“No reason.”
“No, come on. Why?”
“You just reminded me of something my roommate says.”
“What would that be?”
I dropped my gaze to my plate and picked up a piece of steak with my fork, folded like a piece of Christmas ribbon candy. “She says that people who eat ice are, you know, frustrated.”
He stopped chewing. “You mean like sexually frustrated?”
“Yeah. That’s what she says.”
He chuckled. “I do it all the time. I’ll have to remember not to do it in front of your roommate.”
“Oh, she already thinks we’re wrong for each other. She’s got a whole system that she uses to get dates off the matchmaking Web sites. Zodiac signs, zip codes, blood types, what kind of cars they drive. She keeps warning me. She says you’re all wrong.”
He crunched the last bit of ice that was still in his mouth and swallowed. “You don’t know my blood type.”
“What is it?”
“O positive.”
“See, I’m A positive.”
“Is that bad?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure what the system is for that.”
His mouth twitched into a smile. “I think it’s perfect.”
At eight o’clock we sat down on the sofa with bowls of Moose Tracks ice cream, Jerry’s arm bumping against mine as we settled in. The green-eyed cat darted out from under the sofa and raced off to another room, a streak of white fur through the darkness. Jerry pointed at the TV with the side of his spoon as we watched one of the Yankee girls go out on a date with Rhett.
“Have you noticed you never hear him talk?” Jerry asked.
“Who, Rhett?” I swallowed my ice cream. “You do hear him, a little. Anyway, they’re trying to make him mysterious. Maybe whatever he says gives away if he likes the girl or not.”
Jerry shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it.”
“Well, what’s your opinion, then?”
“I think either he doesn’t have a Southern accent, or else he’s such a moron that it would break the whole Rhett Butler spell if you heard him say more than a few words at a time.”
“You think?” I considered the theory, letting a spoonful of ice cream melt in my mouth. “No, I really think it’s the mystery thing. Ashley does talk more, but none of the girls really wants Ashley. Rhett’s the one they want to keep us guessing about.”
I already knew from the teaser that tonight would be Madison’s date with Ashley. The date consisted of horseback riding through a park to a candlelit dinner under a tent with a harpist playing softly nearby. Madison had been riding horses since she was eight years old and was obviously thrilled at her good fortune, dressing in a tight pair of jeans and blousy white shirt that showed her lacy bra when the wind blew it against her skin. The camera caught lots of shots of her with her blond hair blowing around her face, her butt perfect in her stonewashed Levi’s, looking playfully over her shoulder at Ashley as he rode his horse behind her like Jefferson Davis inspecting the troops.
“Come on, slowpoke,” she called teasingly.
They settled down to a candlelit dinner under a romantic canopy in the woods. Madison managed to fake her way through a long conversation about film and poetry and art, lowering her chin to let the candlelight catch her eyes, shadows cast along her very expensive cleavage. She smiled adoringly. By the end, Ashley actually seemed to like her.
I turned to Jerry. “She’s a better actress than I thought. It almost looks like she likes the guy.”
“She’d better be careful,” he warned. “She keeps that up, she might end up having to marry him.”
“What happens if both Rhett and Ashley pick the same girl?”
“Can that happen?”
“Yeah, I suppose. The way it works is that the girls try to vote out the ones they think are the biggest threat, and once it’s down to four girls, Rhett and Ashley pick the ones they like best.”
Jerry looked thoughtful. “Maybe they’ll fight a duel,” he offered.
“That could be fun. My money’s on Rhett.”
“What if they don’t like any of the four girls who are left?”
I shrugged. “Maybe they can both put the diamond rings behind their backs and ask each of the girls to pick a hand.”
As we watched Madison and the rest of the Yankees lose the vase-throwing immunity contest and send a Wisconsin girl home, I snuggled up to him and nuzzled my nose against his neck. I felt him smile, and when I pulled my face back, he kissed me lightly on the lips.
“You ready to call it a night?” he asked.
“In a minute.” I caught his cheek with my index finger to turn his face back toward mine. “We both get to sleep in tomorrow, remember? Friday’s a holiday.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“So there’s no rush.”
He smiled patiently. “Long day for both of us, though. All the family stuff.”
“Are you tired?” I had my hand on his thigh, but he didn’t move.
“Kind of, yeah. Driving to Lusby and back. It’s a long hike.”
I took my hand off his leg and turned my face away. He’d made his point. “Well, I guess I’ll get going.”
“What’s the matter?”
I shoved my feet into my shoes. “What makes you think something’s the matter?”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, God. Here we go.”
“Here we go, what?” I grabbed my parka from the floor and shrugged it on.
“The ‘I make you read my mind and then I bitch you out’ game. I’ve played this one before.”
“Not with me, you haven’t.”
“Phoe-be,” he grumbled, drawing out the syllables. “How could I have done something wrong without either talking or moving? Come on.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re tired. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I was doing what I could to avoid storming out in a full-blown huff, because that wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about him. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t interested in kissing me. Actually, it was, but I was determined not to address the subject until I was safely out of the house. Then I’d go home and scrawl it all in my journal, filling it with four-letter words that didn’t include “love.”
“Can you at least give me a hint?” he asked, following me to the door. As I pulled it open, the chilly air rushed in, sending his cats scurrying for the heaters.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“You’re doing this just to torture me.”
True enough. I turned my face upward and gave him a peck on the lips. “I’ll call you.”
He sighed and leaned against the door frame as I brushed past him, then hurried through the darkness to my car.
On Thursday night I woke from a deep sleep to the sirenlike ringing of the phone beside my bed. I fumbled for it and knocked it off the hook, then nearly fell off the side of the bed as I scrambled to pick it up from the floor.
“Hello?” I mumbled.
“Phoebe, it’s me. I need you to come get me. I’m at school.”
I blinked and tried to read the numbers on my clock radio. “Alexa? It’s after midnight.”
“I know that. Listen, I really need your help. I’m sort of stuck.”
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Did Dad forget to pick you up?”
“No, I mean really stuck. Like, literally. I’m in the third-floor science lab and the door slammed shut, and now I’m sort of—”
“What are you doing in the science lab at midnight? Hold on a sec. Didn’t you have today off?”
“Yeah, of course I did. We were just sort of visiting the lab rats.”
“Visiting the lab rats?” I shoved the covers down to the end of the bed and plunked my feet onto the floor. I was wide awake all of a sudden. “Releasing them, you mean?”
“Well, they were doing all these behavioral tests on them in Allie’s AP psychology class, and it just wasn’t fair, P
hoebe. Like all that running around just to get food, even. It’s barbaric.” She dropped her voice down a level. “Can you get us out?”
“You want me to break into your high school and rescue you from the science lab,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“You don’t have to break in. The back door is unlocked. Like, by the gym.”
I moved the phone away from my head long enough to pull on a sweater. “Does Dad know where you are?”
“No. I snuck out. Please don’t call them, Fee. I’ll be grounded forever. Promise you won’t say anything to anybody.”
“No.” I pulled on my jeans and snapped them closed. “How am I supposed to get you out, anyway? What do you think, I just have some kind of magical teachers’ key that opens every classroom door in the world?”
“I dunno. You’re the teacher. You’re supposed to be smarter than me. Listen, can you bring a cardboard box or something? These stupid rat cages weigh about a zillion pounds. I don’t know how we’re ever going to get them down the stairs.”
Somewhere between when I merged onto the Beltway and when I reached the Kensington exit for the second time that day, it occurred to me that while I didn’t have the magical teachers’ key to Kensington High School, Jerry did. It was twelve thirty when I pulled up in front of his house; naturally, all of the windows were dark. Alexa would probably be safer if I just left her in the school all weekend. If I got my hands on her, I’d kill her.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jerry’s home number. He answered on the second ring, sounding groggy. I cringed and started explaining.
“So now I need to try to get her out, and I know it’s late and I’m really sorry, but—”
“It’s no problem. Where are you, on the Beltway?”
“Actually, I’m in your driveway.”
There was a pause. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Uh, no.”
The shade went up on his bedroom window, and he peered down at me. He had the cordless phone up against his ear. I waved. He waved back and laughed.
“I’ll be down in a second,” he said.
He opened the front door for me, and I stepped into his darkened living room. He wore pajama pants and a T-shirt, along with his glasses. I’d known that he wore contacts, but I’d never seen him in glasses before. They gave him a nice intellectual look, even in his pajamas. He set them down on the arm of the sofa and turned his back to me to pull off his T-shirt. I started to look away, but caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his back and stared. It was a cobra that covered his entire left shoulder blade. He popped his head out of the top of his clean T-shirt and grinned at me.
“You checking out my ink?” he asked.
I laughed self-consciously. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”
“That’s the biggest one I’ve got. The other ones are a lot smaller.” He put his glasses back on. “Stay here a sec. I need to get my jeans out of the dryer.”
We got into my car and drove out to the high school, parking across the street out of concern that a lone car in the school parking lot would attract attention. I followed Jerry past the bleachers and around to the back of the gym. The football field was wet with rain and soggy brown leaves, and our sneakers made squishing sounds with each step. A light misting rain had begun again, catching in Jerry’s hair and on the back of his shoulders in a fine spray. His back looked broad and solid in the dim light, and I was glad to have him with me. As he mucked through the field, I tried to picture him as a hard-partying head-banger, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The image didn’t work, and that made me feel somehow relieved.
“Look, I really appreciate this,” I said as we stepped onto the sidewalk that led to the gym. “I know you could get fired.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Jerry pulled on a door. The chain clattered against the frame, and it jerked closed. “If it happens, I’ll let you support me.”
“Very funny.”
“I was glad to hear from you, actually. You seemed pretty ticked when you left.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a conversation for another time.”
“Sounds good,” he said. The next door opened easily, and we stepped into the pitch-dark hallway, cold as a mausoleum. I followed him down a side hallway and up a back stairwell, then through the labyrinth of hallways on the third floor.
“My classroom’s on the other side of the building,” he said, gesturing toward the main stairwell. “I’ll show you sometime if you want. When we’re not rescuing anybody.”
I laughed. “I’ll make my sister pay for this, I promise.”
“No need to. It’ll be a great motivator for the rest of the year.” He turned down a hallway and pulled out his keys. “The rats are still in the cages, right?”
“I hope so. I guess we’ll find out.”
He turned the key in the lock, and there was a scuffle of noise inside. When he pulled the door open, a whole group of faces stared back at us, ghostly white in the darkness.
“Mr. Sullivan?” asked Alexa, her voice lyrical with wonder and horror.
“Everybody out,” said Jerry. “Game over.”
The five kids shuffled out into the hallway. Two were boys, three girls, all in black shirts and jeans. Jerry didn’t crack a smile. Alexa folded her arms over her chest and looked at me helplessly. She didn’t look like she was going to say anything more about taking the rats with us.
“Line up along the wall,” Jerry ordered.
They all hurried into place like a group of military recruits. One of the girls twisted the hem of her shirt in her hands. Her bottom lip quivered.
“I ought to write every last one of you up,” Jerry said sharply. “Better yet, I ought to call the police and have you arrested for trespassing. Attempted theft. Breaking and entering.” He held up his cell phone. “You want me to?”
“No,” said another of the girls in a small voice.
“I could call your parents instead,” he added threateningly. “Jackson, I’ll bet I have yours on my speed dial. Which one of you wants to call your folks and tell them where you are?”
All five of the kids cowered. I understood what Jerry was doing—he couldn’t give them the idea he didn’t take rule-breaking seriously. Even so, I felt kind of sorry for them. I stepped toward Jerry and touched his waist gently, and Alexa’s eyes bugged halfway out of her head.
“Go home,” he said. “If any one of you isn’t in class on Monday, I’m calling your parents. Let me see you screw up once this year, and I’ll make sure nobody on this faculty is willing to write you a college recommendation. I’m watching you, all of you. All year. Got it?”
They nodded avidly.
“Now go. Except you, Alexa. I suppose Phoebe wants to give you a ride home.”
The kids filed solemnly through the building, murmuring quietly to each other. They were paired except for Alexa, who followed behind us, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her black zip-up sweatshirt. She got in the backseat of my car and sat silently as Jerry played with the radio buttons.
“That’s more like it,” he said, settling on some screechy Iron Maiden song.
“Change it.”
“Let me see if I can find you some Barry Manilow.”
I smacked his arm lightly. “Hey. When we’re in my car, I don’t have to listen to your devil music. It’s only fair.”
“Sorry, Tipper.”
I shot him a dirty look, and he poked me in the side with his finger. He slid down in his seat and planted his foot against the dashboard, then reached for the stack of CDs in the console and started flipping through them.
“Are you guys going out?” Alexa blurted.
I glanced at Jerry and wrung my hands on the steering wheel. “In a manner of speaking.”
She leaned forward in her seat. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re going out,” explained Jerry.
I grimaced. “Sort of informally.”
He snapped his head to the side and
looked at me. “What do you mean, informally?”
“You know. Like, casually.”
“Casually? Like, dating-other-people casually?”
“No, like just-sort-of-hanging-out casually.”
He crossed his ankle over his knee and sat back grumpily. “That wasn’t my interpretation.”
I glanced nervously in the rearview mirror. Alexa’s eyes were moving back and forth between us as though she were watching a tennis match. “We’ll talk about this when we get home, okay?” I said under my breath.
“Home?” asked Alexa. “You’re living together?”
“No,” Jerry and I barked in unison.
Alexa sank back against the seat. “‘Scuse me for existing.”
“I don’t see where you get ‘just sort of hanging out,’“ said Jerry. “We’ve got standing dates. I call you every day. I’ve got stuff over at your place, and—”
“Root beer doesn’t count as having stuff over at my place, and anyway, that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, what did you mean?”
I took my eyes off the road long enough to give him a hard-eyed stare. “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
His eyebrows rose with sudden comprehension. “Oh, that.”
From the backseat, Alexa made a retching noise. “Oh, gag.”
“Come on, Alexa,” I reprimanded. “Don’t be juvenile.”
“Well, that’s just gross. I totally don’t want to hear you and Mr. Sullivan discussing your sex life. That’s totally vile.”
“Thanks, Alexa,” said Jerry.
She sighed loudly and thumped her foot against the back of my seat. “Isn’t that, like, unethical?”
“Unethical?” asked Jerry. “For teachers to have normal adult relationships?”
“No, for you to be going out with my sister. That’s almost like you dating my mom, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly,” said Jerry. “Anyway, I didn’t know she was your sister until I was already going out with her.”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “That’s a lame excuse. That’s like Oedipus saying he didn’t realize he was sleeping with his own mother.”
“Excellent association,” Jerry affirmed, “but I’m not going to claw my eyes out over it.”
Alexa shuddered and stuck her hands back into her sleeves. “Well, I might. And I thought I was catching a lot of crap because of Madison. Wait ‘til this gets out.”
In Stereo Where Available Page 10
