by Jane Gentry
“Did you find a suitably hidden place?” he asked. “Because if I don’t get a real, honest-to-God kiss, I am going to go up in flames.”
“We might go up in flames if we do,” said Elizabeth, remembering the heat in her fantasies and the fire in her dreams. She took his hand and guided him down the back hall, opened the door and stepped into the garage. “Here we are.”
“Perfect,” said Steve.
“Anyplace would be perfect.”
He took her into his arms. “Anyplace at all,” he agreed. “Anyplace at all.”
Their lips met. His mouth was hard and hungry, and his kiss was everything she had wanted it to be. But it was over too fast and left them both feeling incomplete.
* * *
For the next week Steve and Elizabeth established a clandestine routine: arrive ten minutes before detention ends, walk around to the back of the school bleachers, behind a concealing row of fir trees. One quick kiss quickly returned, rush back to one car or the other and hold hands and talk and yearn and desire and ache until the girls emerge, sour and unrepentant, to be driven home.
Steve still held out hope for the civilizing effects of a pizza parlor full of arcade games. Elizabeth held out absolutely no hope whatever. She expected the worst. It was what she’d become accustomed to.
On Saturday night, at six forty-five, Cara was still in her room, with the door locked.
Elizabeth sat on the top stair with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, wondering just what to do next. The usual threats and bribes had failed. Finally she took the chignon pin out of her hair and unlocked Cara’s door.
Cara was on her window seat, gazing out into the lowering night.
“You’re invading my privacy,” she said.
“Only adults are entitled to complete privacy. Children have to be monitored.”
Cara’s head snapped around. She sprang to her feet and slapped her developing bosom with the flat of one hand.
“I am not a child!” she announced, wild-eyed with insult. “I am a woman!“
She strode from the room.
Elizabeth managed to shut the door before she collapsed. She muffled her laughter by burying her face in a pillow and emerged some time later breathless and weak with hilarity.
“I will keep a straight face!” she told herself sternly, and left the room to deal with her obstinate daughter.
Cara sat hunched on the floor in the den, two feet from the television. The doorbell rang.
“Cara,” said Elizabeth.
Cara got to her feet and headed for the stairs. Elizabeth blocked her path and took her by the shoulders.
“This will do you no good,” she said evenly. “If you refuse to go with us, I am not going to make a scene by using physical force. We simply will all stay here, all four of us. In the same room. All night long.”
Cara’s eyes blazed. If looks could kill, thought Elizabeth, and continued. “If you go to your room, we will all come sit in your room. I personally will sit in front of the door so that you cannot leave. You and I together are going to spend the entire evening with the Rikers. If you find pizza and video games preferable to spending five hours trapped in your bedroom with Melody, then you’d better go and get your coat.”
With that, she moved out of Cara’s way and opened the door to Steve.
He scanned the room behind her as he stepped inside.
“Where’s Cara?” he asked, tilting her face up to his for a quick kiss.
“Getting her coat, I hope,” she said. “Your lips are cold.”
“All of me is cold.” He grinned. “If we weren’t so rigidly chaperoned. I’d let you warm me up.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and stage-whispered, “It wouldn’t take much to do the job.”
“Probably not,” she acknowledged. “Where’s Melody?”
“Sulking in the car.” He didn’t sound concerned.
“Cara’s only coming because I told her we’d all sit in her room the entire night if she didn’t.”
Laughter rumbled briefly in his chest.
They heard Cara stomping down the stairs, and each thudding footfall resounded with rage.
“I can’t imagine what you find to be amused about,” said Elizabeth testily. “This is going to be like spending the evening with Truman and MacArthur.”
“Freud and Jung.”
“Tom and Jerry,” said Elizabeth.
“Punch and Judy,” said Steve. “Well, it’s a first step, honey.” He took her coat from her hands and held it while she put her arms in the sleeves. “We’ll have a good time. Let ‘em sulk.”
Sounds like whistling in the dark to me, Elizabeth thought, as the three of them left the house.
Both girls were completely silent during the ride. At the arcade they leapt from their seats and slammed the car doors in unison. Melody hurried ahead of the group, and Cara dragged behind them, so no one would suspect that they were together.
“Table for four,” said Steve to the hostess and had to repeat himself to be heard.
“This place is bedlam,” said Elizabeth when they were seated.
And it was. There were forty video machines, all roaring and clanging and pinging in unison. Driving simulators were attached to car and airplane instrument panels and roared like high-tachometer engines. Pinball machines flashed with maniacal lights. Basketball games barked to the room, “Shoot ten baskets in fifteen seconds, win a free round.” And they responded to a successful shot with the roar of a crowd and the excited voice of a sports announcer. A shooting gallery in the rear sounded like an invasion force. And in the center of it all, holding place of pride, was the virtual reality game. There was a small video monitor above the playing circle, which showed the computer action of the game.
An entire battalion, clutching their reservation numbers, waited in line for a chance to match wits with the computer. No one watched the monitor. Instead, they all stared fixedly at the Star Attack player, who stood in the center of a round plastic sensor mat several feet in diameter. He wore a helmet, which completely covered his eyes, and bulky astronaut-type gloves on his hands. All the Star Attack hopefuls watched him avidly.
As far as Elizabeth could tell, they were watching absolutely nothing. The player seemed deranged. He whirled and stabbed and fired an imaginary gun. A steady stream of exclamations, apparently unrelated to anything going on in the room, issued from beneath the opaque helmet.
Even Cara and Melody looked interested, when they thought they were unobserved.
“How does it work?” asked Elizabeth, fascinated by the spectacle.
“There’s a virtual reality projector in the helmet. Sort of like the helmets jet pilots use that print all the plane’s vitals on thin air in front of them. The player is actually inside a computer world, and he’s responding to what he is seeing in his cyber-space universe.” Steve pulled out a chair so that she could sit down. “It is so cool, you won’t believe it.”
“What kind of pizza you want?” asked the kid taking orders.
“I don’t care,” said Cara, tossing her head.
“I don’t care,” sniffed Melody.
“You choose, Elizabeth,” Steve said. “I’ll eat anything.”
“Anchovies, artichoke hearts and hot Italian sausage,” said Elizabeth, beaming at the boy.
“Anchovies!” chorused her three horrified companions.
“I hate anchovies,” said Cara.
“I hate anchovies,” said Melody.
“I’ll eat almost anything,” said Steve. “But not anchovies.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Okay. Two large double pepperoni and mushroom pizzas and a pitcher of cola.”
“You have a weird sense of humor,” said Steve.
“How do you know I wasn’t serious?” she asked, twinkling at him.
“Nobody could be serious about anchovies.” He pushed his chair back. “Excuse me.” In a few minutes he returned with two large drink cups filled with tokens and set one down in front of ea
ch girl. “Come find us when you’ve used these up,” he said, then he held out his hand to Elizabeth. “Ready to play?”
“Do we have to stand in that line?”
“No, we have a number, which they will call when it’s our turn. Those people are standing in line out of habit. Don’t ask me why. There’s certainly nothing to watch. Want to practice on the video games?”
“I’ve never really played many video games,” she said. “I lose so fast that it seems like throwing quarters down a well.”
“Nobody succeeds at first,” he told her. “You have to practice.”
“I’ve always wanted to. I just wouldn’t spend enough money to get good at it. It costs a fortune.”
“Well, here’s a fortune,” he said, handing her a cup of coins. He guided her to a formidable-looking console with supersonic planes darting across its screen. “This one’s the best. You’ll like it.”
“Don’t you want to play?”
“Let’s get you started first.” He placed her hands on the controls. “You ever fly an airplane?”
“Of course not. I’ve driven in New York City, though.”
“Well, this is easier than New York. This is the yoke,” he told her, patting her hands to indicate the wheel she held. “Use it to climb, dive and turn left and right.”
“This thing like a steering wheel, only it’s square?”
“Yeah. Now.” He stood behind her and put his hands over hers. “This lever is the throttle.” He pushed his left thumb down over hers, and the switch under her hand slid upward.
There were two buttons on the yoke under her right thumb. “What are these for?”
“Air-to-air missiles. Don’t waste them. You only have six. For every enemy plane you shoot down, a friendly appears on the screen to help you. The deal is to get rid of six enemies, and then the friendlies do all the shooting so you can concentrate on your bomb runs. This is the bomb release. Target like this and then push the button.”
“This is confusing,” Elizabeth muttered.
Steve put two tokens in the slot. “I’ll coach you. Okay. Here we go. Here comes the first plane. Bank left! Bank left!”
“Frog right,” said Elizabeth. “Does that mean turn left?”
“Yeah, turn. Good, good! Now shoot. Shoot! It’s the other button,” he said kindly, as enemy missiles hit her plane and she blew up. “That one was for the bombs. You hit an orphanage and two hospitals. That cost you twenty-two thousand points. Ready to go again? Don’t let ‘em get behind you.”
She began to get the hang of it about ten dollars later. The hospitals and orphanages were avenged. Elizabeth had destroyed two SAM sites, all six enemy planes and an ammunition dump before she lost her bearings and flew into the ground.
“I think you’re ready for Star Attack,” Steve said.
“I’m ready for a rest,” she said. “That’s really fun, Steve. No wonder you’re hooked on it.”
When they returned to their table, Cara sat unmoved, looking bored, with her cup still full of tokens.
“That rude brat,” said Elizabeth, under her breath.
Melody was nowhere in sight, but they could hear her breathless voice. Over to their left she stood talking to a gaggle of adolescent boys, all of whom seemed enthralled with her presence. When the pizza appeared, Steve called her to the table. She came with her entourage in her wake. They saw her safely seated and then dissipated, chorusing “See ya.”
“Those guys are from the Linwoody School,” she announced. “They’re coming to the Harkness Christmas dance.” She helped herself to the pizza. “Me and Caroline Richards are practicing our dancing together.”
“Caroline Richards and I,” said Cara loftily. “Try to speak good grammar.”
Melody gave Cara a poisonous look. “After me and Caroline practice tomorrow,” she said to her father, “can I go horseback riding out at Aunt Lin’s?”
“I hate horses,” said Cara. “They make me itch.”
“Good, because my Aunt Lin wouldn’t let you near hers. They’re blood stock.”
“Is that the kind they use for dog food?” said Cara, with a curl of her lip.
“Yeah,” said Melody. “I’ll bring you some. What kind do you like to eat best?”
“Good grief,” said Elizabeth to herself. “No wonder they drive Miss Westcott crazy.”
“I think they’re more Abbott and Costello than Punch and Judy,” said Steve, who by then was laughing out loud.
Both girls viewed him suspiciously.
“Who are Abbott and Costello?” asked Melody, suspecting that she’d been insulted.
“Comedians,” said Elizabeth.
“Well, I don’t think she’s funny,” said Melody.
“So like I think you’re funny,” said Cara.
“Shut up and eat, Melody,” said Steve. “Cara, you’re young and fast, and I’m old and slow. Come see if you can beat me at the motocross game.”
Cara, after one look at her mother’s face, reluctantly pushed back her chair and arose.
Elizabeth smiled across the table at Melody. Melody gave a quick grin and ducked her head shyly.
“Have you played this Star Attack game your dad brought me here to see?” Elizabeth asked, cleverly avoiding all the obvious knock-’em-dead conversational stoppers like “How’s school?”, “How do you like living here?” and “Why can’t you get along with Cara?”
Melody nodded.
“How do you do it?” Elizabeth wanted to know. “After I wait all this time, I don’t want to waste my turn.”
Melody munched thoughtfully on her pizza. “They have different levels,” she said finally. “The first one, it has ships landing.” She thought about it some more. “Like, it’s a grid at first. Like a checkerboard. And you point your gun at the grid, but you have to wait till they land and the door opens. Then you shoot. Then the ship blows up.”
“What if you miss one?”
“Then all the aliens get out and you’re dead, because you can’t shoot them all.”
Melody leaned forward. “Then,” she said, looking as enthusiastic about the game as Steve had, “when you get to the second level, there are still lots of ships, but the grid is three dimensional, so you only see certain angles. It’s really neat. And also, I forgot to say, when you turn around, the pad senses where you are, and the screen changes. It is so cool.”
“What pad? That plastic thing he’s standing on?”
“Yeah. It has sensors under it, so it can tell when you move your feet. And also when you move your head, what you see changes, like it’s a real world and you’re really seeing it.”
“No joke,” said Elizabeth. Star Attack began to sound complicated. “Then what, after that?”
“I don’t know. The second level’s as far as I’ve gotten. Sometimes Dad plays it with me, because you can have two people compete. Dad’s gone to level six.”
“How many levels are there?”
“Ten. It is so totally awesome. I just love it.” She grinned—Steve’s wholehearted, appealing, completely entrancing grin. “Just as soon as I manage to make a zillion dollars, I’m going to buy myself one and play it all the time. I’m gonna buy Daddy one, too.”
“How are you going to make a zillion dollars?” asked Elizabeth. Melody, separated from Cara, was charming. Well, she might have suspected that. Cara, separated from Melody, was charming, too. She wondered how Steve was faring and glanced across the room. He and Cara had their heads together, and Elizabeth could tell from the tension in competitive little Cara’s stance that she was working as hard at the game as she worked at everything else.
“I think I’ll design computer games,” said Melody. “They’re what I like best. I’ve already made up two games, and we play them at school.”
“Are you good at math?”
She nodded, and there was no arrogance in her tone as she answered. “Yeah, really good. It’s just like doing puzzles. My mom’s good at math, too.”
“How
about your dad?”
“He’s the best dad in the world, and I really love him, but he can just about add two and two, if he uses his fingers. He said he failed calculus in college, but the professor gave him a D so he’d graduate.” She giggled.
Elizabeth privately wondered if the compassionate professor had been a woman.
“Cara says she wants to be a doctor,” said Elizabeth, carefully introducing her main concern.
Melody was obviously torn between being truthful and being polite. She decided on truth. “I can’t see that,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I think doctors have to be nice to people.” Suddenly her eyes had a shuttered look, and her mouth thinned into that obstinate, unforgiving line which Elizabeth knew so well.
“Melody,” she said urgently. “I can’t seem to get much about this out of Cara. Is there any reason why you two don’t like each other? I have to know.”
“She’s not nice to me,” said Melody.
“Are you nice to her?”
Melody was honest enough to say so. “It makes me mad every time I look at her. But I would be nice to her,” she added, “if she’d be nice to me.”
“That’s what Cara says,” sighed Elizabeth. “But you know, somebody has to start being nice first.”
Melody didn’t have to say, “Well, it’s not going to be me,” but Elizabeth could read it in her face.
“She chews with her mouth open,” said Melody irritably. “Just to gross me out. It’s so disgusting.”
To Melody’s astonishment, Elizabeth laughed. “And vice-versa, I understand.”
Melody tilted her head and grinned. “Well, she started it.”
“Oh, my,” said Elizabeth, around her chuckles. “What in the world are we going to do with the two of you?” She wiped her eyes. “The only thing to do now is go play Space Invaders. I don’t know any other games. Want to?”
“Sure,” said Melody eagerly. “But I could teach you something else. There are lots of fun ones.” She got out of her chair, then turned back to the table. “Here comes Daddy. I think it’s our turn at Star Attack. We had number 164 and it’s 162 on the board now.”
Five minutes later, Elizabeth listened to the last of Steve’s hurried instructions, fitted the virtual reality helmet over her head and allowed the attendant to adjust the bulky gloves to her grip.