“What?” Ben said. He reached for his hearing aids next to his bed, shoving them in and turning them on.
“Let’s get tattoos,” Tyler said. There was something different about his face. Where he had seemed scattered and inattentive after the game, he now had an intensity in his eyes, almost hyper-focused.
“Right now?”
“No,” Tyler said. “You’ll be eighteen in January, and my birthday’s in February. Maybe over February vacation. Senior list,” he added definitively, referencing the folded piece of notebook paper they had stuffed into the glove box of the Saab last summer, a compendium of all their pre-planned senior glories.
“I thought you were going skiing over break,” Ben said. But he was glad to hear that Tyler hadn’t forgotten or blown off all their plans.
“Oh yeah, right. Well, some other weekend then. But that’s not the point.”
“No,” Ben said. “Apparently that’s not the point at two in the freaking morning. Go to bed.”
“No, I can’t stay. I’m over at Megan’s house. Her parents are gone for the weekend.”
Ben sat up. Tyler looked okay. He didn’t appear to be drunk or on anything. He just seemed wired. “If you’re at Megan’s house, why are you here?”
“Couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d go for a drive. That’s when I remembered about the tattoos. Remember, we talked about it last summer.”
“Yeah,” said Ben. “I remember.” He lay back down on the pillow.
“So are you in?”
“Probably.”
“Cool.” But Tyler didn’t seem ready to go. “Ben,” he said.
“Uh huh.”
“Is there anything about yourself that you hate?”
Ben’s eyes blinked wide open. He didn’t even have to think. He didn’t move his hands, but he felt them like ghost limbs reaching toward his ears. “Uh huh,” he said.
“Is there anything about me that you hate?”
Ben didn’t have to think about this one either. “Nope.”
“Okay,” Tyler said. He waited a moment and then lifted the latch on the window and was gone. It was only after Tyler left that Ben realized he had not returned the questions.
Chapter 13
Tyler was in Florida over Thanksgiving, and he came back to school glowing from his week on the beach—though he complained it was unbelievably boring despite screwing around with the granddaughter of one of his grandmother’s bridge buddies. They texted about hanging out, but every time Ben suggested doing something, Tyler seemed to be busy. Ben knew Tyler’s family didn’t really do anything together, and he’d never had holiday commitments before.
Tyler seemed to be spending a lot of time at Megan’s, but when Ben saw them in school together, Megan was forever on her phone and Tyler seemed okay with just standing near her while engaging his public. Finally, when Ben asked him about seeing the Hobbit movie on Saturday—something he figured was a definite—Tyler mumbled an excuse about Megan’s family’s Christmas party. Ben tried not to look surprised.
“She asked me a while ago,” he said without meeting Ben’s eyes.
“So are you going to meet her parents and everything?”
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “I mean, I already have. They’re not so bad. For parents.” It was weird; Tyler had never hung out with the family of any girl he had dated in the past—not, like, intentionally anyway. He thought about seeing if Brandon Rosetti or one of the other guys from the team wanted to go, but they wouldn’t get The Hobbit the way Tyler did. Waiting two weeks for Shannan to get home didn’t feel like an option. So that was how he decided to ask Darcy on a date. He figured she probably didn’t hate him, because being mauled by someone at a party and then being attacked by them in the library were pretty good signs that you weren’t hated.
It seemed like a simple enough idea when he came up with it, but when he made a point of stopping near where she and some of her friends had their lockers, his heart picked up pace and his hands got sweaty. She seemed happy to see him and walked away from her friends when he asked her if she had a second to talk. When he asked her if she wanted to see The Hobbit with him that weekend, she seemed a little surprised but agreeable enough. He told her he could pick her up around 6:30. He breezed over his obsession with Peter Jackson and the other Tolkien movies and just hoped she wasn’t one of those girls who liked to talk during a movie.
But when Saturday came around and he went online to get tickets, he kicked himself because both the seven and nine o’clock showings were sold out. He looked at the list of other movies, but there was nothing he wanted to see. Then, on a whim, he checked for earlier times and, without calling Darcy, paid for two tickets to the four-thirty showing. Luckily, when he called her to change plans, she didn’t seem to care about the earlier showtime. He told his parents he was going to the movies when he asked for the car. They probably assumed he was going with Tyler, and he didn’t volunteer that it was an actual girl he was taking along. This omission helped him ignore the feeling in his stomach that reminded him of a dying fish flopping around, gasping for air.
When he drove up to Darcy’s house, she scooted out the front door before he could even stop the car, skittering down the front path but not falling on the icy sheen that coated the bricks. “I would have come up to get you,” he said once she was sitting in the passenger seat. He caught a whiff of fruity perfume or maybe shampoo when she reached back for her seat belt and tossed her hair.
“No way. My grandparents are just sitting around looking for someone or something to criticize. My mom’s hiding out in the kitchen—I think this is like the fourth batch of cookies she’s made today—and my little brothers are in the basement playing video games. There’s only so long I could hang out in my room pretending to do homework. I’m just glad no one’s noticed that it’s Saturday.”
“Wow,” Ben said. “How long are they here?”
“Until New Year’s,” Darcy said darkly.
“I hope you have a lot of homework.”
“I think I’m going to flunk a test just so I can do some make-up work over the break.”
“That’s dedication.”
“Yeah, right,” Darcy said. She smiled at him and Ben noticed that she had a dusting of light purple eye shadow and mascara on. It seemed like a good sign.
She looked up, and for a moment he was embarrassed, thinking she could read his mind. But instead she said, “It’s so nice to go out with someone who can drive. I can’t even tell you how tired I am of begging my parents to take me places—or someone’s douche-bag older brother. And I’m young for my grade, so I’m not going to have my license for forever.”
“How young?” he asked.
“Don’t worry,” Darcy said. “I’m legal.” Then she whacked his thigh. “Kidding, Ben, kidding! Speaking of age, though, do you always take girls out for afternoon movies? I mean, will we still make it for the early bird special at IHOP afterwards?”
“Ha, ha,” Ben said. “I told you the other showings were sold out.”
“Right, so, The Hobbit. Are they like Smurfs?”
“No,” Ben said, “nothing like Smurfs.” He sighed and then attempted to give Darcy a comprehensive overview of the history of Middle-earth. She was a good enough sport about it, asking clarifying questions about Elves and Wizards, if occasionally getting some things from Harry Potter mixed up with Tolkien. And it kept Ben from feeling that nervous feeling he got when he had to keep up conversation with, well, anyone besides Tyler, really.
The Hobbit movie was good, and Darcy seemed to like it enough. They ate popcorn and Sour Patch Kids and shared an enormous soda with two straws. Darcy didn’t exactly react like his mom did to the violence, but she did jump every time one of the Orcs got disemboweled or a Warg came jumping out from behind a boulder. She even grabbed his hand once when it was resting on their shared armrest. At the end of the movie, Ben felt pretty good about things. It was only 7:30, and Darcy suggested they walk around the mall.
&nb
sp; “So you didn’t hate it?” he asked as they wandered past a Starbucks and a women’s clothing store that looked like somewhere his mom or his teachers probably shopped.
“No, it was cute,” Darcy said. “The Hobbits were cute,” she clarified. “Some of the dwarves were kind of gross though. I still don’t really understand what they were trying to do. And it seemed like it kind of ended without them doing anything.”
“Well, it’s a trilogy, remember,” Ben said.
“Oh, so there’s more?”
“Yeah, there’s two more,” Ben said. “One plus two equals a trilogy.”
“Thanks, Ben,” she said sarcastically. “I’m sure something will happen in the next one,” she added. “Ooh, can we go in there?” she pointed at the neon sign for Hot Closet.
“Sure, I guess.” He walked in uneasily. Shannan always made fun of this store and the girls who went into it. Shannan wasn’t a prude. She just thought the silver tank tops and hot pink frayed denim shorts they sold were kind of funny. She always said she could cut up her own pants if she wanted her ass to hang out the back of them.
He walked behind Darcy as she flipped the tags over on all the clothes, offering some appreciative oohs and ahhs at a black off-the-shoulder sweatshirt with the word “Hottie” written on it in neon green cursive. Then she found a bright blue thing that he thought was some kind of a scarf before he realized it was a skirt. “Do you mind if I try this on?” she said.
“No,” he said, while thinking, not if it means we’re closer to getting out of here. The dressing rooms were in the back of the store: a series of small closets with brightly colored, striped fabric covers for doors. It looked like they were going for kind of a beach vacation theme. He stood nervously outside, hoping that no one would think he was some kind of pervert. Then he heard Darcy whisper.
“Ben, come tell me what you think?”
“Are you coming out?”
“No way,” she said and laughed. “Just stick your head in.”
He glanced around once, but there were only two sales ladies, and they were in the front of the store putting together what looked like the most glitter-intensive holiday display ever. He took a step forward and peeked behind the curtain. The skirt did look good, but he only had a second to take it in before he realized that was all Darcy was wearing. She had one arm across her chest, covering her boobs, and then she was bare—all the way bare except for the tiny blue skirt. “Jesus,” he said. And then she pulled him into the dressing room with her and pushed him down onto the white bench that was partially covered with cast-off clothes.
She laughed and straddled him, letting her hand fall away and her soft breasts press into his chest. Her mouth was on his mouth immediately, and he tried to return the intensity of her kiss but found it was a little too intense. He understood now why his eighth grade health teacher called it “sucking face.” It felt somewhere between sexy and a vacuum cleaner. He put his hands on her thighs, but they were just so bare that he settled for her back just above the waistband of the tiny blue skirt. She raked her hands through his hair, avoiding the backs of his ears, and moved onto the hair at the back of his neck. She pulled there as she dove again and again toward the back of his throat. Her hand, firmly on the back of his neck, pointed his head upwards. When he looked up, he saw the tiny round camera perched just on top of the paperboard walls separating them from the next room. He jerked his head away suddenly.
“This is freaking you out,” Darcy said.
“Um, yeah,” he said. He pointed up toward the camera.
“Oh, that?” Darcy rolled her eyes. “There’s no one watching. It’s just like a deterrent or whatever.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve taken stuff from here like a million times without getting caught. I bet it’s not even on.”
Ben squinted, taking in this new piece of information. “Taken stuff, like stealing?”
“I mean, not a lot of stuff. But, you know, just like little things here and there. Oh great, now you’re even more freaked out.”
“No,” Ben lied weakly. “I just. I think we should get out of here.”
Darcy shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “What do you think of the skirt?”
Ben grinned. “I think you could get arrested in it. But I like it.”
“Sweet, me too.” Then, as he watched, she pulled her jeans up right over the skirt and zipped them. He stepped out of the dressing room to avoid being called an accomplice and then lagged behind a few feet as Darcy sashayed brazenly out of the store, holding his breath as she passed through the security system.
It was only 8:30 when they got back in the car. Ben stared at the digital display as he maneuvered his way out of the mall parking lot. He didn’t want to be rude, but he didn’t know if the date was exactly over. “Do you want to hang out at my house for a while?” he offered.
“I should probably get back,” Darcy said.
Ben nodded and then thought all the way back to Darcy’s house about how he should take this information, wondering if he’d blown it somehow and trying to decide if he really cared. When he pulled up in front, she released her seat belt before the car had even stopped. “The old people,” she said. “They’re probably watching.”
“Sure,” he said. “Okay.”
“Well, that was fun,” Darcy said as she opened the door. “Thanks for the date, Ben.” There was something in her tone he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t sarcastic. More like amused. Like she was reciting lines rather than saying what she actually thought.
“Yeah,” he said, for lack of anything better. “See you Monday.”
She smiled and shut the door, and he wondered for a second if he should have offered to call her. But somehow he didn’t think so. As soon as he pulled around the corner, he let out a big sigh, a whole bunch of tension-filled air he hadn’t even known he was hanging on to. What was wrong with him? Darcy was cute, and he liked her enough, so far. It wasn’t like he didn’t respond to her when she kissed him. But it wasn’t the same as that night at the party. The things that had seemed hot after a couple beers by the bonfire just seemed a little awkward at the mall or in the library. He wondered if it would be different if they were hanging out in his living room—somewhere a little more normal. He tried to imagine what they would talk about, but he got stuck.
At least the Hobbit movie was good. When he pulled into his driveway, he took out his phone to tell Tyler about the weird make-out session in the dressing room, but then he remembered Tyler was at Megan’s family’s Christmas party. He texted him:
Call me later—movies with library veggie girl. He thought Tyler might not remember who Darcy was.
He was surprised when his phone lit up almost immediately after he hit Send. “Dude, I had to call you,” Tyler said, forgoing a more traditional greeting. “What did that chick do in the movie theater?”
Tyler laughed as Ben recounted the dressing room episode, and Ben found as he told it that it seemed more okay and less weird to him. “Where are you, anyway? I thought you were at the party.”
“Yeah, I’m hiding out in Megan’s brother’s room for a few. Just killing some time until I can take off. It’s just a bunch of her parents’ friends and whatever.”
“Where’s Megan?”
“I don’t know. Downstairs somewhere.”
“Is she going to be pissed that you disappeared?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know. Probably not. Why do you care?” Suddenly there was that cold hostility again.
“I don’t really. Whatever.” Ben tried to turn the conversation back to lightness. Why do you hang out with this girl, was what he wanted to know. Why do you, when you don’t seem to like her? Do you even like anyone anymore? “Later, I guess,” he said when the silence had stretched on for another awkward pause that felt like a year.
“Yeah, later,” Tyler said, and the phone went silent. Ben sat in the car staring at the phone, which faded to black after a few minutes. His head was spinning like he’d jus
t gotten off one of those centrifugal force rides that sticks you to the wall and drops the floor from under you. Why did this thing with Megan bother him so much? Why did he compare every relationship he had to his friendship with Tyler? Why was he afraid of not liking Darcy? Thinking of Darcy reminded him that apparently he was the kind of guy who thought about things too much. He resolved to be different—but like what? His brain practically shouted at him. More shallow? Like Tyler? All he had were questions and the gnawing feeling that somehow all this was related to his complete indecision and lack of motivation around life after high school.
Finally he bit the bullet and went inside. His mom was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked at him and cocked her head to the side. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know; you look a little pale.”
“It’s winter, Mom, in New England. We’re all a little pale.”
“Okay, sorry. You’re fine. How was the movie?”
“It was good.” He hung his coat on the hook and went to root around in the fridge for something snackish.
“Did Tyler like it?”
He sighed. “I went with Darcy, this girl from school.” He kept his face in the fridge so he didn’t have to register his mother’s look of surprise.
“Was it a date? This girl you went with?”
“Um, sort of. I guess so.”
“Well, that’s great!”
Ben shook his head in the refrigerator. Didn’t parents know how to turn off the super-obvious enthusiasm? He peeked up over the egg tray. Mom was looking sheepish. “It was okay, Mom. It was an okay sort of date.” He didn’t have any desire to share details about the shopping portion of the date. He pulled a piece of tinfoil-wrapped pizza out of the fridge, unwrapped it, and took a bite.
His mother grimaced. “Don’t you want to heat that up?”
“Nope,” Ben said, his mouth already full of crust and cold cheese. He walked into the den and flopped down on the couch, calculating the days until Shannan was home again, and then wasted a couple hours playing Call of Duty with Brandon Rosetti.
Wired Man and Other Freaks of Nature Page 9
