by T. J. Dell
“I didn’t get into Brown.”
Again with the different conversations. “Okay.” That’s it. That is al I can think to say. “You might want to give me more to go on.”
“I applied to Brown for early acceptance. The interviews were a couple weeks ago. I didn’t get in.” She kneels down to help me with the popcorn.
“Okay. Wel Brown is probably pretty hard to get into. And it is just early acceptance—You could stil get accepted.”
“Paul got in. Paul got early acceptance.”
I’ve mentioned my less than awesome opinion of Paul Arnold right? “Wel everyone is different, Kim. And Paul is a year ahead of us right? I am sure things change from one year to the next.”
“I need to be more creative. That’s what she said. My application is too one-sided. I need a more creative extracurricular. Apparently she would like to see me loosen up this year.”
She’s not the only one. A light bulb finaly flickers to life above my head. “So you figured you would try out for the play. Be creative.”
“Paul said it would be the easiest. Just stand up there and say a couple of lines, sing a song if you want to. Boy was he wrong.” Her imitation of Paul makes me want to drive to Rhode Island and punch him in the nose—hard. Easy?! “Wel he may have a skewed impression of the theater. But it is creative. It wil help with your applications.”
“Except I can’t do it. I barely made it through my monologue in front of 25 students. I can’t be onstage for two hours! I thought I could maybe be an extra or something. Sing back up.”
“Nobody with your voice should ever be singing back up, Kim.”
“There is nothing else available for the fal semester.”
“What?” Man she loses me quick. And I was realy working hard at not being distracted by the extra strands of hair that escaped her braid and are curling down one side of her face.
“I went to the office this afternoon. I was going to sign up for something else. But everything is ful! I have to do the stupid play.”
“I just read it—it isn’t that bad.”
She shoots me a look that says she isn’t in the mood to joke around. Her looks are right on par with Dave’s snorts.
“I need you, Marshal.” Oops. Did I slip into fantasy mode? “Are you going to help me or not? If I don’t do the play I won’t be able to go to Brown with Paul next year.” Oh. Not a fantasy. Imaginary Kim never asks me to help her get closer to Paul.
“Sure, Kim. I’l help you.” She is squirming a little and looking at me strangely.
“Is there something else?”
“Wel… I might need a lot of help.”
I remember how stiff she was when we’d first started practicing her monologue. The memory makes me smile. “No might about it.”
“Thanks.” I kind of like when she is sarcastic. It is almost teasing, which everybody knows is practicaly flirting. “Wel… I wanted to offer to pay you, but that made you mad last time. I don’t want to make you mad.”
“Wel I guess not wanting to make me mad is as good a place as any to start.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Please don’t make me explain, Kim. If you wanted to, I am very sure you could figure it out for yourself. And anyway I stil don’t want your money. I am thinking of more of a trade.”
“What class do you need help in?”
I want to tel Kim my GPA, but bragging seems a little childish. I realy wish mom was stil in the habit of hanging my particularly impressive test scores on the fridge. It is too bad Jason complained about the unequal fridge representation a couple years ago. Like it is my fault he does his homework in front of the TV.
“I’m not talking about classes Kim.” Her eyes go wide. Crap. I wasn’t talking about that either. “I meant a trade of time. I’l coach you for the play, and once a week you have to do something with me. Something fun, of my choosing.”
“I don’t know.” She sounds suspicious, but also a little intrigued. Good let her be intrigued. It won’t hurt my cause any to have her thinking about me a little extra. “What kind of fun?”
“The fun kind, Kim.” I rol my eyes at her. “Have I given you any reason to distrust me?”
“No. Of course that isn’t what I meant.”
“So, when do you want to start?” Al the popcorn is picked up by now so I dump it into the garbage and get busy washing out the bowl while I pretend like her agreeing to spend time with me isn’t the most important thing to ever happen in my life.
“Is yesterday too soon?”
“Another joke Kim Penney? If you aren’t careful you might start to enjoy having me around.” I turn around to look her in the eyes and lean back against the sink. Today Kim is wearing a tan sweater over her brownish khaki pants. She is so pretty. I’m probably grinning like an idiot right now, but I don’t care.
“I usualy do. And then you go and say stuff like that to confuse me.”
“Tomorrow, Kim. We can work on your lines tomorrow. I have to work until 7:00; can you come over about 7:30?” Chapter Seven
“Back again, Kim? Better be careful, Marshal—Mandy’s going to get jealous.” Jason is his regular idiot self as he walks into the living room on Sunday afternoon. Kim was here until almost midnight last night reading through lines and she came back today right after lunch.
“Don’t you have something better to do Jason?”
“Not realy.” He looks like he is planning on sitting down, but eventualy he spins around and goes back the way he came.
“Are you and Mandy Johnson dating?” Kim wants to know.
“Would that be a problem for you?”
“No. But I don’t want her to be unnecessarily jealous.”
“Unnecessarily?” She is just staring down at her script. Like she didn’t hear me. Wel that’s fine. I wil pretend I didn’t say it . “She lives down the street, and our parents are friends. Mandy, Jason, and I grew up together. We are al friends—Jason is just a drama queen.”
“Okay then.”
What does that mean? Okay then I’m glad you’re available? Okay then I can see why Mandy isn’t interested in you after al? Okay then maybe you and I should get together and live happily forever after?
“Helo? Marshal?” Kim is waving her script in front of my face.
“My bad, Kim. I was distracted. Where were we?”
“Actualy, I should probably go. I need to eat.”
“I could get us some dinner.” It is a little early stil for dinner, bit if Kim is hungry that is a stupid reason for me to let her leave.
“No. I have other homework anyway. I’l see you tomorrow?”
“Sure. In our first official rehearsal.”
“And in European History, Chemistry, and Calculus.”
In between laughs I agree and tel her to have a good evening. I wish this had been a date. If it had I would be able to say it was my best date ever. Also if it had been a date I would have kissed her good night. This would have solved another of my problems because, as it turns out, Benny and Trish have two on-stage kisses.
***
“So, Kim. Are you al set for our date tomorrow?” Kim and I are walking to the parking lot after European History on the Friday of the best and worst week of my life.
Every day this week we have gotten together to run lines and work on her movements. Even on the two days that we had regular rehearsals Kim insisted on practicing a little longer afterwards. Being with her is a total roler coaster ride. One minute I am fighting the urge wrap my arms around her, and the next minute something she says has me mad enough to spit. Now it’s Friday, and I have to work a long shift tonight at Slices. Tomorrow Kim and I have our first fun night planned.
“It isn’t a date.”
“Oh. No, that was just a figure of speech.” I have been reminding myself al week that it wasn’t a date—didn’t seem to work though.
“What do you want to do?”
“It’s a surprise, Kim. I promise it wil be fun
.” We have come to a stop in front of her car. “I’l pick you up at 2:00. Wear sneakers, okay?”
***
I am standing on Kim’s front porch and I am five minutes late.
Kim Penney Fantasy of the Day #1: I ring the doorbell and Kim’s mom or dad or even a butler answers. (I know the butler thing is rather unlikely but the point is that I don’t care who opens the door) As soon as I walk in I can see Kim at the top of a flight of stairs.
She is wearing the quintessential little black date dress. I actually have no idea why it is so quintessential, but Mom says all girls have one. And while I could care less about it being black I am totally on board with it being ‘little’.
She does a slow motion descent and upon reaching the bottom step I hand her… what? A corsage? Too cheesy. A bouquet of flowers? Still cheesy.
My heart?--- whoa Henries don’t get ahead of yourself! You don’t like her that much. Hell, sometimes you don’t even like her at all…
“Are you alright?” Kim Penney sticks her head out the door. She’s wearing a white polo shirt and another pair of khakis. Oh wel, the dress would have been ridiculous for what I have planned anyway.
“Oh. Hi, Kim. I was just about to knock.”
“You’ve been out here for like fifteen minutes.”
Actualy I got here ten minutes ago, but I just couldn’t ring the bel. I’m not saying that I’m nervous, because of course this isn’t a date. But I was suddenly very worried that she won’t appreciate my idea of fun. I want to take her somewhere new. Somewhere Paul would never have even thought of.
“Don’t exaggerate, Kim—are you ready to go?” I smile my best not-at-al-nervous smile and gesture in the direction of my truck. It felt dumb driving it the 40
or so feet from my driveway to hers, but it would have felt even less like a date if I hadn’t picked her up.
“Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” I ask in as teasing a tone as I can muster. We have been driving for twenty minutes and the most she’s said was to ask me if she could turn the heat up a little.
“Why would you ask that?”
“You aren’t talking.”
“Neither are you.”
“Touché. So can we agree that you aren’t trying to make me feel guilty for blackmailing you into spending time with me?”
“I have no idea how to respond to that.” Kim huffs out her answer and turns even further away from me. Now she is staring out of the passenger window.”
“Okay. Let’s try this again. Tel me something about yourself Kim, please?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything!” I try and laugh it off like I’m exaggerating. “How about—what do you want to be when you grow up? A balerina? A princess?” She is stil unimpressed with my teasing, but at least she is looking at me now.
“A lawyer.”
“Huh, I should have guessed.” She arches her eyebrows at me. Oops. “Alright, why a lawyer?” She shrugs. “They are the second highest paid group of federal workers, and privately they sometimes make even more. Plus with the way our economy fluxuates it is one of the few fields left with plenty of job security.”
“Wait. Job security?”
“That’s what I said. Why? What do you want to do?”
“Wel, the drama club isn’t just a hobby of mine.” She smirks a little at me. As though my answer now nulifies any of my future statements. “You’re 17 years old. You shouldn’t be thinking about job security.”
“Agree to disagree.” She waves the conversation off and turns back to her window. It would seem she has decided to disregard my opinion, but I am saved from her cold shoulder as I pul into the parking lot.
“The Fun Factory? ” Kim looks confused and maybe a little disappointed.
“Trust me!” I try and charm her with a smile, but her expression is unreadable.
I used to come here al the time when I was younger. The Fun Factory is mostly an arcade, but the best part is the laser tag room. I thought if Kim was stil holding a torch for Walt Disney this might not be too much of a reach for her. And it couldn’t hurt to show her my mad laser tag skils… I am a legend around here.
Also there was the bonus feature of the gear. You see, I have this idea that Kim won’t look quite so distracting once she’s strapped into al those beat up plastic targets they make you wear. If she looks less distracting maybe I can stay focused and stop making a fool of myself in front of her.
Inside, I march Kim straight back to the laser tag area. Once we go through the curtained partition it takes a moment for our eyes to adjust. The big room is lit with black lights and decorated with brightly colored geometric designs. They haven’t changed a thing since I was 14, and I am fairly certain it could have used an update even then. I don’t care though. This is gonna be fun.
It is four dolars a game or ten to play al day. I happily hand over a twenty and scoop up the pile of ‘armor’ the cashier shoves across the counter.
“You have to be joking!” Kim speaks for the first time since I put the car in park. She looks horrified, but in this lighting everything looks funny and I burst into laughter. “Forget it; I’l just go to community colege.” Kim spins around heads back through the curtain.
“Come on, Kim. Give it a try. I promise we can leave if you don’t start having fun in the next ten minutes.
“I have no idea what to do.” She hisses at me looking wildly embarrassed.
“It’s easy. I’l show you. This is your gun.” I pass her the plastic blaster. “Everyone divides up into two teams, and you try to hit the opposing team where their targets are. These are the targets.” I point to the different plates marked with x’s on various parts of the armor I am now wearing. “If any of your targets vibrate and blink you are ‘dead’. The last team standing or whoever has the most active players at the end of 12 minutes wins. Easy.”
“Whatever you say, Rambo.” Kim isn’t looking at me as she tries to untangle her armor.
“I wil take that as a compliment.” I’m chuckling as I take the mess of velcro, canvas, and plastic from her and start attaching the straps to her arms.
I want to tease her and keep her joking with me, but even in a room ful of 13 year old kids this feels intimate. Tightening the buckles on her chest plate is so close to an embrace that I forget to breathe for a moment. And the end result? Even plastic toy armor over her senior citizen wardrobe can’t obscure Kim’s sexiness.
“You can let go now.” The breathiness of Kim’s voice registers before her words.
It takes me an extra few heartbeats to step back and drop my hands to my sides. I am glad it is dark, because it is way not cool for guys to blush.
The first few minutes of our first game I am worried. Kim doesn’t look like she is having fun, and I am afraid she is going to ask me to take her home. The two of us crawl between the half-wal shelters aiming our blasters at anyone on the blue team. She is being a good sport, but staying completely silent.
“Marshal.” She crouches down and whispers in my ear. Here it comes, I think, stupid laser tag. “Marshal! There are at least four of them just behind that wal. I’l go right, you go left?”
Whoa. She’s strategizing? I turn around to face her. The white shirt is blindingly bright under the black lights and it is impossible to make out the expression on her face. She might be having fun after al, or she is just alergic to giving less than 100 percent. I nod my agreement and hold up three fingers to count down on.
Kim takes out two of the kids before her chest plate lights up and I get the other two. The red team (our team) is ahead 6 players to one when the timer goes off. I’m feeling pretty good about myself as I meet Kim at the door to the ‘out’ box.
“This isn’t going to work.” She deflates me with her first sentence.
“I thought you would have a good time, Kim. Sorry.”
“What? No. I want to play again. I just need to do something about my clothes. I am liability in this shirt.” She reaches ove
r and tugs my colar open a little further. She can see that I am wearing a dark green tee shirt under my blue button-up. “You are going to have to loan me your shirt.” I swalow my tongue. Realy, that is my reaction to her sentence. I am completely aware of the context in which she means it, but come on! Loan her my shirt? Awesome. “Anything you say Kim Penney.”
It takes us awhile to take off our armor so she can button my shirt over her polo and then put al the armor back on, so we end up sitting out one round. I could care way less. My shirt is too big for her, and she has to rol the sleeves to just below her elbows. She looks so damn cute that I wouldn’t mind if she kept the shirt.
And it is my favorite.
We play three more times. Kim single handedly takes out half the blue team in the last round. “Okay, I have to admit that was very fun.” She is laughing lightly as we turn in our gear.
“That is great news. And I won’t even say ‘I told you so.’ Even though I did.” I let myself put an arm around her shoulders as we walk out into the concession section of the arcade. “Pizza?” I ask once we are in line.
“No.” Kim steps a little further away forcing me to drop my arm. She studies the smal menu board for a moment and then orders. “I’l have the turkey wrap, and a smal side salad please.”
Defiantly, I order pizza and fries. Once we’ve found a table I take a huge greasy bit of my pizza. This is my way of saying ‘teenagers eat junk food, Kim Penney.’ She is completely unaffected. We eat quietly, but comfortably. She is stil wearing my shirt, and there is a booth across the aisle from us filed with younger teenage boys that are checking her out. Man pride wels up inside me manifesting as a wide pizza filed grin.
“Can I have one of your fries?” I have to quickly refocus my attention as Kim starts talking to me.
“Help yourself.” I push the basket to the center of the table. Kim makes an incredible soft contented sighing noise when she bites into the french fry. “Have as many as you want.” I offer, pushing them even closer to her side of the table.
“Thanks. I can’t.” She turns back to her salad. “I have to be careful about that stuff. I’m diabetic.” She pops a tomato slice in her mouth and I drop my pizza.
