Even though Avery tried to keep a low profile for the rest of the day, Mel caught up with her in the hall between sixth and seventh. Mel was in a giddy mood. Her hair was loose and flowing, and she was almost walking on the tips of her toes.
“Do you want to pick me up right after work?” Mel asked.
“I have rehearsal,” Avery said.
“Tonight?” Mel seemed to collapse a bit.
“Yeah. It just came up.”
“Do you have to go?”
“I’m supposed to,” Avery said. “I can’t just skip.”
Avery knew she should be feeling bad about this. She was basically lying. It was almost worse that she’d gone to the trouble of staging a cover story. Now Mel looked guilty for asking her to skip rehearsal because Mel was always supportive of Avery’s music. If it was about music, Mel wouldn’t argue.
Besides, what else was she supposed to do? Mel had hardly been taking the hint. Like now. Here she was giving Avery the sad eyes right in the middle of the hall.
“We can meet up after,” Avery said quickly. “Okay?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
Mel wanted to say more. Avery could almost see her tiny muscles straining to keep herself in check, but she pretended not to notice this. She turned and went to class.
Frost was late, which was a first.
Most AP types normally sat and waited when teachers were running late because they were AP types, but the AP history students had the additional element of fear keeping them in their seats. They all seemed to understand that if anyone left the room for any reason, Frost would find them and head-butt them right in the middle of the hallway.
Nina took out her notebook and had started listing her current thirty SAT words when she noticed that Susan Yee was inching closer to her.
“Can I ask you something?” Susan said. She kept her voice very low.
“Sure.”
“Are your friends gay?”
Nina glanced at Devon. He was deeply engrossed in cleaning off the viewfinder of his camera with his tie. As far as Nina knew, Devon and Susan weren’t friends, so the chances were low that Susan had heard this from him.
Frost made her appearance just then. She stormed into the room with her usual subtlety.
“Books closed, my geniuses,” she said. “Oral quiz.”
Nina spent the rest of the period cultivating a slow-growing panic. If Susan Yee knew, things had gotten out of hand. The news had to be everywhere.
As Frost began to drill them, a strange line of thought entered Nina’s head: Maybe people would assume she was gay as well. Not that there was anything wrong with it—there was definitely nothing wrong with it—but she wasn’t. The fact that she didn’t have a boyfriend whom she could bring in for show-and-tell didn’t help matters. She was like those guys who always claim to have a girlfriend in Canada. Except she had a boyfriend in Oregon—she really really did.
None of this was helped by the fact that Frost was throwing around questions like, “What was the outcome of Marbury v. Madison?” and, “What was the Nonintercourse Act a response to?” Nina got that second question, and, as suggestive as it sounded, she knew the answer was “public outcry over the Embargo Act of 1807.” Except she was so jangled that when Frost turned to her Nina accidentally came out with “the Sedition and Alien Laws,” because for some reason that phrase had been running through her head since she’d first heard of it two weeks before. It was so grievously wrong that Frost actually laughed out loud and marked off something next to Nina’s name before she could correct herself.
When she got to the council office after class, the only person there was Jeff, sitting at a computer, his eyes glued to a countdown on his auction page.
“Eleven minutes,” he explained to Nina as she came into the office. He repeatedly refreshed the screen. “Everything happens at the end.”
Devon came in, sat down, and stared intently into the LCD screen of his camera and flipped through pictures.
Don’t say anything, Nina told herself. It’ll only make it worse.
“Thanks,” she said, ignoring her own advice.
“For what?” he asked.
“You know what.”
“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
Jeff appeared to be engaged in his auction still, but Nina sensed that he was keeping one ear on the conversation that was taking place next to him.
“Never mind,” she mumbled. “You ready for tonight?”
“You’re going with Georgia to pick up the hayride food, right?” Devon asked, not looking up.
“Who’s saying my name?” Georgia said, coming in and dropping her things dramatically on the table. “Speak it! Speak it!”
“We’re getting the food, and we’re meeting at the farm at seven,” Nina said, trying to regain her council president composure.
“I love going to Moonstone,” Georgia said. “It’s our bakery.”
(Georgia had a bakery that supplied her house. Even in the middle of this minor crisis, Nina felt a pang of jealousy.)
“The place is totally secret,” Georgia went on. “It’s not retail. Orders only. It’s incredible. It’s like in this woman’s house, and she has this pet goat and all these ovens in her living room. You can’t tell anyone about her, or my parents will kill you.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Devon said.
Nina was sure he threw her a look.
“Wait.” Jeff spun around. “Seven? I thought we had to be there at eight.”
“It starts at eight,” Georgia said. “But we run it, remember?”
“Oh, shit.” Jeff scrambled in his bag for his cell. Georgia shook her head.
“Meet you boys at seven,” she said, patting Jeff roughly on the head. “Nina and I have to go.”
“What’s going on with you and Tieboy?” Georgia asked as they walked down to the parking lot. The field hockey team was running circuits around the lot, making a weird and breathy hup hup hup sound. Seeing this kind of behavior made Nina glad that she hadn’t decided to go the sports route.
“What are you talking about?”
“You guys were fighting.”
It was weird the way Georgia picked up on things. It made Nina want to put on a tinfoil hat to keep her brain waves from being stolen.
“Is it because of your picture?” Georgia asked. “Is it because your love is forbidden?”
“It wasn’t a fight. There is no love.”
“Of course not,” Georgia said. “But you guys will just have to huddle together for warmth outside tonight.”
“What?”
“They’re letting us set up the refreshments inside the farmhouse this year,” Georgia said with a grin. “It’ll be Jeff and me by the fire and the two of you out there.”
Nina stopped in her tracks.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” she said.
“Tieboy and Nina at the hayroll. Story at eleven.”
At eleven the last truck was making the circuit of the field. Nina and Devon were alone on the edge of the field with the trash barrels and the remains of the ticket stubs.
Even though they had been side by side for well over three hours, they’d exchanged only a few words—all concerning tickets, or change, or the money box. Nina just pasted on her best political smile and crunched down hard on her back molars, forcing herself not to speak. But she knew. All night as she punched her pumpkins, took the cash, loaded the trucks, she’d been breaking the thing down in her head.
The Avery and Mel thing was going to come out because of Devon. It only made sense. The fact that Devon knew before Georgia meant that he had to be the source. And the fact that Susan Yee knew by eighth period meant that Devon had spread whatever it was he knew. Scowling, smirking Tieboy had gotten into her friends’ lives. Tieboy was going to go down. But not here. Not at the hayroll. Not when she had a job to do.
She still wished she knew how this had happened, what Mel and Avery had do
ne. Not that it was their fault—they had a right to act however they wanted to. They could be as public as they wanted. But they weren’t public. They’d made that very clear to Nina. So, they’d screwed up somehow. Screwed up in front of Devon.
From the direction of the parking lot, there was the sound of breaking glass.
“I’ll go check it out,” he said.
“No,” Nina said, happy for the distraction. “I’ve got it.”
She started off before he even had time to put down the money box.
There were very few cars left in the part of the field used for the parking lot. As she walked around looking for the source of the noise, Nina was surprised to notice Avery’s old blue Volvo. Mel had told her that they weren’t going to be able to come. Curious, Nina went over to the car.
It was definitely Avery’s—and Avery was actually in it. There was the wine-colored leather coat and the long maroon scarf. Avery was turned away, and it took Nina a moment to realize that she was making out with someone. Her stomach took a familiar tumble, and she was about to back up and walk away when she realized that she could see the kissee’s head over Avery’s, which wasn’t right. And the hair was light brown, not orange. And that was clearly a guy’s arm.
Nina stood frozen to the spot. Avery, as if sensing her presence, turned and looked at her. The slow horror that spread across Avery’s face told the rest of the story. Nina could see the guy clearly now. It was Gaz—some guy Avery hung out with in the music department.
Avery got out of the car. She kept her head down and didn’t meet Nina’s gaze.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nina whispered.
“Don’t say anything, okay?”
Nina was unable to form words. Gaz climbed out of the other side of the car and stretched. He probably had no idea that there was even anything wrong.
“Please?” Avery said quietly. “It was just this … It won’t matter. Seriously. It’s not what you think.”
“Won’t matter?” Nina cocked her head. “Are you insane?”
Devon came up behind her, carrying the money box in his arms.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
It took Nina a moment to realize that he was checking up on her. “Devon was doing something nice, and Avery was cheating on Mel with a guy.
Was she on crack?
Devon looked at Avery and Gaz. The sight seemed to puzzle him as well. In fact, Gaz was the only person there who didn’t seem utterly thrown by the situation.
“I’m going to go back,” Nina said.
Avery gave her a desperate look.
“Talk to you tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Nina said absently. “Tomorrow.”
Devon followed Nina back to the gate. They tramped over the crisp leaves, not speaking for a moment.
“That was kind of weird,” Devon finally said. “I thought Avery and Mel were dating.”
“The truck’s coming back,” Nina said dully.
They watched its slow approach from the woods. It was followed at some distance by various ghouls and zombies who were obviously sick of standing out in the cold and wanted to go home.
Even though she hadn’t said anything, she felt like she’d done Devon an injustice. This wasn’t Devon’s fault. It was Avery’s. Avery …
What had Avery done? What was she doing? What the hell was going on?
“Look,” Nina said, “I’m sorry. About earlier. I thought …”
“I know what you thought. I didn’t tell anyone. I was with three other people. We all saw them. I didn’t say anything, except to you.”
He was telling her the truth. She could hear it in his voice. She could also hear his tie flapping in the wind. Why Devon, of all people? Why did he have to be involved in this? The one person who really threw her off stride.
“Can you do me a favor?” she asked, not looking over at him.
“What?”
“Don’t say anything about this either?”
“Wasn’t going to.”
They tramped their way back to their empty ticket table at the edge of the field.
“So …” This wasn’t a greeting so, or an “I told you so” so. This was a “what happened back there?” so.
“I don’t know,” Nina said, poking a finger into one of her Leia buns, as if trying to find the button for her brain. The button that would turn on the section that could figure this out. Because things just got bad. Very bad.
“That kind of puts you in a suckass position,” he said, eyeing the truck and the army of the undead that were almost to them now.
Well, he was right about that. She looked down and buried her feet under a blanket of leaves. She hated being out on nights like this. Hated the wind. Hated the black outline of the trees on the horizon—they looked like skeletal hands reaching up out of the ground, clawing for the sky, for air. There was silence now. She had to say something to Devon, but she didn’t feel like discussing this anymore. There was nothing she could say.
“When did you take that picture of my hand?” she asked instead.
“AP. A few weeks ago, right before class.”
“I didn’t even notice.”
“No flash.”
“Oh.”
It was no surprise she didn’t notice. It was good not to notice. Her life would be easier if she noticed a lot less.
They let the matter of both Avery and the photograph drop, since the shivering, costumed horde was upon them now. She plastered on a smile. That was her costume.
“Okay!” she said cheerfully. “We’ll regroup inside the farmhouse. There’s hot chocolate and cider for everyone. Come on!”
21
Mel found herself staring blankly at her reflection in the lid of the ice bin. She was all wavy and her chest was covered in big round spots.
There was a promotion going on at P. J. Mortimer’s: The Great Guinness Experiment. There was Guinness in everything. Guinness burgers. Guinness baby back ribs, Guinness mixed in with fudge and put on top of ice cream.
Management was going overboard with the Guinness buttons. They’d ordered a huge carton of them, some with just the logo, some with old pictures of pelicans. The new rule was they had to wear at least six of these on their front and eight on their back. Mel’s suspenders were overloaded; they sagged and kept slipping off her shoulders, making it impossible to move her arms freely. She tried pinning the buttons right through the suspenders and straight through her shirt, but that didn’t work either. The buttons were cheap and poorly made, with too-long pins. They pricked her chest and her collarbone. No matter what the slogan said, Guinness was not good for Mel.
Weeknights were usually sluggish, but tonight was particularly bad, hardly even worth the trip in. She was killing time in the pantry marrying ketchup bottles while her one table was eating. When she first got the job, she thought that was a funny term—marrying ketchup. It was a lot less funny when she had to scrape the disgusting black residue from under the caps and the tops of the bottles. The whole thing was a little nasty, even though she knew it was probably fine to dump ketchup from one bottle to another.
She felt alone. She’d felt alone all day. It only got worse when she messed up with the note and then got all weird about Avery’s rehearsal. Why did she do these things, things she knew perfectly well would make Avery stress out?
Parker came in from the dish room with a large bin of freshly washed silverware. He fished a piece of lettuce from the pool of rinse water that the silverware was drifting in and grimaced.
“So worth missing the hayroll for,” he said. “Want to take a break?”
“Sure,” Mel said.
Outside, Mel walked along the parking lot dividers like they were balance beams. Parker walked alongside her.
“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.
“Okay. About what?”
Parker went back over to the service door, opened it, and looked inside. Then he closed it again and walked over to the Dumpster and
leaned against it.
“I heard something,” he said, gazing down at his shoes.
Mel stopped her balancing and put her toe on the ground to steady herself.
“What?”
But it was already clear from the way Parker was chomping at his lower lip. She braced herself—actually tensed her legs as if preparing to be hit by a wave.
“Are you gay?” he asked.
He was leaning forward just a little, his hands burrowed deep into his pockets.
“Who told you that?” she asked.
“A guy in my Spanish class.”
That was bizarre. Some guy in Parker’s Spanish class knew about her. Maybe everybody knew now.
“I usually wouldn’t believe something like that,” he said. “But I guess I’ve been curious.”
Mel teetered a little and stepped down off the divider.
“You can tell me,” he said. “I’m all hooray for gay. It’s not a problem. I just wanted to know, from you.”
She looked up at him. He had a strangely expectant expression on his face, and he was pushing back his hair more than normal.
“It’s true,” she said softly.
There was something about saying this out loud that made it seem more real, more official, like paperwork might be required and perhaps even a notary.
“Oh,” he said.
The wind whistled under the Dumpster lid, rattling it, banging the top like a drum. They both stared at it.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever really said it to on purpose like that,” Mel added.
Parker mused this one over for a second.
“This is going to sound wrong,” he said with a touch of hesitation. “You don’t … look gay. I know gay doesn’t look like anything—but sometimes you can tell, right? With some people you can definitely tell.”
They stared at each other.
“This is weird to you,” she said, “isn’t it?”
“It’s not the gay part. Well, it is, but …”
He stepped on some flattened lettuce and ground it in with his heel.
“I had a huge crush on you,” he blurted quickly. “Can I tell you that now, or is this a bad idea? We’re being honest here. So I’m being honest. I’m insanely jealous of Avery, but I guess I’ll get over it.”
The Bermudez Triangle Page 13
