Grade a Stupid

by A. J. Lape

  “Hi, Ivy,” he murmured, as she began to pout. “I was just leaving. Actually, I’m taking Darcy home.”

  If you opened an encyclopedia to villainess, Ivy’s mug shot would be listed below. She shot a mental dagger straight to my heart, adding a hair flip. “You’re kidding,” she guffawed.

  Tired of Ivy’s slams, the tough girl in me decided to walk forward and (gasp!) take Liam by the hand. All I could think was, I hate you, Ivy, and now I hate bunnies.

  I was sort of on autopilot when we sat down in his black Ford Explorer.

  Ivy embarrassed me, and once again I did nothing. One day soon, Ivy’s face was going to have an introduction to my fist. I just hoped it came sooner rather than later. Part of the problem was, she wasn’t used to seeing me with good-looking guys. Frankly, the attention was so bizarre it made me wonder if something weird was in the water.

  When Liam soothed, “Ignore her, Darcy, she’s nothing but trouble,” I took a long, hard look at him as he patted himself down searching for his keys. Liam didn’t just sit in a chair; he owned it and the space around him. Long and lean legs clouded my vision until I spied the curly, brown chest hair peeking from the top of his t-shirt. I’d never seen male chest hair up close. Murphy was smooth and chiseled as a statue—at least when he wasn’t overweight—and the marvel left me wondering what it felt like. I swallowed, realizing I needed an intervention or was on a one-way ticket to badgirlville.

  As I buckled myself in, Liam merged into traffic, driving past Vinnie who was doing a one-handed lean up against the Bug, gazing at some redhead like she was the Christmas ham. Slumping down in my seat, I tried to hide. I didn’t want Vinnie angry. In fact, he told me last period he’d purchase the MoneyGram, and I needed him a happy employee. The moment I constructed a text of my whereabouts—you know, a lie—he suddenly belted my name, going gutter with profanity when he saw Liam behind the wheel. He started running. Well, what I think was running. All I knew was it was a whole lot of body shaking in slow-mo.

  Shove down the guilt, Darcy, I told myself. Just shove, shove away.

  When we left the parking lot, my iPhone immediately rang, and when Vinnie’s mug popped up I tapped “decline” sending it straight to voicemail. I pointed to the radio and said to Liam, “May I?”

  “Have at it,” he grinned.

  I settled on Q102, a local pop Top 40 station in town, shoving Vinnie down in that compartment of my brain that covered the things I’d think about later. When Liam hummed along to a love song, I drank in the beauty of the day. The sky was cerulean blue, and the smell of budding flowers lingered in the air. I should be thinking about Spring Break, instead my mind flooded with what I needed to accomplish. First and foremost, I had to speak with Frank (which I could do tonight since it was trash night), so that presently left Liam—my personal life.

  Thing was, I didn’t know what to do with him.

  I started out with the obvious, telling him where I lived. After he punched my address into his GPS, my mind couldn’t muster up any small talk. All I had on the brain was Oscar, Liam, kissing, more Oscar, throw some Liam in there again...and Alfonso Juarez.

  I tried to appeal to his inner car-lover. “Nice ride,” I somehow said.

  Evidently, that was a sore subject. “My father’s,” he snorted. “I won’t get a car until I can buy one.” Obviously, there was some tension with daddy. Wonder why? “Darcy,” he grinned, when I started rocking back and forth, reverting to toddler behavior, “you can put your things in the back if you want.”

  Ugh, how embarrassing. My hands were clutching my belongings as if they were an armored shield. Pitching them into the back, I noticed a pile of his books: AP English, AP Math, and Honors Science. For the love of everything holy... I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Liam was smart; Juan was smart. Both seniors, my guess was they had classes together, or maybe they had in the past. If my motive for asking Liam to drive me home was quasi-personal before, now it was nothing but business. When we paused at a red light, I dove right in, forgoing any icebreaking communication. Pivoting my body across the tan leather seats, I said, “Liam, do you know Oscar Small? I have this theory—”

  He held up one finger in a hold-that-thought gesture as he fished his ringing cell phone out of his pants pocket. When he saw the number, he sucked in a big breath of air with a grimace. He barely breathed, “Hello,” when the caller cut him off with a rehearsed conversation. He sat in silence and after a few beats of “That’s not trues; You know me better than thats; and Sorrys;” he held the phone out from his ear as a string of profanity filled the air. He grimaced when the caller started crying accompanied by a disconnect so loud it might’ve burst his eardrum.

  When the light turned green, he glanced at his dead phone then hung up and solemnly looked over the dash.

  I got a distinct feeling it was into the future.

  I know it sounded like a shrink, but I said softly, “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

  I didn’t mean it bad, but I nearly laughed. Just the thought of a shrink almost put me in a straitjacket.

  His jaw clenched but just as quickly went lax with emotion. I watched every move he made, every expression, seeing if he would give me a glimpse into the part of his life that was leaving him torn. On the surface he was outgoing; beneath he was unusually guarded. Perhaps as guarded as me, and two guarded people dating probably wasn’t the best foundation for a lasting union. Still, a part of me wanted to kiss him. Okay, that was an understatement. It wasn’t part of me, it was all of me, but I’d be an absolute fool if I didn’t realize he was talking to his ex (jeez, she’d better be an ex) on the phone. Still, the thought of us alone, on a dark, stormy night, sent shivers down my spine. In an instant, I was fidgety and claustrophobic.

  I fear he read my mind because he threw his head back in a fastard laugh. “I need a coffee,” he said. “Would you like some coffee?” A man after my own heart. I had a coffee every day after school. If I didn’t, it was a slow dissent into madness.

  Scoring major brownie points, Liam pulled into United Dairy Farmers, my favorite gas station coffee. He exited the car first then ran around to open my side. When we made it to the entrance, once again he got his gentleman on, holding the door wide then taking me by the hand to the coffee machine. As tempting as it was to let this play out like two-people-getting-to-know-one-another-better, I needed to strike fast.

  He pulled a large Styrofoam cup from the dispenser. “The works?”

  I took that as meaning heavy on the cream and sugar. “Yes,” I nodded. As he filled mine up and worked on his, I started again. “Liam, do you—”

  Yep, you guessed it, right then, my iPhone cranked loud. Talk about rotten timing. Pulling it out of my back pocket, it came as no surprise it was Dylan. If anyone could screw up my plans I could always count on his impeccable cut-ins. Even though I was with Liam, I hit “accept,” gushing out a codependent, “Heeey.”

  “Darcy, are you with Vinnie?” he said worried. Dylan acted like I was his pet and Vinnie was dog sitting. Cute but sometimes annoying.

  Liam held his cell out in front of us, molded his cheek to mine then clicked a picture. When he showed me the shot, his café au lait eyes were bright, his smile arrestingly gorgeous; I, however, looked guiltier than sin with coffee froth in the corner of my lying mouth.

  When he strutted off toward the potato chips, I couldn’t help but admire the view. I smacked my forehead, trying to reconnect with my morals. “Darcy?” Dylan said again.

  “I’m at UDF,” I hoped was answer enough.

  A sound of relief. “Listen, I had a bad dream about you, and I prayed for you all day. Is everything okay?” Instant guilt trip. Dylan was one of the few that were on a first-name basis with God. My tombstone was going to read “Death by Salivation.”

  I made some explanation like, “S’all good. Just your typical day in Darcyville.”

  Turning right to grab a Hostess apple pie, one aisle over I saw...
drumroll please...Jinx King. Well, huh, I was momentarily struck with the stupid stick.

  Once my brain caught up with my eyes, I had to admit I didn’t know how or why these things were transpiring—I was lucking into the information. Jinx was speaking to the guy Vinnie identified as Justin Starsong. Both had a red bandana in their back pockets wearing black baseball caps. Creeping forward, I sandwiched myself between the personal products aisle and magazine rack then picked up a tabloid, flipping through the pages. Across the board, the headlines were your standard stuff with stories like, Big Foot Spotted in Appalachian Coal Mine; UFO touches down at Forth Worth Wedding Reception, etcetera. All the while Dylan told me about his day planned of taking a helicopter ride around the island.

  “I miss your face,” he murmured.

  I somehow managed a “Me, too,” as Justin took a step closer, punching an angry finger in Jinx’s chest. Stealing a look around for Liam, I found him in front of the ice cream case, motioning me over with an enthusiastic finger.

  Mouthing, “Be there in a sec,” I listened harder.

  Jinx said persistently, “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Then why did the cops stop by my house?” Justin snarled.

  “I don’t know, but not one bit of information came from me.”

  “I’d better not find out you’re lying, Jinx, or you know what will happen.”

  Jinx acted like someone threw him in shark-infested waters. “I’ll talk to my dad and see what I can find out,” he promised. “But it might not be a lot. He’s really mum on this one.”

  “You do that,” Justin said in a threatening voice, “and it’d better be good news. Tomorrow night, Jinx. Be there, you have some explaining to do.”

  I gave Dylan a laugh as he chuckled about something that happened this morning. Thankfully, he kept talking and didn’t mind I wasn’t adding anything of value to the conversation. Now, Justin whispered too low for me to hear. Jinx stiffened, shifting foot to foot, his posture giving away he felt threatened. Knowing I was chancing getting caught, I leaned further over the rack, but my elbow clipped the top row, and the whole thing rained down like a hailstorm. As I jumped to catch things, I knocked the shelf of panty liners behind me to the floor. When I pivoted around, I tripped over a pile of Big Foot and slipped again. Just when you think it can’t get any worse, I somehow soared sideways over the magazine display, my coffee and iPhone flying through the air like a mortar round.

  Times like these, I understood the throes of impulsivity. It came with a price. But that’s the thing with verbs—you acted—you didn’t just watch. Jinx and I clonked elbows, but when I tried to corral my coffee midair, it landed right at his feet, the lid popping up, my coffee oozing toward him in a rising flood. Twisting abnormally, I jacked up my back and landed face first with a thud. As I rubbed my chin, coffee dripped down my nose, and for a moment, I had an out-of-body experience. I tried to convince myself I was watching someone other than me, but when a backwash of Colombia’s finest came up my throat, I knew I could raise my hand as the moron.

  Clothed in head-to-toe embarrassment, I glanced up mumbling, “Sorry.”

  Both gaped in unfathomable disbelief...guess I wouldn’t have had a conversation starter either. By the time Jinx opened his mouth, Liam was straddling my body, pulling me to my feet.

  “What did you two do to her?” he bellowed.

  Nice to know chivalry wasn’t dead, but these things were usually my fault.

  “N-n-nothing,” Jinx stammered, surprisingly afraid of Liam. Liam threw a hard, menacing stare while both fumbled with magazines—then scattered like roaches do when someone hits the lights.

  You know, it didn’t get more embarrassing than this, so if Liam and I worried about that awkward-first-date stage, we sailed right past it into not-embarrassed-anymore familiarity. When everything was reshelved, he found my cell phone burrowed underneath a package of panty liners.

  I couldn’t help it, but I started giggling.

  “You are quite the individual,” he giggled back.

  The jury was out on whatever that was.

  Liam paid for two coffees—they didn’t charge for the spilled one—and skipped the ice cream and Hostess pie. When we piled into his car, he turned over the ignition but only went a few feet when he put his sneaker on the breaks. “Stay away from them, Darcy. Justin especially.”

  If I was going to play this game, I was going to play it as direct as possible—well, as direct as possible without giving myself away. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

  “Yes, and no,” he shrugged, finally pulling out into traffic. “I have a class with him, and I don’t like the way he treats people.”

  Could I connect Juan the same way? “Is Juan Salas in that class?”

  Liam got the funniest look on his face as he took a deliberately slow sip of coffee. “Just stay away,” he said, surprisingly bossy.

  Suddenly, I felt mulish, wanting to goad him even more. “Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean that I won’t.”

  Liam slowed the car, giving me a noncommittal shrug that diplomatically said nothing but insinuated absolutely everything. “I think they’re bad news, that’s all.”

  Wow, not a good conversationalist. “Not many bad things happen at Valley, Liam. Are they in a gang or something?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. I’d hit a nerve. “Do you mean as in gang-gang?” I clarified, still he said nothing. I put my finger in the shape of a gun followed by a switchblade movement across my neck. He didn’t find it funny. That would explain the matching bandana and the hand signals, but the whole idea sounded so asinine I wondered if we both were operating on fantasized and overstimulated minds. Valley wasn’t a gang school. It just wasn’t. It was a nice mixture of athletes, brainiacs, musicians, and indies making their way in other avenues. Sure, we had the occasional fight, but frankly, they were so rare that when they happened you talked about them for days. The types of things I feared this group was guilty of was totally out of character demographically, yet I feared they’d wormed their way into the school’s society anyway.

  “There must be something else that leads you to this opinion,” I said.

  He blew out some air, his voice as sharp as a stiletto. “I saw them and some others at Oxford a few weeks back.”

  I took pause. Why in the world would they be in Oxford? The only notable thing up there was Miami University, and even though he was evidently smart, Juan didn’t strike me as the sightseeing type. My guess was he tested well, and what grades he received were from inadvertently absorbing things in class...like me. Justin? God only knew. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of a two-by-four.

  Liam interpreted my lack of words as a request for more information. “I was at the college up there,” he clipped out, instantly embarrassed. Ah, I got the feeling that’s where the ex-girlfriend resided. “It’s a college town, Darcy, and a lot of new construction. When I made small talk and simply asked what they were doing, they flipped a switch and got confrontational. The conversation ended with guys doing the things guys do when they don’t like each other.”

  That could range from nonverbal behavior, to verbal exchange, to a fist in your face or elsewhere. Time was running short. Maybe it was rash, but I decided on the direct approach. “I’m friends with Oscar Small, and I don’t believe he had anything to do with killing Alfonso Juarez. In fact, the naked truth is I’m the person that found the body and reported it to the authorities.”

  Liam’s mouth practically dragged across his chest in shock. He closed it, opened it again, then whistled, “You’re joking.” I nodded no. “What did you see?”

  Do I? Or Don’t I? I blew out some air not having a clue what would come out of my mouth. “Honestly?” I finally said. “I saw Jinx and Justin there, too.”

  And I guess I was using you for information, I didn’t add.

  By the disappointed look in his eyes, he knew. We had one of those moments where he tried to look into my soul, and I tried
to look into his. I think we both wound up confused. It hit me in that instant I might never find a guy that understood or celebrated me for who I am...which was? That remained to be seen, but it certainly wasn’t the prototype of the girl you brought home to mom.

  Liam was the first to break the silence. “Let me get this straight. You feel Jinx and Justin are far from innocent, and you’re planning to do something about it.”

  Listen, anyone who’s worth anything would be curious if they’d discovered a dead body in a dumpster. Granted, I took curiosity to a whole new level, but when Oscar entered the picture, the curiosity became an insatiable drive.

  When I said nothing, he simply asked, “Why?”

  It took awhile to gather my emotions to answer the question in the spirit in which it deserved. I suppose it’s because I believe we’re born with the ability to choose. That’s a very black and white concept. However, in my meager fifteen years, I’d come to see that the world was full of gray—society itself muddied up the primary colors. Were some things meant to be? Probably. All I knew was Providence sometimes dictated that you felt pain.

  In regards to Oscar, it’s like the universe said this was okay to happen. That didn’t mean it delighted in his pain. It’s just that the pain was permitted to enter his life. Well, I was banking on the fact it was “okay” for me to undo it. And if it wasn’t? That might mean he’d be having a roommate at the county jail.

  “I just care,” was all I said.

  After a left and a right we pulled into Buffalo Trails Country Club. Suddenly, I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to do about Oscar. I didn’t know what was normal when you were in the car with the opposite sex. Heck, I didn’t know anything. I made a mental note to Ask Jeeves and Wikipedia but had a feeling there wouldn’t be any takers.

  I didn’t even have the chance to complete that thought, because the garage door activated and up it went with a savage and bloodthirsty Murphy positioned like a human battering ram.