by Dyan Sheldon
“No, I know. She’s got that mouth and those eyebrows.”
“So this girl’s not – she’s nothing like Ramona. But she’s attractive.” Carver still seems to be chewing. “More attractive than you.”
As if that might be hard.
“Exactly. Way more attractive than I am.”
Carver makes a don’t-sweat-it face. “You’re overthinking this. Girls aren’t like guys. They don’t have penises so they think more with their brains than we do. You’re always seeing knock-out women with men who look like frogs.”
Josh doesn’t have to look far for proof that Carver’s right. In the family photograph on the mantlepiece in the living room, his mother looks like she might once have been a model, but the best you can say about his dad is that at least he looks as if he once had hair. “Okay, we’ll skip the looks gap. What about the social hierarchy chasm? Let’s say that if we were in seventeenth-century Europe this girl would belong to the aristocracy and I’d be mucking out the stables.”
“Ah,” says Carver. “Different leagues. The tyranny of the societal pecking order.” He shrugs. “But, still, there is a friendship. Abysses have been crossed. Commoners have married kings.”
“No abysses have been crossed with her other friends. I’m not part of her social scene.”
He shrugs again. “There’s only one way to find out if you stand a chance. She can only say no.”
Which isn’t true, of course. She could laugh her heart out and run into the hills.
“She might be so thrown that she doesn’t even want to be just friends any more. So I’d lose what I have.” Josh picks up the dice. “You see the problem now? I’m zugzwanged.”
Carver rolls his eyes. “And what does zugzwanged mean in the world of Joshua Shine?”
“It’s a chess term. It’s when you’re forced to move, but any move you take will make things worse for you. What I’m saying is, if I tell her and she doesn’t feel like that about me, she may never speak to me again.”
“But if you don’t say anything and she does feel like that, she’ll never know how you feel and will wind up dating some good-looking, super slick guy – but always be haunted by the thought that there’s something missing from her life and never know what.”
“Exactly,” says Josh.
“On the other hand, what if you tell her and she says she’s been waiting for you to confess your love? Then it’s all flowers falling out of the sky and guys in puffy shirts playing violins.”
“But if she doesn’t, I might end up not even having her as a friend.”
“Right,” says Carver. “So, basically, you’re right on the horns of a dilemma here. Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.”
“That’s what I said,” says Josh. “I’m zugzwanged well and good.”
“Ergo, one might as well go for it. You don’t want to do a Hamlet, going back and forth about what to do, and doing sweet nothing.”
This is undoubtedly the only time anyone will compare him to a Shakespeare character that isn’t an elf.
“Maybe…”
“One more question.” Carver folds his arms on the edge of the table and leans towards him. “Since it isn’t… Are we talking about the girl with the My Little Pony hair? Is that who we’re talking about?”
“It’s not pink any more,” says Josh.
“It is in the eye of my mind.” Carver is shaking his head. “Shit, man,” says Carver. “Capistrano. It didn’t occur to— I think I’ve changed my opinion. She’s part of Clan Kopel, brother. There’s no way she’d ever go out with you. You’re not in the same league. You’re not even playing the same game.”
They All Asked About You
“Hey! Wait up! You going my way?”
Jena, hurrying through the rain with her book bag over her head, stops and turns around. Behind her, like a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night, is Ramona Minamoto in a bright yellow slicker, over her head an oiled-paper Chinese umbrella decorated with dragons.
“Oh, hi,” says Jena. “I’m on my way home.”
“Me, too.” Ramona strides towards her. “Get under.”
“Oh, no. It’s okay. I’m—”
“Getting soaked,” finishes Ramona.
“I’m fine. Really.” Mesmerizing as the sight of Ramona is, Jena’s eyes dart around them.
Ramona laughs. “It’s okay. Nobody’s going to see you. Tilda’s in rehearsal.”
Jena has heard a lot about Ramona from Tilda, none of it good. Tilda may not have a high opinion of Josh, but her opinion of Ramona is low enough to hit oil. Ramona, according to Tilda, is an infected boil on the butt of life. Stuck up. Peculiar. Sarcastic. Has a major attitude problem. Never knows when to keep her mouth shut. What Tilda didn’t mention is that Ramona can read minds.
“Oh, Tilda wouldn’t—” Yes, she would. There’s no way she’d stand for Jena being chummy with Ramona.
“I was just kidding.” Ramona slides the umbrella over Jena.
Jena could say she just remembered she has to go into town for something. It isn’t just Tilda who doesn’t like Ramona. The General has assessed his new neighbours and found them far below his standards. He’s noted Mrs Minamoto’s flamboyant clothes and Mr Minamoto’s necklaces and clogs – and their only child, of course, who manages to combine her parents’ unconventionality and add something to it of her own. The only good thing he has to say about them is that at least they’re capitalists. Serious capitalists. He’s seen the prices in their store. But, in what Josh would say is an example of what he means by life’s many ironies, the fact that her father, Tilda and her other friends would disapprove of her fraternizing with Ramona makes Jena want to. She can just picture their faces. That alone makes her feel like a person who doesn’t always do as she’s told. And, since her father’s at work and Tilda’s rehearsing, Jena falls into step beside Ramona.
“So how are you liking Parsons Falls?” asks Ramona as they walk through the downpour under the warm, patterned light of the Chinese umbrella.
Jena likes it a lot. It’s a great town. The school’s really good. And she’s already made so many friends. She gives Ramona a sideways glance. “I know you and Tilda—”
Hate each other are the words she can’t quite bring herself to say.
“Hey, it’s cool,” Ramona assures her. “You know that old saying: different strokes for different folks.”
Jena, who didn’t, nods.
“Think how boring the world would be if everybody was exactly the same and liked all the same people and things,” Ramona goes on. “I mean, God … talk about land of the zombies…”
Jena laughs – a sound that doesn’t come even close to making Ramona think of hot fudge sauce. “You know, you’re right. I guess I never thought of it like that.”
They talk about the play, and Sal, and then, as they stop on their street between their houses, Jena mentions Josh. “So you and Josh are really good friends,” she says.
“Yeah,” says Ramona. “Ever since we were kids.”
“That must be cool. Knowing somebody for so long.” Jena shifts from one foot to the other. “He’s a nice guy.”
Ramona agrees. “The best.”
“I… You…” If she fidgets any more she’ll be dancing. “At first I thought you two must be a couple.”
Ramona smiles. “Is that a question?”
“No. Oh, no. Josh said you’re just friends.” Jena’s laugh can’t decide whether it’s nervous or embarrassed. “I’ve never really had a boy for a friend before. You know, not since grade school. I kind of didn’t think it was possible. Not really. But now that I’m friends with Josh I get it. It’s just, you know, you’re both kind of – kind of unusual.” Adding quickly, “I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just that it seemed obvious you’d be together.”
Not to everybody it isn’t, thinks Ramona. But what she says is, “Sorry to disappoint you, but we’re just friends.”
“So. I hear you have a thing for the new
girl in town.” The last time Sal looked this happy was when he got his state-of-the-art video camera.
“I’ll take a wild guess,” says Josh. “You’ve been talking to Carver.”
“We’re your friends. We’re interested in your happiness.”
That and they both have big mouths.
“So that’s what you’re doing when you dump us?” Sal makes a what-a-dope-I-am face. “And I thought— but you were hanging out with what’s her name.” He laughs. “You kept that pretty quiet.”
“Wouldn’t you?” counters Josh. “I’m not exactly in her crowd.”
“Put another way, she’s not in yours.” Sal cocks his head to one side, as if trying to see Josh from a different angle. “So what did you decide? You going to ask her out?”
“I don’t know. Carver thinks I shouldn’t.”
“What does Carver know? He’s not normal. You heard him, he doesn’t even believe in girls.”
“Maybe because he doesn’t think girls believe in him.”
“Exactly. He’s passing on his negativity to you. I think you should ask her out.” He punches Josh in the arm. “Think of it as an adventure. You’ll be the first to boldly go where none of us has gone before.”
“What if I encounter hostile aliens and end up in a zoo in a distant galaxy and I spend the rest of my life wishing I’d never left home?”
“What if you don’t?” asks Sal.
After Carver, the person Josh has shared the most pain and humiliation with over the years is Ramona. Not only does she know him as well as anyone could without actually being able to read his mind, she has the added advantage of being a girl. A point of view he could probably use right now. Guys may be able to build computers and spaceships and microwave ovens, but Josh isn’t convinced they know much about how the female brain works. It’s a foreign country with different rules and a dangerous terrain. He needs a guide.
Ramona stares at him for at least five solid seconds before she says anything, and then she says, “What?” For just a second she looks so pale she might almost be wearing kabuki make-up.
It’s Sunday morning, and they’re having their after-class tea. He figured it was best to have this conversation when she’s relaxed, at one with her body and at peace with the world – rather than when she’s in a mood to kick the world in the head.
“I was just wondering, you know.” He carefully scoops the teabag from his cup so he doesn’t have to look at the expression of shock on her face. Or possibly horror. She doesn’t seem to be as mellow as he’d hoped.
“Let me get this straight.” She’s still wearing the blue tank top she wore for yoga and has her hair tied back, so that she reminds him of Lara Croft in taking-care-of-business mode. Especially since she looks as if she’s pointing pistols at him. “You were wondering if I’ve ever been interested in anyone?”
He thought it would be better to take the back road into this conversation. It seems to him that, Olivia Fenster aside, in a situation where a guy will hit you (or throw the nearest glass of liquid over your head) most girls will come up with something much more subtle, so he’s trying to be subtle. But maybe he was wrong.
“Why were you wondering that?”
For God’s sake. It’s not as if he said he was wondering if she wears boxers or secretly eats dog biscuits. What’s so strange about wondering if she’s ever liked someone?
“I just was.” He gives her what he hopes is a disarming smile. “I’m not asking you to name names, Mo. I was just curious, that’s all. It’s not a ridiculous suggestion. You are, you know … attractive.”
“I am?”
This is what he means about girls. He can’t tell whether she’s pleased that he noticed, or if she thinks he has an ulterior motive for mentioning it.
“Yeah.” Best not to say anything about the eyebrows or the mouth.
“You think I’m attractive?”
Did she emphasize you or attractive? She isn’t getting the wrong idea, is she? He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Ramona is someone who wouldn’t hesitate to laugh her heart out at him: What the hell? You like me? Are you on drugs?
“It’s not just me,” Josh assures her. “Lots of people think so.”
“Oh.” Her expression and tone are the same, but something’s changed. It’s as if someone opened the door. It seems that it may be snowing outside. Very heavily. “Right. Lots of people.”
“So?” he prods. “Anything? A secret passion? A fleeting infatuation? Some schoolgirl crush?”
“No. Nothing.” She picks up a sugar packet. “Have you checked out the boys in our school, Joshua? Most of them are all about contact sports and food fights. Who would I be interested in?” She whacks the sugar against the table. “One of the teachers? Maybe Break-’em-down Burleigh? Yeah, he’s perfect. Not just because of his winning personality but because he has a wife and two children, too. He’s practically irresistible. And think of the scandal! We’d hit all the tabloids and go viral. That’s all I’ve ever wanted out of life.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I was just curious, that’s all. You know. Because you are attractive and I’ve never known you to date or anything.”
“That’s because I haven’t.” This is one of the few times she’s ever reminded him of her mother; she looks like she’s trying to commune with the spirits of the woodland. And convince them to make him disappear. “Neither have you dated or anything.” She gives the bag of sugar another whack. “Unless you’ve been holding out on me.”
“My only ‘anything’ was the time I walked Briony Shaksi to her house because there was a cat at the corner of her street she was afraid of.” Briony never thanked him and never spoke to him again; the cat attacked him. “But I’m not attractive. Expectations are way lower for someone like me.”
Ramona is not a girl to blush, but she blushes now. “Are they?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Well, I haven’t. Been interested in anyone.” Of course, she is not a girl to mumble, either. “Not really.”
Not really. “What does that mean?”
“It means not really. Like maybe when I was really little. Not really.”
“Right.” Josh nods as if he’s thinking that over, when in fact he spent at least an hour last night preparing what he was going to say. “Okay. But let’s say you were. Interested in someone. Just supposing. Hypothetically.” Her attention is on her tea as she starts to open the packet. “Would you say something, or would you wait for him to make the first move?”
A fine spray of sugar falls on the table.
“Damn!” She brushes it into a tiny pile and reaches for another. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He repeats the question.
This time she manages to get the sugar into her cup. “I’d wait for … for the other person. You know.” She looks into his glasses. “So I didn’t make a fool of myself.”
“Of course. I agree. That makes perfect sense.” He makes a fool of himself enough unintentionally without doing it on purpose. “Only, what if he’s waiting for you to say something? What if he’s as nervous as you are? Guys don’t like rejection any more than girls do.”
Possibly less, given the number of men who shoot the woman who breaks up with them. But he’s not about to mention that now, either; Ramona has a lot to say about male violence.
“Okay, so I do know lots of people are really shy in that kind of situation. Not everybody thinks they’re God’s gift or talks the talk or anything.” She tilts her head so that she seems to be studying his chin. “So I guess I can imagine I might like somebody like that. But I’m like that, too. So how would I know someone wants to go out with me if they keep it a secret?”
“Okay. But how’s he going to know that you’d go out with him if you keep it a secret? Especially if he’s not” – he wonders if he’s said too much, but it’s too late now – “not experienced with girls.”
Ramona takes a sip of tea. “There are signs.”
; “There are?” Obvious? Subtle? Written in a code no man has ever deciphered? “What kind of signs?”
She gazes into her cup as if the answer is in there. “You know. Signs.”
This is what he means about the workings of the female mind. Would he be asking if he knew?
“Yeah, but are they recognizable signs? Or do you need a degree in cryptology to read them?”
She makes a face. If she were Lara Croft she would probably shoot him. “You know if somebody likes you, don’t you? Like if they don’t run in the opposite direction the second they see you. And they get your jokes. And they have no trouble talking to you.”
“Yeah, but there’s like, and there’s like. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. You’re the one who said you wouldn’t make the first move.”
“Hints.” The cup clatters back in its saucer. “I think if someone’s interested in someone, they’ll be able to tell if the other person’s interested in them. You just have to pay attention.”
“Right.” Josh nods. “I see. Just pay attention.”
He still doesn’t know to what.
She leans forward, elbows on the table. “So who are we talking about here? Who is it you’re interested in?”
“I wasn’t talking about me. I was just talking in general.”
She makes a yeah-sure face. “It’s Capistrano, isn’t it? I know you go over there. It has to be her.”
“I go over there because we’re friends,” says Josh. “That’s all we are. Just friends.”
“And we’re friends, too, yeah?”
“You have to ask?”
“It’s just that … I don’t want you to take this wrong…” She seems to be choosing her words from the bottom of a very deep box. “And I don’t want to sound mean or anything – but I really don’t think that girl is for you, Josh. I’m not saying she’s not nice or pretty or anything. But you see the crowd she hangs out with. I know she likes you, but, trust me, you are not her type. Not for a boyfriend.”
This is why people have friends. For support and encouragement.
“Then it’s lucky I’m not interested in her, isn’t it?” says Josh.
