The Education of Alice Wells

by Sara Wolf

  And I will.

  Maybe I’ll always think about Alice instead.

  Keri pokes me in my side. “Hey, is something wrong? You look like you’ve been electrocuted.”

  I look back down at the text. Alice wants to learn more about dicks. I’d be fuckin’ happy to teach her more with mine, right now. I could still turn around and hunt her down and kiss her again and again, deep and hard to let her know I want my cock in her like I’m putting my tongue in her, and I could tell her it’s a lesson. This is the lesson you wanted, Alice, I’d say as I’d run my hands under her shirt, teasing her nipples to peaks. It’d taken everythin’ in me not to do that on my bed just a few minutes ago, but I could let loose, it’s not too late, she wants a lesson and I’ve been achin’ since day one to give her it –

  “Theo doesn’t mind, either.” Alice smiled. “He’s very patient with me in that way.”

  Her lovestruck voice comes out of my memories and my urge to turn around and find her goes out like a candle on a windy night. Poof. Gone. Just like that.

  It ain’t me she cares about.

  I gotta be colder.

  “Hey,” Keri tries for the third time. “You’re kinda freaking me out here.”

  I face her and grin. “Hah, sorry ‘bout that. Just some weird shit going on with friends. Drama, you know?”

  “Sure.” She shrugs. “Are you still up for this or…?”

  Her eyes flit to my crotch. There’s a second of desperation in me, all dark and cold, and I’m disappointed for the millionth time that a girl only wants me for the sex. That she doesn’t give a shit about my feelings or my life. I force a laugh and shake my head.

  “Nah. Sorry. Maybe another time.”

  I leave her looking disappointed. Truth is, I’m good to go for hours. Alice saw to that. But somethin’ in me, somethin’ weird and new, doesn’t give a shit. The urge to fuck something, anything to get Alice outta my system just ain’t there anymore.

  Wait, that’s wrong. The urge is still there. But it doesn’t wanna fuck just anything. It wants Alice. And it wants more than just a simple fuck. It wants to hold her, make her laugh and smile, brush the hair out of her gorgeous eyes, cook her something she likes, kiss her wrists at the beach and hug her from behind at museums and finger her inside my shower, against the kitchen sink, dig my teeth into her neck and press her up against the wall until she loses her mind and her iron self-control and screams my name.

  That’s what it wants.

  That’s what I fuckin’ want.

  But I’m never, ever, in a million years, gonna get it.

  I look at myself in my rearview mirror. There’s no straight golden angel hair like Theo has, just a scraggly, wild, dark-as-sin mop. I ain’t an ugly guy by any means, but I’m not country-club wholesome like Theo. His nose is straight, mine’s crooked from being broken twice (Thanks for that, Dad). Theo’s smart and well-off, and he’s got a good future goin’ for him, and a not-fucked up family. What do I got that he doesn’t? I can please a lady and land a mean uppercut and outsmoke a beef jerky factory. But I’m failing my classes, no matter how hard I take notes or study. I’m stupid. And I ain’t never been in a relationship before. Don’t know the first thing about ‘em, or love. Theo has. Theo can do so much more for Alice.

  All I can do for her is teach her how to be with him.

  Pain runs through my chest, the sort of mean-ass ache that Dad’s bruises used to leave, only a hundred times worse and more raw and on the inside. I double over the steering wheel and try to breathe through it like I taught myself. Breathe deep, lots. Hide yourself somewhere dark, so the pain can’t find you when it comes back piss-drunk and mad as hell.

  I gotta stop.

  This dumb bullshit has gotta stop.

  Whatever this is, it’s hurtin’ me. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s to leave whatever’s hurting me behind. Far behind. Cut it all out of you.

  I drive to the one person who’ll understand, the one person who understood my problems before.

  Barbara’s wig is bright blue, today. She smiles behind the bar as she cleans each glass with a worn rag, one by one. The club’s empty, only an old man in a suit drinking at the end of the bar alone.

  “Hey there, sweetie,” Barbara’s eyes dance. “Rough day at school?”

  I flop onto the barstool and put my head in my arms. Barbara clicks her tongue.

  “Oh, I know that look.”

  I scowl. “What look?”

  “The look of a man in love.”

  I roll my eyes and scoff. “That’s a bunch of horseshit.”

  “Honey, you don’t run a club for fifteen years without seeing your share of lovesick faces. I can pinpoint a heartbroken man at twenty yards.”

  She pours something, and I feel a cool glass slide against my arm.

  “I know you don’t drink much anymore, but I think it’d do you good.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the glass. “As long as it ain’t whiskey.”

  “L’or de Jean Martell,” Barbara pronounces with a flawless French accent. “It’s a good cognac.”

  I sip at it. The strong sting warms my throat, makes my blood run hot. Whiskey would make it run hotter. Whiskey would make it run like Dad’s.

  “So.” Barbara puts her chin in her hands. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

  “Lucky?” I scoff and sip more. “More like unlucky.”

  Barbara waits, patiently, for me to finish. I trace the lip of the glass.

  “All I do is fuck with her head,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s fuckin’ with mine.”

  Barbara raises one thin, drawn-on eyebrow. “Oh? Just who is this conniving minx?”

  I get angry when I hear her call Alice that, and then I realize how dumb it sounds.

  “She ain’t conniving. I mean, she’s smart, but she’s not the type of person to trick anybody. She’s…she’s sure as hell a red-hot minx, though.”

  Barbara smiles. “Ahh, so it’s her. The girl you brought on your birthday. Alice.”

  I grunt. Barbara knows to take it as a ‘yes’.

  “So, she’s ‘fucking with your head’, is she?”

  “No. Not on purpose, okay? She’s just driving me crazy with…with how she is normally,” I breathe out.

  “You’re attracted to her.”

  I give her a ‘duh’ face.

  “But if I remember right, isn’t she in love with someone else? And aren’t you helping her win him over?”

  “That’s why this sucks so hard.”

  “Oh sweetie,” Barbara sighs. “If you like her so much, you should really just tell her.”

  “And what, ruin everythin’? If I tell her, Barb, she’ll just freak out and stop coming to me. Not that she’s cumming to me at all, which is really the problem in the first place –”

  Barbara gives me a stern look. “You like this girl for more than just her vagina, right?”

  “Jesus, yes!” I throw my hands up. “I mean, shit, I’d be fuckin’ thrilled to have sex with her, you know, if she wanted to, not that she wants to because she doesn’t and won’t ever, not with someone like me, and I’m fine with that, I mean I’m not fine, it’s just –”

  I fiddle with the glass and frown.

  “I just…I just want her to be happy. She deserves that. And if it ain’t with me, then I want it to be with someone she likes. I’ll do anything if it means she gets to be happy, period. That’s all.”

  Barbara puts her hand over mine. “Oh, my sweet Ranik.”

  “Don’t pity me or nothin’,” I grumble and pull my hand away.

  “No, of course not. You’re such a wonderful boy, and this girl is very lucky you care about her so much. Just don’t forget you deserve to be happy too, alright? Even if it risks your friendship, it might be better to tell her how you feel. Before it’s too late.”

  I’m quiet as the grave. Barbara cleans more glasses before braving the silence.


  “So why did you agree to help her win this boy over in the first place?”

  I shrug and down the rest of the cognac. “She promised to help me with my assignments. Do ‘em for me. And I was failin’ everything, so I agreed.”

  “And now you’re not failing.”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I’m up to a B average now thanks to her hard work.”

  “And I’m sure she’s on the verge of gaining enough courage to ask her loverboy out thanks to your hard work.”

  My stomach ties itself into knots, the cognac dancin’ angrily in it.

  “Probably.”

  “You came to us in a terrible state.” Barbara cleans another glass slowly. “All those bruises, and that dislocated arm – I’d never seen anything like it, not even running a club with rowdy customers. You were beat to shit. And you were running. And that’s all we knew.”

  Her words go sour in my ears. Barbara grins and pours a seltzer water for herself, drinking slowly and watching me over the glass before speakin’ again.

  “I gave you a place and a job because I was you, a long time ago. I was beat for who I was, and I ran, too. But no one was there to give me a bed in the back of their club. And I had to do awful things just to make enough to live. I spent years doing those things. But you? You pulled yourself right back up, applied to Mountford, and got in.”

  “Luck,” I grunt. Barbara smacks me with her drying rag.

  “Hard work, and don’t you forget it.”

  I can’t help but grin. Barbara always makes me feel better. She’s got that gift.

  “Alright. I’ll…think about it. Telling her. But not now. Not yet.

  Barbara nods. “I understand. Take your time. Just don’t take too long, you hear?”

  As I get up and leave the bar I laugh at the stupidity of it all – Ranik Mason, worried about taking too long with a girl.

  Just who the hell has Alice turned me into?

  Chapter 8

  The sun gives light and love to the rose,

  Who yearns to reach up and touch him.

  But her roots are in the ground, deep and dark

  One day she asks the gardener to help,

  And he obliges

  Together they tear her roots up

  Every day getting closer to the sun.

  The rose tastes love with closer steps,

  The gardener tastes remorse

  Knowing the rose will never rest in his garden again.

  I put my pen down and look at the poem. Who is who in this? Theo is the sun, I am the rose, and the only one who can be the gardener is….Ranik?

  I shake my head. No. He has no remorse. In fact, I’d say he’s incapable of it, the roughish bastard.

  “Whatcha writinnnng?” Charlotte singsongs, reading over my shoulder. I quickly close the purple book and lock it.

  “Nothing! Just some composition for English. Don’t you have a date to be getting dressed for?”

  Charlotte waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. You can’t build anticipation in a guy if you don’t arrive at least ten minutes late.”

  I furrow my brow. “Why would you want to build anticipation?”

  “So he’ll want you more, duh,” She winks. “Deny him for a bit, and that’ll just make the surrender sweeter.”

  I frown. “It sounds very childish.”

  “Well it would to you, sweetie,” Charlotte sighs. “You just don’t understand guys.”

  I laugh. “You’re right. I don’t. But I’m learning. Slowly.”

  “Oh yeah?” Her eyes light up. “Pray tell how? Is there a certain boy in your life, now? Someone who’s name starts with a T-H-E-O and ends in Beautiful?”

  “Very funny,” I drawl. “He’s about as aware of my feelings as we are of extraterrestrial life outside our solar system.”

  “You gotta step it up!” Charlotte huffs, checking her lipstick in the mirror one last time. “Him and Grace have been getting so cozy.” She whirls around, an evil glint in her eye. “Do you want me to sabotage her? In high school I got really good at getting girls fat by giving ‘em my fresh-baked doughnuts in the mornings, and –”

  “You bake?”

  “It’s sort of the family business.”

  “The sentiment behind your threat is touching,” I sigh. “But no. Leave them alone. I’ll do things my way.”

  “Oookay,” Charlotte singsongs. “But your way has always been a little slow.”

  “Well I’m sorry I’m not you, who moves so fast,” I snap. Charlotte looks wounded, and I instantly regret it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just –”

  Charlotte smiles patiently and hugs me. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. I know it’s hard for you. Just try your best. I’d love to see you in a relationship, is all. I know Theo would make you so, so happy.”

  Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she brings it out.

  “Oh, shit! Our dinner reservation was at seven, not eight! Oh crap, I’ve left him waiting too long. I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t stay up for me!”

  She grabs her jacket and bolts out the door, leaving me to the silence of my empty room and crammed phone. Seven missed calls from Mom. The only other time she’s called this much in such a short amount of time was when my Chem teacher in high school accidentally gave me a D. She was beyond furious. So when I saw the string of missed calls this time, I tried to put off answering by writing poetry. Doing Ranik’s work. Anything to give myself an excuse not to call her back.

  But now, with Charlotte gone and all the work done and my poetry juices sapped dry, I have nothing left. I have to call her back.

  My finger hovers over her number, but I never get to press it. Mom’s name lights up my phone for the eighth time, and this time I answer.

  “H-Hello?”

  “Alice! Thank god I finally got a hold of you.”

  She sounds…concerned. Like she was worried about me.

  “Mathers tells me you haven’t been attending his class,” She snaps. “Do you know how much I’m paying for you to go to that school, young lady?”

  “Mom, I tried to tell you –”

  “And I am telling you now, you will attend his classes. I won’t have you wasting your time goofing off when you could be spending it bettering yourself! We spent all of your high school years preparing you for this place, Alice! Preparing you for greatness! You are so much better than this, and you and I both know it!”

  “Mom, please, just listen to me for a second –”

  “I won’t hear it. First you refuse to go to my alma mater, then you choose that tiny place, and now you’re openly defying me by skipping valuable classes! I’m going to call Mathers in a week, and if I don’t hear from him that you’ve attended every single class, I’m going to pull you from that school. For good.”

  “Mom!” I shout to an empty dialtone ringing hollowly against my ear. My shaking hand lowers my phone. Something heavy settles on my heart, something sick and burning. I feel like puking, but nothing comes out. It’s true – I’ve never skipped a class. I would never. But Mathers – he tried to –

  The knock on my door makes me jump.

  ***

  I jiggle my leg nervously in front of Alice’s door. This could either make her hate me forever, or get her exactly where she wants to be with Theo. Either way, I lose. But it’s what she wants, and I’m her teacher, so.

  I suck in a breath and knock.

  Alice answers the door. I push past her and stride in, letting my voice cover up how nervous I am.

  “Hey there, Princess! Roommate not around? Perfect. I got you somethin’ I think you’ll like.”

  I dump the gift bag on Alice’s bed and turn to face her. It’s then I notice how white she is, how sick-lookin’.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I look around for anything or anyone that might’ve upset her, anything I can throw out the door. “I can leave, if this is a bad time.”

  Alice’s blue eyes are frozen on me, but they’re so distant, real far away in some ot
her world. She snaps out of it though, her mouth setting into a stiff line.

  “I’m alright.”

  “Uh, you clearly ain’t alright,” I press. “You’re white as snow. You look like someone punched you in the gut real hard.”

  “I’m fine,” She insists, that imperial tone workin’ it’s way back into her voice.

  “I can come back later,” I start to turn to leave, but she grabs my sleeve all at once.

  “No. Please,” Her voice is low. “Stay.”

  She sounds so vulnerable. I mask my worry with a crooked grin.

  “Alright, you don’t gotta say it twice.”

  “Are you here for a lesson?”

  “Yeah,” I nod. “I was in the neighborhood after Psych, so I thought I’d stop by.”

  “You’re looking to become a child psychologist, aren’t you?” She asks smoothly as she walks over to the gift bag on her bed.

  “Y-yeah. How’d you guess? Wait, don’t answer. You’re just smart like that. Shoulda known.”

  “Your coursework,” Alice says. “I put the pieces together. It’s an admirable profession.”

  I scratch the back of my neck, unused to her praise. Or any praise.

  “I guess. When I was a kid I wish I had someone to talk to, so…I figured I’d do that for kids who wanted that, too.”

  “It must be nice,” She smiles at me. “To be able to choose your own path.”

  I knit my eyebrows. “What, ya mean you can’t?”

  “My mother has always wanted me to be a neuroscientist, like herself. So that is what I’m going to be.”

  “You don’t…you don’t gotta be that. There’s options. Shit, with your smarts? You can be anything! Anything you want!”

  Alice laughs, bitterly. It peters off into a sad sorta chuckle.

  “Oh, Ranik. You’re so smart about some things. But so naïve about others.”

  I’m about to open my mouth and argue when she bends down and opens the giftbag. She stares into it, blinkin’ once, twice, and then looks up at me with an expressionless, possibly-catatonic look.