by Sheila Agnew
‘Because falling asleep in her class is the height of respect,’ Scott said drily. ‘Evie, not everything is a joke.’
I gawped at him, my mouth open. Scott was the High King of Not Taking Anything Overly Seriously.
‘But … but …’ I stuttered.
Scott cut in.
‘Has it occurred to you Evie that Mrs Billington could be spending her precious time doing something much more entertaining and much better paid than trying to teach some ungrateful kids?’
‘No,’ I said feeling a red tsunami of shame washing over me.
Scott tousled my hair.
‘Don’t beat yourself up, at least, not too hard. Just give Mrs Billington a chance. Okay? At least she cares and is trying, which is a lot better than some of the teachers I had in school.’
‘Ok,’ I said.
‘And why are you insisting on sticking to English English? Is this some of your Irish identification issues run wild?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m not remotely being stubborn about my spelling. Basically, you have to drop a lot of u’s like, C-O-L-O-R not C-O-L-O-U-R. What do Americans have against the letter “u” anyway? My problem is when I’m writing, I often get confused about which is the American way and which is the English way.’
‘Read more books written in American English, that will help,’ suggested Scott.
Saturday had been set aside (by him, not by me) as my catch-up on reading American English books day. I figured I could just as easily do my extra reading on the subway out to Coney Island with Lorcan. There was only the teeny issue about getting permission to go. Scott would say ‘dream on,’ or something like that but luckily, he was out for the day watching assorted Labrador retrievers jump off specially constructed diving boards. Joanna was working in the clinic but I didn’t consider asking her because she would just say, call Scott. I decided to ask Holly, who, after all, is an adult and is one of Scott’s employees, which sort of gives her semi-legitimate agent-guardian type status. I found Holly slouched on the couch painting her toenails and watching back-to-back episodes of a TV show about people addicted to cosmetic surgery. Sometimes I watch it with her and we make a game of guessing which animal the patient will most closely resembles when they are done. Mostly, they end up looking like surprised geckos although one poor guy wound up looking like a warthog.
Holly’s been hanging out in the apartment a lot lately because she hates having to commute in and out from Astoria to Manhattan. She’s even here on her days off because she usually has to be in the city on those days to go to auditions. Scott, who would rather hack off one of his legs than commute, was sympathetic to Holly’s plight. He gave her a key and told her she could hang out in the apartment whenever she wants. She’s started to bring friends around recently, which Joanna told me was pushing it but then she sighed and said, ‘Hey, none of my business!’
I was lucky Holly was here today. I waited for the exact right moment in the TV program.
‘Hi Hol, is it ok with you if I go to Coney Island with Lorcan?’ I chanted quickly, timing my request perfectly to coincide with when the doctor was about to remove the woman’s bandages from her face.
‘Um, sure Evie,’ said Holly, without taking her eyes from the screen.
‘Bye,’ I said.
Lorcan and I took the D train. I think it was the oldest and slowest subway I have ever ridden but Lorcan talked the whole way so the trip went quickly. I decided to do my extra reading on the return journey. When we got to our stop and walked out of the subway station, we took a shortcut across two large deserted fenced-in parking lots. There wasn’t anything but litter blowing around. I could see all the rides and the roller coasters in the distance. I wanted to run but Lorcan’s too cool to run.
It was only when we got closer to the amusement park that we realised it was shut, closed down for the winter. The abandoned rides looked old and lonely and broken. The whole place looked eerie, not as if it was just sleeping but as if it had committed suicide. I shivered.
‘Come on, we’ll go walk on the boardwalk, you’re freezing,’ said Lorcan.
‘Ok,’ I said, not a bit sorry to leave that depressing place behind.
I had never been on a boardwalk before. It was a bit of a disappointment as well. It was just a long, wide, greyish path and all the little stores and amusement arcades along it were closed except for a hot dog stand. We bought some hot dogs to help us warm up and walked for what must have been miles along the boardwalk. The tide was quite far out and the dirty sand on the beach looked like cigarette ash. We could hear people speaking in Russian all around us, which made the place seem foreign and the right kind of dangerous. Well, I thought they were speaking Russian. Lorcan said it was Polish but he was wrong. There were a few Polish kids in my class at school in Ireland and I’m certain that the walkers on the boardwalk were not speaking Polish. That’s when it happened, when I was arguing that the people were definitely not Polish. Lorcan tugged me closer to him by the cord on my hood and kissed me, very quickly. I’m so glad my first kiss was spontaneous. My second kiss was spontaneous as well. And the third. We went under the boardwalk and sat on the dry, quite smelly, sand and did lots more kissing, for about an hour. Turning thirteen had been so disappointing. My first kissing experience was brilliant. I felt like a different person, an older, more interesting person. I could kiss all the time.
On the way home on the subway, we sat quite close together in the two seats by the doors. An empty coke bottle floated in a small puddle on the floor in front of us. From the smell, I think it was pee. Lorcan sat on my left. I completely forget about my extra reading probably because I was entirely focused on what to do with my left hand. I didn’t know where to put it. If I put it by my side like normal, Lorcan might think I expected him to hold it.
So, I folded my arms but he said, ‘What’s up with you?’
I said ‘nothing’ and I unfolded them.
But I still had the problem of what to do with my left hand. Finally, I sat on my hands. It just seemed the easiest thing to do. Then, Lorcan asked me if my hands were cold so I said no, and pulled them out again. We started talking about a concert in Madison Square Garden his dads have tickets for and he asked me if I wanted to go and we were so busy talking it took me a couple of minutes to realise Lorcan had taken my hand. Or maybe I took his, I’m not sure. It felt very special and grown-up to be holding hands with a boy on the subway although I had a weird passing fear that one of the other passengers would shout, ‘Look, They’re Holding Hands! Stop Them!’
I wished the ride would go on for the rest of the day and all night, but after a little while, I wished that it would end as soon as possible because I could feel my hand getting all sweaty and I didn’t want to have to pull it away and wipe it on my coat. I thought about asking Lorcan to swap places with me because usually, it’s just my left hand that gets sweaty. But I thought that would only draw more attention to the sweat.
Ultimately, it was a bit of a relief when we arrived back in Manhattan. Lorcan dropped my hand very naturally when we got off. I hope that wasn’t because of the sweat.
Scott was home watching TV with Ben when I got home. It was some championship poker game in Vegas so he was too distracted to ask me questions about my day. He always wears dark sunglasses when he watches poker. I think it makes him feel more involved in the game because most of the players wear glasses to hide their eyes.
He glanced at me and I thought he would notice straight away how different I was, like the evidence that I had been kissing a boy would be marked on my forehead like Harry Potter’s scar. But Scott didn’t seem to see anything. Then again, he was wearing sunglasses indoors and probably couldn’t see much. He sneezed twice very loudly. He must have caught a cold watching dogs jump around outside all day. I felt this huge swell of love and affection for him, for spending a lousy day out in the middle of nowhere giving dogs marks for jumping just so he could add more money to our legal defense fund. I immediately offere
d that he could pick the restaurant on seamless web that we would order from. He said he wasn’t in the mood for eating.
I slipped out to Zabars and bought Scott an extra-large tub of chicken noodle soup. He was so appreciative and nice about it, I felt a little guilty for not telling him that my relationship with Lorcan had shifted dramatically from friends to … well, whatever we were now. I got over the guilt rapidly by reassuring myself that it would only make him mad and it would be unhealthy for him to get all wound up when he’s already sick. Besides, the right to privacy is enshrined in the Constitution. I did learn some things at school.
Chapter 21
I’ve spent a little time thinking about whether I am Lorcan’s girlfriend. I’ve spent even more time discussing the issue with Kylie and Greg. As far as Greg is concerned, it’s a no-brainer; the rule of three; Lorcan and I are definitely boyfriend/girlfriend because we have now kissed on three separate occasions. But Kylie insists that I can’t be Lorcan’s girlfriend unless he’s asked me to be his girlfriend.
‘Or you’ve asked him,’ she added hastily, ‘it’s not like girls have to sit around anymore waiting for some guy to make up his mind.’
Lorcan and I have never talked about anything remotely along those lines. But like me, he’s Irish and we’re not as upfront about discussing these kinds of things as Americans. I decided to consult Joanna because she’s had lots of boyfriends (all whack-jobs according to Scott but he’s biased).
I regretted talking to Joanna almost immediately because she got a bit soppy when I told her I was kissing a boy. She sighed and said I was growing up so fast, and, she didn’t kiss her first boy until three days after her fifteenth birthday but kids, and everything else, move much faster nowadays, and, how I shouldn’t feel pressured by the media or from my peers to grow up too fast, all that kind of thing. I was a little confused because at first, I thought she said ‘pears’ and I couldn’t understand what fruit had to do with anything but then I copped on. I tried to be patient. When that failed, I concentrated on trying to look patient.
When I finally managed to persuade Joanna to focus on the issue of whether I was or was not Lorcan’s girlfriend, she thought about it for a few minutes and said,
‘Evie, you’re asking the wrong question.’
I hate when people say stuff like that. It’s plain annoying.
‘What is the right question?’ I sighed.
Joanna tried not to look smug.
‘The question is not whether you are or are not Lorcan’s girlfriend. The question is do you want to be his girlfriend?’
That stumped me.
‘Em, I like the kissing part a lot,’ I said.
‘Too much information,’ she said. ‘It’s simple. Do you want to be with Lorcan?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, feeling exceptionally stupid, ‘I haven’t really thought about that.’
‘Maybe you should,’ said Joanna kindly.
Chapter 22
I was so excited for Finn that I couldn’t swallow anything but half a banana for breakfast. Today was the day of his championship hockey game, being played in Madison Square Garden, just like the pros. Greg said that there would almost certainly be talent scouts at the game and that this could be Finn’s big chance, the break of a LIFETIME.
I wasn’t holding a grudge against Finn for just replying ‘k’ in response to my very genuine apology. Holly had helped. She told me that when Finn said ‘ok’, he probably meant exactly that and I was thinking too much. I’ve been accused of overthinking before so I thought Holly made sense. She ruined it a little by adding, ‘Evie, think less, wear more make-up.’
Almost everyone I know came to the game, except Scott who was still in bed with what he says is the flu and what Joanna calls a trifling little cold. Dr Winters didn’t come either. Greg told me that Finn and his dad argue all the time because Dr Winters thinks Finn is loaded with brains and he should go to college to be a doctor or a lawyer and not waste his time skating around on ice with a load of barbarians, carrying sticks. At least Finn’s mom supports him. Angela sat beside us in the very front row along with loads of her eccentric, multiple-scarf-wearing friends. They annoyed Greg a lot because none of them seemed to understand the rules of the game and they cheered very loudly at the wrong parts, like when the other team, the Omaha Warriors, scored.
I found the game so thrilling that when I wasn’t jumping up and down cheering, I sat at the very edge of my seat. The teams were very closely matched, but almost right from the start, Finn’s team stayed out in front mainly thanks to his superstar goals. Whenever Finn scored, Greg tried to start a Mexican wave but it only worked twice. It can be tricky to get the timing right. Coltan didn’t help with getting a wave going because he refused to even budge from his seat. He’s so not a team player. He didn’t even bother to glance at us. His eyes never strayed from the ice. I never would have guessed he was such a big hockey fan.
It was close to half-time when the fight broke out. I don’t know what caused it. One minute, we were all ineffectually doing a Mexican wave and the next, Finn and a very large, husky looking Nebraskan, were wrestling on the patch of ice right in front of us. The no-nonsense looking referee pulled them apart. He lectured them and made them shake hands. As Finn walked away, the big Nebraskan guy shouted something at him. Finn spun around, dropped his hockey stick and punched the guy in his face. A spray of blood, a cartoon-red colour, shot out from the guy’s nose, splattering the clear, plastic guard in front of my eyes. Two of the Omaha Warriors lunged at Finn. Pandemonium broke out as both teams jumped into the fray. Around me, the crowd stamped and cheered like bloodthirsty spectators at the gladiatorial games in ancient Rome. I stood there silently, transfixed by the Nebraskan blood dripping down the plastic shield.
The scuffle on the ice came to an end and the referee and some other official looking guy in a striped black and white t-shirt were watching Finn skate off the rink.
‘What’s happening?’ I said tugging impatiently on Akono’s sleeve.
‘The referee sent Finn off.’
‘Until the next half?’
‘Nope, for the whole game, it’s over for him,’ said Akono glumly.
‘Kylie, come on, let’s get some air,’ he said and took her hand. She raised her eyebrows at me and I nodded.
‘See you later, Ky,’ I said and my voice sounded steady and normal.
I watched Tamara walk down the steps and wait by the post beside the entrance to the tunnel leading to the changing rooms so she would be able to meet Finn as soon as he came back out. Greg and Coltan followed her. Even Coltan seemed affected by what we had witnessed on the ice. His always lightly-tanned face had a faint greenish tinge. Maybe he couldn’t stand the sight of blood.
Lorcan took my hand and started talking about whether we should order some nachos. I was livid.
‘Nachos! What are you talking about?’ I snapped, tugging my hand away sharply. ‘Have you been in a different stadium on a different planet to the rest of us? Don’t you get it? Finn’s been sent off. It’s a total freaking disaster. He must be killing himself.’
Lorcan looked peeved.
‘Lighten up, Evie,’ he said curtly, ‘It’s just a game. I’m hungry. I’m ordering nachos. If you didn’t want any, a simple “no thank you” would have done it!’
‘Sorry,’ I said miserably.
Lorcan shrugged and called over the guy with the electronic beeper thing to take down his order.
‘You sure you don’t want any?’ Lorcan asked me.
‘I’m sure,’ I said.
The second half of the game started, but I had zero interest in watching it. Finn’s team fell hopelessly behind. Lorcan ate his nachos very noisily.
‘You know,’ he said, wiping bright orange plastic cheese from his mouth, ‘Finn’s team is going to lose now because of his temper. If I was on his team, I would not be impressed with that dude.’
I felt like giving Lorcan a slap and only restrained myself by sit
ting on both of my hands. The game was only five minutes away from the end. It was a slaughter. I couldn’t bear to watch anymore. I went to the bathroom. As I dried my hands, I heard the blow of the final whistle and the loud grating party song over the loudspeakers. Outside the bathroom, in the corridor, I noticed a hunched figure a little ahead. FINN! He must have come out some back exit.
‘Finn,’ I called, ‘Wait up!’
He stopped and turned, looked at me and waited. The right side of his face was messed up pretty bad. I bit my lip.
‘Are you ok?’ I asked inanely.
‘I’ve felt better,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘For what? You didn’t do anything. That was all me out there on the ice, me and my dumbass temper.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said again, ‘because I know it’s so much worse when you do it to yourself.’
‘It is, isn’t it,’ he said, ‘I’m no better than my mom’s drug dealer. Letting that dumb guy provoke me. That was their plan and I walked straight into it, like they knew I would. I blew it Evie, my one shot and I threw it away like it meant nothing.’
‘You’ll get another shot at it,’ I said confidently.
‘This isn’t some Hollywood movie,’ he said, ‘there won’t be any other chances. There are plenty of guys out there who can play. You think any scout is going to take a chance on someone with a discipline problem.’
‘So you’ll show them that you don’t have a problem; that you can keep it together.’
‘I told you. There won’t be another chance.’
‘You’ll make one!’ I said confidently.
‘Doubt it,’ he said but he gave me that familiar half-grin.
‘You can do it,’ I said, ‘you’re brave; you beat the New York divorce courts by running off to Wisconsin. So, this should be a cinch.’
‘You’re the one who’s brave,’ he said, ‘watching your mother die and then having to move to a whole new country.’