Weird Girl and What's His Name

by Meagan Brothers

  There I was, with Rory on my right and Sexy Seth on my left. I was trying to pay attention to what Seth’s dad was saying, but I couldn’t really focus. I kept wanting to stand up and yell out: Aren’t either of you going to acknowledge how awkward this is? It was the first time I’d been this close to Rory in forever, and it was in a church, of all places. But then, a funny thing happened. I realized that I wasn’t thinking impure thoughts about him. I wasn’t angry at him. I didn’t want anything from him except to be friends again. And if we couldn’t be friends, I was glad that he had Seth, and Seth’s family, looking out for him. Okay, God. Wherever you are. I’m officially releasing Rory to your care. Just make sure he stays in school and eats a decent meal every once in a while, okay?

  Was that a prayer? Was I even allowed to pray? Maybe I could ask Seth’s dad about it after the show. I tried to focus on the sermon again, but I was too busy thinking about myself. Typical Lula. But then, another funny thing happened. I actually started thinking about God. Actually, I was thinking about The X-Files. Again, typical. But I remembered how, on the show, it’s a big deal that Scully was raised Catholic, and she maintained her faith in God through the whole thing, but she never believed in extraterrestrial life until the end of the series, when she grudgingly admitted that she’d seen too much not to believe. Mulder believed in aliens, but did he ever end up believing in God? Not that I could remember.

  Why was it so easy for some people to believe in God, like Jenny and her family? They just got up every Sunday and did the whole shebang, dressy clothes and hallelujahs. But some people didn’t believe in anything they couldn’t see. And frankly, I could sympathize. I didn’t want to believe that the mysteries of the world were unsolvable. On the other hand, it seems the best stuff is always so nebulous. I thought back to when I first went horseback riding with Walter, and we watched the sunset through the clouds. If I had to, I could’ve recited back facts to explain it all. I could’ve made Mr. Badfinger’s head spin with everything I knew about clouds and the atmosphere and the tilt of the earth from the sun. But no equation on a page ever made me feel like I did in that hushed clearing, watching the sun turn the sky the colors of fire, the fields beneath us glowing like the glassy underneath of the sea.

  I thought about Walter, who thanked God for my mother and black coffee every day. Who felt sure that God had put him in the exact place he was supposed to be, despite the fact that he had no idea whether God was some all-seeing humanoid overseeing our daily meanderings from a high-altitude Fortress of Solitude, or some cosmic force on the level of black holes or solar flares that caused regular joes like him to fall in love with prickly, emotionally unavailable women like my mom. I thought about Janet and Leo. Rory and Andy. Jay and Carol. Sam Lidell and her husband, meeting in an airport. My own mom and dad. Did God bring people together, or was it fate? Accident or luck? Love was a pretty nebulous thing, too. Had I ever really been in love? Would I ever know if I was or not? Was there an equation for love? Was it quantifiable? Or did it just move through you somehow, like some spirit breath?

  Okay, one day in church, and already I was noodling away on some trippy spiritual nonsense. I glanced over toward Seth, who glanced back at me. Blushing, I faced front again. He probably thought I was such a dork. Rory’s little sister, tagging along. Or maybe he didn’t. I thought about how we both used to listen to Midnight Pete. And now there we were, both of us zoning out to the same sermon. I looked down at Seth’s foot tapping along to a beat only he could hear. I almost laughed. The only thing in Seth’s head was football stats and Guided by Voices songs, probably. I looked back at Rory, who sat ramrod-straight, watching Seth’s dad. I nudged him gently in the ribs.

  “Psst,” I whispered. I was quickly formulating a good joke. “Wh—”

  “Shh,” Rory replied. Shh? He shushed me? Theodore Callahan, my former best friend, just shushed me in church. Well, I never. Seth looked over at me and smiled.

  “Gum?” he asked quietly, offering me the pack. I took a piece. It tasted strange, like licorice and grass.

  “What kind of gum is this?” I whispered again.

  “It’s all-natural,” he explained.

  “Seth. Twigs and bark are natural, but it doesn’t mean they taste good.”

  At that, Seth snorted a big laugh that he covered with a cough. Rory and Seth’s mom both leaned over and shushed us.

  Seth’s dad cracked a few jokes of his own, then wrapped it up with another prayer. He reminded us to sign up for the Habitat for Humanity build and that the ladies’ yoga class in the Free Room had been changed to Thursday nights. One more song from the choir, and we were free to go.

  “What’d you think?” Seth asked me when it was all said and done. I decided I better not tell him all my weird rambling thoughts about Agent Scully and God.

  “You were right. It still smells like books.”

  He smiled. “We’ve got Krispy Kremes and coffee in the rec room, if you wanna hang out, do the whole meet-n-greet thing.”

  “That’s okay. I told Janet I’d be home for lunch.”

  “Oh. Well, good to see you, anyway.” Seth hugged me again. I was starting to get the drift. He’s a hugger. “Come back sometime. Anytime you like.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I will,” I told him. They weren’t so bad, the Unitarians. And if I came back, next time, I’d wear jeans. Seth drifted off to say hello to his church friends, leaving me and Rory standing there, tugging at the sleeves of our mutually ill-fitting costumes.

  “Looked like you’re getting the hang of it,” I remarked.

  “The hang of what?”

  “Y’know. The whole church thing. Praise the Lord, et cetera.”

  “It’s not like that,” Rory squinted. The rainclouds had blown away while we were inside, and the sun had broken out, all brilliant. “Things got pretty bad there, for a while. They really helped me out.”

  “Rory! How are you today?” A bearded guy in a corduroy blazer came by and squeezed Rory’s shoulder, as if on cue.

  “Doing well, thanks. How are you, Mr. Dunn?”

  “Never better, kiddo! Hey, don’t forget to give me a call when you’re ready to bring the Buick over. It’s an easy fix—we can work on it this afternoon if you like.”

  “Will do, sir. I’ll give you a call when I get home.”

  “Excellent! I’ll have Margie thaw some chicken, too, unless the Brocks have big plans for dinner.”

  “We usually just order Chinese on Sunday nights.”

  “All right, then! Dinner at our place.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Terrific! Good to see you!” Mr. Dunn gave us the thumbs-up and went off to work the rest of the parking lot crowd.

  “You know, you could’ve gone to Janet and Leo’s,” I told him. “Even if I wasn’t there. Janet would’ve taken care of you. When you left your mom’s.”

  “Yeah, well,” Rory shrugged inside of his giant coat. “I guess I thought if you could make it on your own, I could, too.”

  “I wouldn’t say I ‘made it,’ exactly,” I said.

  “Either way,” Rory said. “We survived, didn’t we?”

  “I guess we did.”

  “Rory, honey,” a gray-haired lady in a sweatshirt that said IF YOU CAN READ THIS, THANK A TEACHER put her arm around Rory. “I hope you’re coming back to the rec room—I made your favorite banana bread!”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m on my way.”

  “We’ve got to feed this growing boy!” The woman patted Rory’s back, laughing. “And you’re invited, too, dear,” she said to me.

  “Thank you, ma’am, but I have to run.” I told her, feeling like I did want to run. I could feel myself on the verge of tears again, but I didn’t feel like crying because I was upset. On the contrary, I was suddenly overjoyed. While I’d been off looking for my mother, Rory had somehow managed to find an entire family.

  It was a relief. Whatever happened to me, my former best friend was going to be okay.

  L
ATER THAT NIGHT, I WAS ONLINE, watching Guided by Voices videos on YouTube, when my IM screen popped up.

  SpookyKid: Are you listening to Midnight Steve?

  Rory!

  BloomOrphan: no. should I be?

  SpookyKid: quick turn it on!

  I OPENED THE COLLEGE WEBSITE AND turned on the radio stream. Put on my headphones and listened.

  “Lula, huh? I hear that name a lot.” It was Midnight Steve! Was he talking about me?! “Lula, honey, whoever you are, you must be breaking hearts all over town. So, what can I play for you, Seth?”

  Seth! Seth was requesting a song for me on Midnight Steve?

  “Um, I’d like to hear ‘Learning to Hunt,’ by Guided by Voices. Going out to Lula, if she’s listening.”

  “Uhh . . . pick again, kiddo. Midnight Steve doesn’t have that tune in the ol’ library.”

  Ugh, Midnight Steve. He always did this. Got callers on the request line and then couldn’t play their request. So lame.

  “How about ‘Hold On Hope,’ also by Guided by Voices?” Seth asked. “Or ‘Acorns & Orioles’? It’s on an album Midnight Pete used to have, it’s called Under the Bushes Under the—”

  “How ’bout we give Lula some Coldplay, Seth?”

  “I . . . don’t think she likes Coldplay.”

  “Everybody likes Coldplay! Lula, wherever you are, here’s a little Coldplay action comin’ atcha from your buddy Seth and me, Midnight Steve, here on 88.2 FM.”

  I took my headphones off as the song started and typed a new message to Rory.

  BloomOrphan: for the record, i do not like coldplay.

  SpookyKid: lol.

  BloomOrphan: srsly. what’s he up to?

  SpookyKid: I think he likes you.

  BloomOrphan: pfft! sexy seth? no way. besides isn’t he dating lori whatserface?

  SpookyKid: She dumped him last spring for some college guy. He’s making you a mixtape. Seth, I mean, not college guy.

  BloomOrphan: yeah, he said he wanted to turn me on to guided by voices.

  SpookyKid: His fave band. He couldn’t believe you knew who they were.

  BloomOrphan: blame midnight pete. anyway, I only knew like one song. and it was from the buffy soundtrack.

  SpookyKid: Don’t worry. Hang around Seth long enough, you’ll never be able to get Echos Myron out of your head.

  BloomOrphan: who?

  SpookyKid: GBV song. From Bee Thousand. (I can’t believe I know that.)

  BloomOrphan: lol! did he make you a mixtape, too?

  SpookyKid: No, but he’s always playing it. Guess I caught the bug. BTW, he was really impressed you showed up at church today.

  BloomOrphan: I was impressed with myself. I never have to get up that early anymore. afternoon classes.

  SpookyKid: Lucky you. Are you coming to homecoming next week?

  BloomOrphan: not sure. I don’t go to school there anymore.

  SpookyKid: jst wondering

  BloomOrphan: are you going?

  SpookyKid: Yes, if you can believe it.

  BloomOrphan: do you have a date?

  SpookyKid: Yeah, sort of. Seth doesn’t.

  A-ha! I get it now. He’s trying to fix me up with his Insta-Brother.

  BloomOrphan: maybe I’ll put in a cameo appearance.

  SpookyKid: Swell. I’ll get you a ticket. It’ll be fun. Pirate theme.

  BloomOrphan: Arr, matey! I always wanted a peg leg . . .

  SpookyKid: :)

  sixteen

  I PULLED LEO’S CADILLAC UP TO the curb outside the school gym. Kids I knew passed by outside, some of them looking in at me. This was turning into a Thing. I already wanted to go home.

  “Don’t forget the emergency brake,” Leo reminded me. Even though we weren’t staying. Well, he wasn’t. Maybe I wasn’t, either. I pushed the e-brake pedal in.

  “What time should I come back for you?” Leo asked.

  “I dunno,” I murmured. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  “Nonsense. All your old friends will be there. Rory invited you, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” All my old friends. All one of them. I couldn’t believe Leo was supporting this silliness. This stupid dance.

  “You want me to walk in with you? Anybody looks sideways at you, I’ll kick their damn butts.”

  I laughed. “I think I can manage.” I curled my fingers around the door handle, unable to pull the trigger. “Hey, uh, Leo?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know probably now’s not the time, but Janet and I were talking at lunch the other day.” I took a deep breath. The rest of what I had to say tumbled out in a rush. “And, um, I wanted to say that. Well, I was thinking that even though you and my mom didn’t get along too well beforehand, and it was wrong of her to have just up and left, it kind of sucks that you never would talk about her or let me know anything about her like she didn’t even exist.”

  Now I really wanted to get out of the car. Leo sat there, visibly contemplating.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about your mom, too,” he finally said, not yelling. “And I think you’re right. Our . . . inability to get along made it hard for Christine to have a decent relationship with her own mother. And when it came to you . . . I always saw Chris as a careless person leading a reckless life, and I thought I was protecting you from that carelessness. But maybe all I was doing was just . . . making it worse for everybody.” Leo shifted in his seat. I could barely breathe.

  “I’ve been talking to Jan, myself,” he went on, his voice quieter than I’d ever heard it. “And there are some things I need to work on. Not just with your mother, but with you, too. Because if my trying to protect you just ends up making you want to leave us and never come back, well, then . . .” Leo’s voice hitched. He looked down at his hands. “I know I let my temper get the best of me sometimes. There are some . . . pretty big regrets I have, about the way I handled things with your mom when she was your age. I always thought if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t screw it up the second time around.” He looked at me. “Did I screw it up? Irreparably?”

  “No,” I assured him. “Not irreparably.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” I said softly.

  Leo reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. Outside, other parents were dropping off their kids, rolling by us in their big SUVs, honking horns as they pulled away. Leo patted my shoulder. “Why don’t you run on in there and have some fun?”

  “Fun, huh?” I looked out at the gym and grimaced. “What do you say we forget this whole thing and go hit a bucket of balls down at the driving range?”

  “Nope,” Leo protested. “You’re dancing tonight, kiddo. Go on, get.”

  I got out of the car. Leo did, too. He walked around the front, cutting the headlights’ beam with his long strides. He got in the driver’s side and slid the seat back. He closed the door and rolled the window down.

  “Thanks for bringing me,” I said. Even though it was Janet’s idea.

  “You’re the driver,” he said. “Thanks for letting me ride shotgun.” It was his idea to let me drive.

  “I’ll call you when it’s over. Or I’ll get Rory to drive me home.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just have a good time.” He looked up at me. “I love you, honey.”

  Whoa, super weird. Leo never used the l-word.

  “Me too. I mean, uh.” I was too weirded out to say the right thing. “Don’t forget to take off the parking brake.” Oof, that was lame. Leo just smiled and released the brake with a pop. He cruised off in the Caddy, giving a big wave out the window as he drove away. I finally took a breath. That was actually less exhausting than I thought it would be. Now, to stare down my old nemesis—Hawthorne High, we meet again.

  I strolled up to the gym, pretending like it was no big deal that I was wearing this stupid dress and that I was walking into this gym that I hadn’t walked into since last spring. Be Scully, I thought, which was what I always thought when I felt like
a total loser. You’re secretly carrying a gun and you can kick everybody’s ass in here. And, if the need arises, you can also perform an autopsy. It wasn’t really working like it usually did, though. I was just lame old me. Walking into the darkened gym alone, beneath the arch of balloons in Fighting Eagles green and white. Inside, there was a fake ocean made out of gauzy blue-and-green fabric, a pair of inflatable palm trees and a display set up with two Styrofoam coolers painted to look like treasure chests, both full of cheap plastic beads. A banner tacked to the wall read HOMECOMING CASTAWAYS! Which seemed a little depressing, if you asked me.

  “Lula. Happy Homecoming!”

  I didn’t even see her there, in the darkened entryway. Mrs. Lidell. Who was, evidently, tonight’s faculty chaperone. Really, Hawthorne High? You couldn’t have gotten Mr. Miller or Mrs. Dalrymple? Or how about Mrs. Havens? Everybody knows she’s got no life outside of algebra.

  “Oh. Hi,” was all I said. “Rory invited me.”

  “He told me you might show up. Here,” she reached into one of the treasure chests and came up with a couple of strands of beads. “Everybody gets some pirate treasure.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I put on the beads. Totally cheesy. “These really bring the outfit together.”

  She smiled. This was good, right? She didn’t seem totally pissed off at me or horrified that I’d shown up.

  “I, uh—”

  “Sam!” We both turned around. A goofy-looking guy in a pirate hat and a puffy shirt stood by the ticket table, holding two cups of punch.

  “That’s Mark,” she said.

  “Your husband?” I asked. She nodded. That was the infamous Mark Lidell? This guy with the big teeth and the pirate hat was the dweeb she left Paris for?

  “I want you to meet him. Mark!” I followed her to the ticket table. “This is Lula. One of my star students.” It was nice that she didn’t say former star student.

  “Nice to meet you, Lola,” Mark Lidell grinned broadly at me. Wait a minute, didn’t he know who I was? Wasn’t he going to grab me by the lapels and tell me to keep my grubby paws off his wife?