Chasing Days

by Deirdre Riordan Hall

My answer …?

  Chapter Eighteen

  ☼

  Tuesday

  Drizzle, the blue Mustang, and the Grapesicle greet me when I step outside the next morning.

  Teddy sits behind the wheel with agitation disorganizing his face.

  Grady rests his arm on the open window of the door as if he’ll wait all day for me and doesn’t mind getting wet.

  My brain says Teddy. Everything else flits toward Grady like a magpie zeroing in on something shiny. It could be the chrome or his eyes. Teddy will have to understand. Halfway to the rumbling blue car, I second-guess my decision. I hang like the misty drizzle, suspended. An apt analogy for my life lately.

  Teddy’s window is up. He doesn’t look at me. I can't imagine him upset, especially not after our talk the other day and the friendling hug.

  I give Grady the hold-on-a-minute gesture and then tap on Teddy's window. He lowers it a couple of inches.

  “I’m going to get a ride with Grady,” I say before either one of us raises an objection.

  “Fine,” Teddy says and begins to close the window.

  “Are you mad?” My directness gives him pause.

  “Well…” He sulks.

  “That’s junk. You ditched me last week. Am I supposed to wait around wondering whether you’re going to give me a ride?” I didn’t ask Grady to pick me up, but Teddy doesn’t know that. “You're not jealous. That’s ridiculous.” Yet, that serpentine feeling corkscrews in my chest, winding tighter the jealousy I carry for Teddy’s courage, certainty, and determination to move forward with his life. Along with it is the weight of guilt that I can't be one person for Joss or Grady. I'm torn in two. I wish this were easier. I worry I might end up dragging one or both of them onto my bumpy and winding road with steep hills and sharp turns. I'm afraid they might get hurt. I'm afraid we all might, but I don't know how to put on the brakes.

  Teddy's shrug suggests feigned indifference. “No. I guess I was just used to—hey, no worries. We're good.”

  Perhaps I'm wrong and what I'm witnessing in Teddy is his genuine surprise that I just broke the status quo, stepped out of line, and made my own decision for once.

  A compromise lightbulbs in my mind. I wish everything else were this easy. “Good. I’m riding home with you. See ya in English,” I say. I smile as I walk away, relieved that I’m not the only one affected by so many changes and proud of myself for being decisive.

  When I get in, Grady runs his hand through his hair. “How’s T-bone?” he asks oblivious to the exchange that went from cold to lukewarm.

  “Teddy? Theo? T-Bone?"

  “Sorry, locker room joke.”

  “Teddy is in on locker room jokes?” The world temporarily snow globes, shaking up what I thought I knew even further.

  “Yeah, now that he hooked up with Gretel—Just sayin’ Hansel’s like a guy slut and she was a vir—”

  I put my hand up to stop him. My cheeks match my cherry Chapstick, revealing my status. “I don’t need to know."

  "Yeah, he's in."

  Teddy didn't used to care about that.

  "So, what did you do last night?”

  “I slept for seventeen hours straight.”

  I tell him about my parents’ plans for the brewery.

  “That's flippin’ awesome. Your parents’ brew is like the nectar of the gods. Now I totally understand why you almost choked at the party that at Augie's. Sorry about the shitty beer.”

  That night seems like ages ago, but then again in this herky-jerky, speed up, snail along countdown until graduation, time and space has lost pace or at least it's detoured from its traditional trajectory.

  A weak sun reluctantly yields to the omnipresent clouds as we drive, the drizzle tailing us. When we get to the road leading into the school, the fronts of Hondas and Chevys kiss bumpers in a long line stretching out to the main road. I spot Teddy a few cars ahead.

  “What’s this cluster? No way can they blame us for being late,” Grady says.

  After a few minutes of idling, he puts the Mustang in neutral and taps a beat to a classic rock song on the steering wheel before looking at me with lidded eyes.

  I welcome his mouth on mine. We kiss until my lips sting and cars honk behind us. Grady pulls forward with a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. I giggle inside my head about what a sucker I am for kissing and then laugh aloud for the pun because if nothing else I succeed at being a dork.

  Disorder reigns in the parking lot as students maneuver around what appears to be every single piece of furniture that was once inside the school, now outdoors. There are desks, chairs, rolling carts, and tables.

  “I thought you said you slept seventeen hours?” I ask Grady, suspicious about who was behind yet another senior prank.

  “Looks like we’ve got competition,” he says, joking. "First the water balloons, now this."

  While we spend first period crammed in the various multipurpose rooms, I study for exams. The loudspeaker crackles. “Students of Puckett High, we understand graduation is near and with that a certain amount of restless energy directs you all to make poor decisions. One senior prank for Muck-Up day is tolerable. This is obscene, leaving me with no choice but to take serious disciplinary action if another practical joke interrupts your purpose here. Seniors discovered to be involved with pranks will not be welcome at graduation and depending on the severity of the prank, they will not graduate, period.”

  There’s a contemplative silence and then the entire room erupts into argument. “He can’t do that,” Berlin says.

  “He can,” Rosa counters. “He’s the mother-flippin’ principal.”

  Debate ensues until the speaker crackles again about fifteen-seconds later. “Students and staff, you may return to your scheduled classes.”

  The extent of Whitaker’s power is a vague unknown, but I can’t imagine getting this close and not graduating. It’s like a sentence without punctuation, even though I still don’t know what follows in my personal narrative.

  Later, in P.E., the wind kicks up dust in the softball field. The air smells like rain and earth even though the drizzle long-since stopped.

  Annie Lemon wiggles her butt, much to the delight of all the boys strutting by with bats in hand.

  Thunderheads one-up the fuzzy clouds striping the sky.

  After another out, Elspeth scowls at the bat as if it’s to blame for not making contact with the ball. We switch sides. I head into the outfield, intent on getting a little pondering in. I haven’t yet tracked a week from today into my ever-looming future when the crack of the ball and bat mixes with thunder. The ball sails in my direction and I run backward, tripping over my feet when it lands solidly in my mitt.

  Just when I score us a point, the coach herds us toward the gymnasium. It’s no surprise when water falls from the sky in buckets, drenching everyone but Elspeth who scampered inside quicker than the rest of us. The locker room teems with girls from the other P.E. class, also rained out.

  A couple of them sneer when I walk by. They whisper.

  One says, “I hear that she’ll kiss anything.” Then, “Slut.” I pause, with my back to them, wondering if I should turn around and call them out for crossing the shit-ititude line. Then there’s giggling. I take a deep breath, trying to channel some of Teddy’s uncharacteristic composure when Jaze gave him a hard time.

  Then in singsong voices they chorus, “Twinkle, twinkle little slut, how many people have you fu—”

  I slam my locker hard enough for it to bounce back. Shake it off. I thought that since it was senior year, I’d be invincible. For a moment, I just feel invisible yet branded S-L-U-T even though I’m a V-I-R-G-I-N. I want to scream at those girls. They don’t even know me. I exhale deeply and refuse to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging their immaturity and stupidity. I tell myself to travel the high road, even though I have a strong urge to spew fiery words in their faces.

  They chorus one more time and when they're done laughing I say matte
r-of-fact, "Slut and fucked don't rhyme."

  Their dirty looks suggest I should be embarrassed for not laughing along with them, even at my expense. With matching scowls, they leave.

  While I wait for a shower, I spot a flash of red hair. Since I’ve established that my inner elements rearranged themselves this past month, I ought to get used to the state of constant flux, with my attraction pivoting me from guy to girl and back again. I wonder what causes chemistry. In a room full of half-naked girls there is only one who makes me feel a tug and a tightening inside. Same with Grady. I’m not interested in any of the other guys. I'm not convinced their genders really matter when the sensations that churn and flow within me are this strong and true.

  Joss pulls off her white P.E. shirt as she nears me and rings it out.

  “What a weird day,” I say.

  “I had a weirder night. My brother called.” She sits down on a bench in a quiet corner and suddenly looks small, like she not only took off her shirt, but her shell too.

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s in Texas. His girlfriend left him and so did his mind, temporarily, resulting in him finally going to rehab. He just got out and then called me. He tried our dad first, but he wouldn’t answer. He gave up on us both. We weren't the perfect kids he expected. But we're still his kids.” She shakes her head in sadness and disgust.

  I lower onto the bench next to her. I want to pull her close. “Well, that’s good news, right. I mean, you have each other still. And your grandma.”

  “Yeah. I guess so. I just—it’s nice to know you have someone to lean on.”

  I’ve never asked her about her mom and I think of mine.

  “Do you want to hang out later?” We’re beyond the cookies and milk afterschool scenario, but Autumn Wohl keeps our pantry stocked with cookie butter and that’s a close second. “You can come over.”

  Her face brightens. “Yeah, sure.”

  After a quiet moment she says, "I heard those girls."

  "I tried to ignore them."

  "You know what Principal Whitaker said about pranks?" she asks with a wicked grin.

  "Yeah?"

  "What happens in the locker room stays in the locker room." She walks over to their lockers and retrieves a bottle of shampoo and a container of body wash. "I've been keeping hydrated. Excuse me, nature calls." With a wink, she disappears into the bathroom stall with bottles in hand.

  ☼

  The ringing of the last bell of the day signals that come Friday, bells shepherding me from class to class will no longer dominate my life. I think about Sunday morning, the day after graduation when I wake up and have nowhere I have to be. Then the nowhereness of nowhere leaves me feeling mossy, like I'm clinging desperately to the slipperiness of now.

  Joss follows Teddy and me to Druery Lane and parks in my empty driveway. Teddy joins us and I notice he plops down in his usual chair at the kitchen table while Joss stands shyly in the doorway.

  After I get everyone iced tea, I sidestep stacked boxes of beer and dig for the cookie butter.

  “Your parents are still married?” she asks, surveying our fridge. There very well may still be drawings I made in kindergarten hidden under other papers and pictures taped and magnetized to the door.

  “Yeah.”

  “Mine too,” Teddy says.

  Joss must feel like an outsider having only arrived at Puckett a few weeks ago in contrast to how tightly Teddy and I fit into in the enclave of Puckett soon-to-be-graduates.

  Then Teddy adds, “Though you wouldn’t know it because I'm so awesome, but my parents suck. Autumn and Kurt are the real deal. High school sweethearts—”

  “High school being the operative words. My mom had me when she was sixteen, almost seventeen,” I add.

  “And they made it?” Joss asks.

  As if on cue, the pink beetle stops in the driveway. “I guess you get to see for yourself.”

  My mother breezes in and gives Teddy a hug before me. “Where have you been? This is a time for family and you’ve missed dinner. I’d ask you to stay tonight, but Kurt and I are headed out of town.” She collapses into a chair at the table and rubs her temples. Without looking up, she says, “It might not look like I'm packing, but I’m going over a mental checklist. There is so much to do still and we have to be on the road in an hour.”

  My dad acknowledges Joss with a "Howdy."

  “Dad, this is Joss. She transferred here recently from Canada.”

  “Welcome to the chaos that is us trying to get Beacon Brew to a convention.”

  “Apologies, I didn’t see you there, Joss, is it? Hello. Welcome. Make yourself at home,” my mom says. I can't imagine not noticing Joss.

  “Can we help?” Teddy asks.

  I pass my mom the jar of cookie butter. “It looks like you need this more than us.”

  “Thank you sweetie, but I polished off a jar last night. I’m trying to discipline myself.”

  “No, there’s no way you can possibly resist the CB,” Teddy says, taking the jar from me and going in the silverware drawer. He passes out spoonfuls and for sixty blissful seconds our mouths are glued shut with cinnamon-y, graham cracker perfection.

  My dad suddenly looks frantic.

  My mom flaps her arms in panic. "What, what did we forget?"

  He shakes his head. “Whoa,” he says as if trying to slow down the gears turning in his head. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. I may have just had the idea of a lifetime.”

  “You say that every time…”

  “Cookie butter brew. Wait, before you shoot it down. It would be subtle, notes of cinnamon, ginger…”

  “That. Is. Amazing,” Teddy says, looking as excited as my dad does.

  “I think it’s brilliant,” Joss chimes in.

  “I like you already,” my dad says to her.

  My mom jumps to her feet. “Do not consult the children about your beer, Kurt. But actually, it sounds like it might be delicious." She turns to us, "Were you guys serious about helping?” she asks.

  In moments, we’re all loading boxes and organizing swag bags with bottle openers, magnets, and coupons. In a harried rush, she gives us all hugs as we finish loading the Bug.

  “Thank you for your help. It was nice meeting you, Joss." She lets out a breath. "We’ll be home Thursday afternoon. There’s a workshop your dad wants to go to in the morning."

  "And a free breakfast banquet," he adds.

  "Am I forgetting anything?” my mom asks no one in particular.

  “Be safe. Be smart,” my dad says.

  “To the moon and back,” my mom adds, giving me another hug.

  “Have fun you guys.” I wave as they pull away. “I totally forgot they were leaving,” I say guiltily.

  “Are they throwing you a grad party?” Joss asks.

  “No. I turned them down. But Heather’s having one at the Clam Shack.”

  “And I’m guessing a bunch more will pop up. Hansel and Gretel mentioned they might have one, but they lack organizational skills, so...”

  “So, I’m totally cool with the obscure names, but what’s up with that? Did their parents read the story?!”

  Teddy and I laugh as we all go back inside for cookie butter seconds. "No one has ever known if there's a story behind their names and, um, well, when we were younger we were too afraid to ask. What with the witch and all."

  We laugh and chill in the kitchen for a few more minutes before Joss says, “Willa, your parents are gone and you’re not having a grad thing…Time to party. Autumn and Kurt seem so cool. They probably wouldn’t care.”

  “You’re not wrong, but I can’t. Even if they were still here and I asked them, they’d use it as an excuse to pull out their instruments, and get the band to play. I just can’t go there.” I hesitate with the rest of my so-not-cool answer, but Joss, vulnerable yesterday and really digging my mom and dad pushes the truth out of me. “Also, we have a trust bond and all that. I can’t sneak a party.”

  We’re quiet unt
il Teddy leans forward with his eyebrows arched. A smile spans his face. “Maybe you can’t, but I can.”

  “What? No way, what are you going to do with your parents? Lock them in the basement?”

  Teddy shakes his head. “They went to DC for some bonehead political thing.” He retches.

  “Are they still being dinks about RISD?” Joss asks.

  “They’re still being dinks about my existence.” He looks down at the floor and for a moment, I sense an abundance of water, lipids, lysozymes, sodium, and potassium swimming around in his eyes. “Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

  “And I have something wicked awesome for you,” I sing, trying to cheer him. The package from Etsy arrived just in time. Then I add, “I’m sorry, Theo.” Because I am. I’ve always held onto the hope that at some point the Westings would see how cool their kid is and give him his due.

  “So a party.” Joss declares.

  “I don’t want to see you get in trouble, Theo,” I say. But maybe Theo, as opposed to Teddy, doesn’t care about the consequences.

  Joss gives me a withering look. “It’s his birthday. Plus, it isn't about being grounded or losing privileges, having to suffer through some dreaded penance or whatever. It's everything that comes before that.”

  I grimace.

  “When you don’t have parents who are real humans, it’s all in the doing,” Joss adds.

  I wonder if Teddy relayed his theory about his mom and dad being aliens.

  “Willa, it’s about breaking the mundane, making an ordinary night epic. If he gets caught, trust me it'll have been worth it.”

  Teddy nods. “Let’s carpe the fucking hell out of this diem!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  ☾

  Tuesday

  Apparently, I agreed to go to crazy town tonight and surprise, the headquarters is right next door. Teddy whisks us to his room where he takes out a shabby notebook plastered with equal rights stickers. “This. It’s all here,” he says matter-of-factly. He flips through the pages and when he looks up, he's wearing a delirious grin. “The guy came and opened the pool last weekend, but I’m thinking I need to add some lighting back there…” He taps the end of a pen against his chin.