Faster, Faster, Faster

by Jonah Black

  “Anyway,” Thorne said quietly. “You don’t have to worry about Molly Beale being lonely. I heard there are a lot of guys interested in her.”

  “There are?” I said, surprised.

  “Oh, yeah,” Thorne said, and raised his eyebrows.

  Posie got out of her folding chair and spread out a white beach towel on deck and lay down on it. She turned her back to us, untied the top of her bikini, and lay down on her stomach. She had no tan lines whatsoever.

  Mr. Wood, Thorne, and I stood there behind the wheel looking at Posie, sunning herself.

  “Steady, Jonah,” Mr. Wood said. “Steady.”

  Feb. 19

  I called Molly. I know Thorne told me it was a violation of the Geneva Convention or whatever, But I still wanted to call her. I felt bad that I never e-mailed her back when she wrote me to say she was sorry. Anyway, I called her, but all I got was her answering machine.

  Later on, I got on my brand-new light blue bike with only three gears and I rode down to Molly’s house. It’s a pretty nice house in a nice neighborhood. There’s a pool out back surrounded by an ivy-covered white fence. The SUV was parked almost horizontally in her driveway. There were a bunch of ruts in her front lawn and most of her parents’ bushes were crushed or broken. Good old Molly. I love what a lousy driver she is. It’s my favorite thing about her.

  I was just about to stop and push my bike up to the front door when I saw Thorne and Molly come out of the house together.

  Molly got behind the wheel of the SUV and Thorne got in the passenger side. She revved the engine up, but they didn’t go anywhere. I could see them kissing through the back window. Then the reverse lights came on. I made a U-turn and rode on my bike in the opposite direction.

  Good old Thorne.

  At first I wanted to be mad at him and mad at Molly, too. She was always telling me what a bullshit artist Thorne was and criticizing my taste in friends. But as I pedaled and pedaled with the warm Florida wind on my face I didn’t feel mad. I didn’t really mind at all.

  I biked down to the beach and dumped the bike against the wall of Miller’s Pharmacy. I didn’t even lock it. If somebody wanted to steal the bike, I really wouldn’t mind. I walked down the beach to the lifeguard tower and climbed up. There were a few people hanging out on the Dune, but I didn’t feel like going over there.

  I needed to think. I needed to think about what was next.

  At that moment, there was a voice below me, and I looked down, and of course it was Pops Berman.

  “Hi, Pops,” I said. “You coming up?”

  “I can’t climb that damn thing anymore,” he shouted. “Come on, Chipper. You come down.”

  I didn’t move right away. I kind of wanted to be alone.

  “Come on down here, goddammit,” he croaked. “So I can yell at you.”

  “Pops, I’m really not in the mood, okay?”

  “Well, I’m not in the mood, either. You know I’m gonna croak any goddamn second now? I got a liver like a piece o’ Swiss cheese. I got a pancreas like a snot rag. My bowels are like—” He paused, out of breath. “My bowels are no damned good!”

  I got up and climbed down the lifeguard tower. The wind was pretty fierce and I was afraid it was going to blow the old man over. He was wearing his Red Sox cap. I could smell peanut butter on his breath.

  “I’m sorry about your liver, Pops,” I said. “And your bowels.”

  He pointed his cane at me. “You haven’t done it, have you?”

  “What?” I said. But I knew what he was going to say.

  “Walked your doggy!” he shouted. “Made him stand up and bark!”

  I just buried my face in my hands. “No, Pops,” I said.

  “You know why?” he said. “Because you’re stupid!”

  “I’m not stupid!” I yelled back at him. Suddenly, I’d had enough of him, of everybody. I was really angry. “I’m just trying to live my life.”

  Pops shook his head. “Running around the country like a bus driver. It’s pathetic.”

  “Why don’t you leave me alone, okay?” I said, kicking at the sand that was seeping into my shoes.

  “Because,” Pops said, out of breath. “I like you, Chipper. I’m trying to give you some advice.”

  The wind blew his hat off. I was about to go get it, but Pops ran and grabbed it, and scooped it up in his hands with this sudden burst of energy that made me think, whoa, he really was a shortstop. He stuck the cap back on his head and came back to me, his chest heaving.

  “Had to get my topper,” he muttered and squinted at me. “What were we doing here? Oh, yeah. I was giving you advice.”

  “Every time I follow your advice I wind up in trouble,” I told him.

  Pops shook his head in disdain. “You’ve never followed my advice, Chipper,” he said. “Not once!”

  “What do you mean?” I said. I’d been trying to walk my doggy for months. And I’d gotten burned every time.

  “What are you doing chasing around all these ghosts when you’ve got the right girl right in front of your face?” Pops said.

  “What?” I said. There wasn’t anyone in front of my face except Pops.

  Pops shook his head crossly. “Open your eyes, Chipper,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said, although I still didn’t know what he was talking about. I didn’t think he did, either.

  “You don’t have to do it with her,” he said. “All you gotta do is notice her.”

  Suddenly the wind blew his hat off again and this time Pops reached out, quick as a cat, and caught it in one hand. He looked at the hat for a moment, then he reached forward and put it on my head.

  “You wear that for a while,” he said. “Maybe it’ll bring you some luck.”

  The hat fit me perfectly. He had probably worn it when he played in the majors, decades ago. It was a really good gift.

  “Thanks, Pops,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I started to walk away from him. But then he called after me. “Chipper!” he shouted.

  I turned back. “What?”

  “The other way,” he said, and pointed with his cane toward the Dune. “That way.”

  How did he know where I was supposed to go? I wondered. But then, there’s always been something about Pops Berman that makes me wonder if he’s really my guardian angel, or an alien, or something. As far as I know, nobody other than me has ever seen him.

  “Okay,” I said, and as I walked past him, heading toward the Dune, he patted me on the shoulder.

  “You’re going to be all right now, Chipper,” he said. “You are.”

  I walked up the beach feeling really strange. Part of me felt more alone and loserish than ever, but I also felt like something great was about to happen. Maybe it was Pops’s hat that made me feel that way, I don’t know. I felt like a fly ball was going to drop down out of the sky and fall perfectly into my glove.

  I took off my shoes and walked in the cold, cold surf. It gave me goose bumps, but it felt raw and real. I was wide awake.

  As I walked toward the Dune, I saw someone standing up on top of it, looking up at the sky. There was a strange whining sound. As I drew closer, I saw it was Posie, wearing a blue windbreaker and white jeans, looking up at her plane, circling and diving.

  I thought about how Pops had told me to open my eyes, and how he’d shoved me in the direction of the Dune. And I thought, Posie, of course. It made complete sense.

  I stood there watching her flying her plane for a while and I walk toward her and say her name, “Posie.” She turns to me and her eyes open wide and she smiles her golden smile. When she says my name, “Jonah,” it’s like I’m hearing what my name actually sounds like for the very first time.

  The biplane slowly flies out to sea, and she steps toward me and puts her arms around my neck and now we are kissing and I can smell the ocean in her hair. As we kiss I think how perfectly we fit together, how we have always been two pieces of the same puzzle.

  In the surf below me, I can
see a white scarf floating on the waves. It is slightly torn and burned.

  The buzzing of the plane grew louder and I looked up and saw two planes, circling in the sky. Lamar Jameson came walking over the crest of the Dune and put his hand on Posie’s waist. She kissed him and then ducked away to steer her plane into a loop-de-loop.

  Pops Berman was wrong. He’d pushed me in the wrong direction.

  I turned around and started walking back toward the lifeguard tower. I was going to get back to my stupid little bike and head home.

  There was no sign of Pops Berman anywhere. A blackboard on the tower said: Ocean Temp: 58. Winds: 15 mph. Warning. Man-of-War. Riptides. Undertows.

  There was a gust of wind, and Pops’s hat blew off my head and rolled along the beach behind me like a hubcap. I turned to run after it.

  Right in front of me was a girl. She bent down and picked up Pops’s hat and put the hat backward on her head. Then she smiled and walked toward me. Her hair was blowing around in the wind and she was wearing a thin black T-shirt. There were goose bumps on her tanned arms.

  “Hey, Mr. Wooden Head,” said Caitlin Hoff, Posie’s little sister.

  I felt like I was seeing her for the first time. She had light brown hair, a little curlier than Posie’s, and her face was more thoughtful. There was a small vertical line that formed on her forehead like she was thinking hard about something. I wondered if there was a similar line on my forehead.

  “Northgirl?” I said.

  Caitlin smiled. “Hello, Jonah.”

  It was funny. We didn’t rush forward into each other’s arms and start kissing. We didn’t strip off all our clothes and lie down in the sand. I didn’t get down on one knee and pledge my undying love for her, now that we were together.

  What happened was, I had no idea what to say. We just stood there for a moment, quietly, with the wind whipping around us, and the cold February ocean crashing near our feet. It was strange to be with someone who knew me so well, but who I didn’t really know at all. She was right. I’d never really noticed her before. I thought Caitlin didn’t even like me!

  I guess the reason I thought she didn’t like me was because I wasn’t paying attention.

  “What do we do now?” I said, finally.

  “I don’t know,” Caitlin said. “We better figure something out quick, though. I’m freezing.”

  “Do you want to, um, you know, hang out?” I said. “I mean, do you still like me now that I know who you are?”

  She shrugged, and looked almost ashamed. “I’m only in tenth grade,” she said. “You’re Jonah Black, the diving star, the guy every girl wants to go out with. Do you really want to go out with a tenth grader? With your friend’s little sister?”

  I thought about it.

  Caitlin licked her lips kind of nervously. “Maybe it helps that I know you better than anyone. Better than Thorne. Better than Molly Beale. Better than Posie. Better than Sophie.”

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know how you know me so well, but you do.”

  She looked out at the water. “Of course, you don’t know beans about me, though, do you, Jonah?” she said.

  I shrugged. “Nope.”

  “So if we hang out, what’re we going to talk about?” she asked.

  I took a step toward her. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I could get to know you.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. She put her hands in her back pockets. “That sounds good. And how are you going to do that?”

  I took another step toward her. I liked the way her eyelashes were blond at the tips. “Maybe we could talk,” I said. “I could ask you some questions.”

  She thought it over, like I’d proposed something rare and complicated.

  Caitlin took my hand. I kissed her on the cheek. It was absolutely the best kiss in all of Florida history.

  Then she said, “Well, what do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” I said.

  We started to walk down the beach together, still holding hands. The Goodyear blimp suddenly sailed into view. I wondered where it had been all this time.

  I looked up at Niagara Towers as we walked by. There was Pops Berman standing on the balcony of his apartment, drinking a glass of milk. I’m pretty sure he was smiling.

  I think I’ll stop here for now.

  Maybe tomorrow I’ll start a new journal.

  Feb. 2, 5 P.M.

  Okay, it’s the next day, but I still need to catch up on yesterday. There’s a lot more to tell, not only about yesterday but today, too.

  So I sat there on the Lancaster Pike with cars honking at me while I kind of tried to get the car back in gear, but I couldn’t really drive with the handcuffs. It wouldn’t have been safe. Fortunately Betsy came back after about ten minutes and unlocked me.

  “Okay, Jonah,” she said. “Let’s go to Dunkin’ Donuts.”

  I guess Betsy was being funny. Like, now that she’s a campus cop she has to eat doughnuts. Anyway, I drove to Dunkin’ Donuts and we got out of the car and went inside and sat at the counter. I sat there rubbing my bad arm, which still hurt from when Betsy had grabbed it.

  I got a Boston Kreme. Betsy got a plain cruller. We both got coffee, even though I don’t really drink it. I poured in three sugars and lots of cream. Betsy laughed at me.

  “I’m sorry I handcuffed you,” Betsy said. “I guess that was kind of mean.”

  She took her hat off of her head and pulled out her ponytail elastic. All her hair spilled down her back and around her face. It made her look a lot less intimidating. That vein on her throat wasn’t pulsing anymore, either. Betsy put the hat down on the counter in front of her.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “You seemed like you enjoyed it.”

  “I just get tired of you being so obsessed with Sophie. You know she’s a total loon, right?”

  I picked at my doughnut. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Well, I don’t think you do. All sorts of stuff has happened in the last month or two,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear about it, but I waited for her to tell me more.

  Betsy took a big sip of her coffee.

  “Well, the rumor is Sophie isn’t going to be in Maggins much longer,” she explained. “Her father’s coming down from Maine to take her home.”

  I thought about this. Maybe it would be a good thing, for Sophie to head home for a while and relax. But if she went all the way back to Maine, I’d be losing her forever. At least, that’s what it felt like.

  “But here’s the scary thing,” Betsy said. “Sullivan’s gotten his father to talk the doctors into keeping Sophie in Maggins a little longer. They won’t discharge her until after he’s had a chance to see her.”

  I stopped breathing for a second. “Wait,” I said. “Until who gets a chance to see her?”

  “Sullivan,” she said, looking down at her hands.

  I stared into my full coffee cup.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jonah, but she’s been talking to Sullivan again.”

  I felt like my heart got shot out of my chest and straight into my coffee. I thought about the big thumbs-up Sullivan had given me when Betsy hauled me off the Masthead campus.

  “What do mean?” I said.

  “Well, maybe I shouldn’t call it talking. I mean, nobody can really talk to her. But Sullivan’s been e-mailing her all these hot messages, and she’s been e-mailing him back.”

  I felt blood heating up my cheeks. What could Sophie be thinking? Sullivan is the guy I saved her from, the guy I sacrificed everything to keep her away from. And now she’s swapping “hot” e-mails with him? It made me sick just thinking about it.

  “How do you know all this?” I asked.

  “Because Sophie told me. We’ve been staying in touch,” Betsy said. “And you might as well know, she’s told him that she loves him. She’s told him she’s waiting for him.”

  Now I really felt sick.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said,
almost shouting. “She told me she loves me. She’s waiting for me.”

  Betsy shrugged. “I’m just telling you what Sophie told me. But it’s hard to believe anything she says. She’s a real wacko, Jonah.”

  “Oh, my God,” I said. “I’ve got to—”

  “No, you don’t,” said Betsy, grabbing my sore wrist. “You know what you have to do, Jonah? Forget about her.”

  “I can’t,” I said, trying to pull away.

  “Yes, you can,” Betsy said. She slid her hand over mine and looked into my eyes. She had freckles on her nose and beautiful, light brown eyes. “You need to move on,” she said. “You know?”

  She moves toward me and we kiss. She unbuttons the top of her security uniform and it falls onto the floor of the Dunkin’ Donuts. She isn’t wearing a bra underneath, just these pink panties, and a weird kind of sparkling belt that goes all the way around her belly.

  “Jonah,” Sophie says. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I lean forward to kiss her again and I know that this time, Sophie is not going to run away, and she is not going to cry. We are going to be together forever, just like we were always meant to be.

  “Damn,” Betsy said, pulling her hand away and putting her hat back on. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”

  “Wait,” I said. “I’m not hopeless.” But Betsy was already back on her feet.

  “Could have fooled me,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that if I don’t look out for Sophie, I don’t know who’s going to, you know?”

  Betsy looked at me hard, and sighed. She sat back down again. “Oh, Jonah,” she said. “You really are like, the last romantic in the world, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I took a bite of my doughnut. It was dry.

  “You are. I’m sorry I handcuffed you. I get frustrated.” Betsy fiddled with her sunglasses. “I mean, there are a lot of girls out there who would love to be with you—who wish you would let go of Sophie and notice them for a change, you know? You’re so hung up on this one girl who’s like, a black hole. And you know she’s only going to screw with your head again, right?”