by Sonya Sones
that’s always the exact moment
when a commercial for Viagra comes on,
and some real deep-voiced announcer
says something like:
“And remember—
contact your doctor
if your erection lasts longer
than four hours”?
As I Head Up the Ramp to the Carpenter Center
To the second meeting of the drawing class,
I notice this real sexy girl strutting toward me,
the type of girl you always see
grinding around on MTV.
She’s wearing a little tiger-striped jacket,
a skirt no wider than a ribbon,
and these thigh-high spike-heeled boots
that make her look tall enough to play in the WNBA.
When she’s just a few yards away from me,
she flashes a smile in my direction
and says, “Nice hat.”
I glance over my shoulder
to see who she’s talking to.
But nobody’s there.
Then, a second later,
when we’re almost next to each other,
she flashes another smile, right at me,
and says, “And your beard’s not bad either, babe.”
Babe? Did she just call me babe?
I turn and watch her wiggle away into the night.
Then I float the rest of the way to class,
making a mental note to always wear my hat
and never shave again.
But Then I Get to Thinking …
Was it wrong
for me to have gotten
such a kick out of it just now,
when that girl called me babe?
Wouldn’t any guy love being flirted with
by a girl who looks like that,
even if that guy already happened to have
an amazing girlfriend?
And speaking of girlfriends,
is it like a totally sick thing
that I’m wishing Sophie could have been here
to see that girl flirt with me just now?
But, I mean,
wouldn’t it have made her feel good to find out
that she isn’t the only girl in the world
who thinks I’m sexy?
And speaking of sexy,
is it way messed up that I’m so excited
about seeing Chelsea’s naked body again
a few minutes from now?
Am I just
a normal red-blooded American guy?
Or a deluded and disgusting
pervy dawg?
When I Walk into Studio B
Felix tips an imaginary hat to me,
and everybody else calls out “Hey!” or “Yo!”
or gives me a little wave.
Except for Tessa, who flashes me the peace sign
and says, “’Sup, Wild Thing?”
A second later,
when I sit down in front of my easel,
I get that same feeling you get
when you walk outside on the first real warm day
after a winter that seemed like it would never end.
And I can’t help thinking how glad I am
that Felix hasn’t told anyone I’m still in high school.
Because for the first time in my life,
I actually feel like I fit in
with a whole group of people.
And I’m in no hurry for that feeling to go away.
Tessa and I Are Sharpening Our Pencils Before Class
“Okay,” she says. “Pop quiz: Which girl group
had the first number one hit?”
I’m debating between the Chiffons and the Shirelles,
when this big fat middle-aged woman
waddles in through the door of the studio.
I figure she’s probably just
the cleaning lady or something.
But Felix hurries over to help her off with her coat.
Then he tells the class that her name is Gina.
And that she’ll be modeling for us tonight.
Gina’s gonna be our model?
But what happened to Chelsea?
To incredibly beautiful Chelsea
who I’ve been dreaming about seeing
all day?
When Felix says
Gina’s very different from Chelsea,
I think to myself, Duh …
But when he says
she’s every bit as amazing as Chelsea,
I think, Geez. This guy needs glasses!
Gina Hoists Herself Up onto the Platform
And slips out of her loose-fitting dress.
Eeewww … This is not the kind of person
you want to see without her underwear on:
hippopotamus thighs, breasts like saggy blimps,
butt cheeks big as planets …
Felix asks Gina to take her first pose.
“It’s not about trying
to trace Gina’s edges,” he tells us,
“it’s about imagining you’re wrapping her in ribbon.”
The idea of wrapping Gina in anything
grosses me out.
Though when I start sketching her,
something weird happens.
I realize that with all of her bulges and bumps
and extra rolls of fat,
she’s even more fun to draw
than Chelsea.
There’s something about all her mounds of roundness
that reminds me of a bunch of ripe grapes,
or of one of those real curvy women
in all those paintings by Rubens.
In fact, the more I look at Gina,
the more I can see
that she is every bit as amazing as Chelsea—
just like Felix said.
During Gina’s Break
Tessa gives Honk and me
another one of her pop quizzes:
“Who said,
’The Beatles saved the world from boredom’?”
I slam my hand down on an imaginary buzzer.
“I believe that would be George Harrison.”
But Honk doesn’t even pretend to have a clue.
“Didn’t Kanye West say that?” he asks,
before taking off with Eve
to try to find a Coke machine.
Then I say, “Okay, Tessa. Which Beatle
had the most successful solo career
for the first five years after the group broke up?”
She doesn’t even have to think about it.
“That’s easy,” she says.
“It was Ringo.”
No one knows that!
I can’t believe she got it right.
I gotta give her props.
“Until you came along,” I say,
“I’d never met another teenager
who knows as much about old rock and roll as I do.”
She grins at me and says, “You still haven’t—
I don’t know as much about
old rock and roll as you do,
I know more about it than you do.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say,
racking my brain for a way to stump her.
“Then what grade were Simon and Garfunkel in
when they first met?”
“Sixth,” she says, without missing a beat.
Dang, she’s good.
Class Is Over
I’m rolling up my sketches,
when I overhear Honk asking Eve and Tessa
if they want to go get something to eat.
Honk suggests Cafe Paradiso,
but he gets outvoted by the other two,
who say they like Finale better.
As I listen to the three of them hatching their plan,
that old familiar left-out feeling
drifts down over me like a sad song.
Then, out of the blue,
Eve turns
to me and says,
“You coming with us, Robin?”
And she says this
like it’s no big deal.
Like of course I’m included.
“You better, man,” Honk says.
“Or these two bodacious babes might try
to take unfair advantage of me.”
I’m Just About to Leap on Their Offer
When it suddenly hits me—
Mom’s probably already waiting for me.
And I bet she’s parked right out front!
If I walk out there with these guys
and they see her waving at me or something,
they might figure out how young I am.
What should I do?
There’s no time to sneak off and call her on my cell.
Besides. What would I say to her?
“Quick, Mom! Hide?”
So I say, “Thanks, guys. I wish I could.
But I’ve gotta be somewhere.”
Then I hightail it out of there.
And a second later, I’m racing down the stairs,
my feet in a Road-Runnery blur,
when this real bizarre feeling comes over me—
like I’m the male equivalent of Cinderella,
and if I don’t make it to Mom’s Volvo
before the clock strikes twelve,
it’s gonna turn back into a pumpkin.
And I’m
gonna turn back
into Murphy.
Though I Guess It Doesn’t Really Matter
Because I always do turn back into Murphy.
Every time I walk through the door
of Cambridge High.
I turn back into Murphy,
and Sophie turns into that strange girl,
the one who’s actually going out with Murphy,
the girl who used to be normal,
who used to be popular,
who used to have two best friends,
two best friends
who turned into two ex-best friends
the second they found out Sophie was dating me,
two ex-best friends
who won’t even talk to her anymore,
who just look away when they see her,
or put their heads together
and whisper about
that strange girl,
the one
who’s actually going out
with Murphy.
Dylan Just Stole My Hat Again
Only this time,
he didn’t throw it out the window.
This time he shoved it down onto his own head
and started dancing around.
“Look at me. Look at me,” he sang.
“I’m Murphy. I’m fugly.”
And all the people in the hall cracked up,
like he’d just said the most hilarious thing ever.
I tried to grab it back,
but he kept ducking out of my reach.
Then, when the bell rang,
he slam-dunked it into the trash can and took off.
I rushed over to fish it out,
but it was too late—
the brim already had a glob
of unidentifiable greenish-brown slime on it …
And now I’m just standing here
trying to wipe it off,
feeling about as powerless
as a dead battery.
It’s 4:00 p.m.
And Sophie and I
are back at Adrenaline Zone,
getting ready to start cruisin’ the U.S.A.
We’re sitting next to each other,
me—revving the motor
of a virtual pimped-out Mustang,
she—
gripping the wheel
of a glittery pink Thunderbird.
But something tells me
that when that starting flag goes down,
neither one of us will be trying to win the race.
We’ll just be ramming as many of those
poor, defenseless, cud-chewing cows as we can,
trying to turn them into steaks.
Okay.
Maybe it is sick.
But it’s a whole lot cheaper than therapy.
On the Way Over to My Third Class at Harvard
I tell Mom I think I’d feel more inspired
if I got a little exercise before my art classes.
“So from now on, why don’t you just drop me off
at this corner and I’ll walk from here?”
She looks at me a little funny, but she pulls over.
She seems like she wants to say something to me,
though all she does is brush the hair off my forehead.
Which sort of makes my skin crawl, but I let her.
Then I tell her I’ll probably be going out
for dessert after class with some of the other students
(maybe they won’t even ask me this time,
but I’ve got to be ready in case they do).
“Well, okay …” she says. “Though it is a school night.
And you know how you get
when you don’t have enough sleep and …”
Blah dee blah blah blah.
Just what I need—to be treated like a toddler
by my overprotective mommy.
“Don’t come till I call you,” I say,
leaping out of the car.
And as I dash down the sidewalk,
she shouts after me, “Be safe!”
Like she thinks if she didn’t say that,
I’d be—what?
Unsafe?
Before Class
Honk and I start messing around with Dr. Bones,
the life-size human skeleton
that’s hanging from a metal stand
in the corner of the room.
Honk slips a tube of Super Glue out of his pocket,
glances around to make sure Felix hasn’t arrived,
then glues a thin strip
of stiff red carpet onto its skull.
“Whoa. Dude …” I say. “Instant Mohawk.”
I move Dr. Bones’s jaw so it looks like he’s talking.
“Yo! Tessa! Eve!” I make him shout,
lifting his arm to point at his head.
“How do you like my new ’do?”
The girls look over at us and grin,
then join us in the corner.
“No offense, Dr. Bones,” Eve says,
“but you are having a seriously bad hair day.”
I move Dr. B’s hand to his mouth like he’s horrified.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,”
I make him say.
“But who cares? I’m already dead.”
And when the three of them bust out laughing,
I feel like the funniest guy on Earth.
Geez
Now I’ve seen everything.
In fact, I’ve seen way more
than I actually wanted to see.
Because tonight’s model isn’t Chelsea.
Tonight’s model isn’t Gina.
Tonight’s model is Wade:
one totally nude
dude!
This Is So …
… Awkward.
To just be sitting here
staring at a naked man like this.
Because, let’s face it.
Guys don’t usually sit around staring
at guys who aren’t wearing any clothes.
Like, in the men’s room,
when you’re standing there
peeing next to someone—
it’s not exactly socially acceptable
to check out what that other guy
is holding in his hand.
And it is even less socially acceptable
to keep your eyes anywhere but straight ahead
when you’re taking a communal shower after P.E.
So,
when it comes right down to it,
&nbs
p; I haven’t actually seen a lot of penises.
And sitting here
staring at this completely nude male model
is kind of weirding me out.
Because … well…
let’s just say I hope Wade’s wang
is way above average.
What It’s Not About
“It’s not about surfaces …” Felix says
as he wanders from easel to easel.
“It’s about what’s below the surface.”
So I try to see below Wade’s surface,
while avoiding the area below Wade’s waist.
“It’s not about making pictures …” Felix says
as he continues through the room.
“It’s about seeing.
It’s not about knowing …
It’s about being obedient to the shape that you see.”
Geez. I’d be obedient to it—if I could locate it.
But Wade’s pretty shapeless.
I mean, compared to Chelsea and Gina.
“Meander around till you find it,” Felix says.
“Just follow the bouncing ball.”
Follow the bouncing ball?
What the heck does he mean by that?
I glance over at Eve and catch her eye.
But she just shrugs and gives me a look
like, “Don’t ask me.”
When Class Is Over
Honk says, “Who wants to go get something to eat?”
I’m trying to work up the courage to say, “Me,”
when Eve takes hold of my left hand,
Tessa takes hold of my right one,
and Eve says, “We do.”
Like it’s a done deal.
“Mind if we kidnap you?” Tessa asks.
“It’s not about being kidnapped …” I say,
doing my best Felix impression.
“It’s about being obedient to your kidnappers.”
Which cracks them both up.
“Okay, then, people,” Honk says,
turning to head toward the door,
then pausing to waggle his butt at us.
“Just follow my bouncing balls.”
Which causes a loud chorus of eeewwws.
“It’s not about being disgusting …” Tessa says,
swatting Honk with her rolled-up sketches.
“It’s about being truly disgusting.”
And as we head out the door, Richard calls after us,
“Hey! Don’t meander off without me!”
Then, the five of us pile into the elevator,