"Take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable." He kicked off his own flip-flops and bounced over to the fridge, then he handed Hannah and me each a bottle of hard lemonade.
"Thanks so much," Hannah said. "This is so refreshing!" She took a long drink. Did she even realize it was alcohol?
I sipped mine and looked at all the different patterns on the guy's sheets: racecars, bold stripes, plaid flannel, Scooby-Doo.
"You like my sheets?" he asked.
"They're interesting." I looked at him real quick, but he was staring at Hannah and bouncing on the mattresses.
"I'm the only guy in the house with a true bed room. Get it?" He laughed. "Everyone calls it the orgy room."
Hannah snapped back to herself. "That's so funny. Well, we should go find our friend George Eliot."
"Like the author?" The guy stopped bouncing on his mattress. "That's a lot to live up to."
"He has crazy librarian parents," Hannah said.
"But George Eliot was a woman—"
"Uh, it's a—a nickname." Hannah backed out of the room. "Thanks for the lemonade and all."
"Yeah, thanks." I turned and followed her.
"Wait, guys. I haven't showed you the best part."
Hannah ran down the hallway laughing, and we took the stairs two at a time to the living room.
"Can you believe that guy? And how silly am I? The only name I could think of was George Eliot—it's on my summer-reading list, but I obviously haven't started the thing. Ugh!"
"You know you're not drinking lemonade, right?"
"I figured that out. I'm so stupid, duh, but I'm also super thirsty. Just this once?" She took a deep cleansing breath as if that made up for breaking her no-alcohol rule. "We'll stay for a long time."
"Oh, goody." I gathered my hair into a ponytail and fanned my neck. So much was changing this summer—Megan downing the chocolatinis, and now Hannah gulping hard lemonade. Not that they'd gone crazy-wild, but I could suddenly see them becoming popular senior year—invited to all the parties, proms, and stuff—and leaving me behind. My friends had blossomed big and bold like the flowers on the Katie Bakes! van, while I struggled like the weeds in the middle of a cracked driveway.
We stood in the crowded living room watching other people party. I wanted to go back home, mope about Tyler, and maybe watch out of my mom's bedroom window for his car to drive past after the cinema club's Italian romance night. Megan hadn't even tried to convince me to come with them, but she did manage to mention that they were going to the Macaroni Grill for dinner first. Like on another real date.
I was on the verge of giving up on Tyler. Who needed the aggravation? But I didn't have anyone to take his place. Wooster Tom acted nice, winning that snake and everything, but he never asked for my phone number or even my last name. And Gideon. I hadn't seen him during my last delivery; I heard him playing the violin and his mom had said something like "Gideon loves the German chocolate cake." Maybe I could disguise myself as a German chocolate cake and let his lips nibble me all over. Okay, that's sick.
"The band's on in five minutes," some guy yelled.
People filed downstairs to the basement, so Hannah and I shrugged at each other and followed. Some guy squeezed my butt on the stairway; I turned around to give him the Look, but he turned his head away fast like he hadn't done anything. Mature college guys, my ass. Literally!
"Alex loves music. Maybe he'll be down here." Hannah shimmied through the crowd and disappeared into the darkness while I kept my back to the wall in case Ass Grabber lurked nearby. The basement smelled like the inside of an alcoholic's stomach with the added stench of stale cigarette smoke. I set my lemonade on the floor; I wanted to have all my faculties in this situation or else I'd end up in the orgy room making it with some guy who still had Scooby-Doo sheets. Not my idea of a first romantic experience. Orgy-Room guy definitely did not make it on the worthiness scale! I'd rather die a virgin.
I stood on my tippy-toes and found Hannah near the stage talking to someone, hands flying about like they do when she's excited. Had she found Alex from Church? Ass Grabber stood a few feet in front of me, talking to some older girl's boobs. Is this what I had to look forward to? Maybe I'd just skip the college scene and go straight to living in some depressing Irish hotel, giving piano lessons, and falling in love with a bottle of whiskey. Orgy-Room Guy came down the stairs and handed hard lemonade to a girl with curly red hair. She reached up and kissed his cheek. Who could be that desperate? She even had a great nose!
Someone shoved me aside as he made his way to the stage, making me stumble into the wall; lukewarm lemonade spilled over my toes. The lights went out. The speakers whined with a high-pitched squeak.
"Sorry about that," a deep voice said.
I felt the music booming in my chest like a heartbeat on steroids. Sound vibrated throughout the room, and a spotlight shone on a disco ball spinning from the ceiling. The guy with the deep voice started singing about feeling alone and looking for love—a basic anthem of angst. Where the hell was Hannah? Did she ditch me? I couldn't exactly call my mom and ask her to pick me up at a frat party. She'd freak. And my summer of passion would be over. Maybe it was already over. Maybe getting grounded could give me a good excuse for being so lame in love. I could spend all my evenings with Tommy the Rodeo Carnival snake. Oh, God, Jory. That sounds so phallic. I inched along the wall toward the stage, knocking a few more beverages onto my feet. My flip-flops stuck to the floor with every step. Sexy!
The song ended and soft red lighting lit the stage.
"Our next song is about a girl," Deep-Voice Guy said.
A guy playing an electric violin walked onto the stage. Gideon! His hair flopped over his closed eyes as he whipped his bow back and forth over the strings. I felt all fluttery inside as the violin mixed with the drums and guitar. The singer's voice purred seductively as he told a story about a girl who made him warm just by smiling but didn't realize it. I closed my eyes, swayed to the rhythm of the violin, and pretended that Gideon played the song just for me.
Someone grabbed my butt.
"Hey, there." Ass Grabber blew yeasty beer breath into my face. He reached over to grab my boob, but I smacked his hand away. "What's wrong?"
I didn't say anything but tried to squeeze past him to get away.
The song ended and Deep-Voice Guy said something about Gideon. People clapped. Ass Grabber loomed over me, trapping me against the wall. "Isn't this why you high school girls come to frat parties?"
I stomped on his foot, but he wore thick sneakers. Or maybe he was too drunk to notice, or to care. He clamped his hand on my arm. "What's wrong? Aren't I enough of a pretty boy for you, girlie?" He put his face near mine and wiggled his tongue out. I turned away, tears in my eyes. Oh, God. Was this really happening? An icy shock of panic streaked through my body. I wanted to scream for Hannah, but she wouldn't be able to hear me. No one seemed to notice me.
People jumped up and down to the fast song the band played next. A spotlight flashed around the room, blinding me every few seconds. The guy wouldn't move. I struggled against him, but he pressed into me harder. I closed my eyes tight and screamed as loud as I could, barely hearing myself above the music, laughter, and talking. My whole head filled with noise.
Someone shoved the guy away from me. Ass Grabber whipped around with his fist held high. "What the—"
"Leave my friend alone!" Hannah yelled.
Ass Grabber scowled.
Hannah pulled back her hand. "Move or I'll karate chop your balls."
"You pathetic little tease." Ass Grabber shoved me against the wall before he walked away.
I started crying with blubbery, snot-producing sobs. "I'm so stupid."
"I shouldn't have left you alone." Hannah put her arm around me. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. Let me run and tell Alex that we're leaving."
I wiped my nose with my arm and nodded. "Promise to hurry?"
"Of course."
As I watched Hannah m
aneuver toward the stage, I saw Gideon talking to a group of girls in front of me. One of them draped her arm over his shoulder and talked right into his ear. I sucked a bunch of snot back into my nose and tried to look normal; I smiled, as if that could mask feeling so dirty. I still felt that guy's hands all over me, and I rubbed my arms hard to feel something different.
Gideon noticed me and raised his eyebrows. I waved. Just barely. I wanted to look friendly, but I didn't want him to talk to me. I'm too disgusting, I thought.
The room went dark again, but the band flipped on some black lights. The Pillsbury Doughboy on my shirt glowed. So did a smear of snot on my arm. I wiped it against my jeans as Gideon walked over to me. The band started another slow song. Orgy-Room Guy danced as close as you can get with the red-haired girl. I turned away, glancing quickly at Gideon before focusing on a glowing spot on the wall behind him.
"You sounded great," I said in a fake cheerful voice that sounded way too much like Mom's.
Gideon shrugged. "Having a good time?" He stared at me, but the black lights made it impossible to read his expression.
I didn't trust my voice, so I nodded my head up and down in time to the music, then stared at the floor. Little bits of things glowed all over the place. A torn beer label. A smooshed piece of gum. The white threads on Gideon's jeans. His toes. Toes? I looked at my feet. The little white flowers on my flip-flops glowed, but not my toes. I looked back at Gideon's feet. He wore flip-flops, too. And his toenails definitely glowed, like casino lights. All ten of them!
"So you and that guy—"
I glanced up at his face, still so hidden in the dark. Was he talking about Ass Grabber?
"Guy?" Again I moved to the beat of the music, wanting to pretend the whole Ass Grabber thing had never happened. "What guy?"
Gideon turned his head toward the wall as he said something, but the music overpowered his voice, so I focused on his toes. As he spoke, his glowing toenails wiggled up and down, flashing like a marquee advertising showgirls or has-been lounge singers.
I started giggling.
"What?" Gideon asked.
"Your toenails are glowing!" Laughter bubbled through me.
Our heads kind of bumped as we both looked down at his feet. Gideon stumbled, trying to cover one foot with the other, making me laugh harder.
The black lights clicked off with the last note of the song, and even though I caught a hurt look on Gideon's face before the room darkened again, I couldn't stop laughing about his glowing toes. I received more than a few nasty stares when my guffaws continued to echo around the room while the singer started in on a slow ballad.
"I hope you're not the one driving." He kicked a cup, splashing beer against the wall.
All I could think to say was "I haven't been drinking. Much. And I'm a good driver. Sort of."
Gideon tossed his hair as if sweeping away dirt. "See you around."
Hannah finally showed up and hunched her shoulders questioningly as she looked from me to Gideon, who shot away like a kicked beer cup. I just shook my head.
I'm such a loser. Only drunk guys like Ass Grabber and the Gold Dust West Stalker Guy could like me.
Chapter Eleven
JULY: DOWN DOGS AND CABBAGE SOUP
Hannah unrolled her pink yoga mat on the shiny wooden floor. She practically vibrated with excitement about my desire to try yoga as my newfound passion. She'd been into yoga since she first got diagnosed with scoliosis.
"It saved me, Jory. All that teasing, you know. I totally found myself with yoga. You will learn to love your body."
I held my sticky blue mat from the free-for-you-to-use basket and wondered when it had last been cleaned. Who had sweated all over this thing?
People, mostly old people, in comfy yoga pants and snug tops wandered into the room. I wore my stupid RHS gym shorts and a baggy Monterey Bay Aquarium T-shirt with a whale wrapping around the back of it. I felt kind of like a whale. One small bowl of Mom's Cabbage Soup Diet concoction had packed me with so much gas that I could probably float.
"So, you're being evasive." Hannah stretched her arms above her head. "Do you like that guy with the big nose or what?"
"Gideon. He has a name, you know." I hate it when people describe someone as having a big nose. Freshman year I had a major argument with Megan over Barbra Streisand's nose. And elephants are my favorite animals.
"Well, do you? Like him?"
"I don't know. He seems nice, but he's most definitely not interested in me." I snapped my mat down on the floor and stepped onto it. "Ew. I think I'll get another mat. This one is all sticky."
"They're supposed to be sticky, silly." Hannah sat on her mat cross-legged. "So you don't slide around during the poses."
Hannah took a few deep breaths.
"Oh." I sat down on the mat and decided I would shower again after class.
"So how many times have you seen him? And didn't he, like, get kicked out of school?"
All of a sudden she's interested in analyzing my lack of a love life! If this yoga thing worked out, I planned on traveling to the headwaters of the Ganges, wasting away to ninety pounds, living alone with my spiritually awakened self, and being okay with dying a virgin after I turned 117. Only a hundred years to go.
"Jor—"
"We've had exactly two conversations, but I've heard him play the violin three times, including, you know, the other night." I closed my eyes and shook away the memory without even thinking.
"Oh, Jory. Yoga will totally help you release all the tension from the other night." Hannah rolled her head in a slow circle. "What did your mom say?"
"About the Ass Grabber? I didn't exactly tell her." I hadn't even let myself think about it because it felt so dirty. I wanted to forget the whole thing. Nothing really happened anyway, right? Still, I kept waking up in the middle of the night after dreaming about being trapped in a fire; I never dreamed about Ass Grabber, but it was like I knew he was lurking in the flames. Yesterday I felt all panicky when I had to deliver a bouquet of flowers up near UNR. Maybe I'd have to study harder senior year so I could go to school out of state after all. No matter what, my new nose would have a big brute of a boyfriend who wouldn't let anyone near my butt.
I could tell that Hannah was working on some kind of speech, but the yoga teacher came into the room, dimmed the lights, turned on some weird chanting music, and told us to stand at the front of our mats.
I let a tiny bit of gas escape.
"Bring your hands to your heart center and find your breath." Find my breath? A bunch of people started gasping as if suffocating. I glanced at Hannah to make a joke, but she did it too. No way was I making that noise in public. Instead, I farted. Quietly.
Next, Yoga Lady had us face toward the windows and do sun salutations to, quote, "honor the beauty of the day." Sun salutations apparently involve a lot of toe touches. My big T-shirt kept flopping over my nose, making my giant nostrils blow hot air all around my face. Hannah's body practically bent in half, but my fingers barely touched the mat. Even this old geezer man next to me placed his hands flat on the ground.
We went up and down a few times, moving into this position called Down Dog. It looked easy to put your hands and feet on the ground and stick your butt in the air, but I wanted to die. Let us stop, I wanted to scream. My hands and arms hurt as I pressed into the mat.
Yoga Lady complimented everyone on their beautiful poses but came over and lifted my hips up. A little puff of gas escaped. Could she smell it? Oh, God, this is so embarrassing.
"Is that better?" Yoga Lady kind of turned away. Oh, God, she smelled it. Serves her right for singling me out in front of everyone as the sucky new student.
I tilted my head and looked at the geezer next to me. His giant, hairy bare feet stood flat on the ground! The guy was my grandpa's age probably. Finally Yoga Lady told us to walk to the front of the mat and touch our toes again. My legs wobbled with weakness and I felt like crying, for some strange reason. Hannah had told me yoga wo
uld relax me. Liar! She had gone on and on about how professional athletes and movie stars did yoga. So how come everyone in this room looked like they lived in a retirement village? How could my passion be something that made me feel weak and extra klutzy and didn't even involve cute boys?
Next, we did balancing poses. I teetered on one leg, tipping over as I tried to do the flamingo thing called Tree. Even the old ladies could do it!
"Sometimes we blow in the wind." Yoga Lady, or, rather, the Sunny Sadist, looked right at me. "We're working toward rooting ourselves in the ground."
Everyone knew she was talking about me. Blowing in the wind. Worst of all, I was still blowing wind—little puff-puff farts poisoned the air around me. I hoped people were thinking that Hairy-Feet Geezer had done it, but then he scooted his mat up a couple of feet from me. Even Hannah gave me a strange look. I could just see it. Caughlin Rancher headline: "Yoga Class Evacuated After Jory Michaels Fumigates the Place with Cabbage Soup Gas; Three People Hospitalized." Okay, maybe not.
I fell on my butt when the Sunny Sadist told us to do this pretzel-type move. No one laughed, but almost everyone looked at me. Hannah gave me one of her sympathetic closed-mouth smiles. I'd show her! Squeezing my butt gas-trapping tight, I made myself do the twisty thing even though my leg shook as if hurricane-force winds blasted through the room.
The Sunny Sadist told us we could retreat into Child's Pose at any time. She came over, tapped me on the shoulder with her light-as-a-feather touch, and told me to find my breath. I let out a gasp of air; I hadn't realized that I'd been holding it in. She plopped down on the floor and showed me how to fold up like a sleeping baby. Everyone else did the pretzel pose on the other leg. No one looked at me.
"Breathe," she whispered.
Two big tears plunked down on the mat and I had to stifle one big snuffle before I started thinking about how I should've punched that damn Ass Grabber in the balls.
"Focus on the breath," the Sunny Sadist said. "Keep your mind clear as you do the inversion pose of your choice."
My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters Page 8
