by Jonah Black
Sophie moves over on the bed and I lie down next to her. She runs her fingers down the side of my body and it tickles. She licks my neck.
Right when I was getting into the movie, the phone rang. And I was like, Sophie?!
My heart was racing. I went over to the set and tried to turn down the volume, but I couldn’t get the controls to work. The phone was ringing and ringing, and I still hadn’t answered. What if Sophie hung up while I was messing with the television, trying to turn down the volume on Sorority Girls? Could I be more of a loser? So I ran over and picked up the phone, just praying she wouldn’t figure out what I was watching.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hey, Peanut,” Honey said. “I just wanted to find out how your dream date’s going.”
“My dream date?” I said. I paused for only a second, trying to think of what to tell her. That was long enough for Honey.
“Jesus,” she said. “What the hell are you listening to?”
“Nothing,” I said. I tried to stretch the cord toward the bathroom so I could turn on the faucet and cover up the moaning sounds coming from the TV, but it wasn’t long enough.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Butterball, you’re not watching pornos on pay-per-view, are you?”
“Were you calling for any particular reason, or did you just want to torture me?” I said bitterly.
“Hey! That sounds like Sorority Girls, Honey said. “Is that what you’re watching? That’s a pretty good one. I know one of the chicks in that movie.”
“No, you don’t,” I said.
“Yeah, I do. The chick with the birthmark. That’s Elissa St. Susan. Her real name’s Gertrude. She goes to St. Luke’s. Or she used to, anyway.” Honey giggled. “My big brother, all alone, watching Sorority Girls in some Disney hotel.”
“I have to go,” I said.
“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Honey said. “I kind of figured you’d be into the porno by now. Hey, there’s a good lesbo scene coming up. You’ll really like it!”
“I’m hanging up,” I said, and did.
I went across the room and unplugged the set. It fell silent. I went back and collapsed on the bed. I put my head in the crook of my arm.
At that moment, the clock radio by the bed went off. I guess the person who stayed in the room before me had set it. The radio was still tuned to Mom’s radio show, so there was Mom’s voice, filling my hotel room.
“Are you being nice to yourself?” she asked.
I reached over and I pulled the radio plug out of the wall. I can’t believe it. Here I am, trying to get together with the girl of my dreams, but she’s standing me up, and my sister and my mother are practically stalking me. In my next life I want to be a fish so I can hide underwater and not talk to anyone.
Dec. 28, 8:35 A.M.
Still no Sophie. I feel like such a loser.
I think what I might have to do this morning is call her house in Maine and see if she’s there.
If her parents answer, I’m hanging up.
(Still Dec. 28, 8:44 A.M.)
Okay, so I just called her house in Maine, and guess what? There was no answer. I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling my heart pounding, and listening to a phone ring like, thousands of miles away. My finger was above the clicker ready to hang up that second in case her father answered the phone, but it just rang and rang. There wasn’t even an answering machine, which is pretty weird. But I guess nothing about Sophie is what I expected.
So I’m back in the Twilight Zone, I guess.
What do I do now? Should I sit around the hotel room all day, waiting for the phone to ring? Should I go lie by the pool and just check my messages every once in a while? Should I find Thorne and head home?
If I had any brains I’d pick option number three.
(Still Dec. 28, 11 A.M.)
So I just called Dr. LaRue. I dialed his “after hours” number, and I was thinking, Wow, if I’m calling Dr. LaRue I’m probably in more trouble than I’m admitting to myself. Still, it felt good to have somebody I could call.
So I told the doctor what was going on and he didn’t seem surprised at all. It was almost as if getting myself into this stupid situation was exactly what he expected from me.
“Do you want me to come up there and get you, Jonah?” he offered. I thought that was a pretty generous thing for Dr. LaRue to say, especially considering that I usually treat him like he’s an idiot.
“No, I’m okay. Thorne’ll give me a ride home,” I said.
“Do you want me to call your mom for you?” he said.
That was the last thing I wanted. “No, I’m really all right,” I insisted. “I just thought I should talk to somebody. This is all pretty weird.”
“It sounds like you’re feeling disappointed, Jonah,” Dr. LaRue said.
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“Why do you think you’re disappointed?” he asked me.
“Because Sophie turned out to be such a flake. Because she said she’d meet me here and instead I’m just lying around this hotel room and I’m totally bored.”
“Those are good reasons,” said Dr. LaRue. In the background, I thought I heard water running. I wondered what he was doing. Did he have the phone in the bathroom with him? “Are there other reasons you’re disappointed?” he asked. “Besides being disappointed with Sophie?”
The water kept tinkling quietly in the background and I thought, Whoa. Don’t tell me Dr. LaRue is peeing while he’s talking to me?
“Jonah?” Dr. LaRue said.
“I’m here.” That fluid sound was still going and I was starting to feel pissed off at Dr. LaRue for not concentrating on me. He should have just put the phone down. He could have said, Excuse me for a moment, Jonah, or something. I’d have waited. It’s not like I had a whole lot else to do.
The toilet flushed. I couldn’t believe it. My shrink peed while he was talking to me. How nasty is that?
“I asked you if there are other reasons you’re disappointed,” Dr. LaRue said.
“Yeah. I’m disappointed in myself,” I said. I knew it was what he wanted me to say. I just wanted to get off the phone.
“Good, Jonah,” he said. “Good.”
“So what are you going to do now?” I heard water rushing in the sink. The doc was washing his hands now. I’d had enough of this.
“You know what I’m going to do?” I said, and then I hung up on him.
I went over to the mirror hanging above the shiny hotel dresser and I took a good look at myself.
“You know what I’m going to do?” I said again. “I’m going to the Magic Kingdom.”
(Still Dec. 28, 4:30 P.M.)
Okay. Back now from a long day in the Magic Kingdom. I left the hotel and got a shuttle bus over to the park, and by noon I was there.
I love Disney World. Either I forgot how much I loved it when I was a kid or maybe now I just have a whole new perspective on things, but being there really lifted my spirits. The very first thing I did was to go to the Haunted House, which was always my favorite when I was little. It was so cool! I almost forgot about Sophie and this stupid situation I’m in. Even waiting in line was cool. I’d forgotten what that was like, too, how you spend hours in the Magic Kingdom just standing around. It gave me time to think. Actually it gave me time to not think. And then when we got into the Haunted House there was the cool trick where you get into the “locked room,” which is really an elevator, and the pictures on the wall start to grow and the next thing you know, you’re moving on those little cars and going through the mansion. There is so much to look at, you can’t see it all. And I love the disembodied heads singing in the graveyard.
Anyway, this bizarre thing happened. As I was going through the big haunted ballroom, for just a second my car spun around and I saw, in a car a few rows ahead of me, Posie and her sister Caitlin! They didn’t see me, and a second later my car spun into a different position again, and I wasn’t even sure it was them.
I
thought about how I’d seen Posie at the UCF party, and I wondered if she’d run into Thorne when he went back to the party after dropping me off. I could imagine Posie and Molly Beale sitting down on a couch together, talking about me. About what a jerk I am.
Anyway, when my car was on its way out we passed through the kind of funny place where you can see yourself in a mirror and there’s a ghost in your car, and I was surprised by my own reflection. I looked so miserable I didn’t even recognize myself at first.
Then I got out and went over to the Pirates of the
Okay, it’s about five minutes later and the phone just rang. It was Thorne.
“UCF is wild, Jonahman. Out of control. College is going to be one big stinkin’ party,” he said.
“Listen, Thorne, I gotta ask you. Did you see Posie at the party when you got back? Was she still there?”
“Posie? Nah. She’d taken off. I tell you though, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if some of the chicks at our school learned some of the things that these UCF chicks know.”
“Like what?” I said.
“Like crazy stuff you’re too young to know about, Mr. Studly. Anyway, listen, Jonah. I’m not gonna meet you at the hotel tonight, okay? I’m into some serious business here,” he said.
“What do you mean, serious?” I said.
“Serious!” said Thorne, but the way he said it, it didn’t sound very serious.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
Then there was a pause, and Thorne said, “Sophie never called, did she?”
“No,” I said. I almost felt like crying.
Thorne sighed. “Well, the hell with her. Even if she calls you now, I wouldn’t talk to her. You can’t be jumping through hoops like a trained seal, all right my man? You have to let her know you won’t stand for this BS, dude.”
“Yeah, I guess,” was all I said. After that, I hung up.
Now I’m back to writing and waiting for room service to show up with a plate of nachos I can’t afford.
After the Haunted House I went over to Pirates of the Caribbean. I’ve always loved the pirate ship and the fire, but I’d forgotten about that one guy who chases the pirate wench girl around and around in a circle. I was like, look that’s me! I keep going around and around in a circle and no matter how close I get, the girl keeps running in the other direction.
I remember walking up to Sophie this one time when she was sitting in the art room, painting. She looked like she was crying, or trying not to. And the painting was of a blond girl standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump off. I didn’t know what to say, but I wanted to say something.
“Who’s going to save her?” I said, finally.
And Sophie said in this really dreamy sad voice, “No one can, she has to jump.”
I think maybe that was when I fell in love with her, because I wanted to be the one to save her. And in a way, that’s exactly what did happen. I saved her from Sullivan.
I guess I like saving people—not that it’s ever gotten me anywhere.
I remember one time when Honey and I were about the same age as when we went looking for Toby’s grave, we were swimming at the public swimming pool and it was really crowded. It was a humid summer day, and we were playing Marco Polo in the water. These bigger kids were throwing a Frisbee around above our heads. Anyway, I was stumbling around the pool blindfolded saying, “Marco,” and Honey was saying “Polo.” Of course, even then she was a genius and no matter how close I thought I was, the next time she said “Polo” she was in a totally different place.
And then I heard this kind of clunking sound, and I said, “Marco,” and nobody said anything back. So I said, “Marco,” again and nobody said anything. I felt scared all of a sudden, so I pulled off the blindfold and there was Honey, kind of floating in the water. I think the big kids’ Frisbee had hit her on the side of her head and it just knocked her cold. The lifeguard didn’t even notice. He was just this big kid with a zinc-oxide nose sleeping in his chair.
So I pulled Honey over to the shallow end and laid her on the stairs, and I was about to try to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when she kind of came around. I guess she figured out pretty quickly what had happened, because she dove down under the water and swam over to the deep end and ripped the Frisbee out of this one guy’s hand and smacked him on the head with it.
That’s the only time I ever rescued anybody besides Sophie. It’s funny, I don’t know if Honey even remembers that. I’ll have to ask her about it sometime when she isn’t being too obnoxious. But it’ll probably be like that story about Toby’s grave—I bet Honey remembers it a totally different way. I wonder how Sophie remembers that night after the dance when I saved her from Sullivan. She probably has a completely different take on it.
I wonder if Betsy Donnelly was right when she tried to warn me off Sophie. I never responded to that letter she wrote me, which was kind of mean, I guess. I just didn’t want to hear bad stuff about Sophie.
I wonder what Betsy would think if I called her up right now. I have a perfect excuse, too, since here I am getting stood up by Sophie, and Betsy knew all along she couldn’t be trusted.
Okay, I just dialed the number in the Masthead girls’ dorm and the phone is ringing. Betsy’s e-mail said she was staying there over Christmas break, which is really kind of sad, actually. The phone is still ringing.
Betsy’s going to answer the phone in a minute. “Sophie didn’t show?” she’ll say.
“Nope,” I’ll say. “But I was wondering if you could make it down here, Bets. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” she’ll say. Then she’ll hop the next plane and knock on my door and we’ll watch pay-per-view all night and lie around and take showers.
Now it’s a few seconds later. A girl answered the phone.
It was Sophie’s voice!
“Hello?” I said. “Sophie?”
“Sophie?” the voice said, and this time it didn’t sound like her. “You’ve got the wrong number, okay?”
“Sophie, is that you?”
“Don’t call back here again! I’m not kidding!” she said, and the line went dead.
And now I’m lying here wondering if that really was Sophie who answered the phone. Maybe she stayed there over Christmas, too. Or maybe it was Betsy, or a wrong number, or maybe I’m freaking out.
I think I need to get out of here, but someone’s knocking on the door.
I’m not getting too excited. It’s just my nachos.
(Still Dec. 28, 9 P.M.)
Now I’m down in the bar eating pretzels.
I don’t know. I guess I’ve been made a fool of. Or, as Pops Berman says, a “total idiot.”
But maybe it’s all for the best, because I think I’m beginning to come to my senses and realize how stupid this all was. I need to concentrate on reality from now on, on diving and getting through this school year and senior year and applying to college. I can’t be mooning around about some girl who doesn’t even take me seriously, who thinks I’m just some joker she can lie to.
I wonder what Mom’s going to be like next year, with Honey gone to Harvard. Is it going to be hard for her, with her daughter out of the house? In a way, I can almost forgive Mom for acting like such a freak these days. These are freaky times.
I guess I can almost forgive everybody. Life is so damned complicated, it’s amazing more people don’t just flip out.
I still keep thinking about Pops Berman, and that girl he was in love with. I hope Pops is okay when I get back.
Dec. 29, 6:30 A.M.
Okay, I’m up, and I’m down in the hotel restaurant. I just finished a stack of pancakes after what was maybe the most bizarre night of my life. It’s happened. I’ve seen her.
Wait, I want to make sure I get this all down exactly right.
Okay. It started about one A.M. last night, when the phone rang in my room.
“Jonah?”
“It’s me,” I said. “Soph
ie?”
“Yes, it’s Sophie,” she said.
“Sophie! My God, where are you?” I nearly shouted.
It was really her this time. No fooling.
“We’re at the Dolphin. I got mixed up, you know? Porpoise, Dolphin, whatever. Are you okay?” she said. She didn’t sound especially worried or sorry about the mix-up.
“Yeah, I’m great,” I said. But I was also thinking, Well, it would have been nice if you’d called earlier.
“Can I come over there?” Sophie asked me. She was kind of whispering, and I wondered if she was trying to have this conversation while her parents were asleep in the same room with her. Or her little sister or someone.
“Sure,” I said. “Now?” I looked at the clock.
“Yeah. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Is that okay? What room are you in?”
“I’m in 201-J.”
“Okay. I’ll be right over.”
And then, at one-forty A.M., Sophie O’Brien walked into my room. She knocked softly and I opened the door and there she was—Sophie. Her hair was just as I remembered it, maybe a little longer.
“Jonah?” she said uncertainly. “Jonah Black?”
She wasn’t sure it was me. I nodded. It was me all right.
She reached out and hugged me. The door swung shut and she pressed herself against me, this amazing girl with her body against mine. Then she tilted her head back and our lips found each other and we kissed for a long time. It was like a glass of lemonade on the hottest day of summer. It was like a blast of cold wind on top of a mountain. It was like chocolate and loud music and doing a triple somersault off the high board.
We made our way over to the bed and I sat down on the end of it and looked at her. She was wearing a thin little sundress, white with faint yellow stripes on it, and it was dotted all over with these red bursts of color, like flowers or fireworks or something. I could see her blue bra through the silky material. Her hair was full of color, too—mostly blond, but with a few reddish-brown streaks. She wasn’t wearing any makeup except for this rose-colored lipstick, and she was kind of nervously twisting her long hair into a braid over one shoulder.
