by Jody Gehrman
“We’re through with V-Day,
But you’ll hear me say,
Will you be mine? ’Cause I’m DJ-PJ!”
That was it—everyone went nuts. Of course, Ms. Yoda gave the whole room a sour, disapproving look, but nobody paid her any attention.
After that there was a long string of considerably less interesting poets. A girl with hair the color and texture of a skunk read a rambling free verse thing she called “Ode to Razor Blades.” A middle-aged paunchy guy in army fatigues shouted seven anti-war haikus that hurt to listen to. A shy sophomore in a Jim Morrison T-shirt mumbled his way through an unintelligible abstract poem about—as far as I could tell—Final Fantasy XII.
Amber and I were rolling our eyes so often we saw more of the ceiling than anything else. I’m not trying to be mean, but these people were creating a truly persuasive argument for censorship. People should stop worrying so much about their kids being exposed to sex and violence—exposure to bad art is way more traumatic.
At last Ronnie called out “Mr. Rex Sands” and the whole room went dead silent. He strode up to the mike with the same cocksure cool he displayed in the classroom. Why shouldn’t he be confident? He’s got Brad Pitt good looks and the easy charisma of a man who’s treated like a god wherever he goes. Even though the cafe was sauna-like with all those bodies, he showed no signs of breaking a sweat.
Licking his lips a couple of times, smoothing his hair once, he began to read:
“Oh you generations of wine-swilling Sonomans
In a sea of discontent, I can feel you churning
You, the offspring of SUV-driving soccer moms
Your chubby yabie bodies crammed into low-rider jeans
Your stabbing eyes accusing me of what I don’t know
But I can tell you for certain, this is not My Space
This is not my Best Small Town in America
no matter what Time magazine tells me.”
Okay, so it went on like that—I can’t remember every word. Basically, he ranted about Sonoma and everyone in it, employing a very Howl-like, free-verse style. His tone was snide and condescending. Not a super flattering portrait. Even if you factored out the sting of his elitist sentiments, though, the poem wasn’t very good.
Sitting there listening to him, I started to get sort of irritated. Here’s this guy Amber and I have been freaking out over for weeks. We’ve spent hours and hours trying to mold ourselves into his perfect dream girl. Why? What’s he got that’s so obsession-worthy? He’s been sneering at us the whole time, at our “chubby yabie bodies crammed into low-rider jeans.” What gives him the right to pass judgment? Why had we given him that power?
“I see you in your coffee shack,
Hot chicks-in-a-box, fast and easy,
Freckled cleavage spilling out the window
Red hair perfumed with cheap shampoo
Eager to fill my cup with rich black drugs
Worshipping me with your kohl-smeared green eyes
Speedy, affordable love, always to go.”
I snuck a peak at Amber. She was gnawing on her lower lip, her eyebrows pushed together in a look of pained confusion. I may not have a PhD in literature, but I can tell you what that stanza sounded like to me: He was calling my best friend a coffee-slinging slut. I could see she was headed for the same conclusion.
When he’d finished, there was a smattering of bewildered applause. Ms. Yoda thanked us all for coming. People headed toward the counter for coffee refills. Conversation, at first a low hum, cranked up a few notches in volume. I heard Sophie’s annoying, flirty laughter from across the room, but resisted the urge to turn in her direction.
Amber stood up, her jaw set in a hard, determined look I hadn’t seen on her in a long time. I’ve missed that Amber—the in-your-face, uninhibited, who-gives-a-shit girl I’d known and loved before she started trying so hard to be someone else.
“What are you going to do?”
Her eyes had turned a luminous emerald hue that scared me a little. “Set things straight.”
“Okay. I’m here if you need back—”
But she was already marching over to Mr. Sands, her bag slung across her chest bandolier style. I stood up and took a few steps in their direction, my curiosity winning out over etiquette. The second she opened her mouth, though, I knew I’d be able to hear their conversation just fine from where I stood.
“Who do you think you are?” Amber’s voice cut through the din, and everyone quieted down, smelling blood in the water.
“I’m sorry?” Mr. Sands looked taken aback.
“Just because you have an education, you think that gives you the right to laugh in our faces?”
“Well, I certainly had no intention—”
“You don’t even think we get it, do you?” she scoffed. “You figured someone like me would be so ignorant, I’d never even know you were dissing me! What am I good for, anyway? I’m barely even smart enough to pour your coffee.”
He glanced around nervously. “Amber, you’re not well. I think you’re having an episode.”
“An episode!”
“Let me guess.” He had the audacity to smirk. “Right now, I bet you really like graphic novels.”
“Yes! I love graphic novels and tattoos and loud music and I’ve never read Brontë or Kerouac in my life! Also, I think you’re full of shit. I’m embarrassed that I tried so hard to be the kind of girl you’d like.” Tears glistened in her eyes; she stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. “I thought you inspired me to be better—more intellectual—than I was. You didn’t. All you did was make me feel stupid.” She pivoted away from him and ran out the front door, leaving a trail of scandalized murmurs in her wake.
I started after her, but by the time I got to the sidewalk, she’d already slammed the door of her El Dorado. Her wheels emitted a high-pitched squeal as she tore away from the curb.
“Amber!” I called after her taillights. It was no use, though. Even if she could hear me, she showed no signs of stopping.
I turned back around and pushed open the door of the cafe, only to find everyone staring at me. Somehow, in that moment, everything became clear. I thought of what my dad said, about him and Mom making each other feel small. I saw how Mr. Sands does that to Amber—how everything about him made her want to be somebody she’s not. It was never like that with Ben and me. Sophie made me feel small, but Ben got me, he really did, and if I could just get past my insecurities I could start to savor that.
In that moment I was seized by some force I didn’t even know was in me. Maybe Amber’s dramatic exit made me bold. Maybe all those eyes on me went to my head. Maybe I was drunk with relief knowing our god Mr. Sands had finally plummeted to earth where he belonged. Whatever the reason, I crossed the room as everyone watched and headed straight for Ben. He was still sitting with Sophie, who had scooted her chair so close to his she was practically in his lap.
“Are you going out with her?” I demanded, thrusting a chin at Sophie.
Ben’s eyes went wide. “You mean like—”
“Going out—is she your girlfriend?”
“No,” he said quietly but firmly.
Sophie made an indignant, strangled sound in her throat.
“Do you miss me?” I asked.
“Uh.” He hesitated half a second, and I thought I’d die, but then he smiled. “Yeah, actually.”
I put one hand on my hip. “Really? You’re not just saying that because everyone’s staring at us and you don’t want to humiliate me even more than I’m humiliating myself?”
His smile spread. “No, I’m not just saying it.”
“Good, because I miss you too.” I took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry I let all my stupid insecurities get in the way. I’m not a good girlfriend yet. But maybe I can learn.”
He nodded, his face solemn. “I think you’re trainable.”
That made me laugh. “Will you help me find Amber now?”
Sophie stoo
d up, her blue eyes fixed on me like lasers. “This is so childish!”
“Yeah, I guess I’m childish, but you know what? He likes me better. So sit down, fashion plate.”
Astoundingly, she sat. Ben stood. And together, we walked out of that place holding hands.
Just as we were climbing into Ben’s car, I heard a voice calling my name. I was half afraid it would be Sophie, challenging me to a parking lot brawl, but when I turned around I saw Jeremy, his blue-streaked bangs flopping over his eyes, his skinny legs running after us.
“Can I go with you guys?” He jogged up to us, a little out of breath.
“You sure?” I asked. “She can be a handful when she’s in a mood.”
“Are you kidding? I live for her moods!”
“Come on,” Ben said, “hop in.”
It took us a while to find her. She wasn’t at her house or mine, she wasn’t at Triple Shot Betty’s or Baskin-Robbins or any of the other places we could think of. Then Jeremy suggested Floating World, saying he was pretty sure she had her own key. He was right. The El Dorado was in the parking lot, and the back door was unlocked. We found her sitting in the shadowy corner of the closed tattoo parlor, hunched over a lime green coffee table, flipping though the pages of her sketchbook, her face wet with tears.
“Hey.” I sat down beside her on the floor. The guys hovered a second, then took a seat on the suede couch nearby.
She looked at me, glanced over at Ben and Jeremy, then back down at her sketchbook. “I guess I’m ass clown of the day, huh?”
I touched her arm. “He doesn’t deserve you—he really doesn’t. You did the right thing.”
She let out a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I guess.”
“I’m serious.” I leaned forward to get a better look at her. “You should be with someone who understands how smart and funny and creative you really are.”
“Oh come on, Geena. You’re the smart one. I’m just the slut in bonehead classes who’s never going to do anything. Everyone knows that.”
“You’re not a slut. And you can do anything!”
“No!” She turned on me, her expression fierce. “You can do anything. Not me.”
“How can you say that?”
Fresh tears started streaming down her cheeks, and she smeared them roughly with the heel of her hand. “I’m not going to college. You know that.”
“I don’t know that, and neither do you.”
She breathed out in frustration. “People with education are the haves, Geena—my mom and her boyfriends, they’re the have-nots. That’s just how it is. They start separating us now. That’s why you and I don’t have any classes together. The system decided I was stupid.”
“Then you have to prove the system wrong.”
“It’s not that easy. In my house, the Domino’s Pizza menu is the closest we come to literature.”
“Don’t want to interrupt,” Jeremy said, and we both turned to him, a little startled. “But I have to. Amber, if you think you’re stupid, well, that’s just . . . stupid!”
Ben, Amber, and I all laughed, but Jeremy pressed on with earnest determination.
“I mean it. I’ve been watching you for months and you’re fascinating. I never know what you’re going to do next. Seriously. So if you think you’re stupid, I must be sick.” His cheeks burned, but he kept talking. “Which I’m not. So you’re not. If that makes any sense. And in my opinion, Mr. Sands is a pretentious dick-wad.”
Amber let out a throaty laugh. “I’m starting to figure that out.”
“Come on.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s go somewhere and celebrate.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?”
“You put Mr. Sands in his place.” I glanced at Ben. “And I completely humiliated myself in the name of love.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? How?”
“I’ll tell you everything over a sundae.” I stood and held out my hand. “Come on. My treat.”
She let me pull her to her feet. “I bet I still win the prize for most embarrassing public display of emotion, though.”
Ben’s eyes sparkled as we all headed for the exit. “I don’t know. Sloane here sure gave you a run for your money.”
I shoved him out the door. “Thanks a lot! You’re the one who drove me to it!”
Amber and Jeremy walked toward the parked cars. I started to follow, but Ben grabbed my hand and pulled me back. All at once I could smell him—that delicious, sweet mixture of boy sweat and his mother’s laundry detergent. He kissed me on the lips, gently at first, then more deeply, with an urgency that matched my own. My brain, my lips, every hair follicle exploded with electricity. When the kiss ended, he whispered into my ear, “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.”
“Come on, you guys!” Amber called. “Stop groping! I want my sundae.”
We joined them, but not before sneaking in one more quick, spine-tingling kiss.
4:10 P.M.
Amber and I worked our usual shift this morning at TSB. Around nine I heard the familiar harrumph of Ben’s ancient Volvo and turned to see his smiling face at the window. Without even thinking I rushed over, leaned way out, and kissed him in greeting.
“Mmmm,” he said. “Who needs caffeine when that’s on the menu?”
Suddenly I noticed Jeremy riding shotgun. “Oh, hi.”
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up, Geena?”
“What time do you guys get off?” Ben asked. “I just ran into Jeremy downtown and we decided we’re taking you Bettys out to dinner.”
“Really?” I looked over my shoulder to gauge Amber’s reaction. She was making herself another latte, though, and barely looked up.
“We want—well, I want—to make up for the disaster of Valentine’s. What do you say?” Ben’s face positively glowed. I wanted to kiss him again, but I figured I should show some restraint, seeing as I was officially on the clock.
“I think that sounds great. Amber? You free?”
She looked past Ben and me to Jeremy, who sat there in the passenger seat, his face one big nervous question mark. “Who’s asking, exactly?”
“What do you mean?” Jeremy countered, suspicious.
“I mean, Ben’s obviously asked Geena out to dinner. Are you asking me?”
He shook his head at her in disbelief. “The first time I asked you out, I sang it in front of the whole school. Last time I was here, I made a total ass of myself with a boom box. I think you should ask me out for once.”
She raised an eyebrow. Then a slow smile spread across her face. “Fair enough. Want to go to dinner?”
He smirked. “Don’t mind if I do.”
After we’d decided on a time and they’d driven off, I couldn’t help myself—I was so excited I started bouncing around Triple Shot Betty like a tweaker on a pogo stick. “Come on, admit it! You totally like him!”
Amber shook her head. “Relax already. It’s no big deal. We’re just having dinner.”
“Okay, okay, but promise me this: If he wants to kiss you tonight, let him.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to kiss Jeremy just because you want me to!”
“All I’m saying is keep an open mind.”
She laughed. “My mind is perfectly open. And okay, I admit, he’s a tiny bit cute.”
I punched the air. “Yes!”
“Maybe even the slightest bit sexy.”
I made another fist and punched the doorjamb. “Double yes! Ouch.”
“But I’m not jumping into anything this time.”
I nodded, suddenly sober. “I totally understand.”
“Tonight, possible kiss,” she said, her tone measured. “Tomorrow, unreasonable infatuation, total meltdown, major drama. You see? I’m learning to take it slowly.”
I put an arm around her. “You’re right. You should probably take your time and get to know him.”
“Listen to you. Little Miss Looove Expert.”
<
br /> “Not an expert, exactly.” I smiled. “But I’m learning.”
11:55 P.M.
Ben, Amber, Jeremy, and I had a super fun dinner at the Red Grape Pizzeria tonight. Afterward, Jeremy and Amber went to hear some graphic novelist give a talk at Readers Books. Ben and I were overdue for a little tête-à-tête, so we went off on our own after dropping them at the bookstore.
We drove around aimlessly for a little while before I made a split-second decision to take him where no boy has gone before.
“Turn left here,” I told him.
He shot me a sideways glance, but followed directions. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace secret.” I gave him what I hoped was a Woman of Mystery look. It only got a laugh, though, which wasn’t exactly my intention. “Just shut up and drive!”
I showed him where to park, and then I led him down the trail in the moonlight. It was unseasonably warm, and the breeze felt incredibly gentle on my bare arms and face, like silk scarves.
“You’re making me nervous, Sloane. Is this where you lure unsuspecting victims and hack them into tiny pieces?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Just let me grab my chain saw.”
When we got to Geevana, we stood together inside the semicircle of oak trees and looked out at the valley below. Everything was silvery-green. Sonoma seemed like one of those toy villages people set up at Christmas—totally peaceful and miniature and sweet, like nothing bad could ever happen there.
“This is my favorite place,” I told Ben. “I call it Geevana. I’ve been coming here since I was eleven. I used to talk to these trees.” I patted Albert’s low, mossy trunk. “And that rock. In the spring an iris will bloom right here where we’re standing.”
“It’s beautiful.” He stood very still, taking it all in.
I felt so relieved, somehow. As absurd as it sounds, I was afraid he wouldn’t get it. He did though, I could tell. The way he stood there, scanning the landscape with his eyes, it was obvious he understood this wasn’t just someplace to make out; it was my own little sanctuary, and I was sharing it with him.