by Ann Steinke
“You sound like a girl,” I said, laughing.
“You sound like a boy,” he shot back.
So after Scott got off work the following day, we all went to see the latest Kevin Costner movie.
Scott sat next to me on the aisle, with one arm around my shoulders and the other holding my hand. I was using my one free hand to feed popcorn into his mouth since, as he put it, he was slightly handicapped by not having a third arm. Lou sat beside me, and Ter sat on his other side. And I could see, using my peripheral vision, that Lou’s arm was around Ter.
The popcorn lasted no more than five minutes into the movie, and then there was nothing to distract us except the film. I sat there staring at the screen. But I wasn’t seeing any of the action. Instead I was obsessed with the fact that Lou was right next to me. And that his left leg was within two inches of my right leg. And that if for any reason he were to move those two inches, our legs would be touching. I was worried about how I’d react if his leg came in contact with mine.
I stole a glance at Ter, whose eyes were riveted on the screen. She let out a sob, and Lou promptly pulled out a tissue and handed it to her. Then as he settled back in his seat, the event I had feared occurred. His leg dropped over those two measly inches and landed right next to mine. We were joined from thigh to knee.
I did not jump at the contact. I did not pull away in shock. I did nothing.
And neither did Lou.
For the remainder of the movie I continued to stare straight up at the screen, completely oblivious to whatever I was seeing. I was wrapped up in a cocoon of emotions that clouded my vision and muddled my brain. Why didn’t he break contact? Didn’t he realize what had happened? I couldn’t move away because I didn’t want to seem as if I were overreacting to his touch. And on another level, I wanted to touch Lou. Badly.
I was jolted out of my stupor when the lights came on in the theater. I jumped from my seat and looked around frantically as if I’d just come out of a coma. Scott grabbed my hand and led me out of the theater. Then Lou and Ter came up behind us, and we stood outside in the cool night air.
“Was that a great movie, or what?” Scott said.
“It was,” Ter said. “I’ve never seen anything that grabbed my attention so solidly. I thought my heart was going to break when they killed him.”
Scott and Ter began an animated discussion of the highs and lows of the movie. I had absolutely nothing to add to the discussion, and I fervently hoped no one would ask me for my opinion. I absolutely could not remember what the movie had been about. I couldn’t even have told you if it was a western, a sci-fi movie, or a drama.
And then I noticed the blank expression on Lou’s face. But when he noticed me staring at him, a flush crept up his neck to his face. He suddenly shifted and turned away, looking at the people passing by, at the sky, at the marquee, at everything but me. What was he feeling? I wondered, and the question kept ringing in my ears until late that night when I lay, sleepless, in my bed.
I got very little sleep that night, and the next morning it was almost eleven by the time I emerged from my room. My parents were lounging in the family room, drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper. They looked up at me as I moved sluggishly into the kitchen.
“What’s the matter, Krista?” my mother asked. “I know it can’t be that you stayed out too late last night. You came home by eleven.”
“Uh . . .” I tried to think up a plausible excuse for not having slept much, but what could I say? “I’m just a little tired I guess,” I said. “I have to go to work tonight and I just thought I’d sleep in.”
My parents looked at me with concern. “I suppose you’ll be needing the car?” my father said.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered.
“Really, Krista,” my mother said, lowering her newspaper. “I don’t understand why you asked for an extra night just so you could get your car fixed sooner. I thought the arrangement you worked out with Teresa was just fine.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to have to rely on her all the time,” I mumbled. “She might want to have more freedom to do other things.” Like be with Lou, I added silently. I wrenched the orange juice out of the fridge and poured myself a glass.
“Well, I think she should try to get her car serviced sooner,” my father said. Then he looked at me. “Do you realize it’s twenty-five miles to where you work, Krista? Why can’t you get a transfer to the Taco Bell on Grande?”
I knew he was thinking of the mileage I was putting on his car. “Dad, that’s not how it works. We’re not talking about IBM, you know,” I said. “And I thought about going to the Intercostal Bank and applying for a loan, but I didn’t think the loan officer would approve my application.” I gave my mother a mischievous smile.
Her mouth tightened, and I could practically hear the words my parents had chorused at me when I told them I wanted the car: “You better plan on paying its upkeep on your own. Foreign cars cost a lot more to fix.”
My parents returned to reading the paper.
“I’m constantly amazed and disgusted by how much building went on while we were in Washington,” my mother said, holding up the real estate section. “Every flat piece of acreage!”
“I don’t know why you’re disgusted,” my father said in an amused tone. “I would think as a loan officer you’d be happy about all those extra mortgages. Surely they bring in more interest money for your bank.”
She grimaced at him over the edge of the paper. “Yeah, it’s great for the bank,” she said. “But as a resident, I’m sick of it. This area has gotten so built up, I hardly recognize it anymore.”
“At least the beach is the same,” Dad said happily. He looked over to the breakfast bar where I was slouched over my juice. “By the way,” he said, “your mother and I will be going for our usual run on the beach, then afterwards we’re going to the Randalls for a cookout.”
“Fine,” I said, sounding depressed. “I’ll think of you when I’m serving up burritos.”
My mother’s eyes sharpened on me. “I hope you aren’t coming down with something, Krista. You don’t sound like your usual self.”
I got up and groped in the cabinet, pretending to look for a cereal box. I was coming down with something all right, but I didn’t think there was a medical cure for it.
Ter called at noon. She wanted to get together and talk about the previous night’s date, but I begged off. I told her I wasn’t feeling that great and that I was going to sit around and watch a movie and rest up for work. She seemed to understand, although I thought I heard a hurt tone in her voice. When I hung up, I realized she had probably hoped I’d invite her over to watch, too. In the past I always had.
I searched through the videos we kept in the house. I didn’t really feel like watching anything, but being left alone with my own thoughts was a worse alternative. I scanned the tapes once again, and my hand paused over Fiddler on the Roof, a truly sad movie I wasn’t sure I could handle. But for some reason I pulled out the two-tape box and put part one in the VCR. I watched fatalistically. Even though the movie starts out in a lighthearted tone, the last half gets pretty grim. I watched glassy eyed as the poor tailor appealed to his lover’s father, saying that even a poor tailor deserved to find happiness. I clicked the movie off. True love had triumphed over a system that expected all marriages to be arranged. I thought about Scott and me and Ter and Lou. To some degree, I felt that the way we were coupled up was also arranged. I knew that Ter had made the decision about which guy I was to date—“You can have the Nordic type,” she had said that first time we had seen them. And it seemed that Scott had made the choice for both of the guys. Scott had said that he liked me the first time he saw me, so I was willing to bet that he urged Lou to go after Ter. I wondered if Lou was happy with the choice that had been made for him.
As I was dressing for work, the phone rang.
“Hi, Krista,” the voice said. “I’m glad I caught you at home.”
“Oh, hi, S
cott,” I said.
“Man, you sound down,” he said. “But then, I guess I’d sound that way too if I had to work on Sunday.”
“Uh, yeah,” I agreed quickly. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” he said. “I just called to tell you I was going to miss you tonight. I’m heading out to that party Gavin’s throwing on the beach, and I wish you could come with me. But I guess you can’t get out of work, huh?”
“Not after I asked to work extra,” I said, trying not to show that I didn’t actually care about the party. Though the party would probably be a lot of fun, I just didn’t feel like going with Scott. The energy I’d need to pretend to like him as much as he liked me would be more than I felt able to muster.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But I thought there’d be no harm in asking,” he said cheerfully. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’ll be thinking of you.”
“Yeah,” I choked out.
Oh, Scott, I thought miserably after I hung up. What am I going to do about you?
At work Ernesto asked if I could fill in for someone the very next night, which was a Monday. Since it wasn’t a practice night, and since it would give me that many more dollars toward my goal, I agreed.
Ter was also working Monday night, but since she had to work right after school, and I didn’t have to be at work until five, I had to borrow my father’s car once again. He was not pleased when I came in and asked for it, but he handed me the keys and had my mother take him to work Monday morning.
So for the second time in two days, I found myself serving up burritos. Before I had started working for Taco Bell, I actually liked Mexican food. But now I was seriously thinking about applying to a Chinese restaurant. The smells of Mexican cooking were really beginning to make me sick.
I was just wondering what Chinese food would smell like when I turned to face the next customer . . . it was Lou! We both opened our mouths in surprise.
“I thought you didn’t work on Mondays,” he said.
“I don’t. I’m just filling in for someone.” My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.
“Ah.” He looked uncomfortable.
“How come you’re way up here?” I asked.
“Well, my parents are both working, and Scott’s busy, so I decided I’d grab a bite to eat on my way home,” he explained.
“Home from where?” I asked curiously. I knew Scott was busy, and I wondered why Lou wasn’t also at Gavin’s beach party.
Lou’s face fell, and he looked extremely uncomfortable. “Uh, I was just riding around,” he said. It didn’t sound as if that was the real explanation, but I kept my doubts to myself.
We stared at each other for a minute, and then the person standing in line behind Lou let out a cough.
“I’ll take the taco dinner and a Coke,” Lou said quickly.
I served him in record time, and he smiled at me before walking over to a table.
I took the next couple of orders, but could not control my eyes. They kept insisting on glancing at Lou. And two times out of three, when I looked his way, he was looking mine. Finally he finished eating and got up to throw his stuff in the trash. He strolled over to the counter and leaned against it. At the moment there wasn’t anyone for me to wait on.
“So, when do you get off?” he asked.
“Ten.”
“Oh.” He kind of nodded his head in a vague gesture, then asked, “What’s Teresa up to tonight?”
“She’s probably home from work by now,” I said, wondering why he didn’t know that.
“Oh.” He looked up at the wall behind me, then at a customer just coming up to the counter. “Well, see you tomorrow,” he said, backing away.
“Yeah.” I watched Lou leave, thinking to myself that it was strange he didn’t know Ter’s whereabouts. I watched his pickup exit the parking lot and head toward the freeway. Was he as interested in Ter as she was in him? His actions were impossible for me to read. Yet the way he acted sometimes made me think he might not be all that into her. Or maybe there was someone else? A vision of Ter’s pained face immediately sprang to mind. I could see and feel her heart breaking. She was my very best friend in the entire world—the epitome of loyalty. If Lou was interested in someone else, Ter would be devastated.
I sat on the front stoop of our house the next morning waiting for Ter to pick me up for school. Another sleepless night had left me exhausted and pale. I’d tried to camouflage my appearance with extra blusher and even lipstick. And I was trying my best not to eat it off.
I stared down the driveway. My mother had the gardener plant masses of pink begonias and geraniums all along the drive up to the house. The wind made them toss their rosy heads. It was a defiant gesture, as if to say, “Nothing will crush us, not even the wind.” I wished I could feel the same way. But I did feel crushed, pressed flat, weighted down.
Ter roared up the street and slammed to a stop at the curb. I rose, forcing a smile on my face, and joined her in the car.
“Sorry I’m late,” Ter said breathlessly. “I couldn’t figure out what to wear this morning.” She didn’t look at me. I knew she needed to concentrate on the road, but still, a glance before putting the car in gear would have been normal behavior for her.
She suspects, I thought in horror. No. That was ridiculous. How could she possibly know? I told myself.
We drove to school in silence, with me hanging on for dear life. Ter was driving as if she were in the Indianapolis 500. We roared into the parking lot and jumped out as the tardy bell went off.
“The only good thing about today is that we get to practice after school before you go to work,” Ter said as we pounded down the quad toward our classrooms. “I have a great idea for a name for our band.”
“What is it?” I asked with interest.
“Tell you later,” she said, and sprinted off to her homeroom.
CHAPTER TEN
At the end of the day, Ter and I met Scott outside the band room before orchestra.
“Hey! We’ve got a gig!” he announced jubilantly.
“What? I can’t believe it!” Ter cried. “We haven’t even come up with a name yet. How did anyone hear of us?”
Scott beamed. “Well, my dad was talking to one of his customers. And he told him about the band we were forming. . . .”
“Yeah, and so?” I asked in excitement.
“Shh. Let him finish,” Ter said, holding a finger up to her mouth.
“So the guy owns a coffeehouse near the beach in Avila, and he has two bands play there every Friday and Saturday night.” Scott’s eyes gleamed as he spoke. “Anyway, there’s going to be a spot open in a couple of weeks because of some kind of scheduling glitch. The band that was supposed to open for the Regents had to cancel out or something. So . . .” Scott said, taking a deep breath, “he asked my dad to see if we wanted to fill in!”
Ter and I looked at each other and gasped.
Scott raised his hands for us to keep quiet. “Of course, he wants to come over to Lou’s to hear us first,” he added. “But if we aren’t half bad, we’re in!”
Ter and I hugged each other, jumping up and down.
“Do you think we’re good enough?” I asked.
“I hope so,” Scott said seriously. “But he’s not coming to hear us play until next Saturday, so we have to practice as much as possible this week.”
“Has Lou heard yet?” Ter asked, glancing around.
“Yeah, he’s inside tightening his drums,” Scott said, nodding vigorously. He had a huge grin on his face.
I was grinning too, but though I knew a gig was ultimately what we’d hoped for, I was scared. Would any of us get stage fright? Would we blow our chance from nerves?
Mr. Marsh’s voice rang out from inside the band room, and the three of us hustled inside and took our places. I refrained from looking up at the drum section, but I wondered why Lou hadn’t been there when Scott told us the good news. Had he been avoiding me? Or was I reading too much
into his actions?
After school, Scott grabbed my hand. “Come on, Krista,” he said. “Lou can ride with Teresa.” Before I could answer, he had already pulled me out of the room.
The four of us descended on Lou’s house, and bustled into the garage. We were all on such a high that we looked as if we were on a VCR tape on fast forward. In record time we had our instruments set up. Then we gathered around and tried to figure out what to play for our audition. As I called out my suggestions, I suddenly remembered that Ter had thought of a name for our group.
“Ter, tell us the name you thought up,” I said.
The guys looked at her. “You got one?” Scott asked.
“Well, I don’t know how good it is,” Ter said, looking a little nervous.
“Come on. Just tell us,” Scott urged. “It’s gotta be better than nothing.”
Ter took a deep breath. “High Pressure,” she said, her expression even more tension filled than before.
We stared at her without saying anything. Then Lou said, “High Pressure?”
“Yeah. You see, I was trying to come up with a name using my feelings,” Ter explained. “And I thought about how playing in the band had brought some excitement into my life. So I thought, maybe we can call ourselves Excitement. Then I decided to look up the word in the thesaurus, and that’s where I found High Pressure.”
Scott repeated the name a couple of times, and each time he said it with more enthusiasm. “You know? I like it,” he said finally. Then he looked at me and Lou. “What do you think?”
“Sounds fine, amigo,” Lou agreed.
“I think it’s great,” I said, smiling at Ter. I knew she needed to have her idea accepted enthusiastically, or she’d think everyone was just acquiescing out of a lack of a better choice.
“High Pressure it is, then,” Scott said. “Now we just have to come up with some music.”
“I think we ought to play Lou’s piece,” Ter suggested.
