When Benji slips out, for once I am happy to be with such a rowdy group of people. Charity may have prompted lots of cheering, but it’s nothing compared to the welcome that Benji receives. Denise puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles, and Doug says, “Hey, look, it’s the Cowardly Lion!” Strangers step forward to clap Benji on the back and say congratulations as he makes his way over to his cheering section. Even under all that foundation, I can see that he’s turned a deep shade of pink.
“You were truly wonderful,” Mom says warmly.
Doug holds out his hand for a shake. “Bang-up job, Benjamin.”
Benji’s father steps forward, thrusting an armload of individually wrapped roses toward Benji. There must be at least a dozen of them in all colours: red, yellow, pink, and white.
“For me?” Benji says.
The Dentonator nods. “That was really something. I never could have got up there in front of all those people,” he says.
I roll my eyes, but by the way Benji grins I can tell he doesn’t think it was a lame thing to say.
“Would you look at that,” Denise whispers. “He must have bought up every last one of those roses.”
“He has a good heart,” Mom says.
Denise gets a familiar sparkle in her eye. “You know, he is still in good shape for a man his age.”
Mom laughs. I’ve heard about as much as I can handle. I break away from the group and make my way toward the star, withering under the weight of all his flowers.
“Need a hand with all those flowers?” I ask. Benji hands me a bouquet, but keeps clutching the dozen or so single roses from his dad. “I got something for you, too, but I’ll give it to you later. It looks like you’ve got your hands full anyway.”
“You didn’t have to,” Benji protests.
“Don’t be stupid, I wanted to!” I insist.
“What did you think? Honestly?”
“Honestly? It was amazing. You were amazing. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear all those people cheering for you.”
Benji grins. “I totally did. Are you coming out with us?”
“Where are you going?”
“Most of the cast is going to the Dairy Bar for ice cream. It’s tradition.”
“I wouldn’t want to be in the way. It sounds like it’s a cast thing.”
“I want you to come. Mattie and Andrew can come, too. Please, Clarissa? You haven’t come to anything yet.”
“Okay. But only because you’re a star.”
Mess
The Dairy Bar is at full capacity. Outside, people sprawl across the picnic tables and run back and forth from the pickup window carrying ice cream cones in both hands. It’s the first night that feels like summer is right around the corner. The unexpected heat is making people giddy. And flirty. I feel like I’m in the middle of some teenage mating ritual.
Inside, the Dairy Bar is full of actors and their friends. It is the perfect after-show hangout for theatre types: loud, fun, and campy. All of the employees wear pointed paper caps that look like they may have been children’s sailing boats in another life. The radio is tuned to the oldies station and at every booth there is a shrine to someone famous and long-dead: James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley. Mattie, Andrew, Benji, and I stuff ourselves into the I Love Lucy booth.
Mattie grabs the menu, personalized with all sorts of I Love Lucy facts, and reads aloud. “Did you know seven out of every ten people with televisions watched the episode where Lucy gives birth to Little Ricky?”
“Gross! Can’t you read the specials?”
“It’s not like they showed the actual process of birth,” Mattie protests.
I shudder and cover my ears.
“All right, all right! Oh, look! Onion rings are half price! I love onion rings, only I can never finish an entire basket …” Mattie trails off, smiling sweetly at Andrew.
“Do you want to share a basket?” he asks. That Andrew is much quicker on the uptake than Josh Simmons.
Mattie’s smile goes from bright to megawatt. “I would love to!”
It occurs to me that this is where my dad took my mom on their first date. I wonder which booth they sat in. Probably James Dean. The tortured-poetic types (or the type that pretends to be a tortured poet) would probably pick James Dean. Doug would never pick James Dean. He’d pick something goofy. In fact, he’d probably sit right here, in the I Love Lucy booth. I hate to admit it, but these days I am on Team Doug. Sorry, Bill. DNA isn’t everything.
“Do you want to split something?” Benji asks me.
“No way, I can eat an entire basket to myself and then some. Besides, I think I want ice cream.”
“Hey, look, it’s The Benj!” Beckett enters the Dairy Bar, followed closely by Mika and some other girls I don’t recognize. One of them can’t keep her arms off him, and the other keeps smiling with her mouth closed. As they get closer I can see the glint of braces in her mouth. They must have been in the play, because I can still see smudges of eyeliner and streaks of orange foundation on their necks. Mika has her arm flung around Beckett’s shoulder and is gazing adoringly at his face. Beckett doesn’t seem to notice.
Somehow, all four of them end up squeezing into our booth. Mattie is pressed right up against Andrew, who blushes and pretends to be studying the menu.
Soon fries and onion rings arrive in red plastic baskets, lined in white newsprint. Beckett makes a big show of smacking his lips and licking each vinegar-stained finger. “Magnifico!” he says.
“What’s that, Spanish?” Mika asks.
Cripes.
“So what did you guys think of the show?” Braces asks. “Tell the truth.”
“It was amazing,” Mattie says. “I loved every second of it.”
“Hard to believe it was The Benj’s first show,” Beckett says, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “He’s a natural.”
Benji winces, rubbing his arm, but he can’t help but smile at the same time. “Thanks.”
“The first of many, right, little bro?” Beckett holds his hand out for a high-five, which Benji reluctantly gives him.
“I hope so,” Benji says earnestly, making the girls laugh.
“You are just the cutest thing,” says Octopus Arms, reaching out and pinching Benji’s cheek. “Isn’t he the cutest thing?”
Mattie sniffs and her shoulders stiffen. Clearly I’m not the only one who finds these showgirls annoying.
“If by cute you mean talented, then yes,” I say coldly.
“Who is this chick?” Braces asks.
“My name is Clarissa Louise Delaney,” I say evenly.
“Oooh, is this your girlfriend, Benji?” Braces teases.
“I hope not,” says Octopus Arms, removing her tentacles from Beckett and draping her arm around Benji’s shoulders. “This one is good boyfriend material.”
Benji turns almost as red as the ketchup on the table and squirms under Octopus Arms’ tentacle. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom,” he says.
Beckett cups his hands around his mouth and adopts a corny radio announcer’s voice. “Ladies and Gents, The Benj!” Mika and the other girls laugh as Benji scurries toward the bathroom, head down, cheeks burning.
Once he’s safely out of earshot, Braces leans across the table. “No, seriously. So what’s the deal? Are you guys together?”
“No, we are not together,” I say. I have to speak slowly and carefully to keep from exploding.
“Clarissa’s already taken,” Mattie chimes in. Everyone is surprised, but no one more than me.
“Really?” Andrew asks, frowning.
Mattie panics. “Well, in her heart anyway,” she says uncertainly.
Octopus Arms and Braces lean forward expectantly. “Sounds like there’s a story there,” says Braces.
Mattie busies herself by stuffing what’s left of the onion rings into her mouth and avoiding eye contact. So much for her “don’t eat like a pig in front of boys” philosophy.
“No story,” I say
quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly, because Braces and Octopus Arms share a knowing glance and then turn all sympathetic.
“Boys suck,” Braces says.
“Really suck,” Octopus Arms agrees.
“Hey!” Beckett protests. “I’m sitting right here!”
“You’re not a boy, you’re a man,” Mika giggles.
Barf. If this is what high school is like, I’ll stay back a year, thank you very much.
“It’s okay, she’s just upset,” Mattie explains to the rest of the table.
“I am not upset,” I insist through gritted teeth.
“Let it all out, Clarissa. It’s healthy to let your feelings out,” Braces says.
“Let what out? What’s the matter?” A hush falls over the table as Benji slides back into his seat, looking at me with concern. When no one offers an explanation, he asks again. “Clarissa? What are you upset about?”
I try to blow it off. “Nothing, Benji, don’t worry about it.”
But Mattie isn’t having any of it. “It’s Michael,” she confesses. “You know, in a million years I never would have thought that he of all people would treat a girl like this. He seems so respectful.”
Now Benji looks truly alarmed. “Treat a girl like what? What’s going on?”
“He still hasn’t called her.”
“So?”
“So? A whole week is a long time not to call someone after you’ve kissed them.”
Benji’s mouth drops open. “You KISSED him?”
Braces lifts her hand for a high-five. “All right! Nicely done, Clarissa!”
I send her a glare powerful enough that she drops her hand and looks sheepish. “Yes, I kissed Michael, and he hasn’t talked to me since. Can we please move on?”
Benji is crestfallen. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Well, obviously nothing came of it, so there was nothing to tell.”
Mika shakes her head. “Boys,” she says. Octopus Arms and Braces nod with her.
“Oh, Clarissa. I’m so, so sorry,” Benji says. He looks so sad I want to punch him.
“Don’t be sorry for me! I don’t care! It didn’t mean anything. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I lost Suzy and then I got the news about my mom and then we found Suzy again, and it just happened. I would have kissed anybody who was there, I would have kissed him!” In my panicked state, I point wildly at Beckett who, for once, is at a loss for words.
Mika gives me the stink-eye and puts a protective hand on Beckett’s arm, who finds his voice again.
“Whoa, Clarissa, you’re nice and everything, but I think you’re a little young for me —”
“Cripes, I didn’t mean I’d actually do it. It was just an example! As if I’d want to kiss you.”
Braces frowns and says, “Whoa, Clarissa, that was harsh.”
“Listen, Basket —”
“It’s Beckett —”
“I don’t care what your stupid name is. You don’t know anything about me, so just back off.”
“And I thought Charity was a drama queen,” Octopus Arms mutters under her breath.
To my surprise, I find myself defending Charity. “Hey! Leave Charity out of this!”
“Aren’t we touchy,” Braces says primly.
I want to rip the braces right off her teeth. “I am not touchy and I am not mad about Michael. I don’t care about Michael Greenblat. I’m sorry I ever kissed him and I’m sorry I ever told anyone about it! So please stop putting words into my mouth and believe me when I say, once and for all, that Michael Greenblat is as good as dead to me!”
I turn on my heel, ready to make a grand exit worthy of the stage — the kind people will be talking about for months to come — only to see Michael loitering near the cash register, staring at me like I’m some kind of horrible, heartless person.
Which, of course, at least in this instant, I am.
Over
“Michael? Michael!” I push my way through the crowds but am not fast enough to catch up to Michael, who has slipped out the front door and into the night. I sit on an empty picnic table bench, feeling about as low as low can be. A bell jingles and Mattie exits the Dairy Bar, smilingly sadly at me.
“Well, that’s the end of that,” I sigh.
“Maybe not,” Mattie says, but I can tell that she doesn’t believe it.
“Well, I might as well go home. I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s night.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Mattie agrees.
“Let’s go.”
Mattie hesitates, twirling a thick chunk of hair around her finger. “Actually, Andrew asked if he could walk me home. Do you mind?”
“Of course not! Go, go! I’ll be fine.”
Mattie looks intensely relieved. “Oh, thank you! I hope you don’t feel abandoned. It’s not that I value boys over our friendship. It’s just, well, he’s going to walk me home!”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Because if you want me to, I can go with you. Sisters before misters and all that.”
“It’s fine, Mattie, really.”
Mattie gives me a quick hug. “I’ll call you when I get home and tell you everything, I promise!” Mattie runs back into the Dairy Bar to retrieve her purse and her date, just missing Benji who approaches me like you would a wild animal — slowly, and with caution.
“Are you heading home?” he asks.
I nod. “I don’t want to cause any more damage.”
“I’ll come with you.”
We walk in silence before Benji clears his throat and says, “Well, that was something.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your party.”
“You didn’t ruin it,” Benji says. “Actually, you were kind of the life of the party. People will be talking about this for ages.”
“Oh, great!” I moan. “I’ve really done it this time, haven’t I?”
Benji nods grimly. “I’ll say. The truth is, Clarissa, whether you want to admit it or not, you’re very good at causing drama.”
“But I don’t mean to!” I wail.
Benji pats my shoulder. “I know.” He pauses, then asks, “Why didn’t you tell me about Michael?”
“You mean about the —”
Benji blushes and cuts me off. “Yeah, about the …”
“See? You can’t even say it! How could I tell you about it knowing it would make you so uncomfortable!”
“I thought we were best friends.”
“We are!” I take a breath and try to explain it to him. “It all happened so fast. We had just found out that my mom’s cancer was all gone, and you were so busy with the show and your new friends, and I guess I just didn’t think you’d be interested.”
Benji stops dead in his tracks and stares at me in disbelief. “Of course I’d be interested!”
“I thought maybe you’d think I was trying to steal your thunder or something,”
Benji frowns. “Steal your thunder?” he repeats.
I wave him off. “It’s something Mattie says. Anyway, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll tell you about any future kissing. Not that it will be happening any time soon,” I add wryly.
Benji grimaces. “No, I guess not.”
“What do I do now?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“You have to go apologize to Michael.”
I sigh. “I feel like all I do these days is apologize for all the stupid things I’ve been doing lately.” I look to Benji for strength. “This is going to be hard.”
“Really hard,” Benji adds.
“What do I say?”
“I don’t know,” Benji admits, “but I’m glad I’m not you right now.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Wish
It takes me a full day to work up the courage to go over and apologize to Michael. I spend most of it pacing around the house until my mom hollers at me from the Hair Emporium, where she’s giving it a good clean.
“Y
ou’re wearing down the carpet,” she complains. “Are you going to tell me about it or do I have to get my scissors out again?”
I know she’s joking, but I run my hand through my slightly too-short hair and laugh nervously. I trudge downstairs and flop into one of the big, red chairs. “I have to apologize to someone,” I admit.
“Who?” she asks.
“Michael.”
To her credit, Mom only nods, as if it’s normal that we’re talking about a boy who is not Benji. “What did you do?” she asks, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Hit him with a badminton racquet?”
“I wish,” I say. “I said some horrible things about him in front of a group of people. I didn’t know he was there. Not that that makes any difference.”
Mom’s eyebrows go up but she continues scrubbing. “A group of people?” she repeats.
“Well, a restaurant full of friends and strangers,” I clarify.
“Ouch,” Mom says. “Sounds like apologizing is the right thing to do.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Of course not. If apologizing were easy, we’d have achieved world peace ages ago.”
I smile in spite of myself. “Is that what you wished for when you won the Dairy Queen pageant?”
Mom laughs. “God, no, that’s way too Miss America. I wished for tax relief for farmers.”
“Really?”
“Well, the pageant was sponsored by the dairy farmers of Ontario.”
“Still, that’s a little obvious, isn’t it?”
Mom shrugs. “I just played the game by their rules, made everyone feel good about themselves and the work that they do. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. Besides, a true wish is something private. Definitely not something you share with a panel of judges.”
“Have you ever had a wish come true?” I ask.
Mom smiles. “Twice. First with you and now —”
“— with Doug,” I finish.
“Bingo.”
It’s now or never. I take a deep breath and let the first of many things that have been weighing me down off my chest. “I snooped in his closet, when I went to feed Suzy.”
Mom puts down the sponge she’s been using to scour the sinks in the Hair Emporium. She doesn’t say a word, just stares at me expectantly.
Love is a Four-Letter Word Page 18