by J. Minter
“Where’s Philippa, darling?” his mother asked.
“Her dad won’t let her speak to me.”
“You know, mijito,” his father said, “if hanging around with your buddies is going to get you nearly killed, then maybe that’s over, you know?”
“Say what?”
“You heard me, mijito desobediente!”
“You’re nuts, Dad!”
“Chiflado? You think so? No more Philippa for you, hijo! I agree with that Jackson Frady. You’re driving us both loco!”
Ricardo and Mickey glared at each other. So Mickey jumped back and slammed the door to his bedroom, turned around, and threw himself on his bed. Or rather, threw himself where he thought his bed was. But as he felt the hard waxed concrete of the bedroom floor crunch against his elbow, he remembered that he’d rearranged the room in a fit of drugged ecstasy the day before. Taken all the rugs and soft things and put them in a big box in the corner.
“Oww,” he groaned.
the school week, which can’t be helped
too late for david and amanda
David walked out of school on Monday afternoon with his head hung low. Earlier, his science teacher had wondered aloud if he’d broken his neck. He had a date to meet Amanda at Silver Spurs. He planned to arrive early and order a strawberry milk shake, on the off chance that the sugar rush would make him happy.
“Have a good night, crybaby,” somebody yelled out.
“Hey, everybody make way for the most sensitive guy in the world!” a freshman on the hockey team yelled.
David knocked the kid out of his way without looking up. The guys from the hockey team had, of course, seen the Rangers-Flyers game. And his own guys from the basketball team hadn’t bothered to defend him. The whole thing was worse than embarrassing. It would become school lore, the kind of story that would maybe even get its own page in the yearbook.
He slung his messenger bag over his Potterton Basketball jacket and headed for the diner. On the way, he punched in #3 on his cell after Mom, and Amanda, and Jonathan picked up.
“Are you ready for my advice?” Jonathan asked, after hearing David’s story about what Amanda had done, which of course was a completely different story than what Jonathan had actually seen with his own two eyes.
“I’m ready.”
“Break up with her before she breaks up with you.”
“Why would I want to do that?” David asked. He stopped short in the middle of Bleecker Street and a cabdriver screamed at him in Farsi, which David knew, slightly, because of a trip he’d taken to Iran the previous summer with his parents. So he apologized, in Farsi. The cabdriver said to forget it before driving off.
“She cheated on you.”
“But I love her.”
“Look, you’ve got to be strong.”
“I do?” David asked. He was close to the restaurant now. The dangling Silver Spurs logo hung in front of him like a pair of Amanda’s gigantic earrings.
“Tell her to go to hell.”
“No way!”
“It’s the only way,” Jonathan said, before David hung up on him.
David had seen Amanda slip into the diner, her mouth in a frown. She was so short and he was so tall. He shook his head. They could have been so perfect. He sighed and opened the restaurant’s door.
“What are you getting?” David asked. He’d sat down with Amanda and now they both looked miserable.
“Grilled cheese with bacon and tomato,” Amanda said. She was always ordering stuff like that and then taking only two bites and pushing the plate aside. The booth they’d gotten was by the door, which kept opening and shutting, letting cool air in. This increased their shuddering. A waitress came by and dropped menus on the table before walking away.
They stared at each other, and David knew he was doing what he always did, which was getting blown away by how pretty she was, with her long blond hair and piercing green eyes.
“Who was it?” David asked.
“I don’t want to say,” Amanda said. “I’m not sure it meant anything. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t.”
“I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“What?” she asked.
“You heard me. You cheated on me, I can’t trust you. It’s over.” He stood up and his legs felt like they were made of potato salad. But he knew Jonathan’s advice was right.
“David, wait—”
“I can’t. I know what happened isn’t anybody’s fault and I don’t blame you, but I can’t see you anymore.”
“You’re being unreasonable.” There was a quaver in her voice that felt unfamiliar to him. Maybe she really did care about him? He’d never dared to believe that before. And now it was too late. Then she stood, too.
“Forget it,” David said. “I loved you.”
Then he was out the door, walking fast away from her, west, toward his parents’ apartment building, desperately trying not to think about what he’d done.
is my cousin an evil person?
“How’d it go?” I asked. I was standing in the doorway of my brother’s old room. Kelli was packing a small bag and prancing around.
“How’d what go?”
“Your Barnard interview, stupid.”
“Oh.” Kelli turned around and smiled at me, in that kind of sickly sweet slutty way she had. She was chewing furiously on what smelled like Bubblicious. She blew a bubble at me. She was probably using three pieces.
“It was totally cool,” she said. “We talked about art, mostly.”
“Art?”
“Yeah, what’s happening on the scene here in the city. Who the hot young artists are, what we can expect in the future, that sort of thing.”
“No kidding.” I looked down the hall, searched for a hidden camera crew or something.
My mom was up at Canyon Ranch in the Berkshires with Kelli’s mom for Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday. So we were alone in the apartment.
“What do you know about art?” I asked.
“Not much,” she said. “But I’m a fast learner.”
She was packing some of her clothes into a leather Polo overnight bag that belonged to my brother.
“Listen, I’m flying down to South Beach in a couple of hours with Randall Oddy. Would you cover for me if my mom calls? Tell her my cell died and I’m in the bathtub so I can’t take the call ’cause I don’t want to get electrocuted.”
I realized that was my mouth was open, so I shut it.
“You think that’s not a good excuse?” she asked. “Tell her I’ve fallen in love with a mad talented young artist and I’ve decided to throw away my future in order to become his muse.”
“Wait, didn’t Arno invite you down there?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’ll be there, too. I might stay with him. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll do anything for me.” She was putting on bracelets, what seemed like a lot of them, and then she checked her shirt, and looked as if she wanted to change it. I didn’t move. She shrugged and slipped off her shirt, so she was wearing only a tiny black lace bra. She said, “Don’t be creepy. We’re cousins. Anyway, sometimes when I meet people, they just fall for me instantly; it’s a thing I have.”
I turned around and looked at some boring photograph of lightning we had in our hall, in order to not totally check Kelli out.
“I doubt he’d do anything for you,” I said. “And he didn’t fall for you the moment he saw you. Half an hour after he met you, he was making out in a bathroom with Amanda Harrison Deutschmann.”
“Really,” Kelli said. “So he’s the kind of guy who fools around with his buddy’s girlfriend. That’s interesting to know.”
“I was kidding,” I said quickly. “You’re right. He’ll do anything for you.”
Kelli turned around and smiled at me.
“Yeah, right,” she said.
“Kelli, don’t tell anybody what I just said. I didn’t mean to say it.”
“Oh, you can trust me. Now could you get out of here? I need
to overhaul my outfit so I’ll look kick-ass for this trip.”
“Damn,” I said. And shook my head. “The devil really can take any form.” I backed out the door and shut it. I walked slowly backward down the corridor and got myself into the relative safety of my own room. When I closed the door, my cell was ringing, thank God.
“I’m bored,” Liza said.
“Me, too. There’s absolutely nothing going on.”
“Yeah, right. You want to go to Other Music and buy CDs?”
“Does this mean we’re cool again?”
“Forget the other night,” Liza said. “I’m over you. And I’m supposed to read Madame Bovary in French and I’m not really up for that right now, so come out and meet me.”
I wasn’t sure I believed Liza, but I went downstairs to see her anyway, without saying goodbye to my cousin, who was on the phone to someone, saying something about how much she loved the power of mixing film and art. Man. Next thing she’d be directing features and hanging out with Sofia Coppola.
“Any good gossip?” Liza asked, once we’d reached Broadway and been swept up in the crowd of NYU students and tourists.
“No,” I said quickly.
We went into Other Music and started flipping through the “IN” section. Sometimes I looked through the “OUT” section, which could be much, much cooler than the “IN” section, because it was filled with stuff nobody was going to know about for another three months, but I just didn’t have the energy right then. I was also kind of afraid I’d find some CD with Kelli’s picture on the front.
“How do you know when someone’s a really bad person?” I asked. They were playing the new Flaming Lips, and I hummed along.
Liza smiled. She was going through everything by Cat Power. Chan Marshall was her favorite person, and Cat Power was her favorite band.
“Since arriving in high school, I’ve asked myself that many times,” she said.
“And what’ve you come up with?”
“If they lie to you, they’re not very genuine. Everything else is splitting hairs.”
We leaned against the “French Decadence” section and watched a ninth grader in a black leather jacket shoplift the new Interpol CD. He was a far-too-cool kid named Adam Rickenbacher, and he went to school with David. I’d seen him hanging around the Flood house once or twice and I wasn’t into him. He palmed an old Sonic Youth CD and took that, too.
“So what do you do?” I asked. “If someone lies?”
I nodded at Adam Rickenbacher and he nodded back. Hey yourself, you little bastard.
“Try to trust a few people at a time,” Liza said. “And keep your fingers crossed.”
“I wish my cousin would go back to St. Louis,” I said. “She’s freaking me out.”
“I wish she would, too,” Liza said. “Anyway, do we have to talk about her?”
“What else should we talk about?” I asked. I looked at her and then it was obvious. She wanted to talk about us, and I had nothing to say.
“I heard that David broke up with Amanda,” she said.
“Oh yeah?”
“So I was thinking that I’d go out with David. The reason I called you is I was wondering, would you care?”
Not unless you were Flan, I thought. And then I felt suddenly sure about Flan, who I’d promised myself I wouldn’t go near, and really bad about Liza, who seemed to be able to tell from my face that she didn’t want to hear my response. I was kind of shocked at my own feelings, so I looked at my hands, which didn’t help. They were trembling.
Then, WOOOwooWOOOwoo—the alarm at the door went off and several of the balding/shaved-head Other Music employees went running after Adam Rickenbacher.
“That kid’s got something going for him,” Liza said.
“Give me a break,” I said.
“I guess I will, from now on.”
“You’re not going to go out with David, are you?”
“Nah,” Liza said. “He’s too sweet for my taste.”
Liza and I ambled out of there.
mickey gets to see his forbidden philippa
“You are not the most sensitive guy in the world!” Mickey said to David. They stared at each other for one very sober moment and then Mickey started laughing. It was Tuesday night and they were standing in front of Philippa Frady’s house.
“I mean, that’s pretty funny when you think about it,” Mickey said. “There’s people that’d kill for that title, probably. So if you see it in a certain way, it’s cool.”
“What are we doing out here anyway?” David asked miserably.
“Philippa said she’d show me a sign from her room if she wasn’t in trouble anymore.”
“What’s the sign?” David asked.
“Her, without her shirt on.”
“What about me seeing?”
“Cover your eyes.”
Then the two of them were very quiet, staring up at the windows on the third floor. David had his hands over his eyes and he was peeking through his fingers. Mickey knew he was doing this, but it didn’t bother him. Mickey and Philippa didn’t care if people saw them naked.
“What happened with Amanda?” Mickey asked.
“Jonathan told me to break up with her, so I did it.”
“If he told you to—”
“To jump off a building? No, dude, I’d call you and you’d do it.”
“You totally love her, don’t you.”
“Yeah,” David said. “And now she’s not speaking to me.”
“How long?”
David checked his watch. Mickey kept his eyes on the window. He’d never cared much for Amanda anyway. She was too full of it. That’s why he was with Philippa. They had a primal thing going.
“Thirty hours now,” David said. He looked over at Mickey, who hadn’t been in school for two days and was now looking incredibly bonged out, as if happy aliens had just taken over his body.
“What happened to you?” David asked.
“I got the sign.”
David jerked his head up quickly, but he’d missed it.
“I’ll see you later,” Mickey said.
“Where are you going?”
“Over there,” Mickey said. He began to go up her steps. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”
“We don’t go to the same school.”
“Sounds good,” Mickey said. The door opened and there was Philippa Frady, wearing nothing but a bathrobe.
“Hi, baby,” Mickey said. “I missed you.”
“You big dummy,” Philippa said. “Last night my dad said if I ever see you again he’s going to send me to one of those schools they have on boats in the Caribbean.” And she threw her arms around him.
“Where are your parents?”
“Having dinner up at Bolo. I’m supposed to meet them there, but I think I forgot.”
They moved back into Philippa’s house, which rivaled the Flood house for hugeness. But because Philippa was an only child, and she wasn’t allowed to have parties, the whole place was incredibly clean, almost like a museum.
“What do you want to do instead?” Mickey asked.
“I want us to be the most romantic couple in the whole world,” Philippa said. “We can be like Romeo and Juliet.”
They crept upstairs to her room.
“Let’s just be us,” Mickey said.
too little kelli, too many guys
Arno paced back and forth in Miami International Airport, waiting for Kelli. He was wearing white pajama pants, a torn black T-shirt, and no shoes, which he’d argued about with airport security twice already. But he wanted to look totally cool for Kelli, because now, for reasons he didn’t quite get, he was vying for her against Randall Oddy. Arno didn’t particularly like a challenge, but he definitely had one.
“What’s up, lover?” Kelli came up behind him and grabbed his stomach and kissed him on the cheek. He thought she smelled like fabric softener and daisies and airline daiquiris.
“Hi,” he whispered. He knew he
sounded shy and wondered what was going on. Normally, if he was going to meet a girl, he liked to show up with another girl, or two other girls, so they’d be jealous of each other and subsequently make out with him quicker. But he kept forgetting about other girls when he was thinking about Kelli.
Then he noticed that Randall Oddy was with her. Arno rubbed his eyes, but Randall didn’t go away.
“Hey, kid,” Randall said. “I missed my plane so when I saw Kelli I jumped on her.”
They laughed and bumped up against each other.
“My—” But Arno managed to catch himself before he said dad and added isn’t going to give you another show if you try to get with my girl.
“Your?”
“Car is downstairs,” Arno said. He’d borrowed an extremely cool 1974 white Cadillac convertible from the manager of his dad’s gallery, and he had it downstairs. He could barely drive it, being from the city and all, but he’d figured on Kelli driving, which would’ve been really cute. But now he’d have to, as he was damned if Randall Oddy was going to sit anywhere but in the backseat.
“Your dad ready to rock tonight?” Randall asked. He threw his arm around Arno, who glared at him. Randall was wearing an Annihilate the Rich T-shirt, Prada flipflops, and paint-splattered jeans. Arno restrained a strong inclination to point at Randall, scream terrorist, and run away with Kelli.
Outside it was painfully bright and blistering hot. There were palm trees everywhere and the sultry weather slowed them down as they walked to the car.
“I really like it here,” Kelli said.
“I thought you would,” Arno and Randall said at the same time.
During the drive, everybody sang along to the awful top 40 hit radio station, which played a lot of Latin stuff that Kelli knew better than both of them. She could really belt out a song. And so there she sat, cross-legged in the passenger seat, while Randall lounged in the back and Arno drove white-knuckled through the late-afternoon Miami traffic. They made a pretty cool-looking threesome, not that it meant much to Arno.