Double Clutch

by Liz Reinhardt

  I could see the veins standing out in his neck, could smell the smoky, musky guy smell of him. I knew what his mouth tasted like, knew what it felt like to have his arms around me. I knew he had a strange loyalty that was admirable. I knew he would take a punch in the mouth as penance for hurting his friend. I knew so much about him, and then again, I didn’t know him at all.

  And I realized he was going to kiss me. When we kissed the last time, Jake and I hadn’t been together officially. The only way I could forgive that time was because of a huge technicality. Now, there was nothing like that looming over us. If he kissed me, it would be an affront to my relationship with Jake, and I would have no choice but to tell him.

  And if I had to tell Jake that, it would all come out. That couldn’t happen. Not yet.

  I turned my head so his lips grazed my cheek.

  “You want to. Don’t be such a coward.” His breath was hot on my ear.

  But I kept my face turned away. He looked at me for a few seconds, his chest heaving with his excited breath.

  He put his mouth close to my ear. “You’re a coward. This is bullshit.” He pushed off the wall and stalked away, and I sank down against the door of the student planning offices and sat for a few minutes, until the shaking stopped.

  I walked to class slowly, realizing I would be late, but not caring. When I walked through the door a few seconds after the bell, I saw the entire class buzzing with activity. Only one person sat completely alone, looking like a deer in headlights.

  Devon Conner.

  My partner.

  Everyone else had teamed up in pairs or groups, but Devon sat alone, staring blankly at his assignment page. Mr. Dawes read the newspaper at his desk. He was the kind of teacher who wouldn’t give a crap if Devon didn’t wind up in a group. When it came to classroom social politics, Dawes’s leadership style was a mirror image of Jack’s in Lord of the Flies; kill or be killed.

  I walked in and grabbed the closest empty desk to Devon’s. He looked at me with naked relief on his face.

  “I thought you were absent.” He sank against his seat and rubbed a hand over his forehead.

  “I’m not.” I took out my book and notebook and clicked my pen. “What’s the assignment?”

  Devon grabbed the paper and scanned it. “We have to break Frankford down into the island. We need to talk about how different cliques represent different people or groups.” He looked up and his small eyes searched my face. “I don’t think you would fit anyone on the island.”

  I glanced up from my notebook. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not psychotically cruel, like Jack or you wouldn’t have agreed to be my partner.” Devon doodled small squares on the edge of his notebook. “You’re not a goody-goody like Ralph because you go to Tech and date Saxon Maclean.”

  “I don’t date Saxon,” I interrupted. He raised his bushy eyebrows at me. “I don’t,” I repeated.

  “That’s weird. I saw him put a guy in a headlock for saying you were hot after German yesterday.” Devon scribbled over the squares on his paper.

  I know my face flushed red. “We’re…not dating,” I said finally.

  “Anyway, you aren’t a goody-goody. You aren’t pathetic like Piggy. That’s what people like me represent.”

  “You aren’t pathetic,” I said without much conviction. I just felt pity when I said it. Which was pretty pathetic.

  “Yeah, I am. I know, I’m a little weird. I always have been, socially. I just can’t figure it all out. Like Piggy. Or Simon. Maybe I’m like a combination of them.”

  I cringed. The two who were totally bullied through the entire book.

  “You aren’t like Sam and Eric because there’s no one you’re that close to. You aren’t that popular. And you’re not Roger.”

  “If you meet someone like Roger, run the other way fast,” I said. He smiled at me. It was an awkward, nervous, wary smile, but it was a smile. “You’ll know him. He’ll have a stick sharpened at both ends.”

  He laughed out loud, a kind of donkey bray mixed with a wheeze, but it made me laugh too.

  “So I think we should do whatever we agree on first.” Devon took out a fresh, non-doodled piece of paper. “What about Piggy and Simon?”

  “Don’t lump them,” I warned and took out my own paper. “Piggy is thoughtful and believes in leadership. Simon is more of a free spirit, and he’s the only one who communicates directly with the Beast.”

  Devon and I broke the school down, agreeing on groups and assigning. We gave Piggy to the Righteous Whiners/Social Misfits, those aggravating kids in your AP class who remind the teacher there was supposed to be a pop quiz when everyone else was praying the teacher forgot. Simon, we decided, was the Achieving Pothead group; still socially present, but nervous, panicked and prone to seeing more than was there. Sam and Eric were the jocks and their groupies, happy together, likable, not many real thoughts of their own. Ralph was the Moral Intellectuals, those do-gooder achievers who aced every test and worried over the fate of everyone in the world. Roger was the Quiet Rage group, the ones who loved horror flicks, made lists of people they wanted to kill and were gleeful about torture and little else.

  That left Jack.

  “Jack is Saxon, your not-boyfriend.” Devon wrote Saxon’s name next to Jack before we had even discussed it.

  “Hey, Devon, I think that’s a little bit of a leap.” I tapped my pen on his book.

  Devon looked at me with his eyebrows raised. “You think that’s a leap? He’s arrogant, right?” I nodded. “Kind of charming? Kind of inspiring? Kind of evil? Kind of manipulative?” I was nodding so much I felt like a bobblehead.

  “But that’s just a list of some of his traits,” I argued lamely. Why was it bothering me so much? It was an English assignment. Didn’t I just want it done with? Wasn’t it better to just let Devon fill in whatever and finish?

  “Well, there’s also the core of Saxon.” Devon put his pencil down and looked at me. He was bright and likable. I wondered why he had become the Piggy of the class. Why wasn’t he better liked?

  “What do you think the core of Saxon is?” Devon Conner had secrets I’d never imagined, and I was suddenly interested in knowing him better.

  “That he can take a totally normal situation and twist it until it’s whatever he wants. That’s what Saxon’s all about.” Devon picked his pencil back up and started to write again. “Oh, we need a code name. Dawes said we could use the person for description’s sake, but not to use any real names.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t really listening to Devon. Was Saxon’s mind-gaming that obvious? “Devon?”

  “Yeah?” He looked up from his scribbled notes.

  “Is this all stuff you just noticed about Saxon?”

  “Well, yes, but not really.” I raised my eyebrows, demanding an explanation. “He got the kids in middle school to gang up on me and exclude me.”

  “What did he do?” I wanted to know so badly, but I had a feeling the answer wouldn’t really surprise me.

  “It sounds so stupid.” Devon shook his head and shrugged. “He just said ’fag’ every time he walked by me. Every single time. Always. Even if there was a teacher right by us. He never laughed or said anything else. But it made me into a misfit, and then everyone else just decided to hate me.”

  “That sucks.” I imagined the horror Devon must have gone through day in and day out, battling a master of manipulation.

  “Yeah, I know it sounds dumb. Don’t ask how it worked. That’s Saxon’s magic. He can really subtly bring total havoc.” Devon drummed his pencil on the desk frantically.

  “Like Armageddon.” I echoed Jake’s words from that morning. I looked at Devon; smart, sensible, friendly Devon. How was he still a misfit? “But didn’t Saxon stop?”

  “Oh yeah.” Devon drummed his pencil with more force. “One day instead of saying ‘fag,’ he just completely ignored me. I never really knew why he started. He’s never even talked to me since, like, seventh gr
ade. But whatever he did stuck like a curse.”

  “Devon.” I grabbed his hand and the pencil fell from his fingers. He looked up at me with panic all over his face. “He’s just full of shit. His bullshit can’t define your life.”

  He looked at my hand on his and smiled. “But it’s already defined my life. Don’t look so upset. It’s not so bad.”

  He was different now, comfortable with me. A few days before he had a wild rabbit look to him and he blurted out stupid things with an edginess I knew now was just nerves. He was still under Saxon’s curse, even if everyone else had forgotten.

  “Do you hang out?” I knew I was venturing into dangerous territory.

  “Nope, and I like it like that.” His jaw tightened at his lie.

  “There’s a concert on Saturday. A bunch of us are going.” I made sure my voice was casual.

  “Folly?” He avoided looking directly at me, but I could see he was interested.

  “Yeah. You want to go? My boyfriend can pick you up.” I felt like any wrong word would send him running in the opposite direction.

  He looked at me, not quite trusting me. “I don’t know.”

  I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. You have a cell?” He nodded. “Here.” I wrote my number on a piece of paper. “It’s my number. You can call if you feel like it. Oh and have this.” I pulled one of the Folly shirts I designed and made myself at home. I planned to give them all to Chris so he could consider them for future sales, but it seemed like a decent good faith gift, to let Devon know I wasn‘t inviting him out to get a bucket of pig‘s blood dumped on him at a concert full of his peers. “I designed it for the show, but it’s the first, so no one else has one yet.”

  He held the shirt out and stared. “What if I don’t go?”

  “It’s a t-shirt, Devon. You could always just wear it to school.” I went back to writing, even though my mind pulled in a thousand different directions.

  “I’ll think about it.” Devon said it like he was doing me some big favor. “And, um, thanks.”

  I smiled at him, and we didn’t say anything else for the rest of class, both of us pretty lost in thought.

  By the time the bell rang, we were farther than any other group. Thankfully, Mr. Dawes didn’t feel it necessary to announce that fact to the whole class. Devon and I walked quietly to my government class.

  “I have government now.” I pointed to the door. “Where are you headed?”

  “Biology.” He looked intently at a poster for fall drama auditions on the wall.

  “That’s on the other side of the school. Devon, you don’t have to walk with me.”

  “I like the company.” He tore his eyes away from the poster and smiled.

  I smiled back. “Cool. Think about Saturday. It’s supposed to be pretty fun.”

  He nodded, then gave me an awkward wave and turned the other way. I went into government where Saxon moodily tapped his foot, cell phone in one hand, call sheet in front of him. He barely looked at me when I walked in.

  “Do you remember Devon Conner?” My words clicked out of my mouth with undisguised fury.

  He stopped tapping his foot. “Who are you, the Ghost of Christmas Past? Lay off today, Blix. I’m in no mood.”

  “Do you?” I pressed, ignoring his comment.

  “What part of ‘not in the mood’ causes you confusion?” He met my eyes and tried to stare me down; I wasn’t about to let him win this one. He gave up and shook his head with disgust. “He was some dork I went to middle school with. I haven’t talked to him in years.”

  “Did you organize your classmates to exclude him?”

  He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, then I burned a cross on his front lawn. Could you calm down the melodrama? I was, like, twelve the last time I had him in a class. Whatever I did to him, I’m not apologizing for it now.” He went back to tapping his foot.

  Sanotoni came in and barked a laugh when he saw the cell phones out. He rubbed his hands together. “Looking good, young pollsters. Let’s get started.” He checked his watch. “On the hour. Okay, go!”

  Thumbs worked overtime, and for the next forty-five minutes there was the endless chaos of phone dialing and dozens of low conversations going on simultaneously. Saxon was polite, direct and fast. He flew through half of our list in no time. He got snagged by a few talkers, but managed to get himself out without being rude. I planned on taking my time, but once I got someone on the phone, the thrill of competition crept over me and I couldn’t help but do my best. When the final bell rang, Saxon and I were in the lead, with thirty completed surveys between us.

  “We go again tomorrow. Dismissed,” Sanotoni said.

  “Don’t win this,” I begged Saxon in the hallway. “It’s just going to make problems.”

  He laughed me off. “Don’t try to direct me. I’m not Jake. And try not to be a chicken shit when we win. It’s a day out of here. Plus that,” he said, and he moved his mouth close to my ear, “you know you want to spend the day, just the two of us. Now you don’t have to lie to Jakey. Tell him it’s for school. Don’t go into detail. Wouldn’t want to confuse him.”

  Saxon turned and stalked away, pushing past the flow of traffic just to be an asshole. I was left with nothing to yell at his back; no angry retorts, no smug, self-satisfied comeback. I slunk into art class and grumbled through my macramé mess, ran so hard in gym I could hardly breathe when it was over, and stomped past Saxon on my way out to Jake’s truck.

  He was leaned against the passenger door, and as soon as he saw me, he opened the door and helped me in. That, I thought to myself, was the difference between dating someone like Saxon and dating someone like Jake. Jake had basic manners. Jake was thoughtful and kind. Jake wasn’t wreaking personal Armageddon on the lives of innocent dorks for fun.

  Maybe he had slept with half the female population of Sussex County. I honestly couldn’t care less. He loved me, he was good to me, and when I thought about him it felt like my heart was in bloom.

  He smiled at me from the driver’s side. “I’m loving that I get to see you for lunch.” He pulled me over to the middle and threw his arm around my shoulder. I leaned my head against him and breathed his smell in.

  We pulled up at Tech and he led me into the lunchroom. He felt me hold back a little bit.

  “What’s wrong, Bren?”

  “I just…I don’t know anyone here, I guess.” It was that raw, jangly first-day-of-school feeling all over again, but I was already a month in.

  “I do, though.” He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. “C’mon. You can meet my friends here.”

  We went to a round table, the one I had seen Jake at the day before. “Hey guys,” he said. “Brenna, this is Lou, Jesse, Ellen, Aaron and Chloe.”

  They all smiled friendly smiles and waved.

  “This is the famous Brenna?” Lou asked. His lean face was friendly. “We’ve heard a lot about you. A lot. Like never-endingly a lot.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Shut up,” Jake mumbled, flicking a Dorito from Ellen’s bag at Lou. They laughed again.

  “All good stuff, though,” Lou added.

  “Good to know,” I said and smiled at them all.

  Jake led me to the cafeteria line. The selection was different than Frankford’s, not better or worse, just different. I loaded my tray up.

  “Is it okay here?” Jake stacked two yogurts on my tray with anxious fingers.

  “It’s good.” I squeezed his hand while I balanced my tray with one hand.

  When we got to the checkout cashier, Jake paid for the both of us.

  “I don’t want you doing that.” I put my wallet back in my pocket with a frown.

  “You’re my girlfriend. I want to pay for you. I know you think I’m really poor, but I do work full time.”

  “I don’t think you’re really poor,” I said, even though I did. “I just get money from my parents for lunch. What will I do with it all?”

  He grabbed my tray, put all of
my food on with his, and slid the empty tray under the shared one. “You mean you can’t think of anything to do with extra money?”

  I shrugged. I hadn’t been shopping, except for my room, since I was in Denmark. “Fine. I’ll spend it on something else.” I thought about what I could get Jake for his birthday; would he be offended if I bought him new clothes? Money was a testy issue for him.

  Back at the table, Jake touched my arm and thigh every so often to check on me. I realized part of the reason he wanted me to eat lunch with him was to show me off a little. He bragged for me to his friends, which made me blush and them laugh. It was weird to watch him talk about me. It was like eavesdropping on his thoughts, or reading his journal. If Jake kept a journal. It was flattering.

  The rest of the day flowed smoothly. Our projects were almost ready to submit. We had created a set of business cards for our fictitious companies, and they wound up coming out better than I expected. Jake’s work was a little more conventional, but he was meticulous and put a lot of thought in. My stuff was more creative. I was happy taking risks and playing around with ideas that were new or different. Our teacher was impressed.

  “You two should do the next partner project together,” she said as she flipped through our portfolios. “You both have excellent designs, and you have polar opposite strengths. You’d do well together.”

  Jake and I nodded respectfully, but under the table, he rubbed my leg.

  “I guess we’re pretty good together,” he whispered against my ear later in the hall.

  “Is that what she said? I thought she said you could learn a lot from me.”

  He kissed me against his locker, pressing into me in a way he didn’t often do in public. I hung on and kissed him back, pushing away everything I had done or left undone, everything I had lied or told a half truth about. I finally had a little bit of a grasp on the weight of Jake’s regrets.

  Friday was the longest day of my life. Saxon said nothing to me. He didn’t catch me in the halls, didn’t walk by me, didn’t talk to me. I was glad we were calling in government. We didn’t have to speak to each other at all.