Catcher, Caught

by Sarah Collins Honenberger

  “You don’t want to dance with me?” She sounds really hurt and it gripes me.

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. Of course I want to dance with you. I loved dancing with you that one time we did it. Dance, I mean. I would dance with you forever.”

  I realize I’m being an idiot, but when she looks a little teary-eyed, I realize it’s not a bad kind of idiot. As I raise my arm to offer her a dance, the hook smashes into the screen door leading out to the pool. Good thing it’s only plastic or Senator Yowell would be back with a roll of screening and the directions to his staple gun.

  “Fuck,” I say, then, “Jeez. What a jerk. Sorry.”

  Meredith giggles. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve heard the word before. Anyway, pirates have issues other people don’t have.”

  “I warned you I was different.”

  With one black arm, she’s stroking my hook and tugging the sleeve of my dad’s peacoat, which I’m wearing to hide the duct tape. It still surprises me that the coat is not that big on me. It’s way too weird that I could still be growing while the sicko germs are attacking my blood.

  “How do you keep that thing on?” She tugs the sleeve up to her face.

  “No fair peeking. I didn’t ask you what’s under the doppelgänger sheet.”

  When she steps down onto the patio that surrounds the swimming pool, I’m right behind her. Mack and Leonard and I have spent hours in this pool. It has wide steps that match the curve of the concrete edge and the designer tiles. My mother didn’t even want to hear what it looked like; she thinks it’s environmentally damaging to seal up the ground and wreck the habitat for the newts or earthworms or whatever lives in people’s yards.

  “How come no one’s swimming?” Meredith asks.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost November. A little chilly for laps.”

  “But Leonard said they swam last week. He asked if Juliann and I wanted to come over and try the pool.”

  I do my best pirate growl. “I bet he did.”

  “We could try it now. You and me.” She leans down and sticks a hand in the water, raises it dripping, and beams up at me.

  I can see the gears turning in her gorgeous head. This is the bridge climber I know.

  She whispers, closer to my ear than is safe with other people around, “We’d have it all to ourselves.”

  “Would I get to see what’s under a doppelgänger’s outer layer?”

  With that, she yanks the sheet over her head, steps out of her black flats, and drops her jeans. When she tugs the black jersey thingy over her head, I catch a glimpse of white before she slides into the water and turns into the shadow of a mermaid. The flash of white is gone almost before I register what it is.

  “Meredith.”

  “Shhh.” She surfaces. “Hurry up and rescue me, Captain Hook. There might be alligators in here.”

  Mack doesn’t want to leave when we do. Juliann and four guys from the lacrosse team are playing with a Ouija board. The guys are chugging from beer bottles they’re hiding under the coffee table. Ouija’s something I haven’t done since I was ten. And am not about to repeat. I feel bad for Mack. He’s shorter than every one of those guys, but smarter than all of them put together. He ought to be singing “Ring of Fire” and carrying Juliann off into the night. But he’s chugging with the best of them. And surprising me because he’s doing such a good job convincing them that he’s a pro at it.

  Senator Yowell is noticeably absent, which gives Leonard room to make a big deal about what a great party it is. Don’t you hate that kind of self-promotion? He’s such a phony. It may be the best party ever, but the host can’t get away with saying it. Even I know that and we’ve never had a party at our house. And certainly not on the houseboat. Can you see the headlines? Kids Drown at Teen Party on Houseboat.

  The fireplace hearth is decorated with beer bottles and another bunch crowds one end of the mantel. Maybe the lacrosse players brought the beer. I have a life-size picture of duly elected Senator Yowell stocking the larder with Bud before the party. The Yowells’ life is a fishbowl compared with Holden’s or mine, even taking into account The Disease and the neglect conviction.

  The court hearing has to be the big news in town because most of the adults we know are turning down side streets when they see us coming. If my parents hadn’t appealed it and won the stay hearing, I’d be in chemo right now and not holding Meredith’s hand, missing what’s already turned into the best night of my life. No holds barred.

  The music’s softer and only two couples are dancing. Other couples on the couch in the den and the living room are deep into it. In the corner two guys I don’t recognize are huddled over an end table, which gives me a bad feeling that the party is getting out of control. I feel like I should shield Meredith’s eyes, but then the hook business in the kitchen comes back to me and I remember she’s from the big city of Charlottesville, so she’s probably way more experienced than I am. You’d think that would take some of the pressure off. But it’s amazing how just the thought of some other guy touching her tears me up. I can hardly breathe.

  Behind me, she stays close, the doppelgänger sheet wrapped around her shoulders. I smell her perfume and the chlorine in her hair. Every two or three steps, someone jostles us and a drip from her hair falls on my neck. Cold but wonderful because it touched her skin and then mine. No one notices the damp patches spreading on the doppelgänger sheet.

  When I walk, the condoms crinkle in my jean pocket. Like a tornado whistle it seems, but no one’s head even turns, so it’s just me, being nervous.

  While I was putting the costume together—at the last minute of course, though Nick was very helpful—I transferred the condoms from Joe’s envelope to my pocket when Nick wasn’t looking. With his competitiveness I have to be careful or he’ll decide he has to try whatever it is he sees me doing, to keep up. Typical thirteen-year-old.

  On the way to the party I worried about Meredith seeing the condoms. With two of them, she might think I’m overly confident. Maybe she’d stop liking me. To be brutally honest, I’m also worried about using them. There are no directions and I’ve never used the suckers before. One of them might rip. How am I supposed to know?

  We move together to stand behind Mack where he sits outside the Ouija board group with Juliann’s butt wedged in his lap. Things aren’t that bad. His back is to the druggies in the corner. Maybe he’s doing okay after all. He looks happy enough. When Meredith’s hair drips on his arm, he touches the spot, looks at the ceiling, and up at me.

  “You two took a shower?”

  “Swimming,” I whisper. “We’re outta here.”

  “You want the keys to the truck?”

  “No driver’s license, remember? I’m younger than you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but not as high.”

  “Maybe you should give me the keys. How many beers have you had?”

  “It’s not the beer, kiddo.”

  Mack’s grin is ghoulish. Meredith puts her arms around my waist and I want to leave so badly and forget the whole frigging conversation with Mack.

  “So. Stop drinking now.” I swipe the bottle right out of his hand and shove a chip bag at him. “You’ll be okay if you dance some and eat.”

  “Just gimme a minute, I’ll run you home.”

  I pretend to slap his face. As my open palm hits the inside of my arm—such a realistic sound—Juliann whips her head around and stares. She and Mack whisper in between kisses and then she smiles at Meredith, who smiles at me and winks. Can they really know what I’m thinking?

  Mack grabs my shirt and tugs me down so our faces are within inches. “Hey,” he starts. What I said must finally register with him. “Oh. Right. Okay, no more beer. No more…illegal shit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” His burp is lost in the music. “Be safe.” He laughs at my grimace. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Jeez, how does one time make him such a damn expert?

  CHAPTER TWEL
VE

  The courthouse clock says it’s only just after ten. Dad has taken Nick and some of his soccer-mad cohorts camping at the state park across the river. A Halloween campout, complete with greased grapes for eyeballs, marbles in Jell-O for kidney stones, and a bowl of cooked spaghetti for brains. You know the drill. Dad loves this kind of thing. It uses all his Boy Scout skills. And it eases the pain of his sons having failed to follow in his scouting footsteps.

  Mom went to visit a college friend on the other side of Charlottesville. She and Dad argued about the gas, but in the end he apologized and said she should go. Anyone can see how she’s been unraveling with the constant back and forth to the lawyer. Walker is driving her crazy. She finally went to talk to Senator Yowell for advice about switching lawyers. They didn’t actually switch, but he must have told her something positive because that night she and Dad went out to dinner alone and they came back laughing and joking about college and their political activist friends. If they act normal at least part of the time, it takes a lot of pressure off me.

  Anyway…even Dad with his head in his manuscripts could see she needed a break. The point is, astrology aside, the stars have aligned for me. For once. The houseboat is empty.

  Meredith and I run across Route 17 like mad dogs. The band playing at Ferebee’s is loud, very redneck, and a lot off-key. No one’s on the sidewalk, though, so they can’t be but so rinky-dink. Up ahead of us Officer Brewer cruises along at about five miles an hour. His huge silhouette, easy to recognize, fills the rear window of the cop car. Everyone in Tappahannock, even the criminals, knows that Sheriff Jessup’s mostly home at night. I once overheard Dad say it’s his much younger wife who keeps him busy. And the town force is mostly traffic cops anyway. Not a lot of crime in this backwater.

  I raise the pirate hook to Brewer in greeting. Joe told me once it’s always better to connect with adults, and especially cops, than to leave them wondering whether you’re hiding something.

  “You know him?” Meredith asks. The gray sheet drags along behind her like a little girl’s blankie.

  “When you live in this small a town your whole life, you know everyone.”

  Brewer brakes and waits for us to come even with his window, open despite the October crispness. “You two been at the Yowell boy’s party?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Going straight home, not walking by way of the bridge tonight, captain?”

  “No, sir.” Word of my diving prowess has spread.

  “Going to introduce me?”

  The dude must never have taken a girl on a romantic walk in his sorry life. Mood is crucial, even I know that.

  “Meredith, this is Officer Brewer of the Town of Tappahannock Police Department. Officer Brewer, Meredith Rilke.”

  Brewer nods. Meredith smiles. I tug her back into the shadows. Our clothes are wet from Leonard’s pool and Brewer has been trained to notice stuff like that. No matter how much I dislike Leonard for trying to snake my date, I sure don’t want Brewer to get it in his head he needs to visit the party. I’m thinking I should call Yowell and warn him, when the cruiser pulls away and heads toward Wal-Mart. Brewer sure knows where the action is on a Saturday night in Tappahannock. I stop holding my breath.

  We walk down the block by the original town clerk’s office, from the 1700s. I think Jefferson and all those speech-making dudes. It’s a miniature brick building that invites peeking. Meredith stretches up to the tiny window and trips on the sheet. I catch her before she can fall. Her body sinks into mine without either of us having time to think about it.

  “Easy,” I say, but I don’t want this to stop. She needs me. It’s a great feeling.

  After she steadies herself, we’re that close. And alone. Finally. When she looks up, I kiss her, a real Hollywood-type kiss because I’m holding her close enough this time. She tastes sweet, a little like the soda she drank at Leonard’s house.

  “Look,” she says.

  As the cruiser pulls out onto Route 17, Brewer is flicking the cruiser’s taillights on and off. How juvenile can you get? But he’s got the feeling exactly right.

  By the time Meredith and I walk down the alley behind Water Lane to the D-funct marina, I’ve told her some of the famous Landon “rivah” stories and she may be starting to think I’m truly charming. The condoms in my pocket are the size of a yo-yo, they feel so conspicuous. I help her into the rowboat. The only thing that’s missing is a full moon. But then someone on shore might be able to see us on the boat. It’s probably better that it’s dark. Farther downriver voices from a loud party float back up to us. A band starts and stops, starts again. Over the thick slurp of the oars in the creek, I ask Meredith about her childhood.

  “Juliann’s always been more athletic, more social. You would think with the same genes I would be that way too. I’ve tried. Put ten people my age in a room, my stomach turns into a tangle of . . . of . . . I don’t know, something coiled tight, and I shut down.”

  “You did fine tonight.”

  “Because you were there. I knew if anything happened, if Leonard pushed too hard, you’d be there.”

  “Leonard’s pushing?”

  “All the time. He calls you Dead Man Walking. Says there’s no future, why waste the present.” Her face still shows the gray paint and the black circles under her eyes. If I didn’t know it was makeup, I’d think someone had hit her. In that instant I could easily have hit them back.

  She rests her hand on my thigh because my arms are busy stroking oars through black water. While her fingers move, up and back, I stay silent. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. But I don’t think it’s fair that he lets you think he’s your friend. It’s so phony.” She’s crying, but so quietly I can barely hear.

  “Don’t. Merry, don’t cry over Leonard. He’s not worth it.” I’ve never seen a girl cry except Mom. And in the movies. This isn’t like that. Meredith hasn’t flung herself, sobbing, on the couch. Still, it’s totally terrifying. She’s crying because of me, and I don’t even know what I did.

  Although we’re only a few boat lengths from the houseboat, it doesn’t seem like such a hot time to give her the tour. Instead I row steadily up the creek toward the Route 17 bridge, figuring I’ll show her how cool it is with the reeds on both sides and the world gone. And I’ll invite her to go back with me another day, when it’s light. But even up by the public boat ramp, she’s still crying, little lifts of her shoulders when she breathes, even if it is to herself, her chin tucked so I can’t see her face, as if the whole time she’s been holding this in and now the dam is broken.

  “Forget Leonard, Meredith.”

  “He’s the one who got Mack started on the coke.”

  The oars are poised above the water and I’m frozen. She says it like I’m supposed to know, but it’s the first I’ve heard. It fits, though, and that chills me.

  “I shouldn’t have told you. I’ve ruined everything.”

  “It doesn’t bother me at all. If he’s letting cokeheads come to his party, he’s not who I thought he was. Forget it.” What I’m really thinking is how I’m going to blast Mack tomorrow morning. What the hell is he thinking about? All the stuff he’s heard from me about my dad and he thinks he can screw around with that garbage and not get into trouble?

  About this time the oars are getting heavy. And I’m thinking maybe I should’ve rowed around the houseboat instead of coming all the way up here. It’ll be twice as hard rowing back against the current. If my arms give out and I can’t row, it’ll so wreck everything. Can you see any girl—even a nice, considerate girl like Meredith—liking a guy who made her row them home? Jeez, I am such an idiot.

  What would Holden do? He’d let the boat float and put his arm around her. Duh.

  But I can’t because the current’s headed the wrong way, and my mind is spinning about Mack. I’m not that far gone to forget we’re in a boat. When you grow up around water, you learn to be respectful. Although I keep on rowing, I’m slowly turning the boat so Mer
edith can see upstream while I battle the current. She’s quiet, her face still turned away.

  “Hey, you okay? Here’s the bridge I was telling you about. See how the creek just keeps on going?” I wait for her to say something, anything. “Can you see? Is it too dark?”

  Of course it’s too effing dark. “Never mind. Stupid idea anyway.” I know I’m mumbling, but the whole situation is…I’m a total failure. Who would take a girl in wet clothes in a rowboat to see a bridge when it’s dark? Only yours truly.

  Once she sees the running lights on the deck of the houseboat, she perks up. Only sniffles every once in a while. She’s probably embarrassed. What can you say after you’ve cried over something like that, the stupid things guys do? I’m giving her time to get over it. I concentrate on rowing, even whistle a little, though it sounds lame out here in the blackness, only the ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum of car wheels running over the bridge stress seams. Even that fades into the creek’s quiet lapping. Mack using cocaine? That means I’ve really been out of it, a frigging ostrich.

  Right now, though, Meredith’s here, waiting to be charmed. I’ll deal with Mack tomorrow. I’m damned if he and Yowell are going to spoil my night with Meredith.

  “Here we are. Home sweet home.” I dock the rowboat as gently as I can next to the houseboat. After I twist the line around the cleat in the neatest figure eight I can make, one-handed no less, I swing my leg up over the side. Kneeling on the deck, I offer my hands to help her up. The doppelgänger sheet is bunched up in the bow of the rowboat as if the other half had decided to nap there rather than butt into her sister’s private time. All of a sudden I wonder if that special communication between twins means that Juliann knows when I kiss her sister. Can Juliann feel what Meredith feels? Does sixth sense mean that a twin can share her twin’s experience? What pops into my head is that movie where the alien girl zips out of her skin to make love just by touching. You know, the movie where the nursing-home folks swim in the neighbors’ pool without realizing they’re stealing the life force of the aliens. That kind of nonphysical sharing.