Adam picked up Jan’s hand. “I’m sorry about all that,” he said. “I should have asked what was up with your mom and dad.” Jan nodded. It was good to feel Adam’s sympathy. He smiled sweetly and she could tell that he meant what he said. He really did care about her.
Back in her room, Jan breathed a sigh of relief as Adam pulled her toward him and kissed her neck and ear. They had walked quickly back from D’Angelo’s, the feeling she had at the end of lunch increasing with every step. She did care about him, and he cared about her. This was what had always mattered.
Jan’s bed was carefully made up with a set of matching furry white pillows her mother had gotten her online as one of her going-away gifts. Eliza’s bed had a large, messy red blanket that said Montana across it. Against her pillow, she had a large stuffed bear that looked like it was made with real bear fur. “Guess which one’s mine,” Jan laughed. Adam guided her toward the bed.
“I’ll take anyplace with a soft landing,” he said, and Jan smiled. This was the real Adam, she told herself.
The rest of the weekend felt natural, as long as Jan avoided the issue of money. They took a walk around campus, saw a movie, and ate pizza at a place on Wickenden. On the way back from the pizza place, Jan bought a six-pack at the Portuguese grocery where no one ever got carded, and Andy joined them in Jan’s room for an hour or so, listening to music.
To avoid any awkwardness, Jan offered to buy the pizza and paid for her own movie ticket. Adam wouldn’t let her pay for the whole pizza and chipped in, Jan noticed, exactly half the check, even dividing the amount of the tip to the penny. Jan had a monthly allowance that her father deposited directly into her bank account. She knew if she overspent that either of her parents would cover her, no questions asked, as long as the amount wasn’t huge. Not everyone’s parents were as understanding as hers, Jan told herself, although the image of Adam counting out his change still grated on her.
Adam left early Sunday afternoon, and afterward Jan settled in, determined to get a head start on her reading for the week. Although the visit with Adam had been strained at times, it had been sad to see him sitting on the bus. He’d waved at her and she blew him a kiss. He had smiled sweetly, although she instantly regretted the gesture. It was like something a girl would do in a movie, like she was copying a cliché script.
Jan had just started on her Early Romantics assignment when Eliza barged in with a tall, thin boy and a chunkier dark-haired guy.
“Oh, hey,” said Eliza. “No more love nest?” Then she turned to the boys, gesturing toward Jan. “My roomie here is a love junkie. Girl ousted me an entire forty-eight hours! You tell me, are looks deceiving or what?”
Jan shook her head and felt her face flush. The tall, good-looking guy was the one Andy had told her about from class, she was certain of that. Both of the boys looked older, and here they were in the freshman dorm with Eliza. Only her roommate could pull that off. Jan fought back a wave of embarrassment. She was tired of being so wishy-washy, tired of letting Eliza dominate her, fed up with herself for not speaking her mind more firmly when Adam criticized her family.
“It wasn’t like that, Eliza and you know it!” she said. “My boyfriend from home was visiting. He’s at school in Boston,” she said to the boys. The tall guy hardly glanced her way, but the shorter one shook his head sympathetically, as if to say he knew all about Eliza.
“Just messing with you,” Eliza said. “Don’t get huffy. I tell everyone you’re the best roomie a girl could have. Neat as a pin, bright as a penny.”
Eliza began looking through her desk drawers, then turned to the closet. “Just got to locate my stash, then we’ll be out of your way.” She leaned into her closet and pulled a plastic bag from a long, plaid coat and handed it to the tall guy.
“Not a problem,” Jan said. She feigned interest in her iPad, clicking to add a comment to the essay she had barely begun reading. Eliza’s use of the word penny distracted her.
“Just one more sec,” Eliza said to the guys. “Oh, my bad, I’m such a rudie—Carl, Roberto, this is Jan. She’s from Manhattan, fancy—like you all. And she’s not a slut. I was just breaking her balls. She’s practically a married fucking woman.”
Jan sighed. “I’m hardly that,” she said with unintentional seriousness.
“Oh, really?” Eliza asked, suddenly interested. “Has the shine come off the apple?”
Jan looked at Eliza, perplexed. “The shine come off the who?” she asked, and the boys broke into gales of laughter. She realized that the guys, at least, were very stoned. Jan smiled. Although Jan was clearly on the outside of their little group, she had held her own with Eliza for once.
“Ok, chickadee,” Eliza said, her hand on the door, “I’m going to get my stuff from Abby and Carl’s place,” she said, gesturing at the tall guy. She’d heard Eliza mention Abby before and assumed she was the tall girl with the red dreads. Jan felt a pang of envy at Eliza’s effortless cool—already on sleepover terms with sophomores and juniors. “You around for dinner?” Eliza asked, as though she and Jan always shared intimate secrets at the end of the day. “I gotta have the goods.”
“Sure,” Jan said, not unhappy at the prospect of having someone to talk to. “Not much to tell, though. He just seemed weirdly focused on money.”
“Well,” Eliza said, “I can tell from experience, that’s called being broke. You have to focus on this little, tiny bit that you have.” Eliza squinted, as though staring into a microscope.
“I guess,” Jan said, suddenly self-conscious. It was unlike her to talk openly about Adam with Eliza, never mind the fact that the two boys still stood there, listening with a stoned attentiveness. “He’s just all about splitting everything down the middle. I mean down to the cent,” Jan said.
Eliza paused and cocked her head. She looked clear-eyed, while Carl’s and Roberto’s eyes were glazed over. Jan wondered whether Eliza was even high. She was being unusually chatty, but seemed lucid. “Well, even my daddy, who is Mr. Stone-Cold Cheap, doesn’t carry pennies in his pocket,” Eliza said. “If your man is getting you down to the cent column, I say you’re looking weird in the face.” Eliza shook her head. “I know about weird,” she said. “My family crawls with it.”
Jan closed her eyes as Eliza shut the door. On the one hand, she was glad Eliza wasn’t angry with her about the sexiling. In fact, Jan’s demanding the room for the weekend seemed to put them on more equal footing. Still, she wasn’t sure she was being fair about Adam. A few hours before, Jan had shared this very bed with him. He had held her tight and stroked her hair. What did it mean that she had been so quick to talk him down?
6
“It’s the kind of party where everyone is going to have a costume. You can’t get in without one. It’s ten bucks apiece and a costume,” Melanie said. Gerald was stuffing his face with chocolate chip cookies and swigging milk right from the container, but it was hard to object since they were in his house. Melanie twirled on the shiny metal barstool in the center of the expansive kitchen, from which she could see to the street below on both sides of the glass-encased living room. Gerald had the best house. It sucked for him that his dad had died, but at least he’d left them a sweet place to live.
“I hate dressing up,” Jess said. “I vote for the least dressing up possible.” Jess was also chowing down on cookies, but Melanie tried to restrain herself. Her skin looked like crap, and she couldn’t deal with another morning waking up bloated, with her face a broken-out mess.
“We could do something completely unimaginative just to get in, like vampires or witches. Dress in black, buy teeth. Done,” Melanie said. Melanie continued to twirl on the barstool, getting herself dizzy. Outside, you could see people walking around with umbrellas, heads ducked down, trotting across the street. The rain made people seem all the same. Everyone hurried to get out of the cold wet. Everyone had the same cheap, black umbrella. Each time Melanie twirled around and looked out the window, the scene seemed the same. Then, something
caught her eye. They were on the sixth floor, high enough not to be seen, but low enough to make out people’s faces. “There’s your brother,” Melanie said. “Edward. Look at how he crosses the street.” Melanie giggled. “He’s like Mr. Unaffected-by-the-Elements.” Gerald’s brother, Edward, was seventeen, a track star and a senior at Rose Dyer. It was a Saturday afternoon and Edward was on his way back from a meet, waiting to cross Sixth Avenue with his Windbreaker over one shoulder, still wearing his red and blue track shorts.
“Is my mom with him?” Gerald asked, glancing out the window. “Nope. That’s good.”
“Why do you have such a thing about us never being here if your mom is here?” Melanie asked.
“I don’t know,” Gerald said. “She’s kind of a neat freak. Look around. Do you see any dirt? Crumbs? Dust? Nada, right? Because she has a Dustbuster attached to her arm. It’s scary.” Gerald put the milk and the package of cookies away and cleared off the shiny black countertop with the back of his hand. “I just prefer the atmosphere around here without the constant whir of a vacuum.”
Jess laughed. “That’s like Rick. His entire purpose for living is to be sure his environment is dirt-free. Clutter is the ultimate enemy. It’s like he sees a pack of gum, a hairbrush, or anything random left anywhere and he’s practically in tears. Anyway, who knows, maybe we’ll be the same way once we actually have to buy our own stuff, and clean it ourselves.”
“Not me,” Melanie said. “I’m totally at peace with dirt. What I’m not at peace with is freaking Halloween. I really cannot go to any James Jamison party wearing vampire teeth or blood on my face. It’s too disgustingly lame. We have to keep thinking.”
“Hey, kids.” Edward walked in soaking wet, took off his sneakers in the front hall, and tossed his wet jacket onto the stool next to Melanie.
“Ah, Edward, you’re getting me soaked,” Melanie complained.
“Sorry,” Edward said, “but you’re kind of in my kitchen, on my barstool. Anyway, what are you guys doing? You should come over to RD with me after I change, and watch the girls’ volleyball game. They start at four. Our girls are smokin’.” Edward got a glass of water from the tap, drank it, and filled the glass again. Edward’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, Ellen, was a star volleyball player. She was at least six feet tall, with long brown hair and freckles so close together she was more covered than not. Melanie could never decide if Ellen was actually pretty. If Edward thought she was, which he apparently did, she must have something going for her.
“Maybe,” Melanie said, answering for the rest of them. “But we need to get costumes first. We’re going to a Halloween party and it’s costumes required. That’s what Erika said.” Gerald drew his finger across his throat in an effort to get Melanie to stop talking in front of Edward, but she didn’t take the hint.
“I know!” Jess said. “Why don’t we do a fifties thing. We could do Grease—rolled-up pants, little sweater. You could be Sandy, Melanie. Super easy.”
“Maybe,” Melanie said, musing. “Would I be the before-Sandy or the after-Sandy?” It was the sort of thing Melanie would say in front of Gerald and not give it a second thought, but with Edward, she was wary. He could think she was flirting with him. Edward was part of a big stoner crowd his sophomore year, but then he went away for the summer to someplace like Colorado or Wyoming, to one of those wilderness camping and hiking survival places. When he came back, he cut his hair short and started running track, which he turned out to be great at. He wasn’t as cute now, in Melanie’s opinion, but he was broad-shouldered, with a trim runner’s waist, and he had slightly droopy blue eyes. She liked his smile, which was a little crooked.
“Sounds like the typical teen Slutoween,” Edward said. “But knock yourselves out.” With that, Edward took a box of cereal, disappeared down the hall to his room, and shut the door. It was deflating to have Edward call them slutty, but then again, it was a pretty easy costume to pull off, and Melanie already owned a pair of shiny black leggings from American Apparel. In fact, everything they needed could be had at AA, except maybe some fake eyelashes.
“All right. Done,” Melanie said. “Who cares what he thinks,” she said, nodding in the direction of Edward’s room. “What am I going to do, go to a party with a sheet over my head? Gerald, what are you wearing? We’ve got to leave and get whatever we need. I have eight tons of homework due Monday, and my mom is making me go with her and Erika tonight to this movie about India that her friend made. It’s ridiculous. My mom writes for magazines that sell all this shit made by these people in India, where their factories are always falling down on top of them, and then she goes dragging me off to these depressing movies about how all of our clothes are made by small children sitting chained to the floor. It’s like, have your own guilt.”
Jess laughed. “Try having four gay parents and then we can talk about guilt. I am never, ever saying the word gender in the front of my kids, if I even have any.”
“Maybe I’ll just suit up in my old football stuff,” Gerald said. “I can wear the jersey from the Downtown League, pads—maybe I can even fit into the pants.” Gerald seemed depressed since Edward arrived, as though Edward, even once he had left the room, were watching over him.
“That’s not exactly inspired, Gerald,” Jess said. “Can’t you at least be what’s-his-face?”
“Seriously?” Melanie said. “No way am I walking in as Sandy with Gerald as what’s-his-face, Danny. Just do the football player thing.” Gerald cast a momentary hurt glance at Melanie, which Melanie chose to ignore. She hated when Gerald made that injured-puppy face at her.
Gerald tied his sneakers as Jess and Melanie picked out the right leotard for Melanie’s Sandy on Jess’s phone. “I don’t think it’s really as slutty as Edward says. People wear bunny tails, and almost nothing else. Edward is the biggest stomper of people’s grooves.” Melanie sniffed.
“Don’t get your panties in a knot,” Edward said, coming up behind Melanie with his heavy track sweatshirt on. “I make no judgment. You liberated bitches can expose all the T and A you please. You won’t get any complaints from me.” Edward smiled with exaggerated lasciviousness at Melanie, who flushed. Then she frowned at Gerald, who clearly must have seen his brother come down the hall, but still let Melanie go off about him. “Thanks,” Melanie mouthed at Gerald. Gerald looked moodily away. He seemed to get annoyed whenever the attention turned to Edward.
No one said anything in the elevator on the way down to the street, and then a lady got on with a stroller on the fourth floor, and Edward offered to get out and take the stairs. “Bye, kids,” he said. “Come to the game if you can. Ellen is getting scouted by Princeton. Should be a hot game.”
“Sure.” Gerald waved lamely. “She’s scouted by Princeton and he’s applying early action to Yale. Kind of makes me sick.”
“I know. I hate perfect people. And I’m practically surrounded by them,” Melanie said.
“You guys should try being only children. The only child of four parents. At least someone is already perfect in your family, so your parents can lay off you. I’m their only hope. You should have seen my moms when I told them they were dropping me to the slow math class. It was like I killed babies.” Jess opened her umbrella, although the rain had slowed to a drizzle. “Come on under, Melanie,” she said. “Your hair is more important than any part of Gerald.”
“Of course it is,” Melanie said, and she joined arms with Jess and let Gerald walk along next to them down Sixth Avenue, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans.
“You know for sure we can even get into this thing, after going through all this trouble?” Gerald asked. He had to shout to be heard over the rain and traffic.
“Sure. Easy-breezy,” Melanie said without looking in Gerald’s direction. Erika had invited Melanie to the party because their mother suggested it. Mom had a thing about them going out together on Halloween and New Year’s, nights when it was easier for her if they kept track of each other. Erika had che
cked with Binky and she’d said it was fine—the more girls the better, was what Chris Primrose had said. But Melanie hadn’t asked about Gerald. She didn’t care one way or the other if Gerald came to the party, but now she had invited him, she was stuck. She’d have to make sure Erika got him in. Primrose was a junior jock, and Gerald would be too intimidated to ask him himself. That was the most annoying thing about Gerald. Really about all her friends: how everything fun or worth doing always seemed to be up to her.
7
Erika was grateful for the salad bar at Rose Dyer. There were always two kinds of everything—two kinds of lettuce, two kinds of dressing, two choices of beans, even two kinds of tomato: sliced, and the little round cherry tomatoes. It made being a vegetarian at school almost simpler than being one at home. The only problem was the chicken.
It hadn’t been difficult to give up beef, because cows were attractively large-eyed. They seemed docile and forgiving when they huddled in those mud-filled fields and endured all kinds of terrible weather in their silent, steaming masses.
Chickens were different. She found their feet particularly repulsive, almost evil-seeming. She really didn’t care if chickens were wiped off the face of the earth tomorrow. But she liked to eat chicken, especially chicken salad. Several times since she had become a vegetarian she’d been tempted to place a heaping serving of the cafeteria curry chicken salad on her tray. Who’d notice? Who’d care? It was only her own conscience that kept her from doing it. Erika had an especially zealous conscience. This had been true even in preschool, when it had been common for kids to try to sneak extra cookies from the tray at snack time. Even other kids’ crimes gave Erika a slight pang in her stomach, a chill, a dizziness. No, she was incapable of eating chicken at this point. She’d made a rule for herself and she was stuck with it.
“Hey, rabbit. Nice eats.” Morris was giving her a hard time yet again about her lunch. She didn’t know why he didn’t go off-campus for lunch, like most people. Erika liked the cafeteria food, but most kids would rather eat bagels from the bodega than eat from the salad bar, like she did, or from the hot lunch counter, like Morris. It was part of Morris’s geekiness that he ate at school.
The Word for Yes Page 5
