“Now put these on and walk around,” Shannon said, throwing a pair of high heels at my feet. This sounded like a simple thing until I put on the shoes and I could barely move in the dress and I was sure I would fall over after one step. But I tried anyway, and I didn’t fall, but Emma giggled, and you know who laughed even louder? Peggy. This made me want to cry, but I think I had cried enough already this week to last for the rest of my life, so I didn’t cry even a little. I just felt stupid, so stupid, until Shannon said, “You have to place one foot directly in front of the other, swivel the hips. It feels demented, I know, but it works. And keep your shoulders back; it will make you look like you have boobs,” and I hated her for saying I had no boobs—only I should be able to say that!—but I did what she said anyway, and then Shannon said, “Yeah, that’s great. You got it. You’re a rock star.”
“You’re amazing!” Peggy said, and leaped up to hug me, only she fell down from her tight dress and everyone laughed at her, except me. I just helped her back to the bed. “I’m such a klutz in this!” she said, and she sounded like an airhead even though she’s smart and a good athlete.
Then Shannon sat next to us and said, “You guys are cool,” and I don’t know if she meant it like we were always cool and she could see it now that she was getting to know us, or as if she was deeming us cool now that we were her friends. But the weirdest thing was that I actually, oh my gosh, liked her. Like, I thought she was being really nice to me. And she found me a dress that I liked and she taught me how to walk in high heels, and, I don’t know, she was amazing.
So eventually Shannon and Wanda found dresses they wanted to wear from the hundred they brought over, and then we all put on some makeup—yes, I did, okay, I don’t really like makeup, but I just wanted to try new things, so I put on just a little, okay?—and then when we were all ready, I felt like we were going to walk down the red carpet at the Academy Awards, except we just walked down the stairs to Peggy’s living room, which had one new brown couch, one old red couch, a glass coffee table with fake-gold legs, and a television that was probably worth more than their house.
I sat on the couch next to Shannon and Wanda, Emma leaned against the wall, and Peggy sat on the floor after she put on a fashion reality TV show. And then we waited. I felt so silly, but worse, I thought the popular girls would get bored and leave even though this is where the party was, and then, just when my leg started bouncing because I was nervous, Katherine came back home. With her were three junior girls, including Shannon’s sister Elizabeth, and two senior boys, and the boys carried two big beer kegs, and all four of the girls carried plastic bags filled with bottles of vodka and tequila and maybe rum. I don’t know how to recognize alcohol bottles very well.
“Don’t the young’uns look smokin’,” Katherine said as she walked past us, though it didn’t feel like a compliment. She led all the older kids into the kitchen, and Shannon, Peggy, Wanda, and Emma followed them so I did too. I mean, I wasn’t going to sit in the living room by myself, right?
16
Trevor meets Mr. Pain
During the team stretch before Friday’s run, Coach Pasquini squatted next to me and talked. Quietly. Almost stealthily. But everyone could see him and hear him. So it was odd because the dude was odd. But, Jesus, I was starting to like him. I don’t even know why. Maybe I’m odd. Whatever.
“So, Trevor Santos. My Mr. Pain. You ready?”
I nodded. Two seniors who ran cross-country just to look good on their college applications laughed at Pasquini. I tried not to look at them.
Coach said, “Every day you go out running with the lead pack. Todd placed sixth in the state meet last year. Where did you finish last year at state?”
“I was in California, and I wasn’t running cross-country,” I said, feeling like a complete fool.
“There, I can see it, you feel stupid. That’s you punishing yourself again. Stop it! I’m glad you weren’t running last year. Because if you were, some other coach would get to feel like a genius for turning your physical gifts and stubborn-ass determination into something special. Now I’ll get to take all the credit while you do all the work.” He did his grin thing, then said, “My first new rule for you. Start being nice to yourself. Got it?”
I nodded again, though I didn’t really get it. How was I supposed to be nice to myself? It didn’t make any goddamn sense.
He continued, “Todd’s All-State. Randy and Craig were All-Conference. Everyone else in the lead pack has run for years. When you try to stay with them from the start, you hurt your body and you hurt your spirit. Setting yourself up to fail. Because you are Mr. Pain. And I know you think if Conchita, a freshman and a girl, can stay with them, you should too, but that young lady has been winning races in her age group since she was nine. She knows more about running than the rest of us jokers combined. Yeah, that includes me. I’d let her coach if I didn’t need to pay for my kid to go to college. So rule two. Find runners at your level. Where it doesn’t hurt fifty meters in. Perhaps, just perhaps, where you even enjoy running for a short while. Got it?”
I nodded.
“You fast?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“I know so. Even though I’ve never seen it because by the time you get done with the run, you’re so blasted, you can barely walk, let alone kick the finish. You’ve got long legs and a good stride and a lot of anger. All that will make you the best miler I’ve ever coached, but that’s track. This is a different beast. Oh yeah. Cross-country is five thousand meters. It requires strategy. Who beats you every practice?”
“Todd and Randy—”
“No. Have you been listening? They don’t beat you because they are playing tennis while you’re playing Ping-Pong. Maybe someday you’ll be playing the same game. But you have to work your way there. Who beats you who’s running the same race?”
“Aaron and Tor,” I said, motioning toward the two sophomores that passed me at the end of Monday’s run and passed me sooner every practice since.
“Closer. But still out of your league.”
“Edward and Michael,” I said, pointing to the seniors that laughed at Pasquini. When they ran by me at the end of every run, Michael would say, “Crawling works too.”
“Exactly,” Coach said, then turned to the seniors, “Hey, you two, Mr. Pain here is going to run with you today.” They whispered into each other’s ears and laughed. At me? At Pasquini? I don’t know. Who cares? I cared. But who should care? No one. Pasquini leaned in close, really whispering this time. Only I could hear him. He said, “You stay on their heels. Don’t think about anything else. Find a rhythm. Linger. Wait. What do you want? You want to beat them. Right. I know you do. I can see it. But linger behind them. Keep them in sight. Which means, be okay with being behind. You don’t need to attack right away. Don’t need to feel pain right away. Just be there. And then, when you sense the right moment, you go get what you want. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said.
* * *
I had been thinking about Carolina today. A lot, okay? She wore her hair in a ponytail, and as soon as I saw it in biology, all I wanted to do was run my hand through it. So cheesy. I know. And it didn’t matter. We sat on the other side of class from each other now. Because I didn’t like her. She didn’t like me. We had nothing in common.
* * *
It was hard letting Todd, Craig, Randy, and Conchita run off and not trying to stay with them. Really hard. Felt weak. Felt like a waste of space. But I let them go. Settled in behind Edward and Michael. Pasquini was right. Didn’t feel pain. Not the physical kind. But, man, was I bored. Tried to stop thinking about being bored, though. Tried. Edward and Michael kept talking about all the girls they wanted to have sex with, and it was obvious to me they would never talk to these girls let alone kiss them or anything else. People are so delusional.
Then I thought: Maybe I should just talk to Carolina. Just to … say I did it. That’s pointless, Trevor. Shit. If she liked you, that
Katherine girl would have said so. Instead, she steered you toward Peggy. Maybe go out with Peggy to get close to Carolina? Why would you do that? That’s so fake. And cruel. And pointless. No.
The run was a 5K. There was no race tomorrow, so this would be our practice race for the week. About halfway through, not feeling even half as tired as I usually did, I had the urge to speed ahead. Maybe just to stop having to listen to Edward and Michael babble on. But I didn’t. I lingered. Like Pasquini said. Linger until …
* * *
Actually … damn. I should talk to Carolina. Even if I don’t talk to her, I should stop avoiding her. Walk by her. Sit by her. Smile. Screw that. I’m not going to smile. That’s lame. But walk and sit by her? Yeah. Linger …
* * *
With a mile left, Edward and Michael stopped talking. Both too tired. At the half-mile-to-go mark, they lost a step, then a second, and that’s when I knew it was time. Moved around them and added to the pace. It hurt. Legs shook. Lungs scorched. Head boiled. But I liked it.
Then I did something so strange. After I left the seniors long behind me but still wasn’t near the sophomores, I said to myself, but out loud, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pain,” then I smiled like I was some mental patient. And then I ran even faster. Move. Move. Move. Yes. Yes. Yes. The sophomores, Aaron and Tor, were slowing. Or maybe I was getting faster. I said, not out loud this time but in my head, “Mr. Pain, Mr. Pain, Mr. Pain, Mr. Pain…” And …
I didn’t quite catch them. With about one hundred meters to go, they sensed me nearing fast and gave it a last kick that I couldn’t outdo. But I was close. I knew it. They knew it. Pasquini, and that damn grin of his, knew it too. Know what I didn’t do? Fall to the ground. Remained on my feet. I could have run another mile. Or run that last mile faster.
Pasquini approached, looking like he was bursting to talk, but he just shook his head with that crooked mouth of his and went to talk to Edward and Michael, who were on their butts, and who I had beaten for the first time.
* * *
When we were doing our post-run group stretch, during a lull in the conversation, I spoke. I had never said anything at cross-country practice before, not to the group.
“Anyone going to the Darry party tonight?” I asked. I asked because I wanted to go. Because I knew Carolina would be there. And maybe I liked pain. Or maybe I liked what pain could give me.
17
Carolina doesn’t and does take a shot
So, anyway, by the time I entered the kitchen, there wasn’t much room—Peggy’s house is not very big—so I just leaned next to the door frame. Katherine got a bunch of red plastic cups out from under the sink, had one of the boys open the vodka, then started pouring just a bit for everyone. These were shots, I guess. One by one, everyone got a red plastic cup and then the second boy passed one to me and I said, “I’m okay,” and didn’t take the cup.
The second boy called out, “Kat, this freshman is not partaking in the pre-party shot.”
Everyone stepped aside so Katherine could look at me with her big eyes, and she looked so angry, like I just punched her in the face, and then I noticed Peggy had a red plastic cup in her hand even though we both promised we wouldn’t drink until college, and then Katherine said, “You do the shot or you get the fuck out of my house,” and everyone laughed because they probably thought she was joking, except I knew she was not joking at all.
Then things got quiet when Katherine didn’t laugh, and then, one second before I was going to leave, or maybe I should just do the shot, but I was probably going to leave, Shannon said, “I’ll do her shot for her,” and took the cup meant for me.
“Shut up, bitch,” Elizabeth Shunton said to her sister.
“No way—” Katherine started, but then the first boy said, “It’s cool, Katherine. Come on. Drink yours. Let’s have a good time,” and he grabbed her butt, and she finally laughed.
“To the best year ever!” Katherine called out, raising her cup. Everyone else did the same, and I felt invisible, like I didn’t belong here or anywhere in the world, and then they all drank their shots and screamed. Shannon drank the one meant for me, and I wanted to hug her except she probably would think I was a freak, so I didn’t. Then everyone (except me, obviously) did a second shot, even Peggy, and, I don’t know, I felt silly in my dress and these shoes and in this house and in high school. I wanted to go back to junior high and be in eighth grade forever.
But then Kendra arrived, because I invited her even though Peggy didn’t want me to, and they offered her a shot, and she said no, and suddenly I felt I wasn’t so alone even though that’s a stupid reason to not feel alone. No one, not even Katherine, made fun of Kendra for not drinking. This was probably because they were all white and Kendra was black and they were afraid of coming across as racist even though it’s actually racist not to make fun of someone just because they are different. I didn’t really care why they didn’t make fun of her or yell at her, because I really wanted her to stay at the party.
* * *
More people started showing up after seven, and it was actually really fun for a little while, because all the freshman girls started dancing after Shannon started, and even though she looked so sexy, like they do in perfume commercials, she said I was a great dancer. I didn’t think I was, but I liked her telling me that anyway. But then some junior boys started trying to dance with Shannon, and she stopped, so I stopped, and then Kendra did too, but Emma, Wanda, and Peggy decided to let the boys dance with them.
Then more and more people showed up, and no one could walk without bumping into someone, and the music got louder even though no one had room to dance, except four sophomore girls jumped on the couch and tried until Katherine yelled at them.
Kendra and I decided to step outside because we wanted to breathe actual air. “Are you having fun?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, though I don’t know if I believed her because I knew I wasn’t having fun anymore. I hadn’t seen Peggy since the boys started dancing with her, and Shannon had disappeared into the backyard with some of the upperclassman stoners, and Kendra and I had just been standing in a corner, people-watching, and not able to talk because it was too loud. Then Kendra said, “I still feel like I’m in junior high and just pretending to be in high school,” which was EXACTLY how I felt, or at least really close.
That’s when I saw a group of four boys walking toward the house under the shadows of the trees, and I don’t know why I cared about these four—I mean, there were a million boys in the house, but I just kept watching them until they stepped into the light.
Then he looked at me. The boy in the back.
Trevor.
Gosh. He looked so handsome outside of school, and I wanted to cry, but actually, not really, what I really wanted to do was go talk to him, and pretend I was cool, and like I didn’t care that he liked Peggy, but I didn’t know how to open my mouth.
Then—what was happening?—Kendra said, “Hi, Trevor,” and he said, “Hi, Kendra,” and THEN he said, “Hi, Carolina,” and even though he said my name like the state, I fell back in love with him. Not really. I mean, maybe. I don’t even know what that means. I guess I really just wanted him to like me again after not caring for three days.
He followed the boys he was with, who I didn’t recognize, into the house.
“How does Trevor know you?” I asked Kendra.
She must have sensed I was all twisted up inside because Kendra said, “We’re in math together. He’s really nice. I thought you didn’t like him anymore?”
Then I told Kendra what I hadn’t admitted to anyone except my own head. “I just stopped liking him because he stopped liking me.”
“How do you know he stopped liking you?”
“Katherine told me he likes Peggy.”
Then Kendra whispered something I had told myself (but apparently myself didn’t listen as well as I thought). She said, “I don’t think you should believe anything Katherine says.” And that’s when I
thought that even if Trevor really did like Peggy, I would much rather find that out from him instead of spending the rest of eternity wondering if Katherine had lied.
“Will you help me go talk to him?” I asked.
And Kendra said, “Of course,” which was amazing, so amazing … gosh. Just amazing. Then she took me by the hand, and we walked back into the party. Except there were now, literally, a gazillion people in the house—yes, I’m exaggerating, but, you know, probably not by much—and I was sure there was no way we would find Trevor.
But then, through the cracks between the twelve people that stood between us, I saw the side of his face. So we moved in that direction, but by the time we got to where he’d been standing, he had moved, and we had to spin around until we saw him, this time near the stairs, and we walked that direction, except halfway there, Henry McCarthy and his big friend Jake stepped in front of us, and Henry shoved his finger in my face. “You didn’t come to my game!” he yelled. Everyone had to yell to be heard at the party, but his yell wasn’t very nice.
“I had soccer practice,” I said.
“I don’t care!” he said.
Jake said, “Girls shouldn’t play sports!” And he laughed, and Henry laughed too, and I realized that even if Henry was the coolest person in the world and the only boy who would ever like me, I’d still rather be alone and a geek.
“We have to go,” I said, and tried to step by him.
“I think you owe me a kiss. We lost because you didn’t show up.”
“She doesn’t owe you anything,” Kendra said.
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