Film at Eleven

by Bloom, Maggie

  “I don’t know how long I’m going to be here,” Mick non-answered.

  “Hungry, Flora?” Jessie asked, nodding toward the rapidly dwindling lunch line.

  I had zero appetite, but while Lars and the gang devoured their mac and cheese, Jessie and I catapulted from our seats like they were spring-loaded—and Mick followed.

  “Is he looking?” I asked Jessie about Lars. I mean, she could check on my sort-of boyfriend without raising anyone’s suspicions, but I had to act normal.

  “Nope. You’re in the clear.”

  Even though Mick hadn’t touched me yet, I could feel him on me. It was like my body recognized his on a molecular level. And it was electric.

  “We need to talk,” he whispered over my shoulder. “Outside.” Secretly, he ran his fingers along the inside of my arm.

  I couldn’t turn around, or I’d be found out.

  “Now?” I murmured, barely able to expand my lungs enough to speak.

  “Five minutes. In the parking lot. I drive a green Buick.”

  “Okay.”

  Like nothing had happened, I picked up my lunch tray and followed Jessie right back to our table. Mick was already gone.

  “Where’d your friend go?” Lars asked Jessie when he noticed Mick’s absence.

  “Oh, he went to the bathroom.”

  Damn. That was going to be my excuse.

  “He seems to like you,” Lars told Jessie. “Are you interested? Because I could…”

  I took a single bite of the soggy pasta. “Oh my God!” I interrupted. “Shit. I left my English homework in my locker.” I pushed my tray between Elmer and Lars. “You guys can have this. I gotta go.”

  Lars tried to catch me. “Hey…”

  “Hasta Luego,” I squeaked, planting a drive-by kiss on the Icelandic prince’s lips as I cruised past. Maybe mucho, mucho luego, I thought, depending on how things went with my sweet, sweet Mickey D.

  In search of green cars, I hurried through the student lot until I noticed a plume of exhaust coming from somewhere near the back exit. And even though I couldn’t actually see the car, I assumed it was Mick’s. After all, it was the only one running.

  Mick popped the passenger door open, but still, he didn’t really look at me. “We should get out of here,” he said, as I slipped inside. “So we can have some privacy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  For way too long, we aimlessly rode around in silence, searching for just the right spot for a serious conversation. But when the anticipation was about to kill me, I finally spoke up. “What about the park, two streets over?” I suggested. “Take a left here, and then it’s the second left—at the light.”

  Mick swung left, then left again, then rolled into the gravelly drive in a cloud of dust. He cut the engine but left the keys dangling from the ignition, probably so he could abandon me at a moment’s notice like I’d abandoned him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, staring straight ahead at a weathered fencepost. It was weak and useless and probably even laughable, but I said it anyway.

  “What happened?” he asked. “I thought you were waiting for me. I thought…”

  I knew what he thought. He thought I loved him, which I did. And I thought he love me too, until he never came for me. Only now he had.

  “It was a mistake. I screwed up,” I admitted. “When you didn’t call and you didn’t come, I just assumed…”

  “But I told you…”

  “I know,” I interrupted. “I should’ve been more patient. I should’ve had more faith. I should’ve trusted you.”

  “But why…? Why did you…?”

  Okay, that was the sticky part. I mean, my reasons for dating Lars were sort of unclear and pretty hard to explain. Plus, I doubted Mick wanted to hear about Lars’ hotness or his animal magnetism.

  “It just happened. I didn’t plan it,” I said, cringing at the lameness of the words as they came out of my mouth.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Mick shake his head. “That’s not very reassuring,” he said.

  “I know.”

  A minute of heavy silence sucked the life out of the air. “Do you love him?” Mick finally asked.

  My heart ached. “I don’t think so. No. I mean, I care about him. He’s nice. And he’s very persistent. For some unknown reason, he seems to think I’m the center of the universe,” I said with a nervous laugh.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Well, that makes one of us.”

  Even if Lars and Mick were on the same page in their attraction to me, there was still a real difference in how they loved me. Lars crushed me with affection from the outside in, while Mick’s love grew slow and gentle—from the inside out—until it owned me.

  “I missed you,” I said.

  Mick sighed. “I missed you too.”

  I rested my hand on his knee, but he pushed it away. “We shouldn’t. You have a boyfriend.”

  “But you were my boyfriend first,” I reminded him, as if that should solve all our problems. “I can break up with Lars. I love you.”

  Mick stared out the window. “Do you think that would be fair?” he asked finally. “Has he done anything to deserve it?” I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was really asking the question about himself. And no, Lars hadn’t done anything to deserve being blown off, just like Mick hadn’t.

  “What should I do then?” I asked. “I mean, I want to be with you. Don’t you want…?”

  “Of course, I do,” he snapped. “But things are complicated now. We can’t just do whatever we want.”

  “Why did you come here then?” I said. “And why didn’t you just turn around and go back when you saw…”

  “I came for you. Because I wanted to be with you. Because I love you.” On the last few words his voice cracked with emotion, which pushed a single tear over the margin of my eyelid.

  “Well, do you have any ideas?” I asked, exasperated. “Because other than me breaking up with Lars, I don’t really see how we can be together—unless you want to date me behind his back, that is.”

  Obviously, I knew Mick would never agree to anything so outrageous, but I figured maybe my crazy suggestion would snap him back to reality. I mean, something had to make him realize we were meant to be together, even if an innocent Icelandic prince had to get hurt in the process.

  “That’s out of the question,” he said with finality. “The only thing we can do now is let things take their natural course. If your relationship with him doesn’t work out and I’m still available, I’d like us to give things another try.”

  “What do you mean if you’re still available?”

  He finally looked me in the eye. “I’m here now. I have a job on the Bookers’ farm. And I’m in school. I love school.”

  Okay, it was official. He’d gone mental.

  “And since I’m single,” he continued, “it is possible I could meet someone—although I can’t imagine loving anyone like I love you.”

  I must admit, the mere thought of Mick with another girl sent me into an anxious frenzy to protect what was mine. “But…but…that’s not fair,” I whined. “I said I’ll break up with Lars. I said I love you. I said it was all my fault. That I messed up. Can’t you just forgive me?”

  Mick shook his head. “You’re missing the point,” he said, like he was talking to a five-year-old. “The fact that this happened in the first place means you weren’t ready for us. You need more time. And I’ll be here doing my own thing while you get ready, while you figure out what you really want.”

  Despite Mick’s doubts, I knew what I wanted—or who I wanted anyway: the indisputable love of my life, the sweet, sweet, Mickey D.

  “Can I kiss you?” I decided to ask, for some screwball reason. “I need to…”

  Without waiting for an answer, I lunged over the gearshift and landed a sloppy open-mouthed kiss right on Mick’s shocked lips. And I must say, it was pathetic. Not only did he not kiss me back, but he actually pushed me away like I
was a lunatic sex creeper. It was more than I could take.

  “I gotta go,” I blurted, flinging the door open. “See ya around.”

  If Mick didn’t want me, then fine. I’d learn to live without him. I only wished I could fall asleep and wake up missing the memory that such a beautiful creature ever even existed.

  Fourteen

  AFTER weeks of persistent nagging, my parents actually agreed to let me take driver’s ed with Lars and Jessie, which might not have been the best idea given my state of mind in recent days. But I was pretty psyched anyway. I mean, at least once I got a license, I’d have one more means of escaping the depressing drama that had become junior year, even if such a getaway involved grand theft auto.

  In the back of her dad’s ginormous SUV, Jessie and I got comfy for our chauffeured ride to the Drive Right Academy.

  “Mind if I put some music on?” Mr. Haskell asked.

  “Sure. Whatever,” Jessie said, rolling her eyes. Honestly, though, I couldn’t really sympathize. I mean, at least her dad didn’t listen to polka like Mr. Tightwad did. That shit could drive anyone crazy.

  “So are you nervous?” I asked Jessie, remembering the horror stories we’d heard in health class about the endless ways to kill yourself (and everyone else) from behind the wheel of a car.

  “Nah. Not really,” she said. “Not about that.”

  “Okay…about what?” I asked, not expecting any earth-shattering revelation.

  Jessie didn’t respond, but I could tell she wanted to, which is never a good sign. Instead, she tapped her fingers on the window and stared outside. “I know you’re gonna be mad,” she finally told me.

  “About what?” I said again, not liking the sound of whatever was coming next. I mean, my stomach was already doing anxious flips, and I had no idea what to start freaking out about.

  “First of all, it wasn’t my idea. Honest,” she said. “And I wouldn’t have accepted, except that you said you wished you’d never met him. You said you were pretending he didn’t exist.”

  Right away, I knew Jessie was talking about Mick, because I’d said all those things and more about him out of pure heartbreak. “So…so…,” I stammered. “So you’re going to…”

  “Well, you have Lars,” Jessie said, like the fact that I still hadn’t found a nice way to dump the Icelandic prince was justification for her betrayal. “And it’s only one date. We’re just going to the movies. I don’t even know if it is a date actually. It might just be a friendship thing.”

  I doubted Jessie would be getting so worked up over a friendship thing, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. “I’d rather you didn’t,” I said outright, unable to keep my cool. “You’re my best friend. You shouldn’t be… You shouldn’t be screwing me like this.”

  While Jessie struggled for a response, I took a moment to size her up looks-wise. It was a weird thing to do, really, check out your best friend. But I had to know what Mick might see in her. And to be honest, it just wasn’t adding up. I mean, granted, I had my own share of ugly duckling characteristics to contend with, like crispy orange hair, blotchy skin, and a layer of blubber a whale would admire. But Jessie’s stringy black locks, bony elbows, and pale skin-of-death had me beat for sure. I was positive Mick couldn’t like her more than he liked me—at least not physically.

  “I’m sorry. I really am,” Jessie claimed. “But he’s nice. And he asked me out, so I’m gonna go. You’re welcome to come too if you want—with Lars.”

  A double date? Me and the Icelandic prince with my best friend and my ex? What a smashing idea. I mean, other than keeping Jessie and Mick apart—which I had no real right to do—chaperoning them was the next best thing. If anything scandalous started to happen, I’d have the perfect opportunity to squash their fun.

  “We’ll be there,” I agreed, without even consulting Lars.

  Mr. Haskell veered into the strip mall parking lot. “Here you go, girls,” he said. “Don’t get into any trouble.” He winked at Jessie, but if she saw the little goodwill gesture, she ignored it.

  As Jessie’s dad pulled off, the two of us just stood there transfixed on the steps of the Drive Right Academy. In a word, the place was scary. The crooked old sign that hung over the door was so decayed you could see clear blue sky through the gaping holes. And the ratty thing was dangling from a metal bracket that was about to go poof in a cloud of dust. Forget about dying in a car wreck. If we made it through the front door of the Drive Right Academy alive, we’d be lucky.

  “Is this place even open?” I asked.

  “I…uh…don’t know,” Jessie said. Then, taking her life in her hands, she reached for the door and tugged. “Guess so,” she reported, yanking the thing open and holding it for me.

  “Flora! Jessie!” Lars called, waving at us from the middle of the room. He shot us a glowing smile and rapped his knuckles on the desk beside him.

  Great. Now I was stuck in the Fishbowl of Doom. If Lars knew anything about me, he would’ve realized I’m a periphery girl. Mick would have kept to the edges.

  “Hi,” I said to Lars, squeezing through the tightly packed row and plunking down in the seat beside him.

  As I scanned the room, I recognized quite a few familiar faces: the brother-sister team of Elmer and Viv Fisk, lovebirds Lucy Tate and Jimmy Bickford (ick), the still-pregnant Carla Pearson, and the Plastic Twits—Tina Miller and Beth Clarke. How fantastic.

  The driver’s ed teacher cleared his throat, but everyone remained immersed in their über important conversations, which apparently pissed Teacher Guy off. So at a pitch that could kill a dog, he issued one of those sharp, all-eyes-on-me whistles that resemble a lifeguard’s death signal.

  Well, that certainly did the trick. Simultaneously, the whole class went into mime mode.

  “I need to collect checks and have you fill out some paperwork,” Teacher Guy announced. “Line up over here, please. Single file.”

  Once we’d coughed up our parents’ hard-earned cash and verified some particulars—like our dates of birth and social security numbers—Teacher Guy circulated copies of our new bible: the Pennsylvania Driver’s Manual. And I must say, I expected more for Mr. Tightwad’s money. I mean, four hundred dollars for less than a hundred pages of boring drivel? I smelled a rip-off.

  “Before we get started, we need to schedule your driving hours,” Teacher Guy explained. “You’re each required to complete fifty hours of supervised driving and go through a six-month waiting period to be eligible for a learner’s permit.”

  A few random people moaned, probably about the waiting.

  “Our instructors will supervise you for the first ten hours,” Teacher Guy continued, “then your parents will be responsible for overseeing the other forty.” He held up a sheaf of papers. “Up to three people can sign up for the same driving block, since you’ll be taking turns. Make sure to sign up for a total of ten hours.”

  He dropped the sign-up sheets on Beth Clarke’s desk and disappeared through a scuffed door behind his flimsy folding table. And, of course, instead of sending the sheets around in any sort of logical order, people just snaked them from friend to friend. The result: I was one of the last people to get the damn things; hence, I was stuck with all the crappy times. And the crappy people. About half of my hours ended up being with the Plastic Twits; I got two hours with Jessie; and I had to drive with Lars and Carla three times starting…today?!

  I’d barely absorbed the news that I’d be thrust behind the wheel of a two-ton death machine ASAP when Teacher Guy graced us with his presence again.

  “Okay…looks good,” he said, giving the papers the once-over. “For those of you scheduled to drive today, you may want to contact your parents over the break and let them know you’ll be driving yourselves home,” he said with a smirk.

  For the next half hour, Teacher Guy made us read silently from the Pennsylvania Driver’s Manual. What an epic waste of time. I could’ve skimmed the thing on the internet before class and been just a
s uninformed. I mean, weren’t we paying the guy to actually do something, like teach?

  Apparently not, because after our mini-break (which I didn’t use to call my parents, by the way) Teacher Guy cranked up an ancient projector and bored us to tears with an instructional film on safe driving. Honestly, the only thing that saved me from losing my mind was a hilarious snoring contest that broke out in the back of the room. Priceless.

  “What time is it?” I whispered, jabbing Jessie in shoulder.

  She wiggled her iPod out of her pocket. “Two twenty-eight,” she said. “Thirty-two minutes of hell to go.”

  I wanted to hate Jessie. I really did. But she’d been my best friend for so long I didn’t know how to be me without her. And honestly, I had a feeling Mick was just torturing me in the most gut-wrenching way possible to prove a point anyway. He wanted me to feel the same pain he’d felt, so I’d never, ever act so stupid again. I mean, why else wouldn’t he just take me back and get it over with? He had to know we were meant to be together.

  So I guess I dreamt away the final minutes of class with Mick fantasies, because before I knew it, Teacher Guy unceremoniously switched off the projector and announced the end of day one.

  “I need Lars Johannsson, Carla Pearson, and Flora Fontain up front,” he said, as people gathered their doodads and thingamajigs and started shuffling toward the Door of Death. “Also, Vivian Fisk, Elmer Fisk, and Ryan Goodman.”

  Huh? Ryan the stalker Goodman was in our class? That was news to me. Maybe he’d been one of the dueling snorers in the back row. Of course, I would’ve known for sure if I’d been stationed in my normal hawk-eye position. Damn that Icelandic prince.

  On the way to the holding pen, Lars followed me so closely he was literally breathing down my neck. And I must admit, I didn’t hate it. Once again, the boy reeked of sexiness. Sexiness and…Twinkies?

  “Ready?” Lars asked, staring at me all puppy-dog eyed and lovesick.

  Before I could inform him I was more prepared for a bikini wax than a driving lesson, though, Jessie interrupted. “Are you all set?” she asked, glancing at the door. “’Cause my dad’s here.”