by Sarah Miller
"Gid," Molly says, her voice low and intimate.
"Yeah?"
"You've got to take the pot and get out of here," she says. She hands him the bag. She holds it by its corner, as if it were a dead fish.
The kissing moment is past, but he still wants to touch her, somehow. He grabs her wrist and looks at her watch—which, although he doesn't realize it, is perhaps as good a tactical gesture as kissing her back. Molly blushes at his hand on her wrist. What do you want? She's from Buffalo.
"I'll go with you," Molly says. "I'll help you."
"No, no. Just give it to me. I don't need any help." Molly opens her mouth in protest, but he puts a hand up. "Go back and read your book," he says. She smiles, and he sees that she knows he remembers that she left the book for herself. He sees her anxiety melt away. He sees that she believes he can take care of this.
He sprints across the field, hiding in plain sight, thinking, Molly McGarry calling him a moron, playfully, and then leaving her entire future in his hands...It's almost as fun as sleeping chastely in a bed with Pilar Benitez-Jones. By the time he reaches the car, he's elated, high on adrenaline and possibility.
Did you know that if you stuff marijuana into a gas tank, the gas overpowers the smell of the marijuana? Gid did. He saw it on the Discovery Channel, sometime last year when he was home from school with strep throat, on a special about bloodhounds. They aired it three times in one day, and Gid, too racked with fever to move, saw all of them. At the time, he was bored out of his mind but now, holding the roll of duct tape he filched from Mrs. Frye's potting shed and tucking the neatly rolled bag under the gas cap of the BMW, he can't believe his luck. Perfect. But now it won't quite shut. The bag is too full, by just a little bit. He takes it out, pulls off a bud, and on second thought, another. But what's he going to do with them? He can't throw them in the woods. As Nicholas said earlier, they're prep school kids, they don't have any rights, and any pot found in the vicinity of this house is going to be blamed on them.
Okay, well, he's got to do something. Mrs. Frye could have come down at any point, and they would have told her Gid was in the bathroom, but they can't get away with it twice. He tiptoes up to the kitchen door and peeks inside. Nicholas is at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. Cullen paces. Gid opens the door quietly, remembering to reach in and put his hand over the little bell ornament hanging from a leather strap. Cullen sees him first and shakes his head. "Excuse me. Hello, what are you doing, you asshole!" he whispers fiercely. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"Just shut up," Gid says.
"I sure hope no one saw you," Nicholas says.
"Please," Gid says, "just shut up and listen. The pot is hidden. Let's not talk about where right now. The problem is, I still have some." He opens his hand. "And I don't know where to put it."
Upstairs, Mrs. Frye stirs.
"Run out into the woods, dude!" Cullen says.
"Won't work," Nicholas says. "The dog will find it."
Mrs. Frye's steps sound in the upstairs hall. She's coming toward the stairs.
"Yoo-hoo," she calls. "Boys?"
"Oh my God," Cullen says. "What if she wants us all to come upstairs and have a four-way with her? Do you think you could get hard?"
I'm all for trying to live life in the moment, but Cullen takes it a little too far.
"Gid, she likes you," Nicholas hisses. "Go see what she wants." Gideon moves slowly into the hallway, noticing that this is a very nice house. Was it only this morning that he was at the Winchesters'? He likes this place better. He sees with some satisfaction that Mrs. Frye set out his arrangement, succulent pink and dryer purple blossoms in a cut-glass vase, on a dark-wood side table. He wonders how much money the headmaster makes. "Gideon!" Mrs. Frye stands at the top of the stairs, one hand fiddles with her bun, the other holds a cigarette that's almost all ash. "I'm wondering if you could do something for me?"
Gideon can't help but think of Cullen's fear about the four-way. But that's stupid. Mrs. Frye doesn't seem like she'd be interested in that sort of thing. Cullen probably just wants to have sex with an old lady.
"Of course," Gid says, stepping forward. "Whatever you want. I'm at your service."
"There's a jar of rosemary in a little dish above the stove. I plumb forgot to put it in the pork.... Would you be a lamb andtoss in a tablespoon or so for me?"
hero
When Gid and Cullen enter the mail room on Monday, Gid recalls in vivid detail his first day at Midvale, walking to the dining hall with his roommates and that very distinct rush of being a part of something special. Today, he's not only part of that specialness, he is that specialness. His schoolmates filter in and out and, bringing with them their various pleasant smells of perfume, soap, and detergent, all of them, Gid can see, are totally tuned in to his presence.
Inside Gid's little wooden mailbox with its ancient combination lock is a note. It's written in black ink on a light blue card reading:
FROM THE DESK OF MOLLY E. MCGARRY
Hi Gid,
I appreciate what you did for me, even though of course the whole thing was basically your fault But seriously. You didn't have to do that, and it was very nice and not what I would have suspected of you or necessarily anyone at this place. What I'm trying to say is it was very Buffalo of you to stick your neck out like that for me on Sunday.
Sincerely,
Molly E. McGarry
(The E stands for Ellen.)
The E stands for Ellen. That is nakedly flirtatious. So forward, if in a nonforward way.
"Very Buffalo." Cullen is reading over his shoulder. "My God, you're so going to make this happen,” he says.
Gid thinks he is too. His heart was singing from the moment he opened his eyes. He loved Midvale. He loved
feeling that he was going to win the bet and that maybe afterward, he and Pilar...well. Better not get too ahead of himself. Also, he likes this note. He reads it again. He tells himself it is for clarity, but it is for pleasure.
Does he like Molly, possibly a lot? Does he like Molly and love Pilar, and what does this mean?
He can't think about this at the moment. It makes him feel a little sick. He feels good and at ease when he just thinks about what he did last night, how he won. Best to stick to that for now.
"Why didn't you do anything yesterday?" he asks Cullen, seizing on his girl confidence. "I mean, why did you and Nicholas...?" He wants to say "just sit there and do nothing." But that's a little too harsh. "It seemed like you were just resigned to letting whatever happen."
Cullen spreads his hands wide in a rare gesture of surrender and humility. "Dude, I was honestly racking my brains for how we could get out of there. And then I saw it was our role to just stay behind and, you know, let you be the man. Which you have been. And look where it's gotten you." He indicates Molly's note.
Now, this sounds like bullshit to me, and Gid's not quite buying it either. He scowls good-naturedly at Cullen.
"Fuck you," Gid says. "You guys were being pussies."
Cullen smiles back. Gid was feeling good, but now he has a certifiably gigantic crush on the world...about half the size of my crush on him.
Gid's first impulse, on seeing Liam Wu at lunch later on, is to apologize. He comes toward the table, his mouth open, words like, "I know I was a little harsh last night," or "Hope I didn't insult you" ready at his lips, but as he draws closer he sees that Liam's face wears an expression he's never seen before. Liam is eager to see him. Liam likes him.
Incredible that the best route to winning friends is not necessarily kindness or flattery but letting them know you won't tolerate their bullshit. I learned this a while ago. Gid learned this last night.
Gid holds court at lunch that day, and the next, giving Liam and Devon a full account of their lengthy brush with campus authorities. He describes how he slipped the pot into the headmaster's stew along with the rosemary. How the constable showed up with his dog not five minutes after Gid returned to the headm
aster's house. How Cockweed showed up at the house and sputtered around, red-faced, insisting that the constable try harder to find the never-to-be-found pot. The constable, wearing a yellow rain slicker despite the absence of rain, and his dog, indeed a yellow Lab, had the same brown baleful eyes. He finally slouched home to bed, as did the headmaster, who, naturally, slept through his regular Monday morning meeting and turned up in his office around eleven, moving slowly, guided by a stunned, unfocused gaze.
Of course, everyone also has to hear about Pilar. "Tell us about spending the night with her," Devon pleads. Liam leans in close as well.
Gid loved telling them about the headmaster's house only slightly less than he is going to love not telling them
about this.
Tm going to take the Fifth on that one, guys, if you don't mind," Gid says. Devon and Liam laugh, but he can see little shadows of left-outness on their faces, especially as Cullen gives Gid the high five, then leans in and whispers, 'These guys are not worth your secrets."
The truth that there is nothing to tell doesn't matter. What matters is that these guys think Gideon knows something that they would like to know, and that makes them want to be with him. And it makes them like him.
"Hey." Molly appears at the table. She looks over Cullen, Nicholas, Liam, and Devon, settling her gaze on Gideon. "What secret?"
Have you noticed Molly's German shepherd hearing?
"Gid had a hot night this weekend," Liam says. "Or so it goes."
"Hmm," Molly says. "No word of this up in the nosebleed seats."
Cullen pokes Gid under the table and mouths, "Outsider status."
Gid slowly nods to show that he understands.
"Anyway," Molly says, "I just checked my e-mail, and Ms. San Video wrote us all that we have to do these dumb Spanish projects. We're on a team: me, you, and, uh..." She looks at the floor and bites her lip. "Liam." She can barely look at him. He looks at her, quickly, almost annoyed, and goes back to talking to Devon. Gid's never seen her like this before.
Is she afraid of these guys?
She looks up, then looks at the floor again. There's a grim set to her mouth, a bit of a lack of focus in her eyes that Gid has not seen before, like she's trying not to see anyone but not wanting to appear to look away. She is a little afraid. "Sure," Gid says, standing up, ushering her away. He knows they're all watching him, but he doesn't feel self-conscious. He feels paid attention to.
"Why'd you do that?" Molly says. They're standing near the soda machines.
"Because I could tell you were uncomfortable," Gideon says. He might be getting a little cooler, but he's still unable to do much except tell the truth.
Molly puffs out her chest a little. "I'm not afraid of them," she says.
"I didn't say afraid, I said uncomfortable," Gid says.
A small, rueful smile starts to spread across Molly's face. "Okay, you got me," she says.
Gid knows then that she likes him. Because, well, it's obvious. She just lit up the second he called her out like that. Maybe she knows that he knows, because she says, "Who did you have a hot night with?" No attempt, not even a half-ass girl attempt, to hide the vulnerability in her curiosity.
"Oh, gee,” Gid says. So many ways to play with this one. He knows it might not be bad for Molly to think he's got something else going on. In fact, that might make her like him more. Or, conversely, it could scare her off. "I'm not sure I even know what Liam's talking about."
He can feel everyone in the cafeteria looking at him. Gideon is the topic of conversation at Midvale. People he barely even knows—among them the orange-shirt girl from the first day and a parade of short, scruffy underclassmen who are all henchmen of Mickey Eisenberg—sidle up to him in the gleaming hallways and on verdant campus paths, whispering, "Good job." Now their curiosity turns to the intimate whispering between Gid and Molly McGarry. He hopes too that there are rumors about Pilar, although he knows that winning this bet with Molly is his first priority. Gid realizes that he only hated the bet when he thought he could never win. Now the bet feels like a little engine inside him. I am standing here for the world to see, Gid thinks, but there is also a reason that only me and my two closest—yes, he thinks he can use that word right now—friends know about. The feeling is delicious, Christmas morning-y.
"I think you do know what Liam's talking about, but that's okay," Molly says. She checks her watch, that big man's watch that takes up most of her wrist. She's medium-size, but he notices her hands, wrists, and feet are kind of small. He likes her. He likes her enough to convert, as Cullen might say, on the bet. And that's what is important. "I have to go," she says.
"No, I have to go," Gid says, trying to make a joke.
"Is that supposed to be funny?" Molly says, and walks away. Gid can't help but look at her butt. It's nice. Pilars butt is epic. But Molly's is nice. Just fine. Good. Should never have to be compared with epic. He wonders if epic is a dumb word.
Later on, Gid goes to English class and is given back a paper with a C-plus and the comment "not so great." Geez, he thinks, it is one thing to feel steadily mediocre, another to feel awesome and then be taken down a notch. Disappointment and low-level shame lodge in his throat for the duration of class, and afterward, he visits the drinking fountain. It's broken.
"Hello, thirsty Gee-de-on." It is Pilar.
"That thing breaks all the time," Pilar says. She looks absolutely perfectly gorgeous in a pair of black pants and a tight orange T-shirt, which, naturally, makes Gid think of Halloween.
"Do you want some of this?" She holds out a can of Diet Coke, which Gid accepts. It is still cold and full. He forgets all about his paper. He sneaks a look at Pilar's ass.
And decides: Epic is exactly the word.
"We haven't talked since the party," Gideon says.
Pilar smiles. Gideon is dazzled. I see that it's not a real smile. It doesn't reach her eyes. "No, we haven't. But I
have been...thinking a lot, and I finally made a decision."
At this moment, Edie comes out of the English classroom. Gid thinks he should follow her, find Molly. "Thinking?" Gid says, his heart a fluttering mess. "About what?"
"Well," Pilar says, "I decided I wanted to move from White to Emerson. I told them I had post-traumatic stress because I was near where that Citibank exploded in Buenos Aires a year or so ago. Did you read about that? And White is more quiet? They let me." She offers a pretty smile of triumph. "But really it's because my new room has a fire escape." She winks at Gid. "So..."
The fluttering intensifies. Is she inviting him over? Not quite, but she means to let him know there are means for sneaking out, and in, and that's why she changed rooms.
Gid nods knowingly. "I get it," he says. "In case there's a fire. You want to be prepared..." He trails off. Is Edie kind of lingering at the top of the stairs, watching him? Or is she just enjoying the burst of fall foliage through the circular window over the staircase? Gid can't tell.
"Exactly," Pilar says. "You have to be prepared when things get hot."
Now, again, here we are with the overt female flirtation. Gideon follows the twinkle in Pilar's eyes for a sign that its source is him.
"I have to go to Frangais," Pilar says. "Mon Diet Coke, s'il vous plait"
and the other one dies
It's a little cold out the next day while Gid walks to Spanish. Liam is not with him. Abruptly, they no longer accompany each other, but Gideon knows the desertion is his doing, not Liam's. Company would be fine, but he does not require it. His mood is pensive (Molly) mixed with agitated (Pilar). He alternates between trying to convince himself that Pilars balcony wrangling meant nothing and that he should give up forever with deciding that it meant everything and that he should devote his life to her. He digs his hands into his pockets, remembering that these are the pants he wore that night with Pilar and that he hasn't worn them since. They are special. And in the right pocket is a thick square of folded paper. Naturally, Gid's felt his share of thick squares of
folded paper. But this precise thickness and texture he's never felt before. It feels exciting.
It is a note. From Pilar.
Dear Gideon,
I had so much fun sleeping in this bed with you last night. Isn't it weird the way things can work out? Anyway, it is funny, don't you think, how we met? I think we have a lot of things in common. I feel a little stupid saying it because you could be like, What would I have in common with her?
This last line blows Gid away. It is so awesome, the idea that he could have an impact on the feelings of a girl that hot. And that he found this note at this moment—a moment in which he was about to possibly abandon all hope?
Uh, Gideon...that is every moment. Every other moment that you're not having a romantic fantasy.
My cell phone number is 305-555-5555. Okay? Pilar
Gid sees that he's standing in the middle of the quad, on a path, in everyone's way. The post-lunch foot traffic parts around him; Gid reads the note again, his heart pounding with anticipation. And a little shame, as he thinks. He absolutely must get things moving with Molly so he can just start concentrating on Pilar.
Why had he agreed not to sleep with other girls until he slept with Molly?
He has a short memory: It hadn't occurred to him such things could be possible.
I can't help but wonder if such deviousness makes him a bad person. But I think that all people are devious. Is there any other way to make it through life, given what life presents?
Gid walks into Spanish five minutes late. The entire classroom has been rearranged. As he's slipping into an empty seat in the front row, Ms. San Video approaches, tapping her acrylic red nail against a pen cap. "Buenas tardes, Gideon," she says, and continues on in Spanish, "Have you noticed a change? We have paired off into groups, and we will all be doing a group project." She puts her hand on Gideon's desk. "Molly said that you spoke about being partners. And Liam Wu volunteered to join your group. How do you like that?"