by Sue Seabury
Harley had her hands clasped over her heart and looked like she was either going to break into mad applause and yell, “Bravo! Encore!” or cry from embarrassment for me, I wasn’t sure which.
Ned’s father had something akin to incredulous disgust on his face, but based on Ned’s description of him, that may be his everyday expression.
Ned...Ned was as unreadable as I had ever seen him. He didn’t seem disgusted but he didn’t seem even slightly moved by my performance.
“I guess I’ll be going then.”
I looked at him hopefully one last time, but all he did was make a quiet sound like, “Okay.”
My heart lurched, but it wouldn’t have been fair to have a heart attack in their nice vestibule, especially not a fake one.
I couldn’t believe it.
Robin Jane failed.
Strange but true scientific fact: Nerve impulses travel at 150 meters per second.
In other words, the shock had traveled ten times around my body in one second.
No one else said anything, which got awkward. I popped the tape out of my machine. “Here. I made this for you.”
There was an awful pause before he accepted my gift, but he did take it at last, carefully avoiding touching my fingers.
It just about killed me.
Nodding good-bye to his parents, I let myself out.
I wandered around for a long time, not really noticing where I was headed. Then it started to get dark and I felt the cold. I found a pay phone and called my mother. My feet were both freezing and burning, which was not a comfortable sensation. I didn’t even have the energy to argue when she started criticizing my being out in the unpredictable weather of March in a skirt with no tights or leggings on underneath.
“What are you doing over in this part of town anyway?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing, just went for a walk and didn’t realize how late it was getting.”
My mother shook her head in disgust or disbelief, but refrained from comment. I had been acting moony for a while and she was getting used to it.
An agonizing evening passed, spent listening for a phone that didn’t ring. Saturday and Sunday were the longest in recorded history as the phone continued to be silent.
The only thing worse than the silence was when it would ring but it wasn’t for me.
Monday morning came around and I entered math class with something approaching a philosophical outlook.
This is, until I saw Ned.
Then my “that’s the way the cookie crumbles” attitude crumbled to bits. I couldn’t stop checking to see if I could get a sign of cordiality from him. He did his brick wall impression.
We were starting pre-calculus this week and I just knew it was going to be very distressing for him. Before he could escape when class ended, I bit my lip and turned to him. “Would you want to meet in the library today to work on this?” I was actually trembling waiting for his answer.
Ned looked me over without answering. Then he looked back at his book and closed it in a leisurely manner. He nodded the tiniest bit. “Yeah,” he pronounced finally. “Let’s meet and talk math.”
My heart soared. I was so happy I could have cried from relief. But since I had used up more than my fair share of tears in the past few weeks, I held it together. I even restrained myself from hooting and hollering in the science corridor.
The entire morning was a blur. The only thing I cared about was that the clock get to 11:47.
Several millenia passed before the bell finally rang and released me to my fate in the library. I raced there, beating Ned by at least ten minutes during which I had time to reflect that I was supposed to buy lunch today and now would most likely have to go without. That was okay; the suspense combined with greasy cafeteria food would not have been a good combination.
It had taken long enough for the hands of the clock to get to 11:47, but now the seconds stretched out infinitely as they passed and no Ned appeared around the side of the stacks. At exactly 12 noon, he came. It was like we were in an old Western showdown. I pictured us standing at opposite ends of a ghost town with tumbleweeds of math worksheets rolling past.
“You helped that kid Kyle with math!” Ned shot at me.
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re always grounded! And what the heck is up with you and Sofagirl?”
Imagining the duel, I giggled to myself. But since I had to make sure Kyle’s name would not come up at all today, I bit my cheeks.
“You think this pre-calc crap is funny?” Ned sounded annoyed.
“No,” I replied quickly. But I was smiling so hard, my lips cracked. “You came.”
Ned dropped his books on the table with a loud whack.
I shushed him involuntarily and then could have slapped myself for starting off on the exact wrong foot.
Ned acted as if he hadn’t heard me, thank goodness. He slouched down in the chair across the table from me. He didn’t appear exactly hostile but he didn’t seem too friendly either.
I decided to be professional. “So, did you get what we were doing today?” Ack! Can I say anything that isn’t offensive?
Ned rolled his eyes and whacked his pencil down. “As if you have to ask. No, I didn’t get it.”
“I didn’t mean...I just meant...I’m sorry. Let’s see what the homework is.” I gave my full concentration to the pages in front of me. I talked to my math book for several minutes without stopping. When I finally took a break and dared to look up at Ned again, he hadn’t even opened his book. He was just looking at me.
I didn’t dare ask if he understood my explanation. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t have a double meaning. So I just stared back at him, barely able to breathe. I know it sounds silly and melodramatic, but I felt like the next words either of us said would decide our fate.
Ned spoke first, “So, tell me. Was that supposed to be some sort of compliment when you sang me that song about zero?”
I blinked. I don’t know why, but I picked that exact moment to sound like a witch. “Um, yeah, of course. Why, do people generally sing you insulting serenades?”
I could practically see my words floating across the table toward him. If there were any way in the world I could have shoved them back into my mouth, even if it meant choking to death on them, I would have done it. I watched him, a pained expression on my face, just waiting for him to get up and leave.
Instead, he laughed a little. Not much, but enough to let me know that he wasn’t insulted, at least not by my rude question.
“So, you thought singing me a song about being a zero would make me want to get back together with you?”
I took a second before replying. I could see what he meant, but the whole point of the song is that zero is my hero and that not many people appreciate how wonderful it is. I said as much. “You know, like a diamond in the rough, but a more unique way of saying it.”
Ned nodded slightly. “Unique. That’s one way of putting it.”
“Well, did you listen to the rest of the tape at least? There were more traditional songs after the first one.” I really don’t know when I had gone from being hopeful to exasperated. I blame it on nerves.
Ned nodded again. That was starting to annoy me too. “Yeah, I listened to it.”
That’s it? I had poured my heart and soul into creating that tape. “Well did you like it?”
Another pause. “It was pretty good.”
Ugh. I slapped my pencil down on the table. I had had enough. “Stop stringing me along. Do you want to give it another try or what?”
Ned raised his eyebrows at me. “What about Kyle?” He spat the name out and shot a few derisive finger pistols in the air.
“Kyle? Who’s that? Vegetableboy is nothing to me.”
Ned cocked one eyebrow at me this time. “Are you sure about that? Sure you didn’t go out on any dates with him and forget to mention it to me?”
Apparently Ned had spies all over the place. I made a clean breast of it. “You have
n’t been speaking to me so I haven’t had a chance to mention it. And since you seem to know everything anyway, I don’t know why I have to spell it out but, yes. I went on one very lame date with Kyle. We ate some junky food and then walked around the mall. Then he gave me a dry peck on the cheek. And then he went directly to meet Hannah for a real date where they apparently made out, but Hannah told me he wasn’t any good and so I hadn’t missed anything.” I wanted to tell him everything to prove he could trust me, but I think I might have been better off leaving that last bit out.
Ned started nodding again. “Good,” he pronounced.
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “What’s good?”
“It was appropriate...symmetrical you might even say, having him dys you for Hannah.”
I gritted my teeth against saying anything in reply to that. It was appropriate, symmetrical even. Leave it to Ned to pick this moment to suddenly fully comprehend mathematical concepts that had eluded him for the last two and a half years.
“Okay, so I was mistaken. And I have been punished. I apologize for everything. I wish I had never laid eyes on the kid. Speaking of new kids...what’s the deal with you and Sof-ee. Sophie.”
Ned rolled his eyes. “Nothing.”
“I tell you every last stinking detail and you tell me ‘nothing?’”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Well, you could at least explain why she rode home with you that day.”
“She rides home with me most days.”
“And why would that be?” I was trying hard to keep the snottiness out of my voice but that little tidbit of information sounded like something worth telling.
“She’s living with us for a while.”
“What?!”
“She’s a friend’s daughter from France.”
I am really starting think that France is an overrated place to visit.
“Her parents are splitting up. She’s staying with us until they can decide who she should live with.”
There was only one thing that I cared to know about this girl. “So you were never interested in dating Sophie?”
Ned rolled his eyes again. Doesn’t he know how rude that is?
“Remember what I told you about my parents and their open relationships? Well, let’s just say that when I consider Sophie to be like my sister, she may actually be my sister.”
I guess that was enough said on that topic. “So are we made up or what?” I was still a little huffy.
Ned was now shaking his head at me. “Nope. Not yet.”
Oh, for goodness’ sake. “What, embarrassing myself in front of your parents wasn’t enough?”
“And Sophie. Don’t forget about her.” Ned licked his lips. He was enjoying this.
And that little weasel Sofagirl. So thin, and always dressed in black, she blended right in with the furniture. I could picture her, sniffing around, picking up every whiff of my discomfort with that pointy little nose of hers, her ears perked up for every embarrassing detail.
“Well,” I said as pleasantly as I could, “Since I’ve made my debut, shall I sing to you in front of the whole school?”
Ned bobbled his head back and forth, considering the idea. “Yeah, why not? That sounds pretty good actually.”
I threw my pencil at him. He held it up and, with the sexiest look he had given me in a very long time, said, “You’ll have to come and get it.”
I would have leaped across the table then and there, but apparently he didn’t mean it that way. He tucked it away in his binder and asked me rather formally to go out with him after school.
I could barely contain my joy. I limited myself to commenting on the exception to his parents’ usual rule of being driven back and forth by their chauffeur.
He said, “In case you’re wondering, yes. It is due to the fact that you sang to me in front of my parents.”
Oh God, I thought. There goes my job with the fashion designer. But, no, it was okay. Harley thought I was so charming she insisted Ned take me out and cajoled his dad into agreeing even though it was a school night.
Then he added, “Oh, you don’t mind if we drop off Sophie on the way, do you?”
Of course I minded very much, but I think I did a good job with the airy unconcern when I replied that that would be just fine.
Ned smirked. “Just kidding.” Then he really twisted the knife. “So, what was up with that outfit anyway? Were you supposed to be Heidi or something?”
Before I could reply to that dig, I had a vision of myself in his hall mirror. He was right. Why the hell had I dressed like the friggin’ Swiss Miss girl?
I ground a measurable amount of enamel off my teeth before being able to say, “I wanted to show you how much I cared by spending an hour ironing that shirt.” Okay, not exactly the truth, but now he was being mean.
At least he laughed in a friendly way. It was worth the insult to my avant-garde fashion sense.
Strange but true scientific fact: The human heart muscles contract strongly enough to shoot a spurt of blood thirty feet.
I was really glad I hadn’t let depression and sloth get the better of me when I had dressed that morning in a smashing ensemble of zebra print butterfly shirt cinched with a wide neon pink belt, black stirrup pants (still working on that post-breakup weight gain) and white go-go boots.
As I waited by my locker for Ned at the end of the day, time did that annoying slow-down thing again. The hallway was emptying out and Ned did not appear. Then the halls were completely empty and still no Ned. My heart was alternating between stabbing me and stopping completely. Finally he came around the corner.
“You ready?” he called without slowing down.
That wasn’t the most promising opening to our date. An explanation as to why he was so late was also in order. But since apparently he wasn’t going to explain or wait, I grabbed my book bag and ran after him.
“Hey, Ned, hold up,” I called. He didn’t slow down or turn around. I walked faster. “Did your Spanish teacher yell at you or something?” I prompted when I had caught up.
He kept up his speed walking. “Nope.”
“So why were you late and now running out of the building?”
He stopped abruptly. “Because I’m still not sure I really want to do this. This was Sophie’s idea, not mine.”
Sofagirl again.
And he still hadn’t forgiven me.
My heart can’t take much more of this.
I didn’t see how a divorce could be so overwhelmingly difficult that she had to go live on another continent. I may have muttered something to that effect out loud.
Ned stopped abruptly, grabbing his hair with both hands. Through gritted teeth he said, “You don’t know the first thing about her.”
Before I had a chance to say that I knew at the very least she needed a fashion consultation with someone, he continued, “Her brother died right after Christmas. He was only eighteen. Her mom blames her dad.”
So maybe she did have something to discuss with Miss Kindley. It also explains all the black clothes. Even though my mother is no role model for me, I am starting to think that I might need to change my career choice to lawyer. That way, I will spend most of my time inside a courtroom and I can follow up every stupid thing that I say with, “I would like to strike that from the record.”
“Ehem. Why does her mom blame her dad?”
“They were scuba diving off Mallorca. He had a heart attack underwater.”
I am a big enough person to admit when I’ve been wrong. I couldn’t tell if Ned was trying to show off by talking about exotic islands, but I restrained myself from mentioning that I not only knew that Mallorca is located in the Mediterranean but also the largest of the four Ballearic Islands and that its capital is Palma. Instead, I said, “That’s terrible. How come you never told me any of this before?”
“Because someone was too busy talking about a certain island-born jerk.”
“Oh,” I said to the floor. They mi
ght be able to improve student morale just by adding some linoleum tiles with gold flecks like the mall. “Well, do you mind giving me a ride home at least since I missed the bus?” I kept my face pointed penitently toward the ground.
He shrugged and muttered, “C’mon.”
We walked out next to each other but definitely not together. He had his Mustang. I always thought it was black, but that was because I had only seen it at night. Now I saw it was in fact a dark blue. I said this to him, hoping a little light chit-chat would improve his mood.
All he said in reply was, “I don’t get to look at it too often in daylight either.”
We got in the car but Ned didn’t turn it on. We sat there in chilly silence. The weather had turned wintry again, damp and it looked like it might rain. The cold pleather was freezing my butt through my nylon pants.
I turned energetically toward him, but I couldn’t quite make eye contact. “Ned,” I said earnestly to the steering wheel, “Seriously, if you don’t want to talk to me, it’s okay. Just give me a lift home. Or don’t even do that if you don’t want to. I can call my mom.”
“Or you could get a lift from Kyle’s mom,” he said snidely.
I had to do several trig equations to not start screaming, but I picked difficult numbers, took my time and it worked. I looked at him full in the face.
“I will have you know that I called my mother to ask for a ride that day. I begged and pleaded with her to come and get me. But when she heard Kyle pipe up with his big fat fake-gum-cracking trap that he could give me a ride, she forced me to take it. It was either that or walk home and it was a pretty cold, miserable day for walking home in dainty little shoes. But you know what? If I’d have known what was going to happen, that you were going to overreact like that, just because of that one stupid little meaningless kiss, I would have walked home - barefoot and coatless if necessary - just to prove that I love you.”
