Was I glad that Patrick would think I was going out with Sam now? I wondered. Probably.
“Well, Patrick had his chance,” said Pamela. “All he thinks about anymore are books.”
“Band and books,” said Elizabeth.
“Band and books and track,” I added.
Elizabeth Price is one of the most beautiful girls in school, but she doesn’t know it. She could be chosen Miss America and she still wouldn’t believe it. She’s got long dark hair and eyelashes to match. Of the four of us—Elizabeth, Pamela, Gwen, and me—she’s the only one with a boyfriend, a guy she met at camp last summer who lives in Pennsylvania. Gwen met someone too. For a while she was going out with a guy named Joe, but he goes to another school, and finally that just fizzled.
“We’re pathetic,” said Pamela, reading my thoughts. She was eating a salad with so much dressing that the green part looked like a garnish. “Not one of us has a date for the Jack of Hearts. We don’t even have boyfriends, and Elizabeth’s doesn’t count because she hardly ever sees Ross.”
“We could hang around the Silver Diner and hope somebody picks us up,” Gwen joked. She just had her hair done in a circular pattern of cornrows and looked fabulous. She probably would get picked up. “If nobody asks me by the weekend, I’m going to invite a guy from my church.”
“I’ll probably invite Brian,” mused Pamela.
“Brian?” I said, laughing. “Pamela, I can remember when you said you’d never, ever forgive him because he ruined your wedding night.”
Gwen turned. “What?”
I saw Elizabeth smiling. She remembered too.
“What did he do?” Gwen prodded.
“Put gum in her hair and we couldn’t get it out,” Liz explained. “She had hair so long, she could sit on it.”
“And she was planning to cover her panting, quivering body with her hair like a cape and come to her husband naked on their wedding night,” I finished. “We had to take her to a hair salon and have it all cut off. And that’s what you see before you today—a short layered look.” I grinned.
Pamela was laughing too. “Okay, okay! So I’m going with Brian. Any port in a storm. So I’m desperate.”
“DES-PER-ATE GIRLS!” Gwen and Elizabeth and I chanted together, and we laughed. It had been the title of an article in the newspaper a month before, about the sexual activity of girls between the ages of twelve and sixteen—how we were getting involved in all kinds of sex, some of which our parents had never heard of, the reporter had written.
“Bring on the kangaroos!” I joked.
Everyone had been talking about that story at school. The thing about “in-depth” articles is that we all know somebody who fits the description, but it never seems to be about us.
“I tore it out of the paper before my dad had a chance to see it,” said Pamela. “He already expects the worst.”
I didn’t know whether my dad had read it or not.
“My folks asked me about it,” said Elizabeth. “I think they were fascinated by the purity rings.”
“Purity rings?” asked Gwen. “I didn’t read that part.”
“The reporter visited a church where there was a banquet for seventh- and eighth-grade girls and their dads. The fathers all gave their daughters ‘purity rings’ to wear on the smallest fingers of their left hands as a promise that they were going to stay virgins until they married,” Liz explained.
“You’re kidding?” said Gwen. “And your dad wanted to give you one?”
“Hardly. He said it would be like leading a bear to honey,” said Liz.
“What is it about boys and virgins, anyway?” I asked.
“Everyone wants to be the first,” said Gwen. “Everyone’s looking for a new experience. Me? I just want to experience New York.”
“Me too! I can’t wait to get up there, ditch a tour, and do something crazy on our own,” said Pamela.
“How easy is that going to be?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find a way. And we’re all four sharing a room, remember.”
“It’ll be fun!” said Gwen. “Lights! Broadway!”
“Prada, Fendi!” said Liz.
“Taxis, carriage rides!” I said.
“And guys!” said Pamela.
Sam said he’d be over at seven on Friday.
“New guy?” Sylvia asked me at dinner when I said I was going out. She was wearing black pants, a coral turtleneck, and big fluffy slippers on her feet. We’re always teasing Sylvia about the way her feet get cold.
“Just a school buddy,” I said.
“Where does he live?” asked Dad.
Great! I thought. The third degree! “What does it matter where he lives?” I said. “I’m just helping him with an assignment.”
“Well, in case you don’t come home, I need to know where to call,” said Dad.
I sighed. “His last name is Mayer—M-A-Y-E-R. He lives with his mom in a condo on Colesville Road. I don’t know his address. I think she works for the Gazette.”
“Well, I want you home by eleven,” Dad said. “If you see you’re not going to make it, call.”
“We’ll be back waaaaay before then,” I told him.
“Take your cell phone,” said Dad.
It’s amazing the peace of mind that parents get from a cell phone. I love knowing I can call anybody, anywhere, anytime, but for a parent, it’s an umbilical cord. Elizabeth’s folks feel the same way.
There wasn’t any snow, but it was windy and cold—a biting, wet sort of cold that made you suck in your breath when you stepped outside. Sam got brownie points for coming to the door and ringing the bell.
He’s shorter and heavier than Patrick—but still an inch or two taller than I am. Dark hair. His face isn’t as round as it used to be, and he’s a little more muscular. Has a great smile. Nice eyes. I guess you could say he has that “nice guy” look.
“Digital?” Dad asked him, nodding toward Sam’s camera after I’d introduced them.
“It’s the only kind we can use for the newspaper,” Sam said. “Everything goes electronically now.”
We said good-bye to Dad and Sylvia, then made a dash for Sam’s car. It was a relief to pull the door closed after me.
“You look great,” Sam told me.
I was in my jacket and gloves and a long angora scarf that practically reached my ankles. “How can you tell?” I said, my collar turned up. “All you can see are my eyes.”
“Well, your eyes look great!” he said.
It was the first time I’d been alone with Sam Mayer. I mean, really alone, where nobody could walk in on us, not that I cared. He had a real mellow CD in the player, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I got a whiff, just a whiff, of a Ralph Lauren cologne. I know, because Les used to wear it. Sam put on cologne for me?
I glanced sideways at him. He looked like he always did. Get real, I told myself. This is only an assignment!
“So what do you want me to do? How can I help?” I asked as we turned onto Viers Mill, heading for Wheaton.
“Just keep track of the number of shoots, the names of the people and their answers,” Sam said. “There’s a notebook and pen in my camera bag.”
“That’s all?”
“People will be more approachable if I have a partner,” he said. “I mean, anybody can walk up to a girl, say he’s a reporter, and ask if he can take her picture, right? Having you along sort of makes it legit.”
“So I’m basically a prop,” I said.
“A prop with personality,” said Sam, and the music played on.
When we got to Wheaton Plaza and went up the escalator, the first person we ran into was… Patrick.
2
“Getting to Know You…”
My first thought was that Patrick had come to the mall to check on Sam and me. Maybe I’d wanted him to.
My second thought—the right one—was that he was in a hurry. He was carrying a bag from Hecht’s.
“Hey!” he said when he saw us.
&nbs
p; “Hey!” I said back.
He paused for a minute, taking us both in—Sam’s camera, the notepad in my hand. “How’s it going?”
“Haven’t started yet. Want to be the first?” said Sam.
“Can’t. Dad’s waiting for me in the parking lot. I had to buy a dress shirt for tonight.” He waved the hand with the bag in it and headed for the down escalator. So much for tender concern.
Sam, though, was studying my face. Both of us had exes, and I knew what was going through his head. Then he turned and looked around. “What do you think?” he said. “Those guys over there?”
Three boys, probably juniors, were leaning their arms on the railing overlooking the floor below.
“Why not?” I said, and we walked over.
“Hi,” Sam said. “I’m doing a photo piece for our school paper and just wanted to ask you a couple questions.”
“Yeah?” said the middle guy, turning his head but otherwise not moving an inch.
“What’s the question?” another asked.
“Is this where you hang out most when you’re not in school?” I said, reading the first of Sam’s questions at the top of the page he’d given me.
“This and the Silver Diner,” the third one said.
“Okay. Do you come mostly to shop, to meet someone, or just to chill out?” I continued.
The guys looked at each other and grinned. “Chill out and meet someone,” the first guy said. “Hopefully,” he added, grinning.
I got their names and Sam took their picture. We thanked them and moved on.
“It’s not very profound,” said Sam.
“No, but it has possibilities,” I told him.
We found two girls next, coming out of The Limited, each carrying a shopping bag. They giggled when they saw us approaching.
“Care if we take your picture and ask a question?” Sam said. “It’s for our school newspaper.”
“Depends,” said one of the girls. “What do you want to know?” More giggles.
I asked the question. They looked at each other. A group answer seemed to be the norm.
“We always come here,” the taller girl said. “I’m returning a Christmas present.”
“We shop,” said the other. “But we wouldn’t mind if we met somebody.”
I wondered later if we should tell them about the three guys hanging out by the escalator, but Sam said no.
We did about six or seven interviews, then Sam said we had enough. They were only giving him space for five in the newspaper.
“That wasn’t too hard,” I said.
“Well, no reason we can’t string the evening out a little. Want a latte?” Sam asked.
“That would be good. Make mine mocha,” I said, and we went to Starbucks and got a table by the window.
“So when I do my essay on jobs, can I get a picture of you in your dad’s store?” Sam asked, putting a mug with a tower of whipped cream in front of me.
“What’s to tell?” I asked.
“I’ll probably ask (a) how you got the job; (b) how much you make; and (c) how many hours a week you work.”
“Easy,” I said. “(a) nepotism—my dad’s the manager; (b) minimum wage; (c) Saturdays and sometimes holidays.”
“I work for my mom,” Sam said. “I bill clients, help her organize her photos, stuff like that. She’s freelance but does a lot of work for the weeklies.”
“She’s a photographer too, right?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Sam smiled, and I could tell he was pleased that I’d said “too.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, The Silent Dark starts in fifteen minutes. Have you seen it?”
“No. I’ve heard it’s good, though.”
“Want to go?”
“If you’ll let me buy my own ticket. You paid for the mocha.”
“If it’ll make you happy,” he said.
We walked to the other end of the plaza, and I wondered if we’d get in because of the line. But we managed to get two seats next to the wall in the very last row. I was glad Sam didn’t bother with popcorn and drinks, because I like to concentrate on the movie.
The theater was chilly. I was still carrying my jacket and spread it over the front of me like a blanket, pulling it up under my chin. The spooky music didn’t help.
“Cold?” Sam whispered.
“A little. It’s the music; I’m scared already,” I whispered back.
He laughed and put his arm around me, pulling me closer.
The only guy I’d ever been close to like that—besides my dad and Lester, I mean—was Patrick, and it felt strange to be leaning against someone else’s shoulder. A broader, better-padded shoulder than Patrick’s. Sam’s scent, the feel of his jacket, the warmth of his hand on my upper arm…
I straightened up when the dialogue began, moving away from him slightly, but he still kept his arm around me.
It was one of those psychological thrillers, where the fear doesn’t come from a guy with a chain saw, but from the twists and turns of a woman’s mind—that, and her way with rope. First you think that she’s sane, and then you think she’s not. The horror creeps up on you and you can’t escape.
I leaned closer to Sam and heard him chuckle. He took my scarf from my lap and held it against my cheek. “Want your blankie?” he whispered, and made me laugh.
It was a relief when the lights came on at last, even though the madwoman lay dead at the bottom of a ravine.
“Did she jump or did she slip?” I asked Sam as people around us began to gather up their things and leave. It was one of those movies where you weren’t sure.
“Slipped,” said Sam.
“How do you know? I’d hate for her to have slipped if she really wanted to live.”
“Okay, she jumped.”
“No.” I laughed. “What do you think really happened?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to have happened?”
I thrust my arms in my jacket sleeves. “You can’t just change reality to suit me!” I said. “I want to know what really happened!”
“Slipped,” said Sam.
“Jumped!” I told him, and felt him lean forward and kiss the back of my head as we moved out into the aisle.
When we got out to the lobby, I went to the restroom. I was surprised when I looked in the mirror at how red my cheeks were. Flushed. Excited. I rinsed out my mouth and popped a LifeSaver, realizing that I felt a lot different now than I had at the beginning of the evening. We’d started out as school buddies and ended up… what? I wasn’t sure, but I’d liked leaning against his shoulder in the theater. I liked the way his hand squeezed my upper arm, and I especially liked his kissing the back of my head when we were leaving.
“Oh, wow!” I said when I went back out in the lobby. “It’s eleven fifteen. I’ve got to call Dad.” I reached for my cell phone, but Sam offered me his.
“Here,” he said. “I just called Mom.”
I punched in the number, and Dad answered after the first ring.
“I’m sorry I’m late calling,” I said. “We went to a movie after we finished, and it just let out. We’re leaving right now.”
“Okay, Al. Sylvia and I are going on to bed, and I’ll trust you to come straight home,” he said.
Sam and I didn’t say too much on the way back. He played the rest of the CD. In the headlight beams, I could see a light misty sort of snow coming at us, hitting the windshield and dissolving. The wipers swished occasionally on low speed, and once, where traffic was light, Sam reached over and covered my hand with his, then put it back on the steering wheel.
When we got to my house and parked in the driveway, he reached over and teasingly wrapped my long scarf around and around my neck, then my head, until it felt like a beehive.
“Ready?” he asked, one hand on his door handle.
“Ready,” I answered.
We both jumped out at the same time, the wind almost knocking us down, and ran up onto the shelter of the porch. And then, when I tugged the scarf awa
y from my face to tell him good night, he just pulled me to him, like he was keeping me warm, and we kissed. We didn’t hurry, I wasn’t embarrassed, and my braces didn’t matter. The dark helped. The cold helped. The softness of his jacket helped.
“Thanks for coming, Alice,” he said.
“It was fun,” I told him.
I could see him smiling at me in the dark. And then we kissed again.
I went softly upstairs so as not to wake Dad or Sylvia. I heard Dad cough, though, and knew he probably hadn’t let himself sleep till he knew I was safely home. I was smiling, and my cheeks felt even redder than they’d been before. I sat down on my bed in the dark. I just wanted to think about the evening, relive every minute.
Were we “Sam and Alice” now? Were we an “item”?
I looked out the window toward Elizabeth’s. She lives in the big white house across the street. A light was on in her bedroom, but I was afraid I’d wake her folks if I called. I took a chance and IM’d her instead. She was online!
AliceBug322: hi
Lovliz13: alice? u just get home?
AliceBug322: yes
Another box popped up—an invitation to Elizabeth’s chat room. I clicked OK. Pamela was there too.
Lovliz13: alice just got home
pjhotbabe: so?????
AliceBug322: i had a great time
pjhotbabe: and…????
AliceBug322: he kissed me
Lovliz13: WHAT??????
AliceBug322: 3 times
pjhotbabe: u go, girl!
AliceBug322: one on the back of the head
pjhotbabe: that 1 doesn’t count
Lovliz13: if they were lying down it does
AliceBug322: what?
pjhotbabe: were u lying down?
AliceBug322: of course not. he’s really nice. we saw The Silent Dark. scary as anything and he had his arm around me the whole time
pjhotbabe: that’s how it all begins!!!!!!
AliceBug322: no i mean… he’s… gentle, you know? and funny
pjhotbabe: uh-huh
Lovliz13: i wonder what happened between him and jennifer. i heard she dumped him
pjhotbabe: yeah, i heard it was sort of weird, but then jen’s known to be weird sometimes too
Alice on Her Way Page 2