This was getting stupider and stupider. “Look, I had to talk to him about something important. Something he’s asked me to keep secret. That’s it. Nothing happened between us other than that. Why can’t you believe me?”
“Actually, the problem is that I know Art better than you do. You might think it’s not personal, that he’s not interested in you. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“You think I can’t tell when a guy is interested in me and I can’t?” I asked. That was just insulting.
“Well, with your luck, pretty much every guy at St. James is interested in you.”
I had gone way past angry now. “Fine. Why don’t you accuse me of going out with all of them behind your back then? Why Art?”
“Because—” Rob started, and then shrugged. “I’m an idiot, I guess,” he said.
“You guess?”
“I am definitely an idiot,” said Rob, and he held out a hand.
I put my hand in his hand for just a moment, to say that I was ready to forgive him.
“But why did you tell me not to go over to your dorm room? Why are you keeping secrets?” said Rob.
And then my hand dropped out of his.
It seemed that my letting my luck drop was having a significant effect on my relationship with Rob. A bad effect. All that time I thought that our love could stand anything, I had been wrong.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it now. Try me again in a couple of days, Rob,” I said, and stalked back into the school.
I hoped things weren’t permanently ruined between us. If I got my luck back, I could probably patch them back up. If I wanted to. But that was the question, wasn’t it? Things looked differently with luck than without. I wondered how my parents had ever managed. But then again, they both had the same amount of bad luck, and Rob and I clearly didn’t.
I wondered if Art would actually like the idea of the rumors swirling about us. It seemed Art’s style, so long as it didn’t hurt his relationship with Rob.
I heard a lot more of the rumors the rest of Wednesday. A few guys were blatant enough about it to ask if they would have a chance with me when Art had dumped me. Classy, right? Well, if they thought I was the type to drop Rob for Art, what do you expect?
It wasn’t until I was headed to English that I ran into Rob’s ex, Laura Chevely. I was mad enough that I didn’t just slide away from her, either. Let her take a punch if she wanted. Everyone else had. I could handle it.
“Hey, Trudy,” she said, standing by the door to the academic floor, creating a semi-private corner for the two of us. Everyone else kept away. They knew as much about Laura’s reputation as I did. “I heard about those rumors. That’s horrible. It’s all a lie, isn’t it? You don’t seem the type to drop Rob for Art.”
“I would never drop Rob for Art,” I said fiercely. Just in case she was thinking she could slip back in while Rob and I were on the outs.
“So he’s OK with it? I was a little worried when I heard that he might go ballistic. Not give you a chance to explain or anything.”
Ballistic was one way to put it. Idiotic was my preference. But whatever. I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“No, it’s fine. He trusts me,” I said. “And he trusts Art.” I did not believe for a second that she was trying to be friendly to me. She was enjoying this. She might even have helped orchestrate all the rumors. Though the alcove had been Art’s idea.
“I’m so relieved. You know that I would never do anything to try to break you two up, right?” She smiled at me innocently.
Right, like I believed that. She might have gone easy on us before, but I had no doubt she was just waiting for the right moment to make our lives truly miserable.
“I know,” I said, smiling sweetly to her anyway. “You and Rob were never a good fit together, were you?” I could play this mean underneath the surface of niceness game just as well as she could.
“Maybe that was because of Art. He was part of the reason Rob and I broke up, in the end. Did anyone tell you about that? He started to have feelings for me.”
“What?” I had never heard that from either Rob or Art. I was actually startled into wondering if I’d been wrong about believing Art’s experiment. Had it all been a hoax? Had I read too much into what happened after I got electrocuted and after I touched the petri dish? I tried to calm myself down and tell myself not to listen to any of her lies, but I was worried.
“It wasn’t quite that obvious. He kept staring at me, and saying the strangest things to me. Asking me questions about things that I didn’t really know anything about. Pretending that my opinion really mattered to him, even though it seemed perfectly obvious to me that he was just trying to make sure that he had time to be alone with me. I think he had a crush for years before he let on.”
“Art?” That didn’t seem like the Art I knew.
The bell rang, and I was going to be late to class—again. This seemed the week for it.
“It was weird,” said Laura, shrugging. “I asked Rob about it and he said that I was making it all up. He was really insistent about it. So I quit talking about it. But I think he noticed it. I’ve always wondered if he thought I was doing something to encourage Art’s attention.”
“Did anything happen afterward? With you and Art?” I couldn’t believe I was asking this, of her, of all people. I had no idea if I could believe anything she said. Probably not.
“Ha!” said Laura. “He wouldn’t even talk to me then.”
I had a sick feeling at that. “Well, there’s nothing between me and Art.” I wanted her to believe it, so I could, too.
“Good. I’d hate to think it was replaying all over again with you and Rob and Art. Another love triangle or something.” She smiled broadly.
I’d done exactly the wrong thing with her, just like I had with Rob.
“It’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure. You and Rob are rock solid. And what happened with me and Rob yesterday means nothing.”
She knew just how to twist me so that I couldn’t help but ask for more. “Yesterday?” I said, knowing that one word was one word too many.
“Rob came to me. Yesterday. He asked me to talk to him privately,” said Laura.
“So?” I was trying not to panic about it.
“He wanted me to tell him about you. I felt really unsure about it. It seemed like an invasion of privacy. He wanted to know if I’d ever seen you with any other guy.”
“Why would he ask you that?” I said, giving up on trying not to ask. It was going to happen anyway. Might as well not fight it and get information while I could. It seemed that I wasn’t the only one who had done something a little questionable in terms of our relationship. Had Rob been more eager to accuse me of doing wrong with Art when he had done the same thing with Laura a few hours before?
“He just thought I would know. He said I got around.” Laura twisted her lips together. “I told him I hadn’t seen anything, in case you’re wondering. But I thought it was strange. You don’t think he was the one who saw you and Art together and started the rumors?”
“No, of course not,” I said. If Rob had seen us, wouldn’t he have just come right into the alcove and asked us what was up. He’d have seen for himself that nothing was going on then. Wouldn’t he?
I realized I wasn’t so sure of Rob anymore and it made me wonder if, like the first real physical pain I had felt, this was emotional pain that I had never had to deal with before because I was insulated by luck. I think I’d rather have the physical pain and learn from that. This was just too much.
“Right,” said Laura. “Well, in case you hear anything about me and Rob being back together, I thought you should know. It was completely innocent.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said. It was only afterward that I realized how thoroughly Laura had won. I had thanked her for telling me what she had. That was victory times two, and they were both for her side.
Chapter 8: Rob
After talking to Trudy on Wednes
day, I went to find Art. He was up in the alcove, by himself, which bothered me somehow.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. He seemed distracted, and that wasn’t like him, either.
“I think you know,” I said. I crossed my arms and waited for him to pay full attention to me. I thought I deserved that.
“The rumors,” he said flatly. “About me and Trudy up here in the alcove. It was perfectly innocent, Rob. I swear it. Just friendly talk.”
“Really?”
He put up his hands. “Dude, she’s yours, not mine. And besides, she’s not my type. You know that. She’s too—”
“Be careful,” I said.
“Too nice,” said Art. “Too—” He didn’t seem to know what else to put in the space.
“So what were you talking about?” I wished very much I had Laura’s ability to tell if people were lying with one look. Or maybe she just pretended it and after a while, they stopped trying to lie to her. I didn’t have the right reputation yet, certainly not with Art. I was going to have to figure this out the hard way.
“Something private. I needed her opinion,” said Art, choosing each word carefully.
“And that’s why you took her down to your basement dorm room, too?” I asked.
“Uh.” He blinked. “Yes, actually it is.”
“For two hours you were talking about something private in your basement dorm room?”
He swallowed. Twice. “Rob, man, I swear to you I didn’t touch her. I don’t know who has been telling you any different, but you can’t believe them. They’re just trying to get into your head. Believe me.”
I stared at him for a long moment.
It must have unnerved him, which was my intention, because he said, “Are you going to hit me?”
“Should I hit you?” I asked him. If he was inviting me to do it, did that mean he really had done something with Trudy?
“If it makes you feel better, go ahead. I can take it.” He tapped his chin.
Yeah, if I was going to hit him, it wasn’t going to be on his chin where he expected it. It would be between the legs, where it really hurt. Although his luck would probably end up making me hurt more than he did.
“Well, go on,” said Art.
“I’m thinking about it,” I said.
“Trudy didn’t tell you anything else happened, did she?”
“What if she had?” I asked.
Art paled a bit. “I’d say she was teasing you,” he said.
I decided I believed him and I was going to have to figure out how to calm Trudy down, after what I’d accused her of. She had every right to be furious with me. I’d handled it all wrong. With Laura’s blackmail and everything else, I had not been in a good place. I had to fix things with her. Somehow.
“No. She said the same as you. Something important and private. You had to talk to her, that’s all.”
Art closed his eyes and let out a breath. I guess I was flattered that he cared so much about my opinion. “Trust Trudy then. Has she ever lied to you?” said Art.
“Next time don’t take my girlfriend into the alcove with you. If you need to talk to her, find another place, all right?” I was, my hands clenched into fists.
“Good point. I promise you, Rob. I won’t ever take Trudy into the alcove again. Not for any reason.”
I nodded. Now I believed him. “So are you going to tell me what you really talked about with Trudy?”
“Do you tell me all your secrets?” he asked me back.
I felt a pang of guilt. “My secrets have nothing to do with you,” I said. There, I’d just admitted I had secrets. Maybe everyone does, and it was no surprise to him, but I didn’t like saying it. What if he told Trudy what I’d said?
“And my secrets have nothing to do with you,” said Art.
“Or Trudy?” I asked.
“Not really,” he muttered. Then he shook his head and added softly, “This is what happens when your luck is low.”
I froze. “What did you say?” I asked. I felt sick, my stomach twisting, and my vision was speckled with spots of light. This was the worst possible thing that could happen to me. Had Laura told him, after all? Or had he finally guessed? What could I say to explain why I’d been lying for so long?
Art shook his head and came closer. He put his face right into mine. “I just meant that if I had more luck, you wouldn’t have believed anything happened between me and Trudy. You’d never have suspected. You’d have had too much confidence.”
Maybe, but it seemed to me it was my luck that made the difference there. I didn’t trust my own instincts because I never had. I had no luck to tell me I should. I’d survived all this time because I knew who I was and what my limits were.
“So what are you going to do to make it up to Trudy?” Art asked.
“That is a very good question,” I said. And I was going to have to find a very good answer, one that did not depend on luck at all
Chapter 9: Trudy
Wednesday night, I did homework until dark and after that, thought about me and Rob and luck. There was knock on my door just after midnight and I opened it to see my parents for the first time in over a year. They hadn’t changed a bit, which made me wonder again how much luck mattered. They seemed as happy as ever.
I hugged them and invited them in. It was a little awkward, since they’d never been here before, but they found seats on the standard dorm room tan couch, and my dad bounced up and down on it a bit to be sure it was safe. Same old dad. I felt a pang of guilt that I hadn’t invited them up here before now. It wasn’t that I felt like I was better than they were, but everything about them screamed “luckless” and I knew that if anyone from St. James saw them, they would treat them badly. And what could I do about that?
Dad had the same army buzz from when he retired from the Air Force before he and Mom got married. It looked terrible—and wonderful—on him. Mom was wearing a dress I recognized from two years ago. It hadn’t been new then, either. Mom doesn’t shop at the mall. She doesn’t shop on-line. She doesn’t even shop at the thrift stores that are popular these days because they are too expensive for Mom’s tastes. And also, she says they take all the joy out of discovering things at garage sales and more often—in the dumpster.
She looked pretty good in the dress, all things considered. She was about the same height that I was, but she’s built like a tank. Broad shoulders and thick legs. She is a strong person. She used to tell me that luck was just the easy way out, that it was like that old saying about rivers. Going the easy way made you crooked. She thought that was what luck did to people, too. That was before she knew about my luck, of course, but I’ve thought about it a lot since I was tested. Maybe it’s true, about me more than most.
“Trudy, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” said Mom, her eyes shining.
I looked around the room, glad I had cleaned it, but afraid that it didn’t look as good as it would have if Mom lived here. She kept the tiny, old house spic and span and she had taught me to clean up after myself since I was really small.
“You’re looking prettier every day,” said Dad. He leaned over and pinched my cheek like he used to when I was a little girl. He stopped at some point, but I can’t remember when it was exactly.
I always thought I grew out of wanting that, but the touch of his hand made me tear up. I had missed them so much. Was it really bad luck that had brought them here or good luck? Or what was the definition of either one if things got this confused?
“So how are you?” asked Dad. “How is your school work going? Do you have a lot of friends? Do you like the teachers here? Are they giving you too much homework? Do you think you’ll get into a good college?” That was Dad, shooting off questions one after another like bullets.
“Give her a chance to think,” Mom said, putting a hand on his arm.
I stared at her hand on his arm. They were married for thirteen years before Mom got pregnant with me. She had three miscarriages before I came along, and a stillbirth. I
t must have been hard to keep hoping, against all that bad luck, but they did.
“Our luck can’t be that bad, can it? If you came into our lives?” Mom used to whisper to me when she sang me a song and tucked me into bed at night. Before the test that took me away from them.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Fine?” said Mom.
“Good, I mean. Really good.” I’d forgotten that to Mom “fine” was the same as “terrible.” It was what you said when you didn’t want anyone to know the truth.
“You’re not going to start with lying to your mother, are you?” she asked, and she leaned into me. I could smell the cheap lavender perfume she always wore, and I could see her big, soft chest.
“I’m not lying, Mom. School here is great.” I didn’t really want to get into classes with them, half of which they wouldn’t understand since they had to do with luck.
Even though it was past midnight, Mom started right then making her famous peanut butter and chocolate chip sandwiches. Sadly they did not turn out as good as I remembered. With her own stove, she’d learned how to manage with her bad luck and not get burned, but here in my dorm room mini-kitchen they turned out more than a little crunchy. Still, closing my eyes and sinking my teeth into them, I could almost imagine I was home again. With the thick taste of whole milk coating the back of my tongue, everything was good.
There were a few times when it seemed like luck didn’t matter, after all. This was one of those times.
“Are you going to tell us anything more about school?” asked Mom.
“I wrote to you about my boyfriend Rob Chiltern, right?” Hopefully, he was still my boyfriend at this point. I did not want to explain to my parents that we’d broken up over the rumors about me and Art in the alcove and his basement dorm room. And because of Laura Chevely who might or might not want Rob back. Too complicated.
“The one whose parents are so lucky?” asked Dad suspiciously.
“His parents are an old luck family that came over on the Mayflower, yes, Dad. But Rob isn’t stuck up or anything. You’d like him.” Maybe more than they liked me. Rob had been the one who wanted to see them all along. So who did that make the real snob?
An Ideal Boyfriend Page 8