Run, Jonah, Run

by Jonah Black

  “Sorry,” I said. “I got lost.”

  “Get out of here,” he growled. He looked like he wanted to eat me.

  “Oh, Jeremy, leave him alone,” said the girl. “He said he got lost.”

  “I said get out of my boat,” said Jeremy. He stood up and started pushing me and a second later I fell out of the boat and went splash into the It’s a Small World river.

  I must have landed funny or something because for a second I thought I was going to drown. For a varsity diver that would have been pretty pathetic. I didn’t drown, but by the time I got my head above water, another boat was bearing down on me. I surfaced just long enough to see this boat full of teenage girls looking at me with their eyes popping out of their heads.

  Then they mowed me down. I heard the girls scream, and a noise like ufff as I fell down into the water. The sound, I realized, had come out of my own mouth.

  I knew my arm was broken right away. There wasn’t a lot of debate about it. I got my bearings and stood up, neck-deep in the water, and looked up to see yet another one of those stupid boats, again filled with screaming girls.

  They sailed right over me, crushing my arm once more. I wondered if I was going to die that way in It’s a Small World, getting run over again and again by teenage girls.

  But then the ride stopped again, and the voice on the loudspeaker said, “Attention—please remain in your boats. This attraction is being paused for a moment while we assist one of our visitors.”

  Then these five huge guys showed up. They looked like the secret service. Disney cops.

  “Okay, son,” said the biggest one. “Let’s get you out of the water.”

  (Still Dec. 30, 4:56 P.M.)

  I probably don’t need to bring this up to date on much more than that. The big guys got me out of the water and they were pretty angry until they saw that my arm was broken. Then I was taken to a special clinic somewhere in Disney World through this series of underground tunnels to a doctor who set my arm. I guess I passed out somewhere along the way, which isn’t surprising because my arm was killing me and I’d nearly drowned. Anyway, when I woke up, I was in an armchair in the Disney clinic wearing the cast. And it was signed, “Marry me, Jonah. All my love forever.”

  “Who signed it?” I asked the nurse.

  “Your girlfriend,” she said.

  “Sophie?” I said. I described her. The nurse shook her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t here when the girl came in.” She looked at me like I was a naughty boy. “Did you propose to her?”

  I wasn’t sure what I’d done. “Yeah,” I said for the hell of it. “I guess.”

  The nurse sighed. “That’s so romantic!” Then she looked angry with me, in a motherly sort of way. “Of course, you’re not supposed to leave the boats,” she said. “You put yourself in real danger, Mr. Black. You could have gotten hurt!”

  “I did get hurt,” I said.

  “Exactly,” said the nurse, as if she were proud to have pointed out the obvious.

  “What time is it?” I asked her.

  “Three-fifteen,” she said.

  “Can I go?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She escorted me out of the clinic, and about a half hour later I was waiting in front of the Porpoise for Thorne, who for once in his life was not late. He pulled up in his Beetle and honked. When he saw my cast, he laughed.

  “Good boy, Jonah,” he said. “I knew you’d land her.”

  “I thought you’d be proud,” I said.

  “But jeez, man. Did you have to bust your arm to do it?”

  “I guess I did,” I said. I wondered if I should tell him what really happened.

  “Man,” said Thorne, shaking his head. “It’s one thing after another with you.”

  “It’s not a bad break,” I said. “They said it can come off in a month.”

  He turned on the radio. “You think you’ll get a scar out of it?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Oh, well. Too bad.” He looked over at the cast. “Marry me?” he said. “Is that what it says?”

  I nodded. “That’s what it says.”

  Thorne groaned. “I thought you said you’d landed her!”

  I felt my face growing hot. “I was going to,” I said. “But she kind of flipped out.”

  “Marry you! Goddamn! I’ll say she flipped out.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’ll get over it.”

  “I feel like I don’t even know her any better than before I met her,” I said miserably. “This whole trip was kind of a waste.”

  “Well,” Thorne said. “I wouldn’t go that far. I definitely made the most of it.”

  I didn’t answer him. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get home. Thorne pulled out onto the highway and revved up to eighty. He glanced at me. “So how’d you get the broken arm?” he said. “You gonna tell me the whole story, or what?”

  As we made our way toward home, I told him the whole miserable story. Thorne laughed and laughed, like it was hilariously funny.

  “That chick’s been eating too many Cocoa Puffs,” he said. “Where’s she going to college anyway?”

  “I don’t know. She said she looked at UCF while she was here,” I told him.

  “Yeah? You know, I’m surprised she was even thinking about UCF,” he said. “I mean the girls there are like, even crazier than she is. I was at this other party the first night we were here, and it was totally amazing. Seriously. I hooked up with like, every girl in the room, and they were all hot. Then this one chick takes me into this back room and she starts coming on to me and I’m thinking, Hello, Kitty, and just before we started really getting into it, guess what—Miss University of Central Florida starts to cry. I was so bored by that I just handed her some Kleenex and said, Come on, Barbie, let’s go party. And the next thing you know, guess what—she hits me with this ashtray. I’m lucky I didn’t wind up with a black eye. Dude, all I can say is, college girls are a little high-strung.”

  Didn’t Sophie say she met some guy at UCF that she had to hit with an ashtray? But Sophie wouldn’t be picking up guys like Thorne at a frat party, would she? I mean girls probably hit guys with ashtrays all the time at frat parties.

  It wasn’t Sophie he was about to sleep with, was it? Was it? And if she was at that party, what was she doing there when she was supposed to be with me?

  I sat there for a long time, trying to muster the guts to ask Thorne to describe the girl who’d hit him with the ashtray. But I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know.

  Anyway, I don’t know what difference his description would have made to me. All I can see when I think of Sophie is that crazed, angry expression on her face. It makes me sad that she can even look that way.

  Dec. 31, noon

  Mom is down at the radio station re-editing some of her shows so they can be run as The Best of Judith Black because she wants to take next week off. She thinks I broke my arm while I was watching a football game at UCF. I told her I fell down the bleachers when the UCF tight end made a touchdown. She smiled when she saw what was written on my cast. “You’re going to make so many new friends at college!” she said happily.

  So it’s just Honey and me at the homestead, and a little while ago the two of us were sitting around the kitchen table. Honey has been drinking cup after cup of coffee. She’s trying to quit smoking, and instead has decided to become a caffeine addict.

  I decided to tell Honey absolutely everything that happened when I was in Orlando. She’s bound to find out anyway. I wish I hadn’t though, because I didn’t really like what she had to say about it.

  “You want to know what I think, Liverwurst?” Honey asked me.

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway,” I said.

  “I think your Sophie is a wacko freak.”

  “You think so?” I said.

  “I know so,” said Honey. “Like, every time you were about to dive into the ocean blue, she bursts into tears? What’s tha
t all about?”

  “I don’t know. It is weird, though,” I admitted.

  “It’s more than weird, big brother. It’s nuts. If I were you, I’d be glad I got her out of my system,” Honey said.

  I just sat there thinking about this while she made herself some more instant coffee. She shook the crystals into a glass and added hot water from the tap.

  “Oh, no,” she said, looking at me. She picked up a pencil and started wapping the eraser end against the table. “You’re not.”

  “I’m not what?”

  “You’re not over her.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know what I am.”

  “Oh, you moron,” she said. “You’re more in love with her than ever, now, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged again.

  She snapped her fingers in front of my eyes. “Snake Lips. Wake up. You better get over this girl. Can’t you see she’s out of her mind?”

  “She’s not out of her mind. She just needs someone who will listen to her,” I said.

  “Yeah, like a goddamned psychiatrist.”

  I shrugged. As far as I was concerned the conversation was over.

  “Jonah.” Honey took my hand and squeezed it hard. “You don’t mind if I call you Jonah, do you?”

  “If you let go of my hand you can.”

  She didn’t let go of my hand. “I am trying to tell you something, so I am holding your little hand so you will pay attention. Are you paying attention?”

  I nodded. Honey squeezed my hand even harder. It hurt.

  “This girl of yours from Maine?” she said.

  She leaned very close to my ear as if to whisper. Then she shouted at the top of her lungs. “She’s a goddamned psycho!!!!!!!”

  “Ow,” I said.

  “Like, hello??? Might it have been more obvious if she had a sign around her head that says, I’M A WALKING PSYCHO? Like, somehow she convinces you to do her inside of It’s a Small World, which is probably like, this big insane fantasy she’s had all her life—having sex to that song. Then Miss Nutcase starts bawling, and takes off, leaving you inside the ride to break your arm. Then she signs your cast and asks you to marry her while you’re unconscious. Then she disappears again. Jesus Christ, kid, my advice? RUN, DON’T WALK!!!!”

  Honey let go of my hand. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too subtle.”

  I rubbed my sore fingers. “I know she’s a little different,” I said. “But she said something else, too. She said she owed me—like our fates are intertwined somehow, and since I did her this big favor last year someday she’s going to do me a favor, too. Like, to pay me back.”

  “Androcles and the lion,” Honey said.

  “What?”

  “Androcles and the lion. An Aesop’s fable. You know it, Pinhead. The lion with a thorn in his paw, guy saves him, later guy is in the Colosseum, lion decides not to eat him. It’s a classic.”

  “Sophie’s not a lion,” I said.

  “Maybe not, but she’s not just ‘a little different,’ either. I’m telling you, Frankfurter, she is one sick chick. Forget about her,” advised Honey. “Hey, even if your fates are intertwined, or whatever. The hell with her. There are a lot of girls whose fates you can intertwine with. The world’s full of them.”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of haunted by her or something,” I said.

  “Of course you’re haunted by her. That’s just what she wants, Pork Chop! I’ve seen this act again and again, that’s what these little psycho chicks want—for you to be thinking about them all the time. She’s got no intention of having sex with anybody, all she does is get people right up to the pearly gates and then she starts crying. As long as you’re thinking about her, she can keep treating you like dirt. Listen, Clammy, if she really thought your fates were connected, she wouldn’t keep taking off on you. It’s an act! And what about the fact that when you asked about other guys she didn’t give you a straight answer? I know it’s hard because you’re a little squish-head, but if you don’t put this psycho-babe behind you, you’re going nowhere fast. And that would be seriously lame-o. You know why? Because that chick Sophie is a great big FAKE.”

  Honey finished her coffee, then got up and shook more crystals into her glass. She ran it under the hot water tap. “Hey, you want some coffee?” she said. “As long as I’m up?”

  I just sat there shaking my head. The horrible thing is that I’m pretty sure Honey is right. I guess I’m going nowhere fast.

  (Still Dec. 31, 3:35 P.M.)

  I just got back from a bike ride around Pompano. I went over to the beach and climbed up the lifeguard tower. I was kind of hoping Pops Berman would be there, but he wasn’t. I biked over to Niagara Towers and rang his bell. No answer.

  I’m beginning to have a bad feeling about Pops.

  (Still Dec. 31, later)

  Just got off the phone with Thorne. The weird thing is, it’s New Year’s Eve and I don’t have any plans. Everyone’s doing their own thing tonight. Thorne is going off to some party at Elanor Brubaker’s house. He invited me, but I said no. Honey is going to hook up with Smacky Platte, who’s had a relapse. And Mom and Mr. Bond—I mean Robere—are having dinner at the Lobster Pot. They invited me, too, but I politely declined.

  Which leaves me on my own. I still feel pretty lousy about Pops. It’s as if I’ve let him down somehow.

  I also feel kind of lousy about myself. I’ve spent the last month in this blue haze, like living in a land of make-believe. I mean I don’t think it’s wrong to spend your time thinking about a girl, especially if you think you might love her. But Honey really is right about Sophie. She hasn’t been straight with me. I want to help her, I want to be her friend, but somehow the more I get to know her, the less I know her. And maybe that’s just the way she wants it.

  So now I’m lying here watching the sun reflect off of the clouds. I just picked up the telescope and looked at a single lonely cloud moving across the horizon. It made me feel even more sad. But suddenly I realized that the whole time I was watching this distant cloud and getting all melancholy about it, the obvious thing is staring me right in the face. The most important thing is not that stupid cloud, it’s this telescope Posie gave me. Posie, who really does love me, not because I did her a favor once, but because she knows me. Because she knows who I am, and has loved me my whole life.

  Now I know what I’m doing tonight. I’m spending New Year’s Eve with Posie.

  (Still Dec. 31, 5:15 P.M.)

  Except Posie isn’t home.

  AMERICA ONLINE

  INSTANT MESSAGE FROM NORTHGIRL999,

  12-31, 7:32 P.M

  NORTHGIRL999: Hi Jonah!

  JBLACK94710: Hi Northgirl.

  NORTHGIRL999: How’s it going?

  JBLACK94710: Truthfully? Lame. I think I’ve made a huge mistake.

  NORTHGIRL999: Let me guess. U spent a few days with your friend Sophie and now you realize she’s a phlegmball.

  JBLACK94710: Something like that.

  NORTHGIRL999: I’m sorry you broke your arm.

  JBLACK94710: You know about that?

  NORTHGIRL999: Hey, stupid. Who do you think signed your cast?

  JBLACK94710: What?

  NORTHGIRL999: “Marry me Jonah. All my love forever.”

  JBLACK94710: Wait, that was you? You signed my cast? Hey Northgirl, this isn’t fair. WHO ARE YOU?????

  NORTHGIRL999: That’s for me to know and you to find out.

  JBLACK94710: But when am I going to find out?

  NORTHGIRL999: You really want to know?

  JBLACK94710: Yes please.

  NORTHGIRL999: Probably never.

  JBLACK94710: Damn. I thought Sophie signed it.

  NORTHGIRL999: Are you kidding? Sophie was halfway back to Canada, or wherever she’s from before you even got out of It’s a Small World.

  JBLACK94710: This is so creepy. It’s like you’re some sort of guardian angel.

  NORTHGIRL999: Yeah, I can see how you would think it’s cre
epy. But it’s not impossible to figure out who I am. I’m someone you see all the time. You just never take me seriously. That’s what makes me invisible, you moron. The fact that you won’t see me.

  JBLACK94710: I’m sorry I haven’t guessed. You promise me you’re not Sophie? Posie? Honey? Mom? Thorne? Pops Berman?

  NORTHGIRL999: Pops who?

  JBLACK94710: Never mind.

  NORTHGIRL999: I’m not any of those people.

  JBLACK94710: Then I’m an idiot.

  NORTHGIRL999: That gets clearer every day. Hey, hope that money came in handy.

  JBLACK94710: Hey, yeah, that’s another thing. Five hundred bucks? Where did you get five hundred bucks?

  NORTHGIRL999: “Hey, yeah, that’s another thing.”

  JBLACK94710: How am I supposed to thank you? What am I supposed to do about you?

  NORTHGIRL999: Take me seriously.

  JBLACK94710: How can I take you seriously?

  NORTHGIRL999: By figuring out who I am.

  JBLACK94710: How can I do that?

  NORTHGIRL999: Yeah, well. I guess it’s like some big mystery then. So what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?

  JBLACK94710: I don’t know. I was going to try to find Posie and tell her I’m an idiot and that I’m sorry but now I can’t find her. Nobody’s home at the Hoffs’.

  NORTHGIRL999: Well I wish you would spend New Year’s with me instead.

  JBLACK94710: I wish you’d let me.

  NORTHGIRL999: No, no. You have to prove yourself worthy first.

  JBLACK94710: HOW CAN I PROVE MYSELF WORTHY IF I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE?

  JBLACK94710: HELLO?

  [Northgirl999 is not currently signed on.]

  (Still Dec. 31, 10:35 P.M.)

  I’m alone in the house, New Year’s Eve, and feeling pretty down.

  I admit to having attempted to call Sophie in Kennebunkport, but there’s no answer at their house, either. It’s like everyone I know in the universe has just disappeared.

  Of course, after abandoning me in It’s a Small World it’s kind of up to HER to contact me, right? If she’s going to do me this big favor someday, you’d think she might start by saying, “Hey, sorry I acted like such a freak.” But no.