Burning Down the House

by Allie Gail

  Me: Sure.

  Doug: I still don’t think this sandwich tastes right.

  Trent: Well, stop eating the damn thing!

  Colin: So we’re agreed then. Sara, it’s up to you to make sure everybody knows not to wear underwear tonight or tomorrow night.

  Me: Okay. I’ll get right on that.

  Doug: Trent doesn’t ever wear it anyway.

  Rob: I would really like to know how you know that.

  Me: You don’t wear underwear?

  Trent: Nope.

  Me: Seriously?

  Trent: (making a big production of unsnapping his jeans) You want proof?

  Me: No - I’ll take your word for it!

  Rob: Dude! Nobody here wants to see that shit.

  Trent: Dana might. Whatcha think, Seraphina?

  Me: I think if you’re just planning on using her for sex, you better keep that thing in your pants. If you expect to keep it at all.

  Colin: Guess you heard that, man.

  Trent: I’m not using her. Who says I’m using her?

  Me: Good. I’d hate to have to force feed you your own testicles.

  Trent: Such a violent little thing! Rob, you better sleep with one eye open and one hand over your dick.

  Doug: He generally sleeps that way anyway.

  Rob: Again - I would really like to know how you know that!

  Trent: If I knew my bedroom was right down the hall from Sara’s, I’d probably be sleeping with one hand on my pecker too.

  Me: Thanks for the visual. I think I’m done eating now.

  Colin: Shit, I’d be whacking twenty-four-seven.

  Doug: Don’t you already do that?

  Me: You sure seem to know an awful lot about what’s going on under everyone else’s pants. What’s with that?

  Rob: That’s what I’m sayin’!

  Trent: Why don’t you settle it for us, Baryshnikov? Does Kensington spend all his time whacking off in his room?

  Me: FYI - Baryshnikov is a man.

  Trent: FYI - nobody cares!

  Doug: I think I’m gonna go get another sandwich. This one just tastes weird.

  Colin: You’re asking the wrong question, man. What we should be asking is how often Sara does it!

  Trent: You have a point. Alright sweet pea, let’s have it. Give us the breakdown.

  Me: Excuse me?

  Trent: How many times a week?

  Me: Are you - what are you picking on me for? Why don’t you tell everyone how often you do it!

  Trent: At least once a day, usually twice.

  Rob: I coulda gone the rest of my life without knowing that.

  Trent: Your turn, sweet pea.

  Me: Ha! I don’t think so.

  Colin: Come on. All we want is a number.

  Me: How did we ever get off on this subject?

  Trent: I think the subject is getting off. Tell you what - if it makes you feel better we’ll all share with you first. Colin?

  Colin: What - me?

  Trent: No, the other Colin sitting here with us. Dumbass.

  Colin: Oh. Um…I’d say maybe two or three times a week.

  Trent: Lightweight. Rob?

  Rob: Eight or nine times a day, unless I’m having an off week.

  Me: (laughing) You do not!

  Rob: You’re right - I lied. It’s really closer to twenty. Hell, I’m doing it right now.

  Colin: DUDE! That ain’t right.

  Me: I’d sure like to know how you’re accomplishing that when both your hands are right there on the table.

  Trent: Where are your hands, Sara?

  Me: In my pockets.

  Trent: Right…

  Colin: I think we just found out how Rob’s getting by without his hands.

  Rob: Busted…

  Me: You’re all sick puppies. Every one of you.

  Trent: So you still haven’t told us. What’s the tally, ballerina?

  Me: I never agreed to any of this!

  Colin: We shared with you. It’s only fair.

  Rob: You know, I’m kinda interested in hearing your answer to this too.

  Doug: (returning) Her answer to what?

  Trent: We’re waiting to hear how often she feels the urge to audition the finger puppets.

  Doug: What finger puppets?

  Colin: (bursting into laughter) Oh my God…

  Trent: She hasn’t come into her own yet. I think she’s still beating around the bush.

  Doug: Huh? Come into what now?

  Colin: (laughter bordering on hysterical) Don’t…don’t…I can’t take it…oh, shit…

  Rob: I could stand to see a puppet show.

  Trent: Have to hitchhike south to see it. She might be too busy playing poker though.

  Colin: (almost crying by now) BAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!

  Me: I hate you all.

  Doug: Did I miss something?

  Colin: (gasping for air) Ow…I think I hurt myself.

  Me: Serves you right.

  Doug: What’s so funny?

  Trent: I don’t have nearly enough time to explain it to you. Did you get another sandwich, you big baby?

  Doug: What’s this look like, chump?

  Trent: Looks like the same damn thing you just had. Hey, what time are we supposed to be at the parade lineup? Was anyone listening?

  Rob: Two o’clock.

  Colin: I don’t know why they didn’t just let us leave before lunch. We’re getting let out at one today anyway. So friggin’ stupid. God forbid I miss a half hour of trig.

  Doug: I’m gonna feel like such a tool riding around on that queer-looking float.

  Me: Hey! We worked really hard on that float.

  Trent: That why you had paint all over you the other night?

  Me: Yes.

  Trent: Oh, my bad. I just figured you were finger painting again.

  Colin: Oh, boy…here we go again…

  Me: How would you like to have to explain to Dana why you have a size seven Converse stuck halfway up your ass?

  Rob: Alright Trent…give it a rest.

  Colin: Where the hell did Riley get off to?

  Trent: Shit if I know.

  Doug: If he’s not back in five minutes, I’m eating his Doritos.

  Trent: Not if I get to ’em first.

  Me: Leave the guy’s food alone, you hogs! I don’t know how your parents can even afford their grocery bill. Are they multimillionaires or what?

  Trent: Doug’s mom has a side job.

  Doug: Screw you - I tried to go see your mom the other night but I didn’t have change for a dollar.

  Rob: (to me) See what I have to put up with?

  Me: My condolences.

  Colin: Don’t mind Beavis and Butthead. Their parents smoked a lot of dope.

  Me: That explains a lot.

  Doug: Hey - what were you guys sayin’ about a puppet show? Who’s having a puppet show?

  Colin: (laughing again) Oh, man…I’m not gonna be able to play tonight if you keep this up.

  Doug: Keep what up?

  Trent: Just finish eating and leave the grownups to their discussions.

  Doug: I don’t think this sandwich tastes right either.

  Trent: FUCK YOUR CHICKEN SANDWICH!

  I was hurrying out to the Tahoe after the last bell released us when I heard Riley shouting my name across the parking lot.

  “Sara! Wait - hold up a second.”

  “Hey there,” I said after he’d caught up with me. “What happened to you at lunch? I tried to ward off the vultures, but they snagged your food when you never came back.”

  He gave me a guilty look, like he’d been called out for doing something wrong. “Oh, yeah…sorry about that. Um…can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Over here. By my car.” Cupping my elbow, he steered me in the direction of his silver Mustang where we stood between it and a Taurus with a dented fender. From this spot we were less visible to the incoming wave of students all scrambling to
be the first off school grounds. The parade started in an hour and a half, so a lot of them had to get changed before meeting at their designated lineup spot.

  “Everything okay?” I transferred my heavy backpack from one shoulder to the other. Assigning homework over homecoming weekend - it was convincing evidence that some teachers have no souls.

  “Okay. Here’s the thing. Okay...” He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other, like someone who desperately has to pee but can’t find a bathroom. “Okay. You know I like you, Sara. I mean…you know that, right? I think you’re a terrific girl. I really do. You’re…one of the nicest and cutest girls I know. Hands down.”

  For one mortifying moment I was sure he was about to get all mushy on me, and I could feel my heart sink. That kind of uncomfortable situation was the last thing I wanted to deal with on a carefree day like today. “Well…thank you.”

  “I just don’t want you to be mad at me. Please promise you won’t get mad.”

  What the heck was he talking about? “Why would I be mad at you?”

  “It’s just…okay. You know I’m supposed to be Jordan’s escort at halftime, right?”

  Sure, I knew. Big deal, everyone knew that - why would he think I’d care? “Yeah, I know.” I glanced over at the Tahoe two rows away, where Rob was probably already waiting for me.

  “Okay. So here’s the thing. Um…the truth is, before I asked you to homecoming I had already asked Jordan. But see, she told me she didn’t want to go…so I figured, you know, I’d just get someone else to go with me instead. I thought it would look wrong for the starting quarterback not to show up. Don’t you think?”

  Relief flooded through me. Was that what this was all about? He was afraid I’d find out I wasn’t his first choice? Laughing, I said, “It’s fine, Riley. I know we’re just going as friends. Don’t worry about it. We’ll still have a good time.”

  “Yeah, but…okay. Um…wow. How do I say this.” He stared off into the pale blue sky for a second. “See…the thing is, she just up and changed her mind. So…” Shrugging, he let his eyes return to me, and from the expectant look there it was obvious he just assumed I’d fill in the rest.

  The smile on my face faltered. “So…what?” He damn well better not be saying what I thought he was saying. No friggin’ way.

  Judging from his expression, he was wishing he was somewhere else right now. Anywhere else. “Look. I’m gonna be straight with you here. Me and Jordan, we have sort of a complicated history. She’s been my girlfriend off and on since the beginning of last year. Ever since she broke up with me over the summer, I’ve been doing everything I can to try and get her back. You see what I’m saying? I can’t take you instead of her if there’s a chance she wants to work things out. You understand, right?”

  “You…have got…to be kidding me.” My tone was threatening. I didn’t give a damn if he and Jordan wanted to get back together, but to ditch me at the last minute like this? When it was too late to find another date? Who the hell did something like that?

  “Oh, come on now, don’t be like that. We’re still friends. It’s just one dance.”

  “The dance that’s, um, tomorrow? As in twenty-four hours from now, give or take - would that be the one you’re referring to?”

  “Okay. You’re mad. So, okay, I know it’s last minute and all -”

  “Riley, if you say okay one more time I swear to God I’m gonna kick you right in your shriveled-up balls!”

  He looked surprised at the extent of my anger. “Damn, Sara, chill out - it’s not really that major a deal.”

  “I already bought a dress! I got a manicure and pedicure and made an appointment to get my hair done tomorrow, you…you…”

  “So…what? You want me to reimburse you the money you spent?”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ…” I couldn’t even look at his idiot face anymore. Storming off, I stalked my way to the Tahoe where I got in and slammed the door so hard the SUV shook.

  Rob looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. “Bad day?”

  “Just drive,” I snapped between clenched teeth. Seeing that I was in no mood to kid around, he had the discretion not to question me and compliantly drove in silence. At least he had sense enough to know when it was time to shut the hell up. At least there was someone in the world who was halfway attuned to the feelings of someone besides himself.

  I seethed the whole way home. Out of all of Rob’s friends, Riley Murphy with his polite and courteous disposition was the last one I would have expected to pull some stupid bull like this. Trent, Doug, Colin…even with their goofy roughhousing, I couldn’t imagine any of them ever stooping to this level. And offering me money - oh my God, that was just unbelievable! Fucking inconsiderate clueless douchebag!

  It wasn’t like I was upset at not going, and I definitely couldn’t care less about him and Jordan Cox. But the whole damn school knew by now that I was supposed to be his date, and the thought of having to answer ten million nosy questions from everyone wanting to know why I didn’t show up there with him…it was enough to make me physically cringe.

  Enough to make me want to take a sledgehammer to that shiny silver Mustang of his.

  Asshole.

  9

  Dad slept all afternoon, so at least I didn’t have to explain to him why I wasn’t going to the parade. Rob grabbed his football gear and left without a word, and until around six I had plenty of time to myself to sulk and come up with fiendish new forms of torture devised exclusively for certain star quarterbacks.

  But of course my dad wanted to go to the game to see Rob play, and I knew Dana would expect me there. So I took a quick shower, dressed in jeans and a red thermal top, and plastered on a cheerful face. After all, it wasn’t the end of the world. So I’d basically been stood up - so what? This whole thing wasn’t nearly as important as I was making it out to be. It was just a stupid dance.

  We got to the game just before kickoff and sat in the stands with Dana, her parents and her ten-year-old brother, Tyler. I noticed she had on Trent’s letterman jacket, a stark contrast to the formal gown she had on underneath. It was so big it practically swallowed her whole. Her hands were hidden up inside the sleeves.

  “You look so beautiful!” I told her, hugging her carefully so I didn’t mess up the perfectly arranged hair. It was down around her shoulders in shiny blonde curls, spritzed with hairspray to hold it in place. I’d already seen the sequined dress hanging in her room, but on her it looked even more elegant. The azure color brought out the blue in her eyes, and tonight they sparkled with excitement.

  “Really?” She touched her hair self-consciously. “Does it look okay? I look weird with curls, I know.”

  “You don’t look weird - you look smoking hot,” I reassured her. “Doesn’t she look hot, Tyler?”

  He put both hands around his neck and made a gagging noise.

  “Tyler! What did I tell you - behave yourself,” Mrs. Landry scolded. “Do you want to go sit out in the car?”

  “She oughta lock the little turd in the trunk,” Dana complained to me under her breath. She needn’t have bothered keeping her voice down - everyone was suddenly clapping and cheering over the kickoff. As usual, my eyes immediately searched out number forty-two. It had become a habit.

  “Wonder what Staci’s gonna be wearing,” Dana pondered.

  “Isn’t she wearing her cheerleader outfit?” I could see her out on the field right now, jumping up and down. It looked like she’d been to the salon as well. The dark hair was piled on her head in a mass of ringlets.

  “No, she and Jordan are gonna go change during second quarter. I saw Jordan’s dress - it’s gorgeous.”

  “Mm.” At this particular moment, the redhead wasn’t exactly high up on my list of favorite people.

  “I’m so ready to get this over with. I can’t wait for tomorrow, can you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Trent was talking about maybe going out to eat first. You think you and Riley might want t
o meet us somewhere? Like Cristiano’s or someplace like that?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? It’ll be more fun if we go together.”

  “Because I’m not even going anymore.”

  “WHAT!” she shrieked. “Whaddaya mean, you’re not -”

  “Shh…!”

  She put her head close to mine and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Why? What happened?”

  I quietly relayed to her the events of that afternoon.

  “Oh my God, that self-centered bastard…”

  “Yep.”

  “I cannot believe he would do something like that. I just can’t believe it.”

  “Well, he did.”

  “That is insane. And what is up with Jordan? You know she had to know you guys were going together! What kind of crap was that to pull?”

  I shook my head and shrugged.

  “Oh, you wait ’til I see her…”

  “I don’t want you to say anything to her. Or anyone else, okay? Please. Just let it go, all right? I really don’t even care.”

  “Well, I care! That was a shitty thing to do. On both their parts.”

  “I know. I just want to forget about it.”

  “Why don’t you come anyway? It’s not like you have to have a date. You could ride with us if you want to.”

  “Oh sure, Trent would love that. Me tagging along while he’s trying to put the moves on you. Anyway, I’m not showing up there alone so everyone can talk about me!”

  “You’re not the one everyone will be talking about. It’ll be them when everybody finds out what happened!”

  “Dana, just let it go. I’m serious. Okay? It’s not a big deal.”

  The stands erupted in a roar as our team scored. I hadn’t even been paying attention so I wasn’t sure what happened.

  “And that’s the fourth rushing touchdown of the year for senior starting quarterback Riley Murphy…”

  “I hope he fumbles next time,” Dana grumbled.

  On my left side, Dad was applauding enthusiastically. “Quick feet on that quarterback,” he commented with a grin at me. He knew I was supposed to be going out with Riley tomorrow night. I was going to feel like a total idiot trying to explain to him why it wasn’t happening. Well, there was a lot to be said for procrastination. Tomorrow would work just as well.