by David Lubar
“Is Lee here?” I asked, wondering whether I’d gone to the wrong place. Maybe this was her sister.
“I’m Lee, you moron,” she said.
I blinked, and there she was. She’d taken the pins out of her face, died her hair black, and put on a dress. This was Lee without the hardware.
“So you’re going?”
“Duh again, Scott.”
I pointed to the dress. “You didn’t have to do this. Not for me.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t mind.” She pointed to my hair. “And you didn’t have to do that.”
“Now you tell me.” I gave her the rose.
“Thanks. I love thorns.” She stepped out on the porch. It was her turn to stare.
“That was the smallest one I could find,” I said. “Is white okay?”
Lee’s gaze swept from the limo to me, and then back to the limo. “This is going to be a night to remember.”
Wesley held the door for Lee and smiled at her. Lee smiled back. I relaxed, knowing my worst fear wasn’t in danger of coming to life. There was nothing about Lee that would draw a comment from Wesley. We headed toward the school. Two blocks later, something familiar caught my eye. When it sank in what we’d just passed, I shouted, “Stop!”
“This is not the best time to change your mind,” Lee said.
“No, it’s not that. We gotta stop.”
Wesley kept going. I realized he couldn’t hear me. As Lee asked what was wrong, I fumbled for a switch and finally managed to lower the partition. “Stop!”
This time, Wesley heard me. He stopped so quickly I almost pitched into the front seat.
“Problem?” he asked.
“My parents.” I pointed behind us, where the ‘vette was pulled to the curb. I could see smoke pouring out from under the hood. Dad was just climbing from the driver’s side. Mom was stuffed in the passenger seat.
Wesley threw the limo in reverse and we pulled up next to them.
“What’s wrong?” I asked after I’d lowered the window.
Dad was only speechless for a second or two. “Your mom’s in labor,” he said. “We were going to the hospital.”
“Hop in,” I said.
“How?” Mom shouted.
Wesley and I gave Dad a hand helping Mom go from the ‘vette to the limo. The instant the doors were closed, Wesley floored it. Pretty soon, we were flying down Route 22. The hospital was only a couple miles away. Which was good because I had no desire to witness the miracle of birth from a front-row seat.
“Glad to see you,” Dad said.
“I can imagine.” I looked at Mom. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. Then she gasped. I felt the car speed up.
“What’s wrong?” Wesley shouted.
“It’s nothing,” Mom said. “Normal pains. Nothing I haven’t been through before. Ignore it.”
Two or three seconds later, I heard a sound I couldn’t ignore. A siren.
Red and blue lights flashed through the rear windshield as a police car shot up behind us. Wesley didn’t stop. “Almost there,” he called. He took the exit for the hospital.
We’re in a stolen limo fleeing from the cops, I thought. I glanced over at Lee.
“You sure know how to treat a girl,” she said. She sniffed her rose, settled back in her seat, and smiled.
Wesley pulled into the front entrance of the hospital, hitting the brakes and spinning the steering wheel hard enough to slide the limo sideways so Mom’s door was close to the curb.
Mom reached over, put her hand on my head, and stroked my hair. “Every day, you amaze me. Every morning, I look at you with …” She paused, as if searching for the right words.
“Joyous disbelief,” Dad said. It was a strangely familiar phrase.
She and Dad got out. “Want me to wait?” I called.
Mom shook her head. “No. Go enjoy your dance.”
“Go ahead,” Dad said. “Nothing’s going to happen here for a while.”
Right. Enjoy the dance. After we explain about the stolen limo. By then, Wesley had lowered his window and was talking to the policeman.
The cop smirked and said, “I should write you up, but this is just too amusing.” He didn’t even ask to see Wesley’s license or registration. He slapped the hood of the car. “Go on, Speedy. But keep it under the limit.”
“Yes, sir, Officer. I will.”
As Wesley rolled onto the street, I looked behind us toward the hospital. “Relax,” Lee said. “Everything will be fine. We’ll come back right after the dance.”
“Joyous disbelief,” I muttered. Where had I heard that before? It didn’t sound like something Dad would normally say. Then it hit me. Dad was quoting one of my articles. Bobby must have showed him the paper.
Act II: Facing the Music
Wesley pulled up by the gym, then opened the door for Lee. As she got out, he stared at her and frowned like he was trying to remember something. “Wait a minute …” He took a step back, then laughed and said, “Freaky bitch.”
“What?” Lee asked.
Oh great. I wondered how badly I’d get hurt when I tackled him. Maybe, if he only broke one leg, I’d still be able to dance, as long as I leaned on Lee for support.
Wesley tapped his chest. “You were wearing that shirt, right?”
Lee nodded.
“Cool,” Wesley said. “You’ve got style.”
“You, too,” Lee said.
I’d joined them by then.
“See you after the dance,” Wesley said.
“Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “Figured I’d make a couple improvements to some of the files in the principal’s office. Either of you need anything changed in your permanent record?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “But thanks for asking.”
“Me, too,” Lee said.
Wesley headed off toward the front of the building.
“Isn’t that part locked?” I called after him.
His voice drifted over his shoulder. “Not for long.”
As we walked toward the gym, I could sense Lee slowing down. I could sense myself slowing down, too.
“I wish we could swap hair,” I said.
She nodded. “Are we trying to prove something we don’t need to prove?”
“I wish I knew.”
The moment we walked inside, I felt a couple pairs of eyes lock onto us. Then a couple more. Then just about everyone in the place turned toward us. I wasn’t sure whether they were staring at the freakier version of me, the straighter version of Lee, or the odd combination of the two of us.
“Want to dance?” I barely heard my own voice, but I guess it was loud enough since she nodded.
We started dancing. It was a fast song, and I figured I looked like a chicken that had just encountered a high-tension power line. But Lee didn’t seem to mind.
When the music stopped, I noticed a lot of people were still watching us. The first one to move was Terry. He strolled over, staring down at us from somewhere beyond six feet.
“Hey, where’d you pick up the loser?”
Those would have been fighting words. Except he said them to Lee. And then he grinned at us. Which was a good thing, since tackling Terry would have been as suicidal as tackling Wesley.
Terry held out one hand. I had to jump, but I managed to give him a high five. “Hot chocolate,” he said. “That was cool writing. You’re a funny guy, Hudson.”
When he walked away, it was as if someone had thrown a switch in everyone’s brain. We were no longer interesting. People went back to dancing.
So there I was, at the last social event of the year, dancing with a great girl. A girl who wasn’t afraid to be herself. And who wasn’t afraid to step away from the safety of her chosen identity. I doubt there were many other kids in the gym—or anywhere else, for that matter—who had the courage to do what Lee had done.
I was still worried about Mom, but there wasn’t anything I could do right no
w. Soon enough, the dance would be over and I’d go back to the hospital. For the moment, I figured I’d try to keep my worries under control.
“She looks sad,” Lee said when we took a break to grab a soda.
I followed her gaze and spotted Julia standing by herself near the rear exit. “Yeah, she does look sad,” I said. “She broke up with Vernon the other night.”
“Why don’t you dance with her,” Lee said.
“What?”
“Go on. No girl should stand around by herself all night, unless she likes being alone. And I don’t think Julia is that sort of girl.”
“She might not want to dance,” I said.
“Sure she would. Besides, girls go crazy for a head of dyed hair. Even if the head itself is slightly damaged. Go dance with her, Scott.”
“If you insist.” I walked toward Julia. This was like one of my dreams. Except each step took a whole lot of effort, as if the gym floor had suddenly tilted forty-five degrees.
“Hi. You okay?” I asked when I reached her.
Julia gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
I guess girls lie about that, too. “Dance?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
The band started a slow song. Ohmygod. Before I could dash away and hide, Julia stepped up close, and put a hand on my shoulder and another around my back.
We danced.
Everything felt so unreal. The dance lasted a lifetime, but ended in an eyeblink. We swayed together for a moment after the music stopped. I think she would have stayed in my arms forever. After an eternity, I let go of her and stepped back.
“Thanks,” Julia said. “That was nice of you.”
“My pleasure.”
“And thanks for sharing your crackers with me.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course.” She smiled, then said, “I figured you’d forgotten all about it. I guess we kind of lost touch with each other.”
“Yeah.” I had to ask her something. “The other night. Why’d you say I was lucky?”
“Look at you, Scott. You’ve got it made.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Are you kidding? You’re on the newspaper. You were in the stage crew. You got elected to student council. Everywhere I look, there you are. I don’t know how you managed to fit it all in.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Yes, it is. Everyone reads your articles. The jocks love the attention. You’re smart. You get good grades. You live in a nice house. Your parents aren’t split up or anything.”
“But …”
“Do you have any idea how many kids would love to be you?”
No idea at all. I shrugged, hopelessly confused. My God. It was just like the stories we’d read in English. Except this wasn’t some O. Henry tale with a twist ending. This was my life. My amazing life.
“There’s the irony,” I said.
It was her turn to be puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Through my eyes, you’re the one with the great life.” As I spoke, I saw something else through my eyes. Vernon was rumbling toward us from my left. I spoke the next words quickly, both because I knew I didn’t have much time, and because I needed to get them out before I lost my nerve. “You’re gorgeous, Julia. You’re smart. And you’re wonderful. Trust me. You are very special.”
Vernon pushed my shoulder. I turned to face him. I wasn’t scared of him anymore. I wasn’t scared of anyone. The crowd had closed in around us, sniffing at the promise of bloodshed.
“I warned you,” Vernon said.
I looked right in his eyes. The first time he’d threatened me, he’d been with three of his friends. Last week, when he’d beaten me up, he’d jumped me from behind.
The truth was right in front of me. Vernon was a coward. I thought about all those hours I’d watched him on the football field. The way he ran, the way he threw the ball. His whole strategy was controlled by fear. It was in the way he wrestled, too. That’s why he lost so often. Fear ruled his life.
Face-to-face, one-on-one, he wouldn’t throw a punch. Not when I was free to fight back. I was dead certain of that.
Vernon glanced over his shoulder. I guess he was looking for his friends. I spotted a couple of his buddies heading toward us. They didn’t make it. Ben and the rest of the stage-crew guys cut them off. A couple basketball players joined the crew. There was nobody backing Vernon up. If he wanted to start something, he’d have to do it alone and face-to-face.
“You’re just a bunch of freshmen losers,” he said. He glared at me, sneered at Julia, then walked off.
“Talk about a limited viewpoint,” I said. “Though I don’t think it’s third person. More like last person.”
That got another smile from Julia.
I went back to Lee. “Except for the part where it almost led to my death, that wasn’t such a bad suggestion.”
“I thought so.”
The band played another slow song.
I opened my arms and Lee stepped toward me as if we’d done this a million times.
“So, who do you like dancing with better?” she asked, resting her head against my shoulder.
“That’s not the sort of question I’d expect from you,” I said.
“People change,” she said.
“Yeah. Everything changes. Flux is all around us.” Who did I like dancing with better? I held her a bit closer. “No contest, Lee.”
Act III: Oh Brother
“Where’d you get the limo?” I asked Wesley as we headed back to the hospital. We were all riding in the front now.
“Told you already,” he said. “I borrowed it.”
“Yeah, but who’d you borrow it from?”
He pointed at a small sign on the dashboard next to the glove compartment. Wesco Limos. I leaned closer. Wesley Cobble Sr., Owner.
“Your dad owns Wesco Limos?” I asked.
He nodded. “Rents snowmobiles, too. And Jet Skis.” He hit the brakes and turned to stare at me. “You think I steal cars?”
“Of course not.”
Wesley nodded and drove on. “I’ve been tempted a couple times.”
“Please don’t,” I said.
“Yeah, please don’t,” Lee said. “We’d hate to see you get sent away.” She turned to me. “Speaking of which, you know what?”
“What?” I put my arm around her. She didn’t seem to mind.
“You keep insisting you were nice to Mouth even though you didn’t like him.”
“Yeah.”
“But I’m pretty sure you’re lying to yourself.”
“No way. Guys never lie.”
“Yeah, right. The thing is, I think you sort of liked Mouth all along.”
I’d never imagined that possibility. But then again, I never imagined I’d be dancing with Lee. Maybe I did sort of like Mouth. I was still writing to him. I guess that meant something. And I was always thinking about the wild stuff he’d said.
Wesley pulled back onto Route 22. This time, he kept the limo within ten miles of the limit. At least, for most of the trip. “I’ll wait here,” he said when we reached the hospital. “Take your time.”
“No, you won’t.” I opened the door and slid out. “I want you to come. Both of you.”
So there we were. Me and Lee and Wesley, standing on one side of a big glass window, gazing at my new brother. He stared right back at me, too. Like he already knew he could trust me.
“He looks just like you,” Lee said to me.
“Nah,” Wesley said. “He’s a lot less goofy.”
“If that’s what I look like,” I said, “just kill me now.”
Dad came up behind me and put an arm around my shoulders. “Life is good,” he said.
“Nwarries, might,” I said.
“What?” Dad asked.
“Oh, just something I learned in Spanish,” I told him. Then I introduced him to my friends.
Wow. Two small words that mean a lot. My friends.
>
Still May 17
Happy birthday.
Sorry I don’t have a present for you, but you showed up a bit early. Not that I would have had something if you were on time. Wait, I do have something for you. I have a promise.
I won’t let you down. Honest. I might make your life miserable, and play the most awful tricks on you, and exploit you in every conceivable way, but I swear I’ll never let you down.
For example—I won’t lie to you. I’ll tell you right now, newborn babies are ugly. Possibly even hideous. Every single one. You’re no exception. Ick. Just thought you’d want to know.
I’m not even all that jealous. Except for one thing. You get to sleep as much as you want. I’d do anything to trade places. Well, anything except wear a diaper.
I guess that’s about it for this thing I’ve been writing, whatever it is. I may make a few more notes now and then, but I think all the tips and stuff I put here should be enough to give you a good start. You can avoid my mistakes and make some of your own. That’s what life is all about.
Welcome to my world, Sean. You ugly toad.
{thirty-three}
i put the notebook away for a while. But I couldn’t get out of the habit of writing. So I tried other things. Stories. Plays. Even some poems, though I’d never admit that to anyone except Lee. And Mr. Franka.
I’ve been writing letters, too. Mostly to Mouth. He writes back. Long rambling letters. But it’s not just noise. He has a lot to say. So do I. Some of which I’ll share with the world. And some of which I’ll save for a special audience.
June 7
I’m home. School’s over. I figured the last day deserved an entry. Not that this is a diary. I can’t take too long, because Wesley and Lee are waiting for me downstairs. We’re going out for pizza. Lee’s gotten good at keeping Wesley from stealing knives and saltshakers. Though she somehow got her hands on that guillotine last week, so I suspect she doesn’t object to everything Wesley does.
From now on, I can tell you stuff in person. Even if you’re currently pretending not to understand a word I say. Actually, with all the weird sounds you’re making, I think I can get you a job at Zenger teaching Spanish. Bwaaadios.
