by Meg Cabot
No, the truth was, I took Lucy’s advice. About the bathtub thing.
And it totally worked.
I mean, way worked.
And suddenly the whole idea of spending Thanksgiving weekend with David just started to seem a lot more, um…interesting.
Not that I was ready to say yes to it, or anything. His invitation, I mean. I was still totally freaked out by the whole thing. But I was definitely more…interested than before.
The only problem was that David, when I finally got through to him on his cell later that night, didn’t seem quite as…interested.
Even when I explained to him that it wasn’t him. It was me.
“Seriously,” I said. “I want to…to…” I didn’t know quite how to put what I wanted to do. Have sex with you? Or should I use his vernacular (SAT word meaning “characteristic language of a particular group or person”) and say, play Parcheesi with you?
I found I couldn’t bring myself to do either, though, and ended up settling for, “…spend Thanksgiving with you, David. Honest, I do. But think about what people would say. If they found out, I mean.”
“Sam,” David said, in a voice I might almost have described as long-suffering. Only what was he suffering about? Boys have it so totally easy. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
Which was just so typically male of him.
“It’s just that there’s such a double standard if you’re a girl,” I explained. Or tried to explain. “Do you know what I’m saying?”
“Truthfully,” David said, in the same non-interested voice he’d been using since he picked up the phone, “I haven’t understood a single word you’ve said to me all week.”
God. I had really hurt his feelings. I definitely had some apologizing to do.
“Seriously, David,” I said, “it’s just something I have to work through on my own. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, really. It’s like…” I tried to think how I could explain it to him in a way he could understand.
And suddenly, from out of nowhere, Deb Mullins popped into my head. Debra Mullins, in her tiny dance team miniskirt, and her big blue eyes, filled with hurt after another run-in with Kris Parks.
“It’s like there’s this girl at my school, and there’s just a rumor she Did It—no one even knows for sure—and people call her all sorts of things to her face,” I said. “It’s horrible, I feel so bad for her.”
“Um,” David said. “Okay.”
“I mean, what about at your school? The same sort of thing must go on.”
“Uh,” David said. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess—”
“You guess?” My voice broke, I was so shocked.
“I don’t know,” David said. “I mean, I never noticed anything like that.”
Oh my God. I couldn’t believe it was so different at Horizon. But apparently, it was. Horizon must be like the Valhalla of private education, whereas Adams Prep is…well, hell.
“What about Right Way?” I demanded.
“Right Way? That dopey group your pal Kris Parks is in?”
“Yes,” I said, not bothering to mention that Kris Parks is hardly my pal, since he already knew that. At least, he should know that by now, after the number of times I’ve complained about her to him. “Because it gets out, David.” How could I make him understand? “No matter how discreet people are about it, eventually, it always gets out. And then they start in on you. Kris and the Right Wayers, I mean. Unless you’re one of the elite—like Lucy. But I’m not one of the elite, David. Sure, I saved your dad and got on TV, and all, but I am hardly a member of the popular crowd. Or any crowd, for that matter. And I just know they’ll be starting in on me next.”
“Who will?” David asked.
Oh my God. I really did think my head was going to explode.
“RIGHT WAY,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“But what do you care what these Right Way people say?” David wanted to know. “You don’t even like them.”
“Well,” I said, “no. But—”
“Who are they to pass judgment on everyone else?” David wanted to know. “Are they the school’s best and brightest?”
“Well,” I said, “no, they aren’t, necessarily. But—”
“I didn’t think so,” he went on. “Because if they were really all that smart, they’d know that abstinence programs, and all of that…study after study has shown they don’t work.”
I thought I hadn’t heard him right. “Wait…what?”
“It doesn’t work,” David repeated. “Just Say No? Kids who went through Just Say No programs in school are just as likely to experiment with drugs and alcohol as kids who didn’t, because those programs use hokey scare tactics no kid in his right mind is going to fall for. I mean, any moron knows you’re not going to become a homeless crackhead from one puff of marijuana.”
“Right,” I said. Because, um, if that were true, all of the stars in Hollywood would be homeless crackheads. I’ve heard what goes down at those movie premieres.
“All those programs do is make people who go ahead and try whatever it is they’re supposed to be saying no to—and believe me, more than half end up trying it—completely unequipped to deal with it,” David said. “Like couples who’ve pledged not to have sex. All that happens is that they end up having sex anyway, only they don’t use protection, because they don’t have any on hand, because all they planned on was just saying no. See? It doesn’t work.”
I nearly dropped the phone. “Is that…is that really true?”
“What, you think the Centers for Disease Control made it up? Because they’re the ones who did the study. So where those Right Wayers of yours get off, acting so high and mighty, I don’t know.”
“I don’t know, either,” I said stunned by this piece of information.
“So…” David cleared his throat. “Are we okay now?”
“Totally,” I said happily. Just wait until the next time Kris started in on Deb! I was definitely bringing up that CDC thing.
“And did you have a chance to ask your mom and dad about Thanksgiving yet?” David wanted to know.
Yes! And they said yes!
That’s what I wanted to say. Well, what a part of me wanted to say.
But another part of me—a bigger part of me—was all, NO! Okay? No, I haven’t. This is a huge decision and even though I’m slowly coming around to it, I still need time. It’s true I’m deeply in love with you, and I’m totally positive you’re my one true love, but I’m only sixteen and I still have action figures on top of my dresser and I’m not totally sure I’m ready to put them away yet….
“Uh, no, I forgot,” I said.
Hey, I kept my fingers crossed while I said it.
“Oh,” David said, sounding only a little disappointed. Like, not as disappointed as I would have thought he’d be. “Okay. Well, let me know. Because my mom wants to know how big a turkey she should order.”
Whoa. Was that some kind of code for I need to know how many condoms to purchase? I thought about telling him he didn’t need to worry about that part of it. But then my call waiting went off.
“That’s my other line,” I said, kind of startled because it was so late at night. I mean, the only other person who ever calls me on my cell is Catherine, and her parents make her go to bed at eleven on school nights.
“Okay,” David said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, anyway.”
This kind of surprised me.
“Tomorrow?” Tomorrow was the Return to Family town meeting on MTV. “You’re coming? With your dad?”
“Well, yeah,” David said. “But we have life drawing before that. Remember?”
Terry! How could I have forgotten Naked Terry?
“Right,” I said. “Yeah. Okay, see you then.”
Then I switched over to the other line. “Hello?”
“Sam?” Dauntra shouted my name. From the background noise, it sounded like she was calling from a nightclub. Where a mur
der was being committed.
Which, knowing Dauntra, was not out of the realm of the possible.
“Dauntra?” I wasn’t sure she could hear me. Where was she? Then I was hit by a horrible thought. “Oh my God, are you still in jail?”
“No,” Dauntra said with a laugh. “I’m at a friend’s house. Look, I just wanted to call and say thanks. For taking over my shift the other night. I totally owe you!”
“Oh,” I said. “No problem. I hope you, um, didn’t have too bad a time in jail.”
“Are you kidding?” Dauntra said. “It was GREAT. I told ’em to keep my bunk warm for me since I expect I’ll be back there real soon. But don’t worry, I’ll be out in time for my shift on Friday. Oh, right, you’re going to your grandma’s for Thanksgiving. Will you be back for your shift on Friday?”
“Uh,” I said. “I’m not really sure. I might not be going. To my grandma’s, I mean.” I thought, once again, about asking Dauntra what she would do in my shoes…about going to Camp David, I mean.
But the thing was, I already had a pretty good idea. What Dauntra would do, I mean.
Dauntra would Just Do It.
“I haven’t really decided yet,” was what I settled for saying.
“Well, it won’t be the same without you,” Dauntra said, just as someone in the background of wherever she was let out a shriek, and said, “Kevin! Don’t!”
“Um,” I said. “Is everything okay there?”
“Oh, sure,” Dauntra said with a giggle. “Kevin just stepped on the pizza. Again.”
I didn’t even bother to ask what the pizza was doing on the floor. I sound like a big enough dork when I talk to Dauntra.
“So listen,” Dauntra said. “I was thinking. We should do a die-in at work. To protest Stan searching our bags.”
“Um,” I said. “I don’t know about that.”
“Come on! It’ll be fun.”
“I’m not sure a die-in is the most effective way to get our point across,” I said. I hated to be the one to burst her bubble, especially because in so many ways, I wanted to be her. I mean, Dauntra just didn’t care what anybody said about her. I wished I could be like that. “The thing is, we might get. You know. Fired.”
“God,” she said. “You’re probably right. Damn. Oh, well. I’ll think of something.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well. See ya later.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow night,” Dauntra said. And hung up, just as someone screamed, “Kev-IN!”
Which is kind of funny. I mean, that she said, See you tomorrow night. Because I’m not working tomorrow night. I have the town hall meeting on MTV.
Top ten reasons it rules to be a teen in the United States (as opposed to elsewhere):
10. It’s unlikely you’ll end up being one of the 250 million children worldwide between the ages of four and fourteen who work a full-time job (unless you have parents like mine. The only reason they’re not making me work forty hours a week instead of six is because it’s against the law. Thank God).
9. Three hundred thousand kids a year are forced to serve as soldiers in armed combat by their governments or rebel insurgents. With guns, and everything (although, seriously, what government would give my sister Lucy a gun? She’d probably use it as a hair straightening iron).
8. Corporal punishment was abolished here ages ago, but in many countries today, it is still considered perfectly acceptable for teachers to cane children for tardiness or giving a wrong answer (although this would so cut down on the level of goofing off at Adams Prep, we might actually learn something for a change).
7. One hundred thirty million children in developing countries are not in primary school. The vast majority of them are girls (and as much as I hate school, I do realize it’s necessary. I mean, so you can, like, get a better job than one at Potomac Video. Because $6.75 an hour does NOT go that far).
6. In some parts of the Middle East and India, if you’re a girl who gets caught flirting with some dude you met at the mall or whatever, your male relatives can murder you and pretty much get away with it, because of the perception that you’ve disgraced their family (which basically means Lucy? Yeah, she would never have lived long enough to flunk the SATs if she lived in Saudi Arabia or wherever).
5. Instances of girls as young as seven being forced to marry are common in sub-Saharan Africa, where 82 million girls will end up married before the age of eighteen, whether they like it or not—most of them not (in the United States, this only happens in Utah. And maybe parts of, like, the Appalachians).
4. Globally, an estimated 12 million children under the age of five die every year, mostly of easily preventable causes. About 160 million children are malnourished (and not because they’re just eating Pop-Tarts all day like I would if I could get away with it).
3. In Singapore, you have to get a special license to chew gum in public. If you don’t have the license, and they catch you chewing gum, you can be publicly caned (although if people here in the United States had to get a license to chew gum, there would be a lot less cleaning up to do on the Metro).
2. In order to combat many of these rights abuses, the United Nations adopted the Convention on the Rights of the Child, a treaty that seeks to address the particular human rights of children and to set minimum standards for the protection of their rights. There are only two countries standing in the way of the treaty being signed. One is Somalia.
The other is the United States.
Why? Because there’s a clause in the treaty that suggests that girl victims of international war crimes be offered birth control counseling, and the religious right in the United States doesn’t like that.
And the number-one reason it rules to be a teen in the United States:
1. Because this is still one of the few places on earth where you can mention how much something like the above sucks and not get thrown in jail for it.
Unless you’re Dauntra, I mean, and you mention it by pretending to be dead in the middle of the street.
10
David got to the studio before I did. When I walked in, he was already straddling his drawing bench, arranging his pencils on the seat in front of him.
The minute I saw him, my heart did that flippy thing it does whenever David walks into the room. That thing Rebecca calls frisson. It got even worse when David looked up and saw me standing there, and our gazes met, and he smiled.
“Hey, Sharona,” he said. “Long time no see.”
And it was like there was this invisible bungee cord between us. Because I suddenly found myself being propelled toward him, until I was standing with my arms wrapped around his head, holding his face to my stomach, since I hadn’t even given him time to stand up and hug me back properly.
“Well,” David said in a strangled voice into the front of my shirt, “nice to see you too.”
“Sorry,” I said, letting go of his head—reluctantly—and lowering myself onto the bench beside his. “I just…I really missed you. I didn’t realize how much until just now, when I saw you.”
“Well, that’s flattering,” David said. “I guess.” Then he leaned over and said, “I missed you, too,” and kissed me.
For a long time.
So long that we didn’t even notice the room was filling up with other people until Susan Boone herself cleared her throat, kind of noisily. Then we pulled guiltily apart, and saw that Terry was making himself comfortable, this time in more of a lounging pose, on the satin comforter Susan had laid across the raised platform.
Terry winked at me—I guess because of the intimate conversation he and I had had the last time I’d seen him—as Susan was fussing around with the comforter beneath him.
And I winked back, because, well, what else are you supposed to do when a naked guy winks at you?
Besides, it wasn’t like I was freaked out anymore. About seeing a naked guy, I mean.
At least, I didn’t think I was. I mean, I didn’t feel freaked out.
But I guess I must have seeme
d freaked out, since about an hour and a half into our lesson, Susan Boone came over and asked me, quietly, if everything was all right.
I looked up at her, feeling kind of dazed, the way I always do when I’m concentrating on a drawing and someone interrupts me.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Why?”
Which was when it hit me. Oh my God! What if Susan wasn’t talking about what had happened during our last lesson, with me freaking out over Terry and all? What if she was talking about something else—like how I was thinking about having sex with David? I mean, she’s an artist and all, and way more perceptive than, say, my mom and dad, so she might actually have figured it out. Was that what she meant when she asked if everything was all right?
And if so, what was I going to say?
“Well, I’m just concerned,” Susan said, looking at my drawing pad. “You seem to be concentrating so hard on getting the figure in, that you’re completely neglecting everything else.”
Blinking, I looked where she was pointing. I’d rendered a highly realistic portrait, it was true, of Terry, in all his naked glory.
But it was also kind of true that he was just hanging there, basically in outer space.
“A drawing is like building a house, Sam. You can’t start by hanging curtains. You have to build a foundation first.”
Taking my pencil from me, Susan sketched in a background behind the figure I’d drawn.
“Then lay floors,” she said, sketching the bench beneath Terry. Suddenly, he was no longer floating in space.
“You have to build your house from the ground up, starting with all of the boring bits…the plumbing and the wiring. Do you see what I’m getting at here? By going in and drawing all of this detail here”—she indicated the portrait of Terry—“you’re decorating before you even have a house to stand in. You’ve got to stop concentrating so much on the parts,” she added, “and instead, start seeing the image as a whole.”
Susan, I realized, was right. I had been working so hard on getting Terry’s face exactly right, I had neglected the other three quarters of the page. So now it was this huge piece of paper with a tiny head on it.
