by Teresa Toten
“Fine,” he said.
“Good, good.” I nodded. “And so, what are you, uh, doing?”
“Well I got my GED and now I’m working full-time at my dad’s place. I’ll save up a bit and then my folks will help put me through college and then …”
Blah, blah, blah, blah …
I wanted to fall into him and slap him at the same time. A gust of wind blew his hair into his eyes. I could just reach up. Instead, I shivered again. “Well, I better go,” I said. “Gotta run, so to speak.”
“Running is good.” He had not taken his eyes off me.
Danger, danger, Sophie Kandinsky. I must never ever see him again.
“Yeah, I’ll be running a lot,” I said. Pause. “Here, I mean.” Big pause.
“Yeah, good.” Luke smiled, but he looked sad. “Running’s good,” he repeated. “You look good, real good.” Then he turned and walked away, taking the sun and all the best parts of me with him. I watched him until he disappeared over the horizon. He did not turn around.
It was innocent. Totally. I know I didn’t do or even say anything wrong. But I still felt wrong. Luke. Damn. Thank God for my altar. As soon as I got home, I was going to pray for forgiveness to all my new religions. Let them sort out my sins. That’s what they were there for. Besides, it was way too complicated for me.
Wait, did he say I looked good?
“What’s up, buttercup?” Kit watched me watch myself in the mirror. I was using mascara application as an excuse to watch me. I was enthralled with me. What did he see when he looked at me? I don’t think he saw what I saw.
“Nothing much.” I shrugged.
Madison looked up from her jewellery drawers. “Sophie, you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror for an hour and a half.”
Oops.
“Is this like one of your new religious traditions?” She put on an armload of bangles. “Is it a Zoro thing?”
“Zoroastrianism, and I keep telling you guys that I’m for sure a Buddhist Jew, probably.”
“Yeah, but still, sweetie,” said Sarah, adjusting her bra straps. “You’re wearing a year’s worth of mascara.”
I looked at my eyes and instead Luke’s blue eyes burned through and watched me. One lousy touch and I was in trouble all over again.
Kit snapped her fingers in front of my face. “You’re zoning out again. Something’s up, give.”
The new, spiritual Sophie was not a liar. “I was thinking of Luke,” I said. The partial truth is still the truth. Ask anybody.
“Ohhh …” they said.
Total sympathy.
“Why?” asked Sarah as she threw me her Love’s Fresh Lemon.
“Why what?” I asked, dousing myself in lemon.
“She means, why now?” Kit said.
“Well,” I gathered up the lie, “I don’t know, here we are getting all gussied up for a party at Makeout Mansion again, and I just flashed to my first party there, remember?”
“When we found out that you’d never been felt up or even kissed before?” Kit shook her head.
“And we had to give you emergency slow-dance lessons?” said Madison.
Sarah sighed. “Wow, a thousand years ago.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And remember Ferguson Englehardt did his best to ‘make me a woman’? I swear for a minute I thought I was a lesbian.” Sarah and Madison snorted. “And then Luke came after me and well, and then he touched me.”
“Should be a song.” Kit turned away.
“We just have to find you someone new and fabulous!” gushed Sarah. “And we’ll do it tonight. I can just feel it.”
“You just watch what and who you’re feeling, Sarah Davis,” warned Madison. “We’ve been lucky that our reputation is still intact with all your enthusiastic feelings. We haven’t been to one of Anita’s parties in forever. This is a tri-high-school party, so …”
“So our desirability quotient is on the line for Lawrence Heights, North Toronto Park, as well as Northern.” I bowed as Sarah and Kit clapped.
“Oh, just behave,” groaned Madison. “I’m meeting Billy there, and I’ll be too busy to monitor us.”
The party was raging by the time we got to Anita Shepard’s, aka Makeout Mansion. Kids spilled out of the house and onto the veranda and the lawn, even though it was cold enough to see your breath. The floor pulsed to the beat of “Boogie Fever” and the hallway reeked of incense, weed, and beer. I spotted Jessica Sherman in the far corner of the hallway with two other girls from our second string. They were a stoned, giggling heap on the floor. Not their best look.
I was way too uptight to get that out of control. I barely drank at these things, just nursed a beer through the night while I nursed my party girl reputation at the same time. Weed? I didn’t know how to nurse that, so no way. The Blondes just thought scrunching up your face over a boogered joint was unseemly. Each one was a devoted Southern Comfort and Seven drinker.
Anita’s had the perfect party layout. To the right was the living room, where it looked like the most devoted smokers and tokers were holding court. On the left of the hallway was the front parlour, where I headed after I grabbed a beer. The Blondes went straight for the family room in the back, where they would stash their booze in the mini-fridge. The family room is where all the action took place, the dancing, the making out, although there were also other rooms for that. Anita’s always had a certain darkness, a wisp of danger. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt extra wispy tonight.
Speaking of danger, damn, David was here. I almost turned and ran right out, but then I stiffened. No sir, no way, I had every bit as much right to be here as David Walter did. He was lounging on a back window seat with two girls hanging off him. It was like something out of a cheesy James Bond movie. Not that I cared.
Then David saw me. He looked more put out than he usually did when he saw me.
I took a sip of my beer and raised it to him.
He looked even more irritated. What?! Did he hate immigrants, was it my hair, the Alison-Luke thing, what? One of the girls was nibbling his ear. I vaguely recognized her as a friend of Anita’s. I thought deeply uncharitable thoughts about her until I looked away. Then I looked back, but just out of the corner of my eye so he couldn’t tell I was looking. The other one—the one that wasn’t chewing on his ear like it was one of the seven food groups, was rubbing his stomach. Jesus God! I mean, under his shirt, in full view of everyone. It was appalling, but it was also like a car wreck. I couldn’t look away. Then Buddha, thank God, sent Sue Winger, a senior from Lawrence Park, over to me. Sue is a motor-mouth extraordinaire and she blocked my view. It was at least twenty minutes before I could extricate myself from her, and I only did that when Madison ran back for a courage hug. “What courage hug?” But she was off again.
I couldn’t wait to tell Kit and Sarah that our assistant coach was mercilessly assaulting two girls at the same time. Where were they, anyway? They didn’t usually hang out in the backroom. I started looking for them down the hall and under the stairway nook. Nope. In the front dining room. Nope. I chatted to a couple of football players in the library, including Paul Wexler, who tended to light up whenever he saw me, if I do say so myself. My beer was bathwater warm by the time I got to the family room.
Oh dear.
Kit was on top of a coffee table shaking her booty to “Shake, Shake, Shake, Shake Your Booty.” Rick Metcalfe, who had never gotten over her, was alternately egging her on and trying to get her off to be with him. Now, Kit was a spirited kind of kid, but this was beyond exuberance. I searched for potential reinforcements and spotted Sarah in a corner slow dancing with George, Mike’s nephew. Not only was it not a slow song, but Sarah was in a take-no-oxygen lip-lock with the boy.
What in Moses’ name …?
I marched over and tapped Sarah on her back.
“Sophie, baby! How’s it hanging, shnookums?” She giggled. Then George giggled.
Guys don’t giggle. Shnookums? She swayed and smiled dreami
ly. “Sarah, you’re wasted! How could you do that? We haven’t even been here an hour.” I glared at George, who grinned back at me.
“Not poshible,” she slurred. “Just had the one Southern ’n’ Sheven, not even.”
“It’s true.” George could not stop giggling. “I got it for her and she hasn’t had another one. We’ve been dancing.”
“You’ve been groping, you mean.” I looked back at the coffee table. Kit was still putting on an energetic floor show. Madison was nowhere to be found. Our platinum reputation would take a hit if these two kept going at the rate they were going. Rick was joined by Stewart Allen and Ben Wheeler in cheering on Kit. I grabbed Sarah’s hand and started walking to Kit. “Help me get her off.”
“Sure, shnookums. Hey, Kit!” Sarah waved at her like Kit was on the other side of the street. “Sophie thinks you gotta get your butt down, girl!”
Kit waved back and blew me a kiss.
“Need some help with your team, shnookums?” Oh get me a gun, it was David. He smiled at me. He’d never smiled at me before. Alert the press! He was amused all right. David kept smiling, even though he was bimbo free.
“No thank you, coach!” I retorted. I’ve been working on my retorts since the second practice. I just didn’t think I’d be retorting at a party.
David leaned into me. “If you girls can’t handle your liquor, you shouldn’t be at the big boys’ party. Things happen at Anita’s. Go away, little girl.” He leaned in even closer. “You don’t belong here, Sophie.”
I got a little woozy when he said my name. Then I came to. What the hell! How dare he? “First of all, coach, we’ve been to plenty of Anita’s parties!” Which technically wasn’t the God’s honest truth. We’d only been to a couple over the years. The rumours, come to think of it, were that the parties had cranked up lately, but Madison had arranged to meet Billy here and the rest of us were dead keen to see and be seen.
“Second of all, coach, I don’t drink!” I waved my bottle. “I just pretend to.” Why was I telling him this? Shut up, shut up! “And third, coach, they are NOT drunk. They haven’t had enough time to get drunk!”
Kit chose that moment to belt out a rollicking rendition of Captain and Tennille’s “Love Will Keep Us Together” mixed into the Canadian national anthem. Rick was seething with unrequited love, or something.
I had to get that girl out of here. Sarah boogied up beside me.
David grabbed my arm. “They’re pissed.” I swear he was growling. “Get them, and you, out of here. It gets worse. And stop calling me coach!”
I tried to wrench my arm free. “Sorry,” I said, “assistant coach!” He gripped tighter. It felt like I was standing in front of a furnace. Thank God, I couldn’t blush. “And, I keep telling you, they’re not drunk! Kit, get down off that coffee table right now!”
“Shophie’s right. We’re shober,” said Sarah just before she puked on his shoe.
It was a small barf.
More like a spit up, really.
At least it got Kit off the coffee table. She was over in one bound opening up her little party purse. “I have a Kleenex. There!” She whipped out a tampon and started dabbing his shoe with it.
Somehow I did not disintegrate. David still had me by the arm, though more gently now. He was chewing his cheek. Papa did that too. When he was trying not to laugh.
“What in God’s name!” Finally, the Mounties had arrived. Madison was here. “Why is Kit mopping up your shoe with a tampon? Did she throw up? She threw up! Are they pissed? How could they be pissed? They’re pissed!” Sadly, this entire set of accusations was aimed directly at me.
David burst out laughing. I could have killed her.
“Oh yeah, well, where were you?” I demanded in a demanding type of whisper. “And it better be good.” I’ll show her. Two can play at this game. Why was I responsible for them? “Well?”
“I was breaking up with Billy on the back deck.”
“Oh, right, ‘courage hug.’”
David let out a long slow whistle while Kit seized this opportunity to crumple over onto the floor and stay there.
“They’re drunk!” Madison threw up her hands. “And you’re blushing!” Apparently, we were back to blaming me again. “I’ve never seen you blush!”
“I don’t blush,” I reminded her.
David turned me toward him. “Maybe not, little captain, but your cheeks are a very becoming shade of firehouse red.” He had two clear-as-day dimples when he smiled that way. I wanted to kick him.
“I do not blush!”
“Well you do now, and they’re plastered.” Madison tried to lift Kit and got nowhere.
“No, no, no, no,” explained Sarah.
George weaved over to us with a glass of water for Sarah. “No guff, man.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t get her loaded. All she had was one drink and we shared a brownie.”
“Great brownies!” agreed Kit from the floor.
Madison, David, and I looked at one another. “Hash brownies,” nodded David. “That’d do it.”
Hash? Holy Moses. “Is this like permanent? Are they going to be okay?”
“Not after I kill them for being terminally stupid,” said Madison.
“They’ll be fine tomorrow,” David sighed. “But we better get them home.”
“I got my wheels.” George tried to pull himself up to his full height, which was impressive, but he was still half a head below David.
David turned to him. This could turn into a pissing contest. “You’re stoned, man. Chill out okay? I’ll bring ’em home.”
George’s eyes narrowed. You could tell he didn’t want to leave Sarah. George was two years older, but David didn’t flinch. They stared at each other. Finally, George put his arm around a heavily listing Sarah. “I’ll help you get them to the car.”
“We’re all staying at Madison’s tonight,” I offered.
“Lucky me.” David winked. “One-stop shopping.”
George and David somehow stuffed Sarah and Kit into the car, despite them both insisting on a slow dance out in the middle of the street. We put them on either side of Madison in the back, while I got in the front with David. Even in the dark, I could tell he found this whole episode enormously entertaining. I tried to keep my cringing and whinging invisible, but then they launched into a hash-brownie version of Frankie Valli’s “My Eyes Adored You.” Frankie Valli struggles with that song. It was excruciating. Even if David Walter never said anything about tonight, about any of this, he knew, and he knew that I knew that he knew, and he … oh never mind. It was embarrassing, period.
They finally shut up as we pulled into Madison’s circular driveway. After much negotiation, we decided that Madison and I would haul in Kit, while David helped Sarah. Halfway up the walk Sarah stumbled and David swooped her up like it was an afterthought. He just picked Sarah up and carried her the rest of the way, including up and into the house and up all those stairs to Madison’s room. It was not something that I was ever going to forget. He didn’t even break stride. I felt my cheeks fire up again. Thank Buddha I don’t blush, no matter what they said. Fabi came out in curlers and rescued Kit from Madison’s death grip as David trotted back out.
“Hash brownies,” mouthed Madison to Fabi like it would mean something to her.
Fabi nodded and helped Madison with Kit. Meanwhile, I ran back to the car to retrieve our purses. David draped himself over the car door as I reached into the back seat. “Practice is Monday morning at 7:30 A.M. Think you can have your team ready, captain?”
“No problem.” I grabbed all the purses. “You can go now. I can take it from here.” Instead, he sat on the hood.
“Hmm.” He shook his head. “I think I better wait until you get in. God only knows what end of trouble you could get yourself into between here and the doorway.”
I got hot again. Maybe I was going through menopause. None of this was making sense. “It’s okay, really. You can go home now.”
“Home?”
He crossed his arms and looked at his watch. “It’s not even midnight, little girl.” His voice low and smoky.
Now I was cold.
“As soon as you’re safe, I’m going back to the big boys’ party.”
The girls, those girls at Anita’s. He was revolting.
“Good night, Sophie …”
I ran up the walkway.
“You’re welcome!” he called.
If we weren’t at Madison’s, if I wasn’t freaked about waking up the whole neighbourhood, wouldn’t I just slam the door, hard. “Thank you, David,” I said through gritted teeth and without turning around.
“Why, you’re welcome, Sophie.” I swear I could hear his smile. I did hear his car door open and shut, and then the engine catch and go. Safely on the other side of the door, my heart thumped so hard I thought Fabi would come running.
Madison appeared at the top of the stairs. “What a night, eh?” She waved at me to hurry. “Thank God David was there.”
“I suppose,” I muttered, dragging my feet and thumping heart up the stairs.
“Did you see him just toss Sarah into his arms? I mean, oh my, wow!”
“Yeah, oh my,” I said.
“He is like nobody else!”
I bet he was speeding, couldn’t wait to get back to them.
“We owe him now.” She folded her arms dramatically, a gesture worthy of Auntie Eva. “You have to promise to behave better around him.”
“What, me? Why?”
“Because he saved our ass tonight, Sophie Kandinsky, and you know it.”
David being smothered by them. Doesn’t matter, didn’t matter, why would I care? I didn’t care. “I don’t care!” I said. Madison looked momentarily confused. Apparently we were having a whole different conversation.
“Well you should! I need you to promise to behave, Sophie.”
“He’ll be extra unbearable now, all high and mighty, so full of himself, besides he’s the one that’s all snotty to me!”
“Sophie …”
“Yeah, yeah.” This was going to take some serious face time in front of my altar. I even made a sign of the cross as soon as we turned off the lights. Didn’t help. I heard him whispering all night long. Go away, little girl, go away, little girl, go away …
