by Jonah Black
JBLACK94710: Yeah, well, she broke up with me, actually.
NORTHGIRL999: Why?
JBLACK94710: Because she figured out how obsessed I am with that girl from my old boarding school.
NORTHGIRL999: Sophie?
JBLACK94710: Jesus, you know everything. Hey, this isn’t Dr. LaRue, is it?
NORTHGIRL999: Who?
JBLACK94710: So I guess it’s all true. I am kind of screwed up right now.
NORTHGIRL999: Are you ever going to get together with that Sophie girl?
JBLACK94710: Well, to tell you the truth, she has this plan for us to rent a hotel room in Orlando in a week or two.
NORTHGIRL999: Whoa. Hard core.
JBLACK94710: So should I do it?
NORTHGIRL999: I don’t know. Do you love her?
JBLACK94710: I think so. But I don’t really know her. She’s kind of a mystery.
NORTHGIRL999: Hmm. What if spending a day in a hotel with her takes away all the mystery? Will you still love her then?
JBLACK94710: I’m not sure.
NORTHGIRL999: I wish I was her. Sophie. I can’t believe you’re going to spend a weekend in a hotel with her. It sounds like a dream. Like, sex, then room service, then cable, then Disney World. It’s like that place in Pinocchio.
JBLACK94710: What place?
NORTHGIRL999: The one where all the boys turn into donkeys.
JBLACK94710: Oh yeah! Pleasure Island! Man, that scared me when I was a kid.
NORTHGIRL999: Oh I liked it. It was like, they had this big party and then they got to be donkeys. I never figured out what was the big deal, like being a donkey is so much worse than being a puppet?
JBLACK94710: LOL.
NORTHGIRL999: Goddammit Jonah talking to U always makes me horny!
JBLACK94710: You’re feeling horny?
NORTHGIRL999: Jonah are you kidding U are so completely HOT. I just want to sit in this big bed hold U and kiss you until U laugh your head off.
JBLACK94710: Hey, do you look anything like those nude pix you sent me?
NORTHGIRL999: Wouldn’t you like to know.
JBLACK94710: You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?
NORTHGIRL999: Oh Jonah. Use your imagination.
JBLACK94710: I’m trying.
NORTHGIRL999: Uh oh. Gotta go. Talk to you later.
JBLACK94710: Wait. Come back. Don’t go yet.
JBLACK94710: Northgirl? Hello?
Dec. 16
Well, my plans to meet up with Sophie are already blown. I failed my driving test today. Now I’m not sure how I’m going to get up to Orlando. Of course, even if I’d passed the test I’m not sure I’d have been able to negotiate Phase Two of my Not Very Top Secret Plan, which was to get Honey to loan me her Jeep. But I guess I don’t have to worry about that now. What am I going to do? Ride my bike?
The funny thing is, it was sort of Sophie’s fault I flunked my test. There I was, sitting behind the steering wheel of Mom’s station wagon, waiting for the examiner to show up. Then the door swung open and this woman sat down in the passenger’s seat and the first thing I thought was, whoa, she looks like she’s practically my age. I was expecting some really old guy with a clipboard, but no, instead I got this amazing girl who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and she was wearing this little skirt with blue flowers on it and a white T-shirt. The badge pinned above her right breast was the only clue that she worked for the DMV.
I looked at the badge, which had her name on it, Ms. Teasdale, and I thought, So what happened to her? Did she drop out of high school and like, start working for the DMV? And how come? Like, was there some whole scandal like there was with me? I wondered if Ms. Teasdale was her name at all. I mean it’s possible she’d put a fake name on the badge to keep guys from calling her at home. Not that that’s what I was thinking about doing, but her hair was really shiny and she was definitely cute. I wondered what it would be like to call her up and say, “Hey, I’m that guy you gave the driving test to last week, maybe do you, like, want to go out sometime and I don’t know, like, drive around?”
As I adjusted my seat and the mirrors and let out the parking brake, Ms. Teasdale was sketching on a sketch pad like Sophie used to do. She started to draw a tree. I remembered this place out in Valley Forge, like a half hour from Masthead, where there were these covered bridges and weeping willow trees and how cool it would have been to go out there with Sophie and sit there by the creek, throwing in stones beneath the bridge and listening to the hollow, musical ploop sound they make as they hit the water while she sketched the willow trees on her pad.
So Sophie says to me, “Okay, would you put the car in drive, please, and pull out into traffic?”
I did what she asked and we headed up A1A toward Pompano Beach. I used the turn signal to change lanes and I was thinking, I’m doing everything I’m supposed to. I was THINKING ABOUT THE BIG PICTURE and DRIVING DEFENSIVELY and WATCHING OUT FOR THE OTHER GUY and LEAVING ONE CAR LENGTH BETWEEN MY VEHICLE AND THE ONE IN FRONT OF ME FOR EVERY TEN MILES PER HOUR I’M DRIVING and all that.
As I drive up A1A, Sophie puts her arm out the window like a little airplane wing, and raises and lowers it as we drive north. Then she pulls her hand back in and looks at her fingernails, which are jet black. Then she lowers the sun visor and pops up the vanity mirror and starts checking a contact lens. I’m trying to keep my eyes on the road, but it’s a little distracting.
We cross the 14th Street bridge and Sophie says, “Go north on the Federal Highway.”
I put on my blinker like a good boy and drive up Route 1 past the Pompano Square Mall. We drive on without talking, but it’s not a weird silence; it’s totally comfortable, like the two of us understand each other and don’t have to say a thing.
“You’re doing very well, Jonah,” she says at last.
“Really?” I say. “You think so?”
“Definitely,” Sophie says. We drive around some more and just as we’re passing Sea Ranch Lakes she starts fishing around in her purse for a Kleenex, and it looks like she’s crying and I’m like, damn. So I turn down a residential street without any traffic and park next to this pier and I say, “Are you okay, Sophie?”
And she says, “No, I’m not okay.”
“Do I know the reason?” I say.
And she says, “I think you do, Jonah. I just don’t know what to say to you. It’s like, you got yourself thrown out of school for me, and you never told anyone about me and Sullivan. You basically sacrificed yourself for me, just because you’re a good guy. I don’t know how to thank you, Jonah. I’m totally in your debt. I only wish I could think of some way to make you happy.”
And I’m like, “You’re making me happy just sitting there talking to me.”
Sophie suddenly reaches forward and gives me this big hug, and I hug her back, and I can feel the back of Sophie’s bra through her white T-shirt and her blond hair brushes my cheek and she lifts up her head and kisses me and she makes this little seagull sound. A little cry. I close my eyes and just feel our lips together, brushing softly against each other, and all of a sudden there was a terrible crashing sound and I was thrown against the wheel and all the red lights in the dashboard started flashing.
The guy I hit got out of his car. It was a Lincoln Continental. Ms. Teasdale turned to me and said in this angry, disappointed voice, “You stay in the car, Mr. Black.”
I sat there for a long time just thinking, STUPID STUPID STUPID. Finally, Ms. Teasdale got back in the car and said, “Please return to the DMV.” Fortunately, Mom’s car is fine, although the Lincoln’s bumper was kind of dented.
“I guess this means I didn’t pass my test, huh?” I said, stating the obvious.
And Sophie looks at me sadly and says, “I guess not.”
AMERICA ONLINE MAIL
12-16, 9:43 P.M.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hey Jonah, it’s Betsy Donnelly, remember me? I know you
do. I feel bad about not writing you since you left Masthead, but whatever. It was weird because I was thinking about you today, like about what you did for Sophie O’Brien and everything. All of the girls here at Masthead are so grateful to you, and if you ever came back up here to visit you’d find out you are like, a total hero. I don’t know if you heard that Sullivan didn’t come back to school this fall. He’s at Valley Forge Military Academy, which serves him right, if you ask me. I saw him in downtown Wayne last weekend in Harrison’s, and he was wearing this stupid little uniform and he had his head shaved practically bald and I thought, way to go Jonah!
Anyway, I talked to Sophie a little bit today and she was being all weird like she usually is and she told me she had been talking with you on the phone and was going to go down to Florida to see you over break. That sounds incredibly romantic and everything. You must be psyched.
But I just wanted to say this one thing and maybe my writing this to you out of nowhere is really off base, but I think Sophie is a really bizarre girl. I get a very strange vibe from her. I can’t explain it, so maybe it’s stupid to be writing this. But if you do meet up with her, watch out. Because there is definitely something sketchy about her and I don’t want you to get hurt. I think you’ve been hurt enough already over her.
So that’s what I think, and if this was the wrong thing to say, I’m sorry but I thought you’d want to know.
You can call me anytime if you want to talk about this. I’m staying here over Xmas break—it’s just me and two other girls in the girls’ dorm—so I’d be glad to talk to somebody. Or whatever!
Love,
Bets
Dec. 17, 4:21 P.M.
Well, the big meet with Ely is tomorrow, and I have to say I’m psyched, even though I already know we’re going to lose. I know I’m going to do fine, but the rest of the team is so lame. I know that sounds terrible to put in writing, but it’s true.
I have to say I’m also feeling a little weird about that e-mail I got from Betsy Donnelly. I mean it was great to hear from Betsy. It’s the first time anybody from Masthead has written me at all since I got thrown out.
But her letter made me mad at first, like who is Betsy Donnelly to come out of nowhere and say, Watch out? I guess I sort of get the same kind of feeling from Sophie, though. There’s definitely something weird about her. But it’s the something weird that I think I’m in love with. What’s wrong with that?
When I got back from school today no one was home, so I dialed up the Porpoise in Orlando and I booked a room. I don’t know how I’m getting there, but I’m definitely going. They asked me what kind of bed I wanted and I said king size, and the woman said, “for just one person?” and I said, “Yes.” I love big beds. I remember when I was a kid and Mom and Dad still lived together they had a king size. Honey and I used to jump up and down on it like it was a trampoline. I guess Dad probably still has the same bed. It’s pretty creepy to think of him and Tiffany sleeping on it when he and Mom used to sleep on it, too.
So then I decided I should call Sophie and tell her I’m going to be there and to make a final plan. The only way to contact her is by ringing the dorm phone, and I could just picture that phone while it was ringing—the one phone at the end of the hallway. Finally, someone picked it up and I asked for Sophie and the girl who answered said, “Just a sec.” I heard the girl’s steps going down the dorm hallway and I could see exactly what it looked like—the black-and-tan tiled floor and the fluorescent lights and the smell in the hallway like someone needs to do her laundry.
I listened to all these sounds coming over the phone and all I could think was, In a minute Sophie’s going to pick up.
I heard the voice of the girl who’d answered the phone talking to someone and saying, “It’s a guy,” and then these other steps coming down the hallway and I thought, It’s her.
And then Sophie picked up the phone and said, “Hello?” and her voice was like getting into bed after a long night out.
“It’s me,” I said.
And she said, “Who?”
And I said, “Jonah. Jonah Black?”
And with this sudden rush of enthusiasm she says, “Oh, Jo-nah! How are you?”
“I’m good,” I said.
“What’s up?” she said.
“Well, I wanted you to know I booked a room. At the Porpoise. For the twenty-seventh and the twenty-eighth. I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to tell my mom. Or how I’m getting there. But I did it.”
There was this long pause, and for a second I thought, Oh, no, she’s upset, she never thought I’d do it.
But then she said, “Oh, that’s so great, Jonah. I can’t believe we’re going to spend some time together!”
“I know,” I said. I couldn’t believe it, either.
“Well, we’re getting there the night of the twenty-sixth, I think. So the next day I’ll find out what room you’re in and I’ll call you, okay?” she said.
“You’ll call the room?” I said. My voice sounded a little shaky.
“Yeah. What time are you getting in on the twenty-seventh?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t figured out how I’m getting there. That’s the next thing I have to work on. But I’ll aim for early afternoon, like one or two?” I said.
“Okay. Why don’t I call you at like, two-thirty then, all right? Does that sound good?” she said.
“Yes,” I said. It sounded great.
“I can’t wait to see you. I think about you all the time,” she said.
“I think about you, too, Sophie. I got a king-size bed in my room.” The minute I said it I thought, stupid! I sounded like the lamest idiot in the universe.
“That’ll be nice,” Sophie said, and she didn’t sound like she thought I was stupid. “I can’t wait to lie around with you.”
Oh, my God, I thought I was going to turn into a pile of sand hearing her say that. Then she said, “Of course I want to go to Disney World, too. Have you ever been there, Jonah?”
I have been there, but not since I was about ten. “Oh, sure,” I said. “I can show you around.”
“I’d like that,” Sophie said. Then there was this long pause and I could hear the sound of her breathing, like the actual sound of her breath against the receiver. “I still can’t believe you’re real,” she said finally, in this kind of dreamy voice.
“I’m real,” I said. “Are you real?”
“I don’t know,” she said, in this kind of quavery voice. “I’m definitely trying.”
I thought about the e-mail Betsy had sent me and I really wanted to ask her, So Sophie. What’s the deal with you, anyway? But I couldn’t figure out how to ask it without sounding rude.
Then there was the sound of lots of voices coming down the hallway. Some of them were guys. “Hang on a second,” Sophie said. Everything got all muffled but I could sort of hear Sophie’s voice, talking to these other people. Then she took her hand off the receiver and I heard people laughing in the background and Sophie was laughing, too.
“Hello?” I said.
“Sorry,” Sophie said into the phone.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Just the usual Masthead morons,” she said.
“I know all about them,” I said. And then someone in the background shouted something down the hallway, and Sophie shouted back, “Shut up!”
“I can’t believe I’m going to get to see you,” she said again.
“Me neither,” I said.
“Well anyway. I kind of have to go now. So I’ll see you on the twenty-seventh, Jonah. I can’t wait.”
I said I couldn’t wait, either, and then Sophie said, “Bye-bye,” and the line went dead. I sat there in my room listening to the dead sound for a while, then I hung up, too.
(Still Dec. 17, 11:31 P.M.)
Now I’ve lied to Mom. I waited for her to come back from her radio show, and I told her I had an interview at UCF on the twenty-seventh. I said that Thor
ne was interviewing there and I thought maybe I’d get a head start on looking at colleges, see what it’s like. I haven’t actually asked Thorne yet, but I know he wants to check out UCF sometime, so why not on the twenty-seventh?
Mom was in one of her emotional moods. She hugged me and started to cry, and I said, “Mom, why are you crying?”
“Because I’m so happy for you. My little Jonah’s all grown up!” she said. She wiped her eyes with a paper towel.
“I’m not all grown up,” I said. “Besides, I’m still a junior—” I started to say, but then her cell phone went off.
“Bup, bup, bup,” she said, holding up her hand to quiet me. “I have to take this.” She went into her bedroom and closed the door. I could tell it was Mr. Bond calling, because she started cooing as soon as she closed her door.
I think it’s depressing how easy it is to lie to your parents. When I was a little kid, I remember Dad saying, “If you ever lie, I’ll know.” I’m not sure how I thought he’d know, but it sounded pretty scary, like he had some kind of gland that would kick in if I ever lied to him. So I didn’t, and I lived for years with the fear of him knowing if I ever lied. It was years later that I figured that out that when Dad said he could tell when I was lying, he was lying. It turned out he didn’t have the slightest idea what the difference was between what was real and what was made up.
I remember this one time I was about seven and Honey was six, and we’d had this dog named Toby who died, and Dad had told me that the dog was buried on this farm owned by Dr. Boyers, the vet. Now that I think about it, Toby had probably been cremated at Dr. Boyers’s and disposed of there. But Dad made it sound like there was this actual tombstone that said TOBY on it somewhere on Dr. Boyers’s farm. So one day me and Honey went over there looking for it. Dr. Boyers lived on this big old farm and it was all pretty run-down, and we kind of got lost on the property, just stumbling around looking for Toby’s tombstone, which we figured had to be pretty big since Toby was a St. Bernard.
Anyway, along came Dr. Boyers, who I now think was probably a lesbian only back then I didn’t know what that was, and she stopped Honey and me and asked us what “we kids” thought we were doing on her property, and we said we were looking for Toby’s gravestone because we heard he was buried there. But Dr. Boyers laughed and said, “You kids better get your story straight. That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.” And she threw us off her property and yelled at us for trespassing.