Rites of Spring (Break) il-3

by Diana Peterfreund

  Why hadn’t I gotten sick? True, I’d stuck to the snapper rather than the spiny lobster, my Midwestern roots expressing horror at the idea of eating things with obvious eyes.[12] But still, every single lobster would have had to have been contaminated.

  Harun was standing there, shaking his head at the carnage before him. He looked ill, to be sure, but then again, I bet I hardly looked the picture of health myself at that moment. Had he gotten sick?

  “How do you feel?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “Sympathetic dry heaves. I can’t stand watching people throw up. Otherwise…fine.” He met my gaze and we spoke in unison. “What did you eat?”

  Frank and Kadie Myer appeared on the porch, aghast at the sight before them. “What happened?” the patriarch asked in dismay.

  “Your seafood, that’s what,” George replied, rolling onto his side. “Christ, what did you do? Ferment that shit in a shed?”

  “How dare you!” Kadie cried, stepping forward (but not, I noted, near enough to be in smelling distance). “We had those fish in ice the moment we caught them! Why do you blame everything that happens to you on someone else?”

  “Specifically, on us,” Frank said. “I’m getting sick and tired of the prejudice this club harbors against its patriarchs.”

  Clarissa moaned. In the distance, I saw two more figures emerging out of the dark. Demetria and Ben, arms wrapped around each other for support, heaving their way up the path.[13]

  Poe and Malcolm arrived on the scene soon after, looking none the worse for wear. “What happened?” my big sib asked, while Poe pulled the seething Myers aside and began talking to them in low voices.

  “You don’t want to know,” I said, almost gagging at the thought. “Disgustingly vicious food poisoning.”

  Salt arrived with a giant pitcher of water and a stack of paper cups and we set upon rehydrating the troops. Luckily, the worst seemed to have passed. No one was looking green anymore, and there were no more relapses into uncontrolled…well, you know.

  “Did anyone else eat the shellfish?” I asked. “Have you spoken to the other patriarchs?”

  “Darren,” Odile rasped. “Someone check on Darren.”

  “I’ll go,” Kadie said with a dismissive sniff. “You people smell like trash anyway.”

  “Don’t be long, honey,” Frank called after her. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning.” Poe looked as if he was about to say something, but Frank stopped him. “No,” he said. “I mean it. I’m sick of this. We have done everything we could for these bitches, bent over backward, humbled ourselves like you wouldn’t believe, and they still treat us like we’re somehow the enemy. I’m not going to stand here and be accused of things again and I’m certainly not going to let you keep insulting my wife like this. It’s disgusting. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. And that goes for you, too, James. Where’s your pride? You should be ashamed of tapping a club of Diggers such as these.” And then he stormed off.

  Salt poured another cup of water for our invalids, who were lolling about on the porch steps, clutching their stomachs. Harun returned from the kitchen with a packet of crackers and started doling them out ( Jenny first). Poe clomped down the porch steps to where I knelt patting George comfortingly (yet gingerly) on the shoulder.

  “Hey,” I said softly as he passed. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Why not?” he snapped, loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s right. You guys are pathetic, ungrateful brats. Those two were trying to be nice to you and you spat all over them.”

  “To be fair,” Demetria said, “we vomited. There was very little spitting.”

  “We were somehow supposed to help ourselves?” Ben said. “We got food poisoning. It wasn’t their fault, but it happened.”

  “I suppose you expect us to swallow it, lest we appear ungrateful?” George said.

  “Food poisoning, my ass,” Poe said. “You’re all just drunk.”

  “Leave them alone!” I said, standing and facing Poe. “Haven’t they been through enough?”

  Poe shook his head. “I ate as much lobster as the next person and I’m fine. Malcolm’s fine. The Myers are fine.”

  “Lucky you,” Jenny said.

  “So what are you saying, that we did this to you?” Poe said in a low, dangerous tone.

  “No!” I said quickly. Dude, what was with the misplaced guilt? “It was an accident. It was just a really, really sucky accident. Everyone thinks so—right, guys?” I nudged Demetria with my toe and she nodded, weakly.

  “So why did you jump down their throats?” Poe asked.

  “Because it was their seafood, man,” Ben said. “Your seafood. You caught it.”

  “But we didn’t do anything to it!” Malcolm said.

  “No one is saying you did!” I tossed up my hands. “That’s the definition of ‘accident.’”

  “It wasn’t the food,” Poe insisted.

  “Well, it wasn’t the alcohol,” I said. “We were all drinking.”

  “Not all of us quite as much, though,” Poe said. “It’s not possible that you all just happened to get bad lobster and no one else did.”

  “Dude,” Demetria croaked, “I don’t feel drunk.”

  “What you did manage to accomplish, however,” said Poe, in vintage frost, “was to alienate yet another of the patriarchs with your groundless accusations.”

  “That’s uncalled for,” I said. “No one is accusing anyone of anything here. And when we did, we had plenty of grounds.”

  “You just told the Myers they tried to poison you.”

  “No, we informed them that we were poisoned. Agency unknown.”

  “By their olive branch.”

  “If the shoe fits…” I said.

  “Jesus, you two,” George groaned from the porch steps. “Get a room already.”

  Poe stiffened and addressed the assemblage (while I did a quick check to see if anyone else had noted George’s comment). “I’m getting a little sick of cleaning up your messes.”

  “Don’t go into the woods, then,” Jenny said.

  “It’s not our fault that they took it too personally,” I cried. “Don’t you think it’s the people rolling around on the ground here who are the real injured party?”

  Poe looked away, and I reached for his arm.

  “Look, I know you spent time mending fences today, and it’s appreciated. But this? This is all a misunderstanding—I’ll go explain it to Frank if you want.”

  He shook me off. “Go tend to your wounded, Amy.”

  I bit my lip, torn between snapping back at him and just letting it go. It was clear where Poe’s loyalty lay. He’d protect any slight against the society, even a perceived one. The shaky truce he’d engineered between the Myers and D177 had backfired, big-time, and he’d decided it was somehow our fault. Poe brushed past me and he and Malcolm retreated to the boys’ cabin.

  Kadie appeared at the base of the path. “Darren isn’t feeling well, either,” she reported. “He apparently went to bed early.”

  George dropped his head into his hands, no doubt remembering the flask he’d handed over. Alcohol certainly couldn’t have helped matters if Darren, too, had been victim to the food poisoning. Demetria staggered to her feet and approached Kadie.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice strangely subdued. “Thanks for checking on him for us. I’m sorry if anything we said came across as confrontational. We know you only meant well when you offered us dinner.”

  Kadie narrowed her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, lifting her chin in the air. But as she brushed past Demetria, she paused. “You know, Frank lives in this dream world that no one in his life knows what’s going on. But I know everything. The very idea that he and the rest of you all can bring barbarians to this island belies that. Your secrets aren’t really what make you interesting. It’s your dedication to this organization—the one you make for life. The one you make for the good of everyone that came before you. But that’s not something I se
e in your class.”

  “No,” Clarissa said. “When we stand, it’s with one another. And you would, too, if you’d been through what we have.”

  “Oh, boo hoo,” Kadie said. “The rebel Diggers. Disavowing patriarchs right and left for every slight—whether real or imagined. You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you? At first, you had every patriarch in the country terrified that you’d repeat the process on them, but now they just don’t give a shit. You people don’t matter. You’re not playing the game, you’re not part of the team, and you’re missing out on the whole point of joining a society. Aren’t you supposed to be networking for the future? All you’re doing is burning bridges. In another month or so, you’ll have tapped a new class and then it will be you who are disavowed, from everyone.” She shook her head and looked us over. “Just a little friendly advice.” And then she was gone.

  Afterward, we all sat there in silence for several long moments, and then George said, “Way to kick us when we’re down, bitch.”

  Demetria snorted. “Can I go beat her up now?”

  A few chuckled, but Clarissa still looked worried. “Do you think what she’s saying is true? Maybe that’s why no one seemed to be particularly concerned when our cabin was broken into. Because they all hate us and don’t take us seriously.”

  At least one patriarch took it seriously, though. Poe.

  “I don’t care,” George said.

  “Easy for you to say,” Kevin said. “Your dad is always going to be on your side.”

  “And I’m always going to be on yours,” George said. “If getting patriarch support means kissing the asses of Frank Myer or Kurt Gehry, then I don’t need it. I never needed this society, and I can’t think of another person here who does, either. We’ve all got our jobs, we’ve all got our graduate schools. Fuck them.”

  Clarissa looked down and let her long hair fall around her face.

  “You’re right,” said Odile. “We don’t need it—not now anyway.”

  “Not you anyway,” Clarissa muttered.

  “But we’ve apparently gotten a reputation—and I don’t think it’s just among people like Gehry and Myer,” Odile went on.

  I thought back. When was the last time I’d spoken to Gus, who’d given me my internship last summer? Had we really been neglecting patriarch relations—even the friendly ones? If only Josh weren’t in Spain. He’d have a much clearer picture of how things were actually going.

  “Any way you cut it, though,” Harun said, “no one is to blame for what happened tonight. We weren’t being rude, and the Myers weren’t working against us.”

  “Yeah,” Jenny said. “If you ask me, they were just looking for an excuse to leave. Maybe we made it easy on them, but it didn’t take much for them to blow up in our faces.”

  “I think we’re all agreed on that much,” Clarissa said. And she didn’t add (though she didn’t have to) that it didn’t make Kadie’s accusations any less of a fact.

  So what was Poe’s excuse? Yeah, he’d stuck his neck out and it hadn’t worked, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was our fault. So why had we been on the receiving end of his attack? Why had I been on the receiving end?

  “Let’s get out of here,” Odile said. “I totally need a shower after all that.”

  “The sick or the lecture?” Clarissa asked.

  “Both!”

  “How are you all feeling?” I asked.

  Ben shrugged. “Fine. I guess I got it out of my system.”

  “I know the righteous anger burned all my nausea away,” Demetria said. “And, I reiterate, can I go kick her ass now?”

  “I have no problem with that.” George pushed to his feet. “And I second the shower idea.”

  Clarissa laughed. “Not together, bonehead.”

  Though I didn’t exactly feel my freshest, I’d already used up my shower points for the day, and certainly didn’t need them as much as my fellow knights, so I let them commandeer the island’s meager water supply and walked with them back to the cabin, where they left me behind (after thorough toothbrushing all around) and I contemplated the logistics of a cold sponge bath.

  I was just stripping down when there was a knock at the screen frame. I tossed on a fresh shirt and went to the door.

  “Amy,” Poe said.

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. “What do you want?”

  “To talk. Let me in.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t think so.”

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Are you all right? I can’t believe I didn’t ask you that before.”

  “You’re not the only one.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

  “You shouldn’t have doubted us,” I prompted.

  “I—” He sighed. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have. It was just…reflex.”

  “Reflex!” I said, incredulous. “Reflex to attack my club?”

  “Reflex to get screwed over by people I’d been trying to help.” He narrowed his eyes. “Remember last fall, when you topped off my horrible year by kicking me out of the tomb?”

  I blinked, but my eyes started to burn. “Yes,” I said softly. “I do. And you repaid me by casting your lot with Elysion.”

  “I wasn’t the only one.” But he’d been instrumental in getting that group founded. He’d been the one to tell them about the secret meeting spot inside the tomb. He’d been the one to lie to my face about it when I’d gone to him for help. And yet, I’d forgiven him. I’d forgiven all of them. The club was reunited.

  Of course, Poe wasn’t in our club.

  “Jamie, that’s water under the bridge by now.” Wasn’t it? He had to believe that.

  He looked away. “All I know is that this isn’t the first time you’ve told patriarchs to go fuck themselves when they’re not convenient to you. So I’m sorry for jumping to that conclusion, but you should at least recognize why I did.”

  I put my hand against the screen. “You’re not convenient to me, you know.”

  He laughed, mirthlessly. “I know that. Believe me, Amy. It’s painfully evident how difficult it is to work me into your schedule.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He turned his gaze to mine. “That’s what I mean, though. Your friends can’t stand me. And you’d pick them in an instant.”

  “I’m not picking anyone!” I said, though at that moment, all I could think of was Clarissa telling Kadie that our club stood on our own. “Or rather, I’m picking everyone.”

  He looked at my hand on the screen, then back at me. “Yeah, right.”

  The Diggirls would be back soon. I opened the screen door and stepped out onto the dark porch. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Poe didn’t miss a beat. “Fine,” he said, in a voice that meant See? but still he followed me out into the darkness. We went to the edge of the forest behind the cabin and stood there, alone except for the sound of night insects and the scent of ocean breezes. “I told Malcolm,” he said abruptly.

  My heart raced. I was tempted to ask Poe why he’d spilled the beans, but I knew the reason. Society oaths trumped all. And if he was confused, who better to go to than his favorite brother? “Oh?” was all I could trust myself to say.

  “He says he never thought I’d be this stupid.”

  The words were like a slap in the face. Why would my big sib say something like that about me? It was as bad as Lydia and Josh. “That’s not—”

  “I think he’s wrong, for the record.”

  “Oh?” I repeated, eloquent as a rock.

  “I can definitely be this stupid.”

  I looked at him, heart breaking. Malcolm was right. I never should have dragged Poe into this. Not if he liked me the way Malcolm believed he did. And from the past few days, I was starting to believe it, too. “This was supposed to be easy,” I whispered. “Like back on the beach that day.”

  “When I said I’d smash the Nazi plates in the
tomb for you?”

  “A lover’s token?” I said with a little laugh.

  “Yeah, but for that kind of vandalism, I’d expect a lover’s reward.” Now he laughed, too, right before he got serious again. “I wish it could be easy, Amy. I do.”

  I nodded, slowly.

  “Sorry.”

  Not as sorry as I was.

  ***

  The rest of the evening passed with relatively little drama. Whatever affliction my fellow knights had suffered, it was entirely gone by the time they were back from their showers, and everyone was in high spirits again. There was even talk of returning to the crescent beach and actually doing the stunt, but as soon as we surveyed the damage to the costumes, we nixed that idea flat.

  Good thing, too, because apparently Ben and Demetria hadn’t turned their faces over the side of the boat when they got sick. They said the sea monster was a real mess.

  Instead, we settled into the couches of the rec room and sampled the meager offerings of Cavador Key’s video library. And I do mean video, as in VHS. Let’s put it this way: I had no idea that Steven Seagal made as many movies as he did.

  “Are you kidding?” Demetria exclaimed, pushing the first into the ancient VCR. “He’s a legend! He’s an eco-warrior!”

  “And a vegetarian Buddhist,” Kevin added.

  “And so not as hot in real life,” Odile said.

  Everyone stared at her.

  “Well, he’s like sixty now,” she said in her own defense.

  “And not hot…like ever!” Clarissa pointed out.

  Jenny looked at the screen, tilted her head to the side, and made a noncommittal grunt. I noticed she was sitting next to Harun, their shoulders all but touching, and began to feel some of that jealousy Clarissa had mentioned.

  Wait a second…vegetarian? Wasn’t Poe one as well? I’d certainly seen vegetarian cookbooks in his apartment last fall, and I’d never actually seen him eat a piece of meat. When we’d gone out for pizza that time, I’d been the one to try the white clam, while he’d stuck with tomato, basil, and mozzarella on his slices. Furthermore, for all Malcolm’s talk of spearguns, I never got the impression that Poe had taken part in bringing in the catch.