by Allen Zadoff
April presses the top of my arm. She leans over until her lips are an inch from my ear.
“Will you talk to him for me?” she says.
Be mean. That’s what I keep reminding myself.
“Talk to him yourself,” I say.
“How can I do that?”
“I’m tutoring him after school. We’re meeting at Papa Gino’s.”
Oops. I was trying to be mean, and I think I just invited April for pizza.
“Oh, I could kiss you!” she says.
I hold my breath, waiting to feel April’s lips against my skin—
But it doesn’t happen.
Instead she sits back in her chair, opens a notebook, and pops the cap off a Hello Kitty pen.
I hear Eytan laughing behind me. I turn quickly, but he’s not laughing at me. He’s looking at something Nancy Yee drew in her sketchbook.
I turn back to April. Her smell is all around me, the fruity April scent that I remember from the first time I met her back at the wedding. It’s delicious and painful at the same time, like the smell of a fresh-baked pie you know you can’t have.
april sucks my straw.
“Dude, you’re going through that pizza like a buzz saw,” O. says.
I’m halfway through a large extra cheese with hamburger, and O. hasn’t even started on his second slice yet. I pick off a big chunk of burger and pop it in my mouth.
“I’m hungry,” I say.
“It’s cool with me. Keep your weight up. It’s a good thing.”
“What do you care if I have a heart attack, right? As long as I make the blocks for you.”
O. puts his slice down.
“What’s up with you today?” he says.
I close my copy of Huckleberry Finn and put my Diet Coke on it like it’s a coaster.
“You screwed up,” I say.
“What are you talking about?”
“At the party the other night. April doesn’t have a thing for me. You were wrong.”
“But she came right up to you. I saw her. She was all over you.”
“She was all over me because she’s interested in you,” I say.
O. looks at me, wide-eyed.
“But I have a girlfriend,” he says.
“Like that matters.”
O. is so dense sometimes. He doesn’t get that he’s a star. For all I know, that’s part of being a star. You can pretend you’re not one because everyone already knows.
Suddenly April walks by the front window.
“Crap. I messed up and told her we’d be here. I didn’t think she’d actually show up.”
“April’s here?” he says. “Okay, let’s nip this in the bud.”
April catches my eye. She waves in a goofy, fake-surprised way and comes towards us.
“Wow. What a coincidence,” she says. “What are you guys doing here?”
O. sits there silently with his arms crossed.
“Studying,” I say.
“That’s cool,” she says. She looks down at the table. “Huckleberry Finn. One of my faves.”
“Yeah, it’s a good one,” I say.
“It’s lovely to live on a raft,” April says.
A quote from the book. Pretty impressive.
O. motions towards me. “My boy is taking me through it,” he says. “He’s a genius, this guy.”
“I know it,” April says.
Silence.
“Well, I don’t want to interrupt you guys,” April says.
“You want to join us?” I say.
O. shakes his head like I’m nuts.
“Sure!” April says. “But just for a second. I mean, I’m picking up something to go.”
I have to give April props. She’s an amazing liar.
She sits down between O. and me and adjusts her genius glasses. She’s wearing a tight blouse that shows off her cleavage. I’ve never seen her wear anything like that before. I notice O. glances down.
“Lisa tells me you’ve been helping her out,” O. says.
April says, “Yeah. We’re doing Chem together. A lot of people have trouble with it, but it’s a cinch for me. I have a science background because of my dad.”
“Lisa’s not really a science-and-math type,” O. says. “But she’s good at other things.”
He grins like he might have just said something crude.
“Everyone’s good at different things,” April says. “And if you’re not good, you can always learn.”
“You just need the right teacher,” O. says.
He reaches up and arranges his hair. Which means he’s nervous. Which means I’m in deep shit unless I do something.
Now.
I start talking really fast. “That’s what it’s like for me on varsity,” I say. “At first I didn’t think I could do it because of—you know—the immense physical challenges. But the guys rallied around me, and when people believe in you, well, anything is possible. It’s like you suspend disbelief and there’s a shift in the universe. Something like that.”
April and O. stare at me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” O. says.
There’s a long, uncomfortable pause at the table. It reminds me of sitting with Dad.
April finally breaks the tension. She says, “Can I have a sip of your DC, Andy?”
She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just takes my Diet Coke and drinks from my straw. She looks at O. the whole time.
“Lisa said you guys were having some trouble with Calc.”
O. grabs his stomach. “Don’t mention Calc. I’ll heave up a loaf of French bread.” He makes a face like a little kid. “The pain … dear God, the pain …”
April laughs, and as hard as I try to keep a straight face, I end up laughing, too.
Damn it. I don’t want to like O. right now. But when he turns on the charm, it’s hard not to.
April says, “Seriously, though. If you have any math questions, I’m happy to help.”
O. looks at me. “How are you with Calc?”
“I haven’t done it yet,” I say.
I didn’t know April was two years ahead in math. Great.
“I’ll give you my number. Just in case,” April says.
She whips out a pen and snags a napkin from my side of the table. She passes her number to O.
“That’s really decent of you,” O. says, and he puts it in his pocket. “Hey, listen. I gotta take a squirt. You kids be good while I’m gone, huh?”
He winks at me, then he gets up slowly and swaggers off towards the bathroom.
As soon as he’s gone, April bursts into an excited laugh.
“Oh my God! You really are a genius!” she says.
This time she does kiss me. She reaches all the way across the table, takes my face in both hands, and plants one hard on my lips.
“I love you, I love you, I love you!” she says.
She jumps up from her seat.
“I have to go before he gets back. I didn’t even order anything, and he’ll totally know I lied. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. Then I realize she doesn’t have my number. She never asked for it.
She kisses me again, on the cheek this time, and rushes out the door.
I’m stunned. I reach for a slice of pizza, but I can’t even take a bite. I want to smash my fist into it.
O. comes back from the bathroom and sits down.
“Well. That was new and interesting,” he says.
“What the hell happened?” I say.
“With what?”
I wave my arms in the air like a magician. “With the friggin’ abracadabra? Remember?”
“No worries,” O. says. “I’ll get some help with math, and I’ll put in a word for you at the same time. It’s perfect.”
“It doesn’t feel perfect.”
“Trust me,” O. says.
He takes a final bite of pizza and tosses the crust back in the box.
“I have to admit, dude. You have good
taste. She’s actually a cool girl,” O. says.
circus material.
When I walk into the house, Jessica is watching America’s Next Top Model.
“How did it go with the girl?” she asks.
I walk right by her and go into the kitchen.
“That nice/mean/nice thing doesn’t work with me,” she shouts. Then she turns up the volume.
I hear models giggling. I want to run into the living room and kick the screen, but I can barely move. I’ve gained a thousand pounds since I left Papa Gino’s an hour ago. I can hardly lift my legs when I walk. I’m a circus elephant.
I stamp my way into the kitchen, pretending there are little people under me, and every step takes out five or six of them. People scream as they try to avoid my giant hooves. I tear the door off the refrigerator with my trunk. I am hungry. Elephant is hungry.
Mom is on her weekly shopping excursion. The kitchen is empty. Good news for me. Bad news for the kitchen.
Elephant examines the refrigerator. There is nothing special. Elephant is displeased.
He turns around and looks on the counter.
Bingo. Mom’s been experimenting with pie.
According to Mom, Jews don’t eat a lot of pie. We eat more cake, but she’s out to change that. That’s why there are three dozen mini pies cooling in front of me on the counter. They’re not really tiny, more like one-third size. Scale models of actual pie. I can guess their flavors from the colored bubbles that have percolated up through the vent holes. I reach for the first one and pull off a small piece of crust.
“Are you angry at me?” Jessica says from the doorway. She says it really sweetly, which only makes me angrier. The nice/mean/nice thing does work. Even on her.
“Get away from me!” I say. And she retreats.
Elephant Andy wants his pie, and I will not be interfered with.
I choose blue.
Blueberry. Still warm. I take a bite.
I choose orange.
I hate oranges, but when I bite down, the flavor is not like oranges. It’s more like honey-walnut with an orange essence. Hamantachen pie. Mom has hit one out of the park.
Dark red is apple-rhubarb.
Purple is grape.
Bright red is cherry.
I’m eating too many. The evidence is mounting in front of me, but I can’t stop myself. Whole pies are missing from the tray, and still others have circles punched out of the center where I stuck my massive hoof and licked the results.
Bad Elephant. Hide the evidence. Eat from the back of the cabinet like you usually do. Don’t eat where everyone can see it. Be smart.
But Elephant Andy is stupid. To hell with being smart. Smart never helped me.
I rotate from blueberry to apple, back to honey-walnut, over to grape. I put a blueberry and an apple on top of each other and bite into them at the same time. The flavors mix like music in my mouth.
Tears fill my eyes. I’m chewing and crying, and my face is hot. I think about Dad alone in his office while we’re here in the house. I think about O. taking April’s number even though he knew it was a bad idea. Or maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he knew and he didn’t care. Maybe April’s stock is going up. Maybe if I feed her to O., my stock will go up.
The Physics of Fame. New formulas.
I can’t figure any of them out, so I eat.
Elephant. Eats. Everything.
I eat and punch the counter and cry, and maybe Jessica is talking to me and telling me to stop but I can’t really hear her and the pies keep disappearing. I’m chewing and getting fatter and fatter—
“Andrew!”
I stop.
Mom is standing in the doorway, her face bright red, plastic grocery bags hooked in both hands. Jessica is behind her with a terrified expression on her face.
I’m covered in pie. There are crumbs on my shirt, on the floor. My fingers are stuck together. I’m fat. I’m an animal. I don’t care.
“Oh my God,” Mom says. “You’re killing yourself.”
“I tried to stop him,” Jessica says.
“Leave me alone,” I say. I know I’ll feel ashamed later, but I’m numb to it right now. I’m angry, too, but it’s far away, a giant balloon of rage drifting high above me.
“What’s going on?” Mom says. “Is something wrong?”
I can tell she cares. I could talk to her if I wanted to. I could tell her everything.
But I don’t.
invisible.
There are cheerleaders all around, but they can’t see me. They talk in loud voices and laugh.
April is here, too, standing off to the side with two girls I don’t know. They whisper to each other, leaning in and looking around to make sure they’re not being overheard. Since I’m invisible, I walk over so I can listen in. I know it’s probably a bad idea, but I do it anyway.
They’re talking smack, just like the guys on the team do.
One girl says, “If you were trapped on an island, and Rodriguez and Cheesy were the only two boys there, who would you have babies with?”
“Cheesy has really nice pecs,” the first girl says.
“I love Latin food,” the other says. They both giggle.
The first cheerleader turns to April. She says, “If there was a nuclear war, and Andy and O. were the only two men left alive, who would you choose?”
April bites her lip, thinking hard.
“Who do you like better?” the first cheerleader says.
“Who’s better looking?” another says.
“Who’s hot and who’s not?” the first one says.
April opens her mouth to answer—
That’s when I wake up.
hit or run.
It’s quiet on the third floor. Especially after school when everyone has disappeared. All the excitement and drama is gone, and you get a sense of what school really is.
Just a building.
I’m reaching into my locker when I hear April’s voice.
“Guess what?” she says.
Her face looks different. She’s wearing more makeup than usual, but there’s something else. She’s glowing.
“I went to O.’s house last night,” she says.
“That’s great,” I say.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“I don’t have any ideas.”
“We just studied. I’m not easy or anything like that.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
April looks at me closely, checking for a reaction. How am I supposed to react?
“Isn’t it amazing?” she says.
“What specifically?”
“That I could like this guy who doesn’t even know I’m alive, and within a week I’m sitting on the couch at his house.”
I’m thinking how amazing it was when I met April for the first time. I thought I’d never see her again, and then she showed up at school. I honestly thought it was a miracle. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe miracles only seem like miracles at the time, and you don’t know what they really are until much later.
“Get this,” April says. “He calls me ‘Apes’ for short. It’s like his stupid nickname for me. Stupid and funny at the same time.”
“I have to get down to practice,” I say.
“Me, too,” April says. “I’ll walk you.”
I slam my locker closed. I pull my shirt out from my stomach.
“You and I aren’t so different,” April says.
“What do you mean?”
“A few years ago—someone like O.? I wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Why not?”
She looks down at the ground. “I didn’t always look like this,” she says.
“What did you look like?”
“I was … pudgy.”
My mouth drops open.
“I don’t believe it. How did you—?”
“My dad sent me to fat camp,” April says.
“Oh my God.”
“The summer after eighth grade. I was the only K
orean girl at fat camp. They called me the Kimchi Cowgirl. You know how fat kids can be really mean to other fat kids.”
“I know.” I think of Warner sitting on the ground rolling the dodgeball. I hated him, and he wasn’t even doing anything.
“I was beyond miserable,” April says. “But I lost weight. And when I started high school in Paramus the next year, I went from being this pudgy geek to being … I don’t know. Whatever I am now.”
“The hot girl,” I say.
“More like the hot geek,” April says.
“Is that when you did the thing with your teeth?”
“Exactly. And the contacts and everything.”
“It was like an Extreme Makeover,” I say.
“Sort of. But the thing is, you can change your body, but your head doesn’t really change, you know? I still feel like the old me sometimes. Like it all could go away any second.”
“I kind of feel the same way about football.”
“Like you could lose it all?” April says.
“Overnight.”
April steps closer to me. She gets this really serious look on her face.
“I’m glad we met each other, Andy. Really I am.”
“Me, too,” I say.
“Hey, it’s the elephant man,” Ugo says.
He’s standing at the end of the hall in his greasy, stained sweatshirt. I glance down the hall. There’s nobody around except April and me.
“Where’d you get a hot piece of ass like that?” Ugo says.
“Shut up,” I say.
“Maybe she’s from the Last Wish Foundation. Are you dying of cancer or something?” He makes a voice like a kid who can’t breathe: “I just … want … to touch a booby.”
“Come on,” April says.
She tugs at my arm. There’s a staircase at either end of the hall. We could run to the one closest, and maybe Ugo wouldn’t follow. Or maybe he’d use that as an excuse to attack. Anyway, I’ve tried running before. It didn’t work.
So I put April behind me, and I turn in Ugo’s direction.
“Your bodyguard’s not around to protect you this time,” he says.
“What’s he talking about?” April says.
