made back in fourth grade. I remember I added little aliens to mine, and my teacher gave me a happy face with antennae on it. “Do you think there could be aliens living there?”

  Now he’ll argue about what aliens really are, or suggest that we are the aliens. Watch.

  “What I’m more concerned with are aliens living here. Inside our planet even.” He holds up a professor-ish finger. “Have you ever noticed that the North and South Poles are always covered with clouds in satellite images?”

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  “For real. There are huge holes at the poles. Holes that could lead to a whole new world inside our planet. You didn’t know that Earth is hollow?”

  I stare at him dumbfounded. He sounds so serious, I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

  He chuckles softly. “That’s what some people think, at least. Hollow Earth theory. I can’t believe you don’t know about that, you of astronomy interest.”

  “No, that is definitely a new one for me. I’ll be sure to research it, as soon as I get home.” I laugh.

  “Do you really research stuff when we’re not together? I thought all you did was ride Lolita or talk with Rock.”

  “You know,” I say, clucking my tongue, “you have this way of being completely honest yet insulting at the same time. It’s so innocent, it’s endearing.”

  He smiles, eyes closed.

  “To answer your question—yes, I really do research stuff.”

  “Like what? Give me an example.”

  I sigh. “Well, whatever’s on my mind, really. Lately, it’s been adoptions. Like how so many people are against closed adoptions nowadays. They make up, like, two percent of all cases. Most people think it’s really cruel for the adopted kid to not know anything about their parents.”

  He turns to look at me. “How do you feel about it?”

  “Not sure.” I shrug. “I don’t think it’s cruel. Had my adoption been open, it would’ve been weird to always see my birth parents, knowing that they’re available yet I can’t be with them. I think that’s more cruel than not knowing who they are.”

  “And if you do come into contact with them, there’s no guarantee that you’re going to like what you see.”

  “Yeah, like this one man I read about whose birth mother used a private investigator to find him. She started stalking him to the point that the man had to put a restraining order on his own birth mom. That’s messed up.”

  “Yes, but it’s one extreme case, Chloé. Are you going to go through with it? An investigation into your case?”

  Hmm. The billion-dollar question. “Right now, I think I’m leaning toward yes. I know that I might find some sad woman who doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I know that she could also have a litter of kids, which might make me feel like crap that she kept those but not me. But the thing is, I just want to see her. I want to connect, then get it over with. Assuming she’s even alive.”

  “I get it. For closure.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Are you going to tell your mom?”

  Pfft. The trillion-dollar question. “If there is a way for me to do this without involving her, that’d be awesome. But I don’t know if there is.”

  We’re quiet for a while as he plays with my fingers. It’s weird to be thinking about all this adoption stuff. A year ago, none of it would have ever crossed my mind. Today, I’m seriously considering it.

  My phone vibrates inside my jeans. I pull it out and see it’s Rock. I put the phone back into my pocket. I’ve learned to keep Rock and Gordon in separate corners, and right now, I’m giving Gordon my full attention.

  “Who is it?”

  “Rock.”

  “Are you going to answer it?”

  “Nah, he just wants to know what time he can come over and help fix Lolita’s leak,” I lie. He probably wants to see if I’m here so he can join me. “She’s long overdue for a tune-up, too. Poor thing needs some TLC.”

  “The bike or Rock?” he asks.

  I’m shocked into silence. I swallow a ball in my throat. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs like he shouldn’t have brought it up. “Nothing. I just thought maybe our being together has put a strain on your friendship with him.”

  “We’re good. We’re fine,” I say, but it sounds forced even to me.

  “If you say so,” he mumbles.

  I realize it can’t be easy having a girlfriend with a best friend who’s a guy, especially a chick magnet like Rock, but Gordon has taken it pretty well. Then again, he is the most mature seventeen-year-old I’ve ever met. “Babe?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” I love the vibrations his voice makes against my hand on his chest.

  “This might sound stupid—and with the way you overanalyze every little thing I say sometimes I’m even afraid to say it—but since today makes seven weeks since we first kissed…”

  “Good God, woman, spit it out!” he cries.

  I laugh nervously against his shirt. “Okay. I just want you to know that I really love you. And that I respect you. And that you’re adorable to me. Like, really adorable, if that makes any sense. Seriously, I look up to you.” My chest feels tight as I say this. “You’ve given me immense amounts of faith that I can do better, and for that, I just want to say thanks.”

  He clears his throat. “Wow, Chloé, I appreciate that. I really do.”

  I sigh, happy that I could finally tell him how I feel and that he seems okay with it.

  “But I’m sure you know…” he goes on, “that adore means ‘to worship,’ and…you shouldn’t worship anyone. Not even me.”

  I push myself up to get a good look at him, but it’s dark, and all I see is his outline. “Whoa. Chill, Brain Boy. I didn’t mean it like that. All I meant was that I admire you, which is a good thing. And that I’ve changed since being with you. I think the person you’re with should make you a better person.”

  Don’t you think so? I’m dying to ask, but I will not lead any witnesses today.

  “And I agree,” he says. “Just making sure.”

  Whew! I lean forward to kiss him. “Don’t worry, I don’t have any secret statues of you in my closet. And just so you know”—I mimic Darth Vader’s notorious line—“I find your lack of faith disturbing.” Let’s see who the geek is now.

  He side-glances me in confusion.

  “Star Wars,” I say.

  “Ah. That shouldn’t surprise me,” he mumbles.

  “What,” I say, acting shocked, “does that mean?”

  “It means”—he brushes my hair out of my face and kisses me softly—“that I should stop underestimating you.”

  Marraine once told me that you can look into a guy’s eyes and see if he’s lying or not. If he flinches or looks away, don’t trust him. But Gordon’s eyes are steady. Strong. As steady and strong as I can tell in near total darkness.

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  “You’re welcome.” He kisses me again, then pulls away quickly. “And going back…no, I don’t think there’s life on Gliese 581c.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because it takes a lot more than just water to re-create the exact atmospheric conditions as Earth’s. It takes carbon dioxide, and nobody even knows if either exists there. Besides, half the planet faces its star all the time, so i
t’s scorched.”

  “So…”

  “And the other half is permanently in the dark, so it’s too cold. Not exactly suitable for life, is it?”

  “Is everything always so black and white with you? What about that buffer zone in between? That twilight zone that’s sort of in the star’s light but sort of out of it at the same time? Could there be life there?”

  Gordon ponders this. I’m curious to hear his answer. If he thinks like I do, he’ll think it’s possible, and we should probably send NASA over there sometime soon to find out. If he doesn’t…well, then he’d be the first nerd I’ve ever known to think that other worlds don’t exist.

  “Are two human fingerprints the same?” he says. “In all the six-and-a-half billion people in this world?” He presses my fingertips, one by one, with his. “No, they’re all different. So I think Earth is doomed to be unique, a fluke of nature, kind of like us. And speaking of freaks, we both know there can only be one Chloé in the world, right?”

  The punch comes hard. Right into the center of his tricep. But he’s learned enough to laugh as he’s crying out in pain. I know I’m right about the twilight zone on Gliese 581c, and life could so totally lurk there. And as he stares out into space, I find that I am not staring at the stars like I usually do. I am staring at him.

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe in some weird way, I do worship him. But is that such a bad thing? Only if he can’t empathize, I figure. If he doesn’t know what adoring someone feels like.

  My phone does a short buzz, indicating I have voice mail. I call in to listen.

  There’s one message, two minutes old from Rock. His voice sounds low, borderline depressed. “Happy St. Patty’s Day, Chlo. Call me if you want.” And the guilt I feel for spending all my time with Gordon stretches from here to Gliese 581c.

  Twenty

  Every so often my dad goes fishing, not for a paycheck but purely to get out of the house. Two weeks later, the moon is full, and Papi decides it’s time to go out. Moonlight fishing is not the best for catching anything, but for catching sleep, it’s priceless. Usually, he goes alone, but tonight, he’s invited me along. Since Gordon is working on a project anyway, I take him up on his offer.