by Steven Gould
He shuddered.
“There is an open bar, though, unlike any PTA meeting I’ve ever been to. I will be dulling the pain by drinking heavily, so your chance of getting laid afterward goes way up.”
He brightened. “How about I just lie in wait until you stagger home, then take advantage of you?”
“That works.”
The Resplendent was a restaurant/bar two blocks off Main Street. Millie had lunched there after accepting the invitation to the mixer, to acquire a jump site. She was extremely glad she’d done so. Though it had stopped falling, the streets were still under a foot of snow.
Her jump site was inside, behind a large ficus in an alcove near the restrooms. Shrugging off her long coat and hanging it over her arm, she bypassed the restaurant’s receptionist and checked in with a diminutive woman wearing a sequined pantsuit and holding a clipboard.
“Ms. Mendez, I presume?”
“Darice, please. Mrs. Ross, right? Had to be you, I know everyone else. That’s a gorgeous dress. How did you get here without freezing to death?”
“Just Millie.” Millie shook the woman’s hand. “I just avoided the snow as much as possible. Striking pantsuit.”
“Thank you.” Darice leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “Long underwear! My car wouldn’t make it out of the driveway. Had to walk six blocks and change my shoes here.”
She pulled a preprinted name tag off the clipboard and held it out, looking for an appropriate place to pin it, but the lines of Millie’s dress defeated her.
“Here,” Millie said, holding up her clutch purse. “Pin it to this.”
Darice did.
“Great. Check your coat over there. Bar is there, and the chairman will be giving a presentation at that end in about a half hour.”
Millie didn’t have to go to the bar. Three different men offered to fetch her a drink before she reached the crowd surrounding the bar.
She accepted the third offer, from the man standing with his wife who introduced herself after reading Millie’s name tag. “I’m Misty Chilton. That was Tom. Your daughter’s been hanging out with our girl, Jade.”
“Ah! And Tara—the Krakatoa homework club. Is Cent being a bad influence? She’s always wanted to be a bad influence.”
Misty laughed. “In a way. I understand she does her homework weeks in advance. She’s badly diminished the procrastination quotient at their homework sessions.”
Millie shook her head. “I am sorry to hear it. Whatever happened to waiting until the last minute?”
“Or ‘my dog ate my homework?’ There are honored traditions in our educational institutions, for goodness sake!”
“Kids these days,” agreed Millie.
Misty introduced her to the two men who’d also offered to get Millie a drink. “Stay away from these bums, especially my colleague Dr. George here. He’s newly divorced and desperate. Leon, here, is happily married but he’ll still try and look down your dress.”
Leon looked amiably affronted. “Hey, I don’t grab, like some.” He glanced across the room toward a cluster of men talking at the end of the bar.
Misty looked less amused and sighed. “No, dear, you certainly don’t.” She changed the subject. “So you moved here from out of the country,” she said to Millie. “And that’s why you’ve been homeschooling your daughter?”
That and the people trying to kill or capture us. “Yes. But she wanted to finish high school in an actual school. So here we are.” She smiled brightly. “Where’s my drink?”
Tom Chilton arrived shortly and handed Millie her gin and tonic and his wife a white wine. “I think I deserve a medal. They’re about to declare martial law over at the bar. I’m sure I was nearly shot several times.”
Misty kissed him on the cheek. “There, there, dear, I’m sure our health plan covers psychiatric care. We’ll get you a nice therapist and you can suck your thumb on his couch.”
Tom smiled at her and didn’t look the least bit traumatized. “Just get me through Bob’s pitch and I’ll be happy.”
“Amen to that,” said Leon.
“Bob?” said Millie.
“Bob Chanlee. He’s the chairman and the biggest contributor to the PTO,” said George.
“And our biggest problem,” said Misty with a lowered voice. “Wants all our support to go to the football team.” She smiled fondly at her husband. “Tom’s the PTA president this year. We’re here to remind people that there are other places their money could go.”
Tom sighed. “If we could serve alcohol at our meetings, I bet we’d get more donations for the library and teaching budget.”
Millie looked at Misty, doubtfully. “Football? I came out in this snow for a fund-raiser for football?”
Misty nodded.
Millie said, “I’m going to need another drink.”
* * *
“So, how much money did we donate to that PTO thing?” Davy asked, some time after she had returned home.
“Nothing.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn that wasn’t your intention.”
Millie settled deeper into the sheets, her thigh across Davy’s bare belly. “We did donate to the PTA, though, six thousand. It’s going toward teaching assistants in the more crowded classrooms.”
“And what would it have gone to at the PTO thing?”
“Football equipment. Maybe an assistant coach.”
Davy winced.
Millie said, “I had them take our name off the list.”
“Did I ever mention what a good wife you are?”
“Well, you just showed me.”
“I could show you again.”
Millie pretended to study a nonexistent watch.
“I guess I can fit you in.”
“Good answer.”
TWELVE
“Good reflexes!”
I snowshoed to school.
While the county had plowed the roads, the path through the woods was still buried deep. I could’ve jumped to the edge of the woods, but if someone backtracked me it would look weird, my footsteps appearing out of nowhere. I figured I could establish a trail and then, barring more snow, anyone backtracking me would see the path.
I left a half hour early. Breaking a fresh trail always takes more time and energy, but even though it was predawn gray, the woods were gorgeous and I enjoyed it.
The smoking crowd was at the bleachers, including Caffeine. It was cold but the air was still so they were more spread out. I moved wide, shuffling along on the top of the snow. Caffeine saw me coming and moved out to intercept me, but the minute she stepped beyond the snow packed down by the smokers, she sank thigh deep.
I heard her swear and grinned involuntarily. I tried to take my face back to neutral, but she’d seen my smile. The expression on her face was poisonous. She climbed back onto the packed snow and headed across toward the door, but I was out of the bindings of my snowshoes and inside the school before she got there.
It was a bit cramped, getting my outerwear and the snowshoes into my locker. I’d made good time so I was the first one into biology class, beating even Mr. Hill out of the teachers lounge. Tara came in five minutes later and spent some time admiring my phone.
Brett didn’t show up until almost second bell, nipping in at the last minute. His seat was near the back on the other side of the classroom. I was looking at him as he came in, but he didn’t even notice me.
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or mad. I was hoping to exchange phone numbers with him. He was late, but when class was over he was out the door before I’d even picked up my backpack.
Tara joined me at the door. “You okay?”
“I guess. Why?”
She shrugged. “You looked a little upset there.”
“Really?” I shook my head. “I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at.”
“Oh, so you were upset? What are daws?”
“Some kind of bird, I think.”
“What does that have t
o do with wearing your heart on your sleeve?”
“It’s the entire phrase. Iago says it in Othello.”
“Daws. Huh. So, did you want to talk to Brett?”
I winced. “I thought I did. Maybe not.”
She nodded. “Donna probably wouldn’t approve.”
My stomach twisted. “Donna?”
“His girlfriend.”
“He has a girlfriend?”
“Duh.”
“Why didn’t you say something about that yesterday? When he was hitting on me?”
“He’s a guy. Just because he’s flirting doesn’t mean he isn’t taken. Besides—guys. Being in a relationship don’t keep them from seeing other girls.”
I could feel my ears getting hot.
Tara raised her eyebrows.
“Homeschooled, remember?” I looked away. “See you at lunch.”
* * *
Later, in the cafeteria, Tara and Jade looked at me warily, but I smiled and said, “Sorry I was such a spaz this morning.”
Tara said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the homeschooling thing. You haven’t had much experience with boys?”
I blew out through closed lips. “You don’t know the half of it. Raised in isolation, that’s me. I’m not very good at people of any gender.”
“I looked up daws. It’s short for jackdaw, member of the crow family.”
They’d both bought the cafeteria lunch but I pulled mine out of my backpack.
“Oh, wow,” said Jade. “Where’d you get the bento box?”
Dad had picked up an ekiben for me from an all-night bento stall at the Tokyo train station. I’d taken it out of the disposable box it had come in and repacked it in a traditional lacquer lunch box.
“Told you, I was going to bring my own lunch.”
Jade said, “You win at lunch. Your prize? You get to give me one of those breaded shrimp.”
I used the chopsticks to drop it next to her cafeteria mystery meat. “Lucky me.”
Tara licked her lips. “Can I have a taste of that salmon roe? Where did you even get ikura around here?”
I smiled mysteriously and borrowed her spoon to get a generous heap of sushi rice topped with salmon eggs. “Here ya go.”
She tasted it and her eyes rolled back in her head. “I had this once in San Diego,” she said in a reverent hush.
They both looked at their cafeteria lunch and then back at mine.
“I think I’m going to start bringing my lunch, too,” said Jade.
* * *
We did drills in basketball, first passing, then guarded jump shots, with the tallest girls in the class doing the blocking. It was frustrating because they casually batted away nearly all the shots. No matter how high I leaped, they were taller. Pogo girls.
I wanted to jump, to teleport up into the air, higher than them. But that would be pretty unmistakable—pretty dumb. But I wished I could leap higher. My thigh muscles weren’t flabby. Snowboarding wasn’t exactly effortless.
What if I could add some velocity to my leap?
And what if you add enough velocity to smash through the roof?
I did get one ball past the guard, feinting a leap so that she was coming back down while I went up, but I still missed the basket.
To add to the humiliation, Coach had us switch, to guard the basket against the tall girls who constantly scored against us.
“What do you expect?” said Paula, seeing my face twist in frustration. “It’s really their practice.” She tilted her head at the taller girls. “They’ve got a game tonight.”
“Oh,” I said. “Didn’t realize they were on the basketball team. But why’d they have to be so tall?”
“Pity them,” said Paula. “They’re last in the division.”
* * *
I saw Brett’s girlfriend, Donna, before art class, leaning against him. She was my height, but older. I’d seen her before, outside, with the smokers, and in the cafeteria where she sat with Caffeine.
Perfect.
Caffeine was still milking her wrist injury for maximum sloth, though I knew she was scheduled to resume PE the following week. In art class she told Mrs. Begay, “I can’t really draw left-handed.” Her right hand was still in a Velcro-secured wrist brace.
Mrs. Begay looked skeptical but she let Caffeine read instead. Reading for Caffeine consisted of opening her notebook and using it to conceal her cell phone while she texted.
It didn’t take a genius to notice the pages never turned, and I could tell Mrs. Begay knew what was going on.
After class, Caffeine lingered by the door, ostensibly looking at her phone, but I saw her glance my way as I put away my sketchbook. The rest of the students filed out and Mrs. Begay went to the supply closet in the back, putting away the still-life models we’d used in class.
Instead of leaving, I went to Mrs. Begay and said, “Do you need any help with that?”
Caffeine shook her head sharply and I heard her mutter “Kissass.” She left the room.
Mrs. Begay shook her head. “That’s sweet, Cent, but I’ve got them organized just so. It would take me longer to describe my system than it would to just put them away myself.”
I said goodbye and halfway to the door, while Mrs. Begay was still turned away, I jumped outside, behind the evergreen bushes at the end of the wing. Three steps took me to the glass doors at the end of the hallway.
Caffeine was waiting outside the door of the art classroom.
Let her wait.
I crunched though packed snow to the west door and ducked in to get my coat and snowshoes.
* * *
For the first time (outside our living room) I used the new phone to check in with Mom before walking to Krakatoa with Jade and Tara. This took a lot longer than usual because, even though the streets and sidewalks were mostly plowed, both of them wanted to try the snowshoes. We had to hopscotch around to find snow deep enough, first using the school’s front lawn, then moving to a series of empty lots that only vaguely led toward the coffee shop.
I’d already done most of my schoolwork. Half of my teachers put the assignment on the board at the beginning of class and, if you’re caught up on the reading, which I usually was, the lecture actually gave you the answers. But I was even more obsessive than usual about it, since it kept me from thinking about Brett.
Which is why I was surprised when he walked up to our table up on the balcony.
“’Sup?” he said.
I stared at him blankly.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Uh … hi?” I finally said.
This apparently didn’t help much, but then I saw someone standing behind him.
It was Joe, the friend who’d driven Brett home after his fall. He pushed forward. “Hey.”
I looked at Tara and Jade, mystified. They were looking at Joe.
“Hey, yourself,” said Tara.
Joe turned back to me. “You’re Cent, right? I’m Joe Trujeque.” His voice was deep for someone so skinny. Resonant.
I nodded. “Hello.”
“Saw you boarding on the hill.”
I’d seen him, too, but hadn’t been looking that closely. Once I’d seen Brett’s smile, I’d only had eyes for him. “Yeah,” I said. I was still confused. Was he coming on to me?
The silence stretched and Brett broke in, saying in a rush, “We need more girls on the snowboarding team.”
Joe turned his hands over, indicating both Jade and me. “Because of Title IX, the school won’t spring for transportation to practice and events without at least one-third girls on the team, and we’re down two members. One messed up her knee and is out for the winter. The other one didn’t qualify this semester.”
“Didn’t qualify? She wasn’t a good enough boarder?” I carefully didn’t look at Jade when I said that. Jade was okay, but I didn’t picture her as a competitive snowboarder. I didn’t picture myself as a competitive snowboarder.
“Academically. She was on probation but
she didn’t pull up her grades. Now she’s off.” He turned to Jade. “I know your grades are good enough.” Then he nodded at me. “You’re new so you’re a blank slate. You could make straight F’s this semester and you’d still be eligible until spring grades come out, which is after the season is over, see?”
F’s? I was speechless. Who do you think I am? Who do you think you are?
Jade looked surprised. “You guys must really be desperate to ask me.”
Joe spread his hands. “A little. But you can board. You have your own equipment.”
Tara laughed. “Ha. It’s more about the transport than anything. You could probably be crippled, blind, and deaf and they’d take you, just so the boys’ team can get to the meets.”
Joe glared back. “It’s not just the boys’ team. Lany has a real shot at state in the half-pipe and Carita is doing really good in the slopestyle. Lany has a better chance than any of us boys at placing.” He looked back at me. “What do you say?”
I was still pissed. F’s? I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Joe, is it? What I say is: please excuse us for a moment.”
He stood there, puzzled.
I rephrased. “Go away while I talk to my … colleagues.”
His eyebrows went up. “Oh. Right.” He backed up and, when Brett didn’t move, grabbed Brett’s arm. “We’ll go downstairs and get a drink, then check back, okay?”
He threaded his way back to the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder a couple of times.
Tara laughed when they finally dropped out of sight down the stairs. “Well, you’ve got them by the short hairs.” She looked at Jade. “What do you think? You wanna be a jock?”
“A jock? This isn’t being a jock. This is more like chess club. They’re not a real team—just a club in the state league.” She looked like she was thinking it over. “What do you think?” At first I thought she was talking to me but she was looking at Tara.
Tara shrugged. “Up to you. It’s six more weeks, right? They practice every Saturday at Durango and I think there’s three more general meets. Sundays, I think. Doubt if you have to worry about the state meet but you might have to go along to cheer Lany on.”