Playing With Matches

by Brian Katcher

  “Well…” I shrugged, trying to act as if I swallowed contraband all the time.

  “No, seriously. Parking Lot Pete’s busted me twice. I might have got suspended.” She continued to smile. Her teeth were as straight as bathroom tiles, though with a slight yellowish nicotine tinge.

  “Didn’t you see the sign out front?” I kidded. “This is a tobacco-free school zone.”

  She laughed. Even the most brainwashed members of the staff knew that sign was a work of purest fiction.

  Amy bit her lip as if trying to remember something. She pointed at me.

  “Lee-on?” she guessed.

  “Right.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. We were in, what, fourth grade together?”

  “Mrs. Pund’s class.”

  Amy ran her hand through her wavy blond hair and leaned against a locker. “That’s right. I remember when she took away your Pokémon cards.”

  Of course that was the memory she glommed on to. “Uh, yeah. Or remember when Johnny Thomson pulled the fire alarm?”

  “Or when Caitlin Kasper threw up on the class gerbil?”

  “Good times, good times.”

  Amy patted my arm. I felt like a leper who’d been touched by the queen.

  “Thanks again, Leon.”

  Damn, she was going to leave. I had to think of a conversation extender, but all that came to mind was Dan’s brain-maggot story.

  “Listen, Amy…”

  She was listening, so I had to say something.

  “Maybe sometime…” Ah, what the hell. “Some friends and I are going to play mini golf tonight. Would you like to go?”

  Amy opened her mouth and tilted her head, with a none-too-bright expression on her face. She must have been thinking of the kindest way to say no.

  “Yeah, okay, Leon.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Give me a call later; I think I can make it.”

  “Cool.” My voice only cracked a little.

  I managed to wait till she was out of sight. Then I treated the Zummer security cameras to the first-ever shot of a guy doing a merry jig in front of the art room. My God, I had a date with Amy! Maybe she’d agreed out of boredom or pity, but at least it was an opening.

  The twins had been right: all it took was a little conversation and a little tact. Except for the cigarette-eating thing. That was all Leon.

  Now, if I could just get some new clothes, a new car, a new body, and a new personality by that night, I might actually stand a chance.

  I was supposed to meet Rob and the twins at Andy’s Mini Golf at seven sharp. When I got home from school, I showered, shaved, splashed on way too much cologne, took another quick shower, and got ready to call Amy.

  I wasn’t such a dweeb that I wrote down what I was going to say, but I did mentally go over it beforehand. I’d call her, joke a bit about the cigarette incident, and tell her the evening’s plans. Then I’d suggest I pick her up, and we’d be all set.

  Alone in my room, I braced myself for the call. Don’t be yourself.

  I dialed.

  “Yes?” asked a woman, in a voice that sounded like I’d woken her up.

  “Is Amy there?”

  “Amy?” She yawned. “No, she left about an hour ago.”

  I punched Baxter in the stomach. “She left? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Went to the movies with some friends.” There was a distinct irritation in her voice.

  “Okay. Could you tell her Leon called?” I gave her my phone number.

  I wrapped my hands around Baxter’s neck and began to throttle him. To the movies with friends. If she’d even bothered to think of me, it was probably That dork? He can just sit at home and pick his nose. Why should I care about him?

  Maybe that was a little harsh. But if she didn’t want to see me, why had she gotten my hopes up like that? It would have been easier if she’d just said she didn’t like me.

  So here it was, Friday night, and I’d probably spend it alone with my parents. I didn’t even feel like golf. After getting stood up by my dream girl, hitting a colored ball through a miniature windmill almost seemed pointless. I threw my teddy to the floor and went sulking into the living room.

  Mom and Dad were sprawled out on the couch, interrupting each other’s tales of how hard their day was. I thought if either of them admitted to liking their job, the other would immediately start divorce proceedings. Sometimes I wondered if I, too, was doomed to take a job I disliked and then complain about it for the next forty years. Probably.

  “Hey, Leon,” said my dad, munching on the chips I had left out the day before. “Are you staying in? We could play Scrabble and watch the late movie.”

  I wasn’t feeling that sorry for myself.

  “Thanks, but I’m meeting the guys.” I ducked into the hall to grab my jacket.

  Well, at least I had friends, which was more than some nerds had. Maybe I didn’t exist to Amy and her crowd, but I had some good buddies. Jimmy, Johnny, Rob, Samantha…and maybe one other. Someone who appreciated good books, bad television, and worse jokes.

  I hesitated, then searched out the phone book. There was only one entry for “Hennon” in our school district.

  “Melody? This is Leon. Listen, you up for some mini golf?”

  9

  SUB-PAR

  “GOLF IS A GOOD WALK SPOILED.”—Mark Twain

  Andy’s Mini Golf and Driving Range had been going out of business since 1988. Apparently, Andy had managed to stave off bankruptcy for yet another season, and despite the decaying Astroturf and the headless Mother Goose on hole nine, we’d go there about once a month.

  The twins whaled on each other with their putters while Rob and I waited on two separate benches.

  “So a neutron walks into a bar and orders a beer,” I said to Rob. “And the bartender says, ‘For you, no charge.’”

  Rob looked at me as if I was a child-molesting telemarketer. “Is it time to tee off?”

  “Actually…” I spotted Melody’s pickup pulling into the parking lot. “I’ve got a friend coming. Here she is.”

  I was about to give them a heads-up about Melody, to warn everyone not to stare, to tell them that we’d been working on a project together and that I wanted her to feel comfortable around us. Unfortunately, at that moment the twins remembered that the word “balls” has more than one meaning.

  “Hey, look, I got blue balls!” said Jimmy, laughing.

  “Hey, anyone want to hold my balls?” hollered Johnny. A woman with a child in tow quickly walked away from us.

  “I have to go clean my balls.”

  “My balls are bigger than your balls.”

  “Shut up!” Rob and I bellowed. There was a short pause. Then Jimmy hefted his putter.

  “Check out my shaft.”

  “Calm down,” said Rob, in a voice like an exhausted kindergarten teacher’s. “Leon’s date’s here.”

  No! Not a date! The twins’ heads swiveled just as Melody passed the frightening clown statue at the gate. Damn. I’d have to explain things later.

  Melody was wearing a tight little shirt, and I found myself not looking her in the face for an entirely new reason. She wore a wool cap that covered not only her scalp but what remained of her ears.

  Melody froze when she saw the four of us. She then started to advance. With each step, her head inclined downward, until she was looking at the crumbling sidewalk.

  “Guys, this is Melody. Melody, this is Rob, Jimmy, and Johnny.” Dammit, Leon! This is embarrassing for her!

  When people met the disabled, the disfigured, or the mentally challenged, they reacted in one of two ways. There was the traditional “I didn’t even notice, I’m perfectly comfortable, some of my best friends are differently abled” false sincerity.

  Luckily, the Thomsons were a lot more forward.

  “Hey, Melody, check out my balls!”

  Well, not the best icebreaker, but it did get her to look up again.

  “I’ll go and get a p
utter.”

  Johnny was on a roll. “Don’t forget to ask Andy to show you his baaaargh!”

  I turned to see Johnny clutching his stomach and Rob unclenching his fist.

  To tell you the truth, Rob and I were usually the only ones who played the full eighteen holes. Jimmy and Johnny were so ADHD that they’d get distracted and skip the back nine. More than once we’d found them fishing for coins in the wishing well or playing dodgeball out on the driving range. I hoped they’d wander off early that night; they were just uncouth enough to ask Melody about her face.

  My nondate returned, defensively clutching her putter to her chest. Two hours earlier I had thought I’d be trying to score a hole in one with Amy. Now I’d be looking out for Melody while my friends thought I was on a date.

  We all wrote our names on the scorecards and attempted to wring five dollars’ worth of fun out of eighteen holes. True to form, the twins landed their first shots in the dry fountain next to hole five. They proceeded to hold an impromptu game of field hockey in the basin, leaving us to golf in peace.

  Rob shot first. Just before he swung, he looked back and caught my eye. And winked.

  Ah, hell. I’d been complaining about not having a girlfriend all month; now I showed up here with Melody. Rob probably thought I was desperate enough to date her. And there was no way I could correct him in front of Melody.

  We teed off. I knew that Rob and I were pretty good golfers, so I’d make it a point not to beat Melody by too much. I’d give her some pointers, maybe miss a couple of shots on purpose.

  Melody aced the first hole. I managed to knock my ball clear off the green and into the kneecap of a large burly man. He didn’t say anything, but I noticed that Rob had already scurried off to the next hole.

  Melody managed to knock her ball through the windmill and ended up with a two. I shot the six-stroke maximum.

  “Do you come here a lot?” Rob asked her.

  She shrugged. “Sometimes with my family. Here, Leon, can I make a suggestion?”

  I’d been trying to time my shot to miss the windmill blades. Melody stepped up behind me, placed her hands on my wrists, and adjusted my stance.

  Melody’s hands were pink and delicate. They were too small to wrap around my wrists. I could just feel the touch of her body as she stood behind me.

  And then she backed away. I swung and missed the ball completely. Something had rattled me. At the next hole, I asked her to help me again.

  Melody beat the pants off us. She even aced the impossible hole where the cup is up on a little hill. Melody returned Rob’s victorious high five when they both won a free game at the last hole.

  While Melody collected the free passes, Rob pulled me into the shelter over the driving range. His teeth gleamed whitely out of his dark face in a rare smile.

  “So do you want me to get rid of the twins?”

  I thought it over. “Could you make it look like an accident?”

  “Seriously, man. We can, you know, give you guys some space.”

  I looked to make sure Melody was still at the office. “Listen, Rob, she is not my date, okay? That’s not funny.”

  Rob’s expression quickly returned to its normal snarl. “Who’s trying to be funny?”

  “Just drop it.” I had enjoyed Melody’s company, but I didn’t want Rob saying anything that she might misunderstand.

  We found Jimmy and Johnny sitting in their VW van, smoking.

  “Hey, so was this a pity date, or what?” hollered Johnny as we passed.

  My guts knotted. I couldn’t believe he could be that cruel.

  Well, I could believe it, but still.

  “I mean, c’mon, Melody,” he continued. “I know Leon probably begged you, but now you’ll never get rid of him.”

  Ah. I was the pity date.

  Johnny hopped out of the van and prodded me with his stolen putter.

  “Just look at that flabby ass! And these scraggly sideburns!”

  Melody’s thin skin was turning purple, but I didn’t think it was from humiliation.

  “John?” she finally asked, her hand over her mouth. “Do you know what really impresses girls?”

  “No…”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  Jimmy and Rob slapped palms as Johnny scratched his head. I followed Melody to her truck.

  “Sit with me a second, Leon.”

  I climbed up into the towering cab with less grace than Melody.

  She smiled at me. In my mind’s eye, I filled in the missing parts of her face: the smirking lips, the turned-up nose, the high cheeks.

  “Leon, thanks for inviting me. It, um…never mind.”

  “Huh?” Damn, was I articulate or what?

  “It’s just that people tend to get really nervous around me. And when you called me tonight to hang out with you and your friends…It’s just nice when someone looks at me and sees more than this.” She waved her hand in front of her face.

  I felt like a dick. The only reason I’d started talking to her was to cover up my rudeness about the lockers. I’d asked to be her study partner just to avoid working with Bill. And that night, I really wanted to be with Amy.

  “Hey, Melody? Only losers eat in the library. Eat with us.”

  I expected her to jump at the chance, but she just revved the engine. “I’m not sure if I could stand to eat with Johnny. Especially on hot dog days.”

  10

  THE ALGONQUIN ROUND TABLE

  The following Monday I didn’t wake up as a billionaire playboy secret agent, so I was forced to return to school. I didn’t see Melody during study hall, and I wondered if she’d take me up on my lunch invitation.

  I didn’t bother trying to talk to Amy. To my surprise, she made an effort to talk to me during science.

  Mr. Jackson had been trying to demonstrate a chemical reaction when he’d spilled a beaker of pungent chemicals all over his grade book. As he desperately mopped up the mess while screaming for more paper towels, Amy abruptly swiveled in her chair and paralyzed me with her smile. All thoughts of being stood up melted away. I just wanted her to keep smiling at me.

  “Hey, Larry.”

  I was crestfallen. “That’s Leon.”

  Amy scooted over to my table and punched me in the arm. “I know, silly. I’m just teasing. I’m sorry about Friday. Mom said you called.”

  “Yeah, well…” I shrugged. “You have fun with your friends?”

  Amy’s smile collapsed into a sneer. “My friends? Is that what Mom told you?”

  Something wasn’t right. I had to choose my next words carefully.

  “Uh…”

  “Yeah. I was with my friends.” The sarcasm wasn’t subtle.

  “Um…” What had I said wrong?

  She returned to her seat before I could grunt my way to asking her out again. Johnny, who’d been listening in, shook his head at me with pity. Once again, I’d felt like I was on the wrong page of the script.

  That afternoon, after elbowing my way through the prison-commissary-like receiving line in the cafeteria, I forced a path through the crowd and dropped my tray at my usual table. My three tablemates, Johnny, Rob, and Samantha, were already there. Jimmy ate at a different period.

  The lunchroom was really too small for the number of students, so finding a chair wasn’t always easy. The unofficial seating chart had gelled the first week of school. Jocks sat with jocks, band members with band members, Mormons with Mormons. We had claimed our large circular table early on. Johnny could handle the odd freshman or transfer student who tried to horn in on us.

  “Dudes,” announced Johnny as I sat, “I have just figured out how to make my fortune. I’m gonna be rich before I’m nineteen!”

  “How many times, Johnny?” groaned Samantha. “There’s no such thing as magic beans.”

  Johnny ignored her. “It’s a business idea. It’s called Total Bastards Incorporated.”

  “Fits you,” Rob commented.

  “Thanks. Now, say you h
ad a girlfriend,” Johnny said, looking at me. He paused, then looked at Rob. “Say you had a girlfriend. One you wanted to break up with. But you’re too much of a spineless wimp to tell her. That’s where I come in. For a modest fee, you leave town and I’ll break the news to her. You get to weasel right out of it!”

  Samantha sighed. “So in other words, you get the money and a chance to hit on vulnerable women.”

  “It’s not just girlfriends, you know,” said Johnny defensively. “I can fire people, tell off neighbors, basically be the bearer of bad tidings.”

  “So much for ‘don’t shoot the messenger,’” I said.

  Rob looked perplexed. “But even if you broke up with my girlfriend for me, she’d still be there when I got back, madder than ever.”

  Johnny shrugged. “If you’re the type of guy who’d hire someone like me, is she really going to miss you?”

  As I proceeded to snatch french fries off Rob’s tray, I wondered if Melody would show up. I honestly didn’t know what outcome I wanted. If she didn’t join us, I’d feel relief that I wouldn’t have to look out for her and make sure we included her in our conversations. On the other hand, I’d feel a little offended if she decided she’d rather sit alone in the library.

  “Um, hello?” I turned to see Melody standing behind me, her tray clutched in front of her. So this was it.

  The only empty chair was between Rob and Johnny. Rob scooted over to give her room while Johnny continued to force food into his gullet.

  Samantha had politely nodded to my guest, but no one else acknowledged her. Melody picked at her food. Maybe there was a reason she had lunch alone. Maybe she realized that people didn’t like to look at her while they ate.

  “So,” I announced to no one in particular, “Melody is going to the Missouri Scholars Academy this summer.”

  Johnny deftly spit a wad of gristle onto Samantha’s tray. “What’s that?” he asked suspiciously.

  “It’s a summer school program,” said Melody, apparently addressing her mashed potatoes. “Just extra classes in preparation for college.”