Highly Illogical Behavior

by John Corey Whaley

  “Okay . . . okay . . . ,” she said calmly. “It’s okay. You’re good, Sol.”

  “Sorry,” he said, leaning forward and resting his face in his hands.

  “No apologies. Just breathe and count to ten, okay? That’s good . . . now exhale slowly at five. You’ve got this, buddy.”

  He looked up at her, counting in his mind, and instead of hiding his face in embarrassment or leaving the room, he did exactly what she told him to do. It was five minutes of panic in an otherwise quiet, normal day—five minutes of near silence that told him more than any conversation they’d ever had. He was safe with her. She did something instead of nothing. And suddenly destiny didn’t seem all that far-fetched an idea.

  FOURTEEN

  LISA PRAYTOR

  The second Solomon mentioned Clark coming over, Lisa knew she’d earned his complete trust. It wasn’t a far leap, of course, seeing as she’d practically become a member of his family. And what could’ve been an obligatory friendship with a disturbed boy had, in actuality, become one of the healthiest relationships in her life with one of the more levelheaded people she’d ever met. And, lest you forget, it was going to make all of her dreams come true.

  It was finally time for Solomon to meet Clark and realize that no matter how well you hide, the world finds you and gives you reasons to come out of the shadows. Lisa had already saved him from complete solitude, so now it was time to give him another friend on the outside. She knew as soon as Clark walked in with that big sincere smile and those sea-green eyes that Solomon, gay or not, would be enamored. Clark was one of those guys whose club you want to be in. And it was something you could tell just by seeing him—a familiarity and kindness that made strangers approach him all the time to ask for directions or to see if he was someone they knew. It was a specific kind of effortless charm that Lisa couldn’t quite understand, but had certainly fallen victim to. And she was banking on similar results with Solomon.

  When she left Solomon’s house later that night, she went straight to Clark’s and the second he opened the door, she looked him in the eyes and said, “It’s time.”

  “Time for what?” he asked blandly, letting her in and taking a seat on the couch.

  “Solomon. You. Me.”

  “Oh. I didn’t think that was ever going to happen.” He looked straight ahead at the TV.

  “Look, I know I’ve been gone a lot lately.”

  “A lot?” he said, turning her way. “If I didn’t see you at school I wouldn’t even remember what you look like.”

  “Like you’d ever forget that,” she joked.

  “Don’t do that,” he said. “I’m allowed to be frustrated, Lisa.”

  “I know. But, this will fix everything.”

  “You think so?” he said sarcastically. “I can’t wait to be the third wheel with you and the kid you’re scamming.”

  “Watch it,” she said, shooting him a look that made him flinch.

  “Seriously, though. Am I supposed to pretend you’re not using him? Do I have to lie, too?”

  “I’m not lying,” she said. “I am his friend. That part’s real. It didn’t have to be, but it is. And he never has to find out anyway. We’re the only ones who know about that essay.”

  “Shit. Tell me why I’d want to do this again?”

  “Because he needs you,” she said. “And I need you. I know it feels wrong, I do. I’m not naive. But I think it’s the only way. Plus, it’s too late to undo what I’ve done . . . which is nothing short of damn impressive in terms of experimental psychological treatments.”

  “Jesus, Lisa. Talk like a human.”

  “Clark, you’re going to meet him and you’re going to know why I can’t give up. You’ll see what I see. We have to help him out of there. The world needs him.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But if he’s weird, I’m not going back. I don’t care if it ruins your experimental psychological treatment or not.”

  Since Lisa was afraid Clark would change his mind again, she planned to take him over to Solomon’s the very next day. It would work perfectly since Jason and Valerie were having one of their date nights. Lisa figured the fewer people the better, just in case Solomon, or Clark for that matter, was feeling particularly anxious.

  When they were standing at his front door the next afternoon, Lisa looked over at Clark and just by raising one eyebrow, asked if he was ready.

  “I feel like I should have a gift or something,” he said.

  “You’re not taking him to prom. Just relax.”

  When the door opened, Solomon stood silently on the other side. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, something Lisa had never seen on him, a button-down shirt, and, much to Lisa’s surprise, shoes.

  “New shoes?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, looking down at them. “Mom had to guess my shoe size. They’re a little big.”

  “Why do you need them?” Clark asked. “I mean, sorry . . . just . . . I don’t think I’d ever wear them if I . . .”

  “Sol, meet Clark Robbins. Master of the foot-in-mouth.”

  “Hi,” Solomon said.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Solomon.”

  Clark extended a hand and Lisa watched as they shook, him standing outside, Solomon standing inside, the divide between their worlds never clearer to her. And, like it was just another day, Solomon stepped aside and closed the door after they’d entered.

  “You guys want something to drink?” he asked. “A snack maybe? Mom said to ask as soon as you got here.”

  “No thanks,” Lisa said. “And don’t offer Clark food. He eats like a pre-hibernation bear.”

  “I do,” he said. “It’s disgusting.”

  “No food then,” Solomon said. “Should we sit or something?”

  Lisa led the way to the living room and took a seat on the sofa. She crossed her legs and looked up with a face that said, You should be sitting down, too, you morons. So, Solomon took the chair by the fireplace and Clark sat next to Lisa, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa.

  “This is weird, yeah?” Solomon asked, looking at the floor.

  “You know what’s weird?” Clark said. “Stonehenge.”

  “And Easter Island,” Lisa added.

  Solomon looked up at them the way he should’ve—like they weren’t making any sense—and then let out a little laugh.

  “Well, Clark,” he said, “as you can see, I don’t get out much. So, please explain to me why water polo is fun.”

  “Water polo? I thought I was just on a really bad swim team.”

  Lisa rolled her eyes at Solomon, who was, of course, laughing with Clark. These two were a match made in bad joke heaven.

  “I’ve been trying to get a laugh like that out of him for a long time,” Lisa said, crossing her arms.

  “Can I ask you guys something?” Solomon said, his expression suddenly grave.

  “Sure.”

  “How do you do it? These things are killing me.”

  He raised one leg and pointed to his shoe. It looked about a size too big and was a little out of style. This made her like him even more.

  “You’re going to have to get used to them again,” Lisa said. “Your feet have become too delicate.”

  “Virgin feet,” Clark added without hesitation.

  “Great band name,” Solomon said.

  “Clark Robbins and the Virgin Feet,” Lisa said.

  “I like it.” Clark nodded. “Or maybe just Virgin Foot.”

  “Ew,” Lisa said. “You made it weird.”

  “Did I?” he asked Solomon.

  “Kind of.”

  “Okay . . . okay,” Clark said. “Can I ask you something, dude?”

  “Yeah,” Solomon said, looking a little worried.

  “You never leave the house? Like, not even a foot? In se
cret maybe?”

  “Clark,” Lisa snapped.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Clark continued. “You could do worse. I mean . . . if you have to be inside all the time, at least your house is nice. But, don’t you ever want to go out there?”

  “Well, yeah,” Solomon said, looking toward Lisa. “Does he not know about the pool?”

  He pointed toward the glass door to their left and out to the large hole in the yard.

  “You think I’m just here to play chess?” Clark said. “I was promised pool parties and babes in bikinis and Star Trek marathons.”

  “You were promised maybe one and a half of those things,” Lisa corrected.

  “Fair enough. It’s going to be awesome, man. It’s our only real defense against global warming.”

  “Swimming?” Solomon asked.

  “You get in a pool and tell me the world’s on fire. I don’t think so.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Solomon said.

  “Oh yeah,” Lisa said. “Clark doesn’t believe in global warming. It’s the only thing he thinks his mom’s right about.”

  “Well, she also thinks I’m smart. Which I can’t argue with.”

  “He doesn’t always try to be this funny,” Lisa said. “This is Nervous Clark. A string of one-liners.”

  “Guilty,” Clark said.

  “Why would you be nervous?” Solomon asked.

  “Meeting new people, you know,” Clark said.

  “Tell him what else,” Lisa urged.

  “Oh yeah,” Clark said. “I hope this isn’t rude and I know we just got here and all, but I hear word of a holodeck and I need that dream to come true whenever you’re ready.”

  “Okay, umm . . . sure, we can go see it if you want,” Solomon said, standing up.

  “Maybe I should sit this one out,” Lisa joked.

  “Never,” Clark said.

  Lisa had a hard time buying Clark’s excitement as they followed Solomon through the kitchen and to the garage door. And she thought it looked like Solomon was just as excited as he was. When he’d shown her, he was almost embarrassed.

  They stepped inside and Clark tightened his grasp on Lisa’s hand before letting it go. He stood in the center of the room and slowly turned all the way around, looking at the floor, walls, and ceiling with this awestruck expression on his face. Solomon had that same look, but not because of the room. He stared right at Clark until he caught Lisa’s eye and snapped out of it. When he closed the door, the room was pitch-black, except for the tape.

  “Incredible,” Clark said in a whisper, like he’d be saying it to himself even if no one else were around.

  “It’s kind of ridiculous, I guess,” Solomon said.

  “Not at all,” Clark argued. “Not even a little.”

  Lisa stood close enough to Clark to see him close his eyes for a second and then open them back up.

  “Okay, quick,” he said. “If you could be any character on The Next Generation who would you be?”

  “Easy,” Solomon said. “Data. For sure.”

  “That makes sense,” Clark said.

  “You?”

  “I always liked Wesley Crusher.”

  “What?” Solomon was appalled. “Nobody likes Wesley Crusher.”

  “Why not?” Lisa asked.

  “Because he’s a total Mary Sue,” Solomon said. “He’s too perfect.”

  “But he’s always saving the day,” Clark argued. “Like, always.”

  “Exactly. He’s just a talking deus ex machina. Everybody on the ship treats him like a dumb kid, then he saves them at the last minute and, every single time, they go right back to treating him like a dumb kid again. Do I need to remind you that the starship Enterprise is full of genius scientists and engineers? Why’s this kid who can’t get into Starfleet Academy smarter than all of them?”

  “Good point,” Clark said. “He’s still my choice, though. So, umm . . . where’s the ON switch to this room?”

  “I know, right?” Solomon said. “It’s just paint and tape.”

  “You watch Community?” Clark asked.

  “I’ve seen an episode or two.”

  “One of the characters has a room like this. Calls it the Dreamatorium. But his works, sort of. I’ll show you sometime.”

  “That would be awesome,” Solomon said. “Why can’t it be real? Where’s the future we were promised, man?”

  “For real,” Clark said. “We’re supposed to have cooler things than drones that deliver toilet paper.”

  “Drones deliver your toilet paper?” Solomon asked.

  “Okay, so that is kind of cool. But, still. Where’s my virtual reality? Where’s my hover car? And where the hell is teleportation?”

  “Why don’t we teleport back to the living room, guys?” Lisa suggested. “I’m sorry to tell you that this room sort of gives me a headache.”

  “Fine,” Clark said, disappointed. “But can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Sure,” Solomon said.

  “Do you ever stand in here with that garage door open?”

  “No I do not.”

  “Interesting,” Clark said.

  When they were back in the living room, seated exactly how they’d been before, the awkward silence set in. It was inevitable, Lisa figured, but she was determined not to let any moment of this day be soured, so she immediately hopped up, walked over to the cabinet where they kept the board games, and opened it wide, turning to look their way.

  “Let’s teach Clark how to play Munchkin so we can destroy him.”

  “I’m in,” Clark said.

  “She’s very good,” Solomon added, standing up. “It’s disturbing, actually.”

  “No mercy,” Lisa said.

  When they were all set up at the dining room table, Lisa knew she’d made the right decision. Already, Solomon seemed more relaxed as he shuffled the cards and started explaining the rules. She did notice a difference, though, between the way he’d taught her and the way he was teaching Clark. The first time, he’d haphazardly given her the basics of the game and, ultimately, decided to just start playing and teach her as they went along. But with Clark, he was taking the time to go over every little rule and circumstance possible. And even though it stretched out longer than it should have, Lisa knew why. He finally had something to say to Clark and he didn’t want it to end.

  FIFTEEN

  SOLOMON REED

  Solomon couldn’t believe this guy. He knew five phrases in Klingon and Dothraki. And he showed off these skills with a confidence that normally would’ve annoyed Solomon. But, from Clark, it was endearing and innocent. It felt like he’d always been around. And just after Lisa beat them both at the first game, Solomon realized they’d been practically ignoring her the entire time.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking her way. “I bet we’re boring you to death.”

  “I’m past death,” she said, smiling. “Hell was great. Less Star Trek references.”

  They ended up playing two more rounds, with a break for pizza in between. Lisa won the first and Clark won the second. It was weird, having friends like this, at his house, playing a game like it was no big deal. It wasn’t to them, he thought. Which was so perfect—nothing was forced. They were just there to have fun.

  Mostly, though, he watched Clark. Every single turn he would silently inspect his hand, looking back and forth from the table to his cards before making a move. When he drew a good card, he’d raise his right eyebrow just slightly enough to be noticed and when he drew a bad card, he’d frown a little. And even despite noticing these things, Solomon was still too distracted to beat him.

  “Beginner’s luck,” he said after the second game. “Your time will come. Rest assured.”

  “Oh yeah?” Clark asked. “You care to make it interesting?”

&nb
sp; “I do,” he replied. “I wager the hand of your lady.”

  “Wait . . . what?” Lisa said, helping put away the cards.

  “Oh, you can have her,” Clark joked. “What else you got?”

  “Very funny,” Lisa said. “It’s getting kind of late.”

  “Yeah,” Clark agreed. “Where are your parents?”

  “They went to dinner and a movie,” he said.

  “Now that is something I bet you miss,” Clark said. “Going to the movies, I mean.”

  “I do. But, I have Wi-Fi and TV, so it’s not a big deal.”

  “But the popcorn,” Clark added.

  “Sometimes they bring some home.”

  “Dude, we could bring you stuff from the outside, too, you know.”

  “He’s not in prison, Clark.”

  “Sorry . . . I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “No, it’s cool,” Solomon said. “I don’t miss much. It’s easier than you guys think it is.”

  “I saw this movie called Copycat once,” Clark said out of nowhere.

  “I know that movie,” Lisa interrupted. “With the chick from Alien.”

  “Yeah. Sigourney Weaver. Anyway, she played this criminal psychologist who couldn’t leave her apartment. But then she gets all wrapped up in helping this detective find a serial killer.”

  “Oh no. Do you guys need help finding a serial killer, too?” Solomon asked. “This explains everything.”

  “Or maybe someone else needed your help finding us,” Clark said.

  “That makes sense,” Solomon said. “Now you’re going to kill me?”

  “Serial kill you,” Clark said.

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous, dude.”

  “Why does, like, every show on TV have a serial killer now?” Lisa asked. “There are five in the world and a thousand on TV. Every week, it’s a new sociopath making sculptures with human body parts.”

  “You have such a way with words, Lisa,” Clark said.

  “She’s right, though,” Solomon added. “If there were that many serial killers in real life, we’d all be scared shitless.”