Near the end of the song, Tobey and Josh do this jam thing that sounds supercool. I feel all special, knowing the behind-the-scenes truth to what they’re playing. How they practiced certain parts over and over. How hard it is for Mike and Tobey to harmonize on one line of the vocals. The part where Tobey always thinks he’s going to mess up but never does. I’m so proud of him.
Then I hear this loud cough. Or someone gagging. But it’s not just one person. To hear that over the music, it had to have been a lot of people together. Like something synchronized.
Like something stupid Dave would do. And get his people to do with him.
I hear it again. Other kids laugh. It’s the kind of suggestive cough you hear in class when someone is making fun of someone else. Usually there’s a word under the cough, like “loser” or “homo” or “asshole.” It’s disguised as a cough so the teacher won’t get it.
They keep coughing. And there’s more laughing. A lot of people are supporting the interruption. There’s none of those harsh shhhh! sounds you hear when people want someone to shut up so they can hear. Just laughing. And some conversations are starting.
It’s a total disaster area.
I look up at Tobey, expecting him to be noticing everything. But he either can’t hear what’s happening or he doesn’t care. He’s playing with his eyes closed. I can tell he’s completely focused on the music. All three of them are.
When the song is over, no one claps. Everyone just stands there like they’re waiting for something else to happen. Maggie and I clap really loud. Other people join in. It doesn’t sound like they mean it, though.
“Dave’s a child,” Maggie says. “You got out just in time.”
“Seriously.”
She points at the stage. Tobey is pulling his guitar strap over his head. “Could he be any hotter?”
“Not so much, no.”
The guys go backstage. I don’t know if Tobey’s coming out or not.
“Wanna try to get backstage?” Maggie asks.
“Yeah.”
As we’re pushing past people, I overhear conversations about Tobey’s band.
“How queer was that?”
“They suck so bad.”
“Do any of you know what the hell that was? Did they write that?”
“Probably.”
“They are so coming in last.”
“Even Marco is better than that shit.”
I push past people harder.
“Josh is such a spaz.”
“Seriously. Was he playing the drums or having an epileptic fit?”
“Both.”
I turn around to see who’s talking. I almost die when I see that it’s Joe Zedepski and Robert Garten.
Things are worse than I thought. I just have to convince Tobey that they’re not.
“I always miss the good stuff,” Laila says. We’re in Maggie’s living room. I’ve seen airport terminals smaller than this.
“Don’t worry.” Maggie sits down next to her on the couch. “I’m about to fill you in on all the details.”
“But they came in last? How is that possible?”
“I’m getting snacks,” I announce.
“Can you bring the Sun Chips?” Maggie says.
“And is there Crunch ’n Munch?” Laila asks Maggie.
“Yeah,” Maggie says.
“That, too,” Laila tells me. “Oh and P.S.? I am in dire need of more coffee. Industrial strength.”
“But we’re going to sleep soon,” I say.
“I know.” Laila shudders. “Addiction is a bitch.”
I go into Maggie’s humongous kitchen. The coffee Laila made before smells really good. I take out the snacks and get bowls to empty them into. I kind of wish I was with Tobey right now, making him feel better. I lean against the counter and think about him.
When I finally go back to the living room, I put in the movie we rented. We got crazy/beautiful since it has Jay Hernandez, and it was Laila’s turn to pick. He’s her main man. Which means next time we get to watch The Good Girl with Jake.
I turn on the huge flat-screen TV. An old All in the Family is on.
“Oooh!” I yell. “Can we watch this?”
“What are you on?” Laila says.
“I’m on life!” I dissolve in a fit of giggles.
“Now you need to chill.” Maggie throws a pillow at me. “Okay. Truth. Do you guys think Josh is cute?”
I immediately stop laughing. “What?”
“Josh? Cute? Yes or no?”
“In which solar system?” Laila says.
“Where’s this coming from?” I ask.
“I was just thinking. . . . You know when I was dancing with him? He’s looking better these days. Not as nerdy as before.”
I arrange the floor pillows into two big piles in front of the TV. “Josh was never a nerd.”
“You said he was a geek.”
“Right. But definitely not a nerd.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I’ve explained this to you before. A geek is like a dork. Someone who’s on the fringe, who you wouldn’t want to hang out with. A nerd is someone too weird and smart to fit in with the masses. Like me.”
“You’re not a nerd!”
“It’s okay. I know who I am. I consider it a compliment. I like when people tell me I’m weird.” I cram four Cheez Doodles into my mouth. “I mean, why be normal? ”
“Okay, fine.” Maggie licks fake orange cheese product from her fingers. “So he’s looking less geeky.”
“Do you think he’s cute?” Laila looks at Maggie.
“Sort of.” Maggie looks at the floor.
I’m totally shocked. “Ew! He’s, like, the epitome of immature!”
“Get out!” Maggie yells. “I don’t mean for me! No, I was thinking about fixing him up with Brenda.”
I’m like, “Since when do you know Brenda?”
“Since we got put together for that history project. She’s cool.”
“Yeah, right,” Laila says. “You are so hot for Josh!”
“Uh, well, no,” Maggie says. “It’s for Brenda?”
I can’t decide which piece of information is more astounding: Maggie thinking a geek like Josh is cute or Maggie thinking a punk like Brenda is cool. It must be the full moon.
“I can’t believe you thought I liked him,” Maggie huffs. “Jeez.”
“That’s why I was like . . . ” I make a repulsed face.
“These high-school boys are too immature for me,” Maggie announces. “I’m only dating college guys from now on. Guys my age don’t know how to handle me!”
“You’re too hot to handle.” I press my finger against Maggie’s arm and then pull it away quickly. “Ouch! Too hot to touch!” I make a sizzling noise. “Stand back!”
“Well, stand back unless your name is Rick.”
“Oh, yeah!” I say. “What’s the progress in Lovaville?”
“Much improved. He’s incredible. He’s such a good kisser. Among other things.”
“Like what?”
“Huh?”
“Like what other things?”
“Whatever.” She shrugs. “Anything I want.”
“Are you going to sleep with him?” Laila eyes Maggie.
“Probably.”
I say, “But you’ve only been going out for, like—”
“So what? We’re not twelve anymore. I’m eighteen. I’m supposed to be an adult now. What’s the big deal?”
“Since when is having sex not a big deal?” I say.
“I’m not exactly a virgin. Anyway. Don’t you feel like you want to sleep with Tobey?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you’re not ready. You’ll know it when you are.”
Laila goes, “Okay, Miss After-School Special.”
I put the movie on and get back into my pillow piles.
Halfway through the movie, we pause it for a bathroom-slash-beverage-refill break. Maggie’s upstairs talking to he
r mom. She told me how her mom’s been spending a lot of time in bed lately. I could never just go talk to my mom like that. Or even ask her if something’s wrong. It would feel way too uncomfortable.
I look at Laila. “Maggie told you how Dave sabotaged Tobey’s band?”
“Yeah. It’s classic acting-out. He’s still hurt.”
“About me dumping him?”
“Yeah.”
“Like he even cared.”
“Of course he cared! He got dumped. You think he can’t feel it?”
“Please. Like I ever knew what he really felt. He was probably fantasizing about every girl on the cheer-leader squad while he was telling me how much he wanted to sleep with me.”
“Some people just don’t know how to act.”
“I can’t believe I ever wanted them to like me! Uuuuhh!” I smother my face with a pillow.
“So you were going through a phase. It’s over.”
I come up for air. “How shallow is that?”
“No regrets,” Laila tells me. “You found something real.”
“Will you quit saying that?”
“You know you love it.”
She’s right. Laila’s always right.
CHAPTER 32
one of those talks
november 29, 4:51 p.m.
“Try not to highlight so much, though,” she says.
We’re in my room. I spent three hours cleaning it yesterday so Sara wouldn’t find out what a slob I am.
So far today, she helped me make a schedule of everything I have to do. She says I’m all cute with my day planner. I also asked her for help with my essays. She seems into it. Which rocks, because now we finally have something substantial in common. Besides the million other little things that make me feel so comfortable around her.
Now she’s demonstrating study skills.
“But this whole section looks important,” I say. “And using the highlighter is fun.”
“Yeah, but you should only be selecting the key ideas.”
“This whole section looks key.”
We’re doing study sessions at my house twice a week. Sara’s trying to be patient. I’m sure this is much harder than she thought it would be. My study habits have sucked since freshman year. It’s so hard to change, even when you want to. But I promised her I would try. And so far I’ve been getting all A’s.
My parents aren’t home. It’s hard to focus on this stuff when the knowledge that my parents aren’t home is draining my power of concentration.
“It looks like it,” Sara says, "but it’s not.”
“What parts would you highlight?”
Sara picks up the neon orange highlighter. Her chair scrapes against the floor as she slides it closer to mine. We huddle together over the history book on my desk.
“Maybe just . . .” She slowly swipes the highlighter over a sentence. “And . . .” She highlights another one. It’s all the same to me. It’s like she has this knack for knowing exactly what every teacher wants. Was I zoning out when they explained how to do this in third grade?
“I hate history,” I say.
“Same here,” she says.
“You do?”
“Totally.”
“Then why do you care so much?”
“This stuff doesn’t matter. What matters is what you do with it.” Sara snaps the highlighter cap on. "I try not to think about how boring it is. I just keep reminding myself about how I want my life to be and what I have to do to get there. Then it’s simple.”
She is way determined to succeed. My goals haven’t inspired the same amount of motivation for me. But now I have some reasons to quit slacking. A few kids came up to me after the Battle and said they liked MindFlame, but it’s obvious that most people think we suck. So the band’s not exactly going anywhere at the moment. And now I really want Manhattan Music Academy to take me. But mostly, there’s Sara.
After an hour of reading and trying to restrict my highlighting addiction to key concepts, I couldn’t be more exhausted. A nap would be good right about now. But Sara’s over on my bed, tearing through a pile of physics handouts like I’m going to give her a pop quiz any second. She looks so sexy leaning back against my pillows like that. Mike always laughs that I have so many pillows. He’s always joking about, Where are the stuffed animals? But he doesn’t get it. Girls love my pillows. They make the bed more inviting.
And my parents still aren’t home.
I go over and sit on my bed. Sara sorts the pile of paper into smaller piles.
“When do we get a break?” I ask.
“According to our contractual agreement,” Sara says, “break time doesn’t happen until you’re done with your homework for at least one subject.”
“I’m done.”
“With what?”
“History.”
“You were still on history?”
“Yeah, but I’m done now.”
Sara looks at me skeptically.
“I’m serious. I’m ready for my break.”
“Okay.” Sara stretches her arms out. "I guess we could take a break. A short one.”
“What should we do?” I attempt to telepathically convince Sara to announce that we should hook up.
“Talk,” she says.
“Oh.Yeah. Well . . . okay.”
“Is there something you’d rather do?”
"Who, me? Nah. Talking’s good.”
“Good.” Sara pulls her legs against her chest. She wraps her arms around her legs.
“What do you want to talk about?” I try to get comfortable.
“Relationships,” she says.
Suddenly things take on a serious tone. I hope this isn’t one of those talks where you have to go over the details of every single girl you’ve ever jerked off to. Sara doesn’t seem like the jealous type. But you never know.
“Okay,” I say.
“I was just wondering . . .” Sara traces her finger in circles on her knee.
“Yeah?” Maybe we’ll be done talking soon and she’ll want to hook up. If we still have some break time left. I try to arrange my expression so it appears interested.
“Have you ever... I mean I know I’m not your first girlfriend or anything, but . . . were you ever . . . like . . . serious about anyone else?”
I take a few seconds before answering. Girls ask you things that sound one way but really mean something else. What does Sara want to know? If I ever liked anyone else as much as her?
Does she think I’m a virgin?
“Um.” I decide clarification is the best approach. “Do you mean did I have a girlfriend for a long time?”
“Yeah.”
“Not really.”
“Did you ever go out with Cynthia?”
“Sort of.” This part can get tricky. Having sex with someone and going out with them are two different things. I never considered Cynthia to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to lie to Sara. But I also don’t want to tell her a bunch of stuff that’s just going to make her obsess and worry. Does she really need to know about every girl I’ve hooked up with? Not that it’s that many. And is this the right time to admit that I slept with Cynthia? I just think it’s unnecessary to tell her all of that. At least, it is at this point. “I haven’t had a long-term girlfriend, though.”
“How long did you go out with her?”
“Not too long.”
“So how long was your longest relationship?”
“Uh . . . three months?”
“What happened with that girl?”
“You mean why did we break up?”
“Yeah.”
“She was kind of neurotic . . . and, like, really goth and depressing all the time.”
“Who was it?”
“You know Brenda?”
Sara nods.
“Brenda.”
Sara presses her lips together. She nods some more.
“How long did you and Scott go out for?”
“Most of last year.”
> “What happened with you guys?” I’m sure she didn’t sleep with that dork.
Sara picks a piece of bubble wrap off the floor. My dad got a new computer last week. I kept the bubble wrap from the box. I like to pop it when I’m stressed.
Sara pops the bubble wrap. “Scott’s a great guy. It’s just . . . he didn’t make my record skip.”
I knew it.
I laugh. "Been there.”
“Yeah.”
“Do I?”
“Do you what?”
“Make your record skip.”
“Pretty much,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sara smiles. She just looks so cute.
I lean over.
“Don’t go there.” She holds up her hand.
“Why not?”
“We have to study.”
“But—”
“I want to, but we can’t. You have to focus, or you’ll never get through everything.”
“Man, you’re harsh.”
“Break is over.” Sara picks up one of the physics piles. “Back to work.”
"Okay...well...am I allowed to go to the store? We’re out of snacks.”
Sara gives me a look like I’m trying to get out of studying.
“No, I’m serious! If I’m working insane hours, my body requires very specific types of fuel.”
“Like what?”
“Like Mallomars and Oreos and—”
“Oooh! The ones with the mint filling?”
“Those would be them.”
Sara bites her lip. “Okay, you can go.”
“Thanks.You want anything else?”
“Just those. Thanks.”
“Cool.” I don’t get up. “Can I have a good-bye kiss?”
“Yeah. But just one!”
“Understood.” I crawl over to Sara. She giggles.
“Just one,” I whisper.Then I kiss her.
The hardest thing I do all week is get off my bed. And leave the house. While my parents still aren’t home.
CHAPTER 33
real experiences
december 22, 4:15 p.m.
I have no idea why I’m this nervous.
But I am.
I’m like, “So this is my room.”
But what it really feels like is, Here’s my bed and some other stuff.
“I like it,” Tobey says.
Is he looking at my bed? Why does my bed feel like it’s the only thing in the room?
When It Happens Page 15
