I followed her out and waited silently while she told her dad about the theft. I quietly watched his resignation as he viewed the tape and called the police station. I waited for an officer to arrive and added what information I could to his report. Helplessness weighed me down, causing my shoulders to sag the way Kelsey’s often did. I stood off to the side, trying not to draw attention to myself. I would’ve slipped out if not for the sickening rock of guilt in my stomach.
I at least owed them the decency not to run away without telling Kelsey’s father how sorry I was that people would steal from his store. He thanked me and said he hoped this incident wouldn’t keep me from coming back to see Kelsey again. I assured him what I’d witnessed hadn’t changed my opinion of them at all, but as I drove home, I feared the incident had lowered my opinion of myself.
Chapter Eleven
“Stevie,” Mom called as she knocked firmly on my door, “are you up?”
“No,” I called back, and buried my head under the pillow.
“You better get moving.”
“No,” I said, softer.
“I heard that.”
I groaned and pushed myself into a sitting position, then swung my feet onto the floor. “I’m up.”
“Good,” she yelled, and I promptly fell back onto the bed. The lethargy consuming me now stemmed from more than merely the early hour and another restless night. My weariness encompassed more than sandpaper eyelids and muscles too listless to perform basic functions like getting out of bed. My lassitude was born more from emotional exhaustion than physical.
How could I face another day in high school knowing what I now knew about my prospects for breaking out of this existence? Replaying some of the most frustratingly worthless experiences of my life had barely been sufferable under the impression that my plight held purpose, that I had some modicum of control over its final outcome. Now, with nothing left to gain, I no longer had the strength to hold myself upright long enough to face the onslaught of the day ahead.
I closed my eyes and let myself drift back to the last time I’d felt something other than turmoil. I was in St. Louis again, my lips against Jody’s, her slender fingers running along my sides. My breath grew quick and shallow at the memory of her body against mine. I fought the urge to slip my hand down the flat plane of my stomach and under the waistband of my pajama pants. What was the point of having a teenager’s body if I didn’t get to enjoy the libido that came with it? Then again, why waste a perfect first kiss if I wouldn’t get to relish the memory of it or chase a follow-up. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. My body was on fire for Jody to the point I feared combusting when I saw her this morning. I wanted to go in early, close the door to the classroom behind me, and pin her against the wall. I wanted to lay her back on her desk and—
No.
This had to stop.
None of these fantasy scenarios would bear fruit. I forced myself to remember the confusion creasing her forehead, the anguish cracking her voice, the dark circles of worry under her blue eyes. And why? Because I thought I could save her? I couldn’t even save myself. How the hell could I face her today and tell her I couldn’t handle the pressure any more?
“Stevie,” my mom called, “if I don’t hear you moving around in thirty seconds, I’m coming in after you.”
I considered telling her I was too sick to go to school, but my mom the doctor and human lie detector wasn’t nearly as likely to fall for that as other parents. I rolled out of bed and braced myself on the wall until certain I wouldn’t fall back down. Then I worked my way over to the mirror. I looked like I’d been on a tequila bender. My eyes were red and bloodshot, my skin pale. Worst of all, my hair stood out like a Chia Pet on steroids. I needed to pull myself together, but instead of asserting control over my life in some reasonable way like drinking coffee or taking a cold shower, I reached for a pair of scissors I kept in the top drawer of my desk.
The first cut came before I fully realized what I was doing. The second one brought more awareness as I watched several inches of black curls flutter to the floor. The next snip echoed through my ears with a metal snap, satisfying in its finality. With one more slice, I reduced the length of my hair by a third, so it hung just above my shoulders. I then set to work thinning the remainder with a few well-placed cuts to the under layers near the base of my neck. The end result was a shorter, shaggier style, a compromise between the Chia Pet and the closer cut I’d favor in a few years. It wasn’t fashionable but an infinite improvement on how it’d looked before. A shower with some extra conditioner subdued the frizz, and when I added a pair of khakis and one of Andy’s hunter-green pullovers, I felt almost human again.
In less than half an hour I’d transformed myself from awkward teenager to burgeoning baby dyke. I might not be able to control anything about my life, but if I had to face the daily hell of high school, I could at least look like myself while doing so. I wouldn’t win any points for fashion, but I arrived at school feeling a little less helpless.
Nikki intercepted me as soon as I came through the door. “What happened to your hair?”
“I cut it.”
“Yourself?”
“Yeah, can you tell?” I glanced at my reflection in the glass front of the main office. “I thought I did a passable job.”
“No, it’s actually pretty good, but why did you change it?”
“Because it looked like a blimp that dropped its toaster in the bathtub.”
She laughed, then caught herself. “And Andy’s clothes?”
“They’re much more comfortable.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.” I lied, unable or unwilling to explain I was fighting an overwhelming sense of vulnerability.
“All right,” she said, but didn’t move out of the way of my locker. I glanced from her to my watch, then back to her.
“You in a hurry to get to Miss Hadland’s class?”
“What? Why?” My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a bucket full of rocks. Why bring Jody into the discussion? Did she suspect something, or was I paranoid?
“You’re spending a lot of time with her before school, and now you show up with a new haircut and wearing someone else’s clothes.”
So she didn’t know what was going on, but she’d figured out something was up. “Maybe I’ve just got senioritis. I’m getting excited about New York, you know?”
She nodded. “Okay, but if there’s anything you want to tell me, you know you can, right?”
The offer was sweet, and I was so tired of hiding I almost took her up on it. Maybe I should give her a chance to be a closer friend than I’d let her be the first time around. I entertained the possibility of coming out to her for about thirty seconds before she added, “You could tell me where you were all night on Saturday.”
My chest tightened. “What’s going on, Nikki?”
“I saw you drive out on I-55, and I started calling at eleven, then again at one a.m. By sunrise I got worried and drove over to check on you just to see you pull in at six in the morning.” She waited quietly for a few seconds while my mind spun like a hamster wheel.
I had to say something, but what? It wasn’t just about me. I’d put Jody at risk too. If someone noticed me heading to St. Louis, maybe they’d seen her also. Then again, Nikki didn’t seem to know anything about Jody’s involvement.
“Stevie,” she prodded me, “are you in trouble?”
“No.” Maybe.
“Then why won’t you talk to me?”
“I’m just not really sure what’s going on.” It was the only truth I could voice at the moment. “But you’re a good friend, and I appreciate that. As soon as I figure some things out about myself, we’ll talk. But right now, can you not tell anyone about Saturday night?”
She looked torn between her desire to know more and her natural instinct to uphold a friendship. I pushed a little harder. “Please. It would mean a lot to me.”
She sighed dramatically, blowing a st
rand of hair off her forehead and stepping away from my locker. “Fine, but please promise me you’re not doing anything that could get you hurt.”
I smiled weakly. I wasn’t sure that was true in every sense, but I chose to believe she was only talking about my physical well-being. “I promise.”
The bell rang, and I kicked myself for missing my chance to talk to Jody before class started. Then again, with as much trouble as I’d had facing Nikki, maybe I needed a little longer to decide what I intended to say to Jody.
*
“Good morning, Stevie. Nice haircut,” Jody said as soon as I walked in. She looked terrible and tired and so damn beautiful as she scanned me up and down appreciatively.
“Thanks.” I tried not to make it too obvious that I wanted to unbutton her white oxford shirt with my teeth.
She seemed as though she wanted to say more or hear more from me, but neither one of us had the words or the privacy to express what was happening between us. Students took the seats behind us, and Jody did a commendable job of calling them to order. I doubted anyone else noticed the distracted way her eyes kept meeting mine or that she didn’t appear to have a detailed lesson plan like she usually did.
Instead she declared the period a reading day for us to catch up or reread challenging parts of The Things They Carried, followed by a one-page reflection. She didn’t engage us again for the rest of the period. I opened my book but never turned a page, instead wondering if she’d checked out of today’s class because she was too upset to focus or if she’d simply lost her will to care.
I would’ve been thrilled with her lack of commitment three days ago but now found it troubling. I glanced at her over the top of my book and found her watching me too. In the second our gazes connected, I noticed her eyes were red rimmed but bright. She likely hadn’t slept any more than I had, but she didn’t seem nearly as downtrodden. I quickly buried my nose back in my book.
The aftermath of the kiss we’d shared should’ve been more gut-wrenching for her than for me. With the way she valued the boundaries of a teacher/student relationship, she shouldn’t be able to reconcile what we’d done with the teacher she hoped to become. Why wasn’t she avoiding me? Why wasn’t she terrified of me? Why did she seem to want contact instead of distancing herself behind her professional façade?
I set to work writing a reflection on truth versus reality. It was basically the same paper I’d written last week, and I could barely bring myself to acknowledge that reality or truth even existed. Nothing felt real right now, and truth seemed such an idealistic concept when I couldn’t believe the basic laws of science. I certainly didn’t trust my own judgment enough to decipher the difference between it and reality. It took everything I had not to blurt that out after class when I handed my paper to Jody.
I waited until all the other students had left before asking, “Are you okay?”
“I am.” The corners of her mouth quirked up. “Or I will be soon.”
“Really?” I asked, distracted by the memory of her mouth against my own. How in the hell would we mange to last three more months without ripping each other’s clothes off? And why wasn’t she more upset about that prospect?
“I’ve made some big decisions.” She shook slightly as though she’d just suffered a chill.
The hair on my arms and neck stood on end. Something wasn’t right, something I couldn’t place yet. “Do you want to tell me about them?”
“We can’t talk now. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right.”
“Okay,” I said, not at all sure what she meant.
“I have to make it through the day, and so do you.”
“Do you want me to come in after school?”
“Please.” She reached out as if she intended to take my hand, and I wanted to give it to her, but I couldn’t. Not here, not now. Someone might see, so I stepped back. Her smile faded, and the spark left her eyes.
“After school, okay?”
She pursed her lips together and nodded. Then I left quickly before either of us said or did something we’d regret. I had to stay strong, but as I neared the door she called out, “I really do like your hair.”
I turned to see her looking so very young and hopeful, as though she were the schoolgirl instead of me. My heart twisted sharply because, of course, she was. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was destined to break both our hearts.
*
I spent the rest of the day in a stupor. I have no idea what happened in any of my classes, and I spent lunch sitting in my car in the school parking lot. After all I’d been through, it seemed weird to say, but something wasn’t right, and not just the time-travel business. My every sense seemed deadened, as if I had cotton in my ears and mouth. Maybe I was in a coma and nearing the end. Or maybe everything else felt dull and colorless compared to Jody’s touch.
Jody. What big decisions had she made? Why did she get to be clear-eyed and smiling while I muddled through a gray fog? I would’ve resented her peace if I didn’t care about her so much. I wanted her to be happy, and even more, I wanted to be part of that happiness, but I didn’t want to risk public condemnation in the process. Maybe we could be friends until we were in a better position. Then again, isn’t that what we’d done the first time around? Why couldn’t that be good enough for God, or the universe, or my coma?
I slammed my gym locker in frustration.
“Not eager to get back to gym class?” Kelsey asked.
“Something like that.”
“Well, it’s basketball day. That should be easy on you.”
“Why?”
She shook her head and whispered, “You’re on the basketball team.”
“Right,” I said with all the confidence I could muster, then under my breath added, “eleven years ago.”
Drew Phillips set up the girls on one half of the gym and the boys on the other. I still wasn’t cleared for contact sports, so he relegated me to retrieving balls that went out of bounds.
“And try to pay attention this time, Geller,” he instructed me.
I rolled my eyes and jogged to the other side of the court before I said something inappropriate. I spent the next fifteen minutes chasing out-of-bounds plays while Drew settled himself comfortably in the first row of the bleachers and proceeded to watch only the boys’ game. I found the entire exercise tedious, with the exception of the sarcastic remarks I occasionally whispered to Kelsey, who mostly ignored me in favor of trying not to trip over her own two feet. I didn’t think anyone could be clumsier than I, but somehow she managed.
Of course Deelia didn’t help anyone on the court with her overblown belief in her own athletic abilities and her insistence on playing the annoying role of ball hog. She missed shot after shot, at least half of them air balls, then managed to blame her teammates for a bad setup or insufficient block while growing embarrassment fueled her sharp tongue. I glanced at Phillips, wishing he’d realize she needed to be taken out, but women’s sports apparently deserved even less attention than the dirt he was currently scraping from beneath his stubby fingernails. I tried to ignore Deelia’s mini-meltdowns until she stomped her foot as she threw another ball so hard it ricocheted off the backboard and bounced into the boys’ game.
“You shoulda got that one, Stevie,” Michael barked as he picked up the ball.
I ignored the comment and extended my hand for the ball, but instead of passing it, he turned to Deelia. “Here ya go, babe.”
In true show-off jock form, he inbounded the ball too hard, and Deelia took an abrupt step backward, which sent her directly over Kelsey’s feet. She went down dramatically on her backside, hitting the floor so hard it jarred her whole body onto the court. She let out a high-pitched yelp and glared at Kelsey. “You tripped me!”
“I didn’t,” Kelsey said, her eyes wide with panic.
“You did. You did it on purpose.”
I started toward them but wasn’t fast enough to beat Michael. He flew across the court and towered over K
elsey. I watched helplessly as she cowered in his shadow and began to apologize profusely.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I mean, I didn’t know she needed to back up.”
The entire gym class stopped to watch the exchange, and even with several yards between us, I had no trouble hearing what came next. Michael reared back and shouted, “Shut up, you worthless sand nigger!”
A violent shake caused my stomach to lurch painfully. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I charged through them all until I pushed my way in front of Kelsey to face Michael. “Take it back, you ignorant, racist asshole.”
“Stay out of this, you fucking dyke.”
He spat the word down into my face with more venom than anything I’d ever had directed at me. I fought the acidic tide of bile in my throat but didn’t step back. Maybe I was frozen in terror or shock, but I didn’t move until Drew Phillips put his arm between us.
“Break it up, you two. What’s going on here?”
“Kelsey tripped Deelia, and Stevie snapped on me.”
“Liar. I snapped on him because he used a racial slur.”
Drew turned to Michael, who rolled his eyes.
“He did. He called her the n-word.” I couldn’t even bring myself to repeat the comment. It hurt bad enough just to think about. “And then he called me a dyke.”
Drew rubbed his forehead. “All right, everybody needs to cool down. Deelia, go to the nurse. Michael, get back to your own game.”
“What?” I exploded. “Did you hear what I said? He used a racial and a homophobic slur. That’s hate speech, and the school is supposed to have a zero-tolerance policy. You can’t let him walk away without any punishment.”
“Fine.” Drew shrugged. “Michael, if I hear you cuss in class again, you’ll have to run some laps.”
“Okay, Coach,” Michael said, then smirked at me before jogging back to his game.
“Cuss?” I couldn’t let it drop. “Racial slurs aren’t cuss words! Do you not understand that, or do you not care?”
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