The Infinite Noise

by Lauren Shippen

  Oh boy, there’s the first name again. That’s not a good sign.

  “Nothing,” I tell him, shaking my head a little too vigorously. The eyebrows crease toward each other. “I’m just—I’m a little distracted.”

  “I saw Caitlin talking to you before class. Did she do something to upset you?”

  “What? No. No, Caitlin’s great,” I rush to say. No need to have other people dragged into this weird mess.

  Mr. Collins is ready to pounce and ask another question and I feel the orange concern squeeze me just a little bit tighter.

  “She was asking me to the Sadie Hawkins dance,” I blurt out, panicking slightly. “So I guess I was just thinking about that.”

  The worry loosens its hold on me and I feel like I can breathe again. Mr. Collins straightens from his lean and his face breaks into a smile.

  “Ah, I see.” He smirks. “Well, I understand that it can be fun to daydream, Mr. Michaels, but please at least try to pull your mind from Ms. Park and focus on the lesson next time.”

  I open my mouth to correct him, a bit embarrassed by what he’s suggesting, but he’s emitting this pat-on-the-back understanding that’s overtaken the concern completely, so I decide to cut my losses and roll with it.

  “Right. I’ll do that, Mr. Collins.” I nod.

  “I was a teenager once, you know. I get it. Just don’t let it happen again.” He mock wags his finger and moves around to behind his desk, effectively dismissing me. I bolt.

  16

  ADAM

  “Okay, so the topic is same-sex schools.”

  “And we have to build arguments both for and against, right?” I ask, as Caitlin effortlessly twists her hair into some sort of updo. I’m sort of mesmerized by the movement. Sometimes I think girls have a completely different understanding of physics. Or maybe it’s something that anyone with long hair can do. I’d be tempted to try it for myself if my hair didn’t grow straight out, defying all laws of gravity.

  “Yep,” she confirms, “although no pro arguments are immediately leaping to my mind.” She shudders at the horror of it all.

  “What, you wouldn’t want to go to an all-girls’ school?” I ask.

  “God, no,” she scoffs. “My older sister went to one—a Catholic one at that—and the stories she would tell…” She lowers her voice and looks around as if there’s anyone else in the library (there’s not, of course). “Drugs, sex, rock and roll—the whole thing. Except, you know, not rocking and rolling. Terrible hazing and mean pranks and stuff. It sounded like a nightmare.”

  “Yikes,” I say truthfully, “that does sound rough.”

  “Yeah, she was pretty happy to graduate.” Caitlin’s eyes go wide as she digs in her bag for a pen. There are two ballpoints sitting on top of my notebook, but I can’t bring myself to offer her one. I’m still grinding my teeth over having to watch that awful courtship ritual between her and Caleb. Before she started talking to him, I could have sworn …

  Never mind. I refuse to be small and petty and jealous about this. Caitlin is smart and not unkind and nice-looking if you’re into that sort of thing and she actually did something about her crush on Caleb. I need to suck it up and be a good debate partner, even if it feels like my insides are rotting away every time I look at her perfect ponytail.

  Caitlin pulls a pen from her backpack with a victorious “Aha!” and I crack open my notebook in response.

  “But, I mean, all high school kind of sucks, right? Whether you’re with all girls or all guys, there’s always going to be some degree of conflict,” I say, pushing aside my green monster to think about how we could structure our arguments.

  “True, but I do think there’s something to be said for the different social contracts that people follow in either single-sex or mixed settings.” I watch as Caitlin transitions seamlessly from gossip mode to A-student mode. “An argument could be made for the fact that men and women behave more civilly in mixed groups in order to appeal to the opposite sex. If the factor of potential partners is taken away, a same-sex group has the capacity to slip into all of their worst inclinations. I mean, look at the whole ‘locker-room talk’ stuff or ‘boys will be boys’—that’s a direct result of the hypermasculinity that’s perpetuated in some all-male environments.”

  “Okay, that’s a good point.” I nod, my brain kicking into high gear as I work through the different pieces of her reasoning. “But couldn’t it also be argued that same-sex environments provide safe spaces in which people can be themselves because there isn’t the pressure to appeal to potential mates?”

  Caitlin smiles broadly at me.

  “I think we have the basics of each side of our argument,” she says brightly, and we both start scribbling in our notebooks. I suddenly feel energized—arguing with Caitlin is like taking a shot of espresso, in the best way.

  “Though…” Caitlin starts, sounding a little hesitant, “it should also probably be mentioned that neither of those arguments works for every individual.” She trails off and I look up from the Pro-Con table I’m drawing in my notebook to see her giving me a significant look.

  “How’s that?” I ask, a sense of dread sneaking up on me.

  “Well,” she begins awkwardly, “that logic wouldn’t necessarily apply to people who feel same-sex attraction. For instance,” she finishes, her eyes darting away from me. I do my best to hold in a massive sigh.

  “Right, yeah, that’s true,” I agree, also avoiding eye contact. “But only like, what, five percent of the US population is gay, so I don’t know how much we need to make that a part of our case.”

  “That’s fair.” She nods in a way that makes me think she probably would have agreed with whatever I had said. “But I just think it’s always good to look at every angle of an argument.”

  “Yeah, totally,” I say, looking back down at my notebook.

  For a few moments, our quiet corner of the library is filled only with the sounds of putting pen to paper. But there’s a weird tension in the air.

  “Tense” actually doesn’t seem to cover it. What’s the word for when you’re sitting at a table with someone you don’t know all that well and they maybe just implied that you’re gay and you are gay and you think they were trying to be inclusive or something but you kind of shut them down because they asked out your crush earlier and you really don’t want to be having this conversation and now there’s all this weird, unsaid stuff in the air that’s making it hard to focus on your debate prep?

  Is there a word for that?

  Before I can finish going through my mental thesaurus, Caitlin starts talking again.

  “So … do you have any plans for the Sadie Hawkins dance?” she asks, faux-casual. Why is she asking? Does she want me to ask about her plans? Oh god, I do not want to hear about whatever sock hop fantasies she has about Caleb.

  “Um, no,” I answer, not looking up, “dances aren’t really my thing.” Hopefully she’ll leave it at that.

  “Gotcha,” she says, but I don’t think she does. “A little too cool for school, are we?”

  “What?” I look up at her in surprise, but when I catch her smiling I realize she’s probably mostly kidding.

  “To your earlier point,” I deflect, trying to steer us back to debate, “isn’t Sadie Hawkins pretty … heteronormative? I wouldn’t think you’d be into the whole mandatory ‘girls ask the guys’ thing.”

  “Eh”—she shrugs one shoulder—“it’s pretty archaic, I’ll give you that. But, I don’t know, it can be a nice excuse to actually jump in and ask somebody out. Some guys still aren’t super comfortable with a girl making the first move, no matter what I feel about heteronormativity.”

  “No offense, but I don’t think you want to go out with any guys like that,” I find myself saying.

  “Ha, you’re probably right.” She tosses me that big, confident smile again and my mouth curves up involuntarily in response.

  Are Caitlin and I … bonding?

  “Hey, no offen
se—” I start.

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that in, like, thirty seconds. I’m beginning to think you do mean offense—”

  “What are you doing?” I blurt.

  “What?” I’ve rarely seen Caitlin Park confused, so the look on her face is just a tiny bit satisfying.

  “Why are we talking about boys instead of doing debate prep?”

  “Do you have something against talking about boys?”

  “You know I don’t,” I say pointedly, almost giving voice to the thing that she’s been talking around.

  “Then what’s the problem?” She asks it like I’m being ridiculous. There’s a very real chance that I am.

  “I don’t know, we’ve just never talked like this before. I’m not just all of a sudden gonna be your gay bestie.” I wince the moment I say it.

  “No one’s asking you to be, Adam,” she says defensively. “I’m just trying to be nice. You know, get to know each other a little.”

  “But why?” I feel like we’re speaking two completely different languages.

  “Because this is the first time we’ve spent any time together in three years and you’ve been in every single one of my classes and we’re constantly competing for the top spot in those classes so it seems like maybe we might have some stuff in common?” she says in one breath, exasperated. She isn’t looking at me and her face is red.

  “Oh.”

  “What, have you never talked to any of your other debate partners about non-debate stuff?” she asks, sneaking a look at me.

  “Um, no.” I think back on other debate study sessions and realize there haven’t been many. “Mostly I just do all the work and then tell everybody what part of the debate they’re taking.”

  Caitlin slumps.

  “Yeah. Me too,” she says, moping. “I thought I’d try something different.”

  “Sorry I was such a weird asshole about it,” I say.

  “It’s okay,” she says with a laugh. Dimples appear on her cheeks and my stomach turns over at the mental image of her and Caleb both laughing prettily at a dance.

  “And hey, you were right,” I concede, shaking the jealousy as best I can. “We do have something in common. We’re always the ones doing all the work for group projects.”

  “Very true.” She nods. “I think this’ll be different.” She smiles at me again like we understand each other. What a novel thought.

  “Yeah,” I agree halfheartedly. I don’t have any illusions that I’m suddenly going to become best friends with Caitlin, though thinking about it does spark a little hopefulness in me. I can’t think of the last time I made a real friend. But I have no idea how to do this.

  Apparently, Caitlin does, and is not done with the heart-to-heart portion of this program.

  “I really wasn’t trying to, you know … girl talk with you or anything.” Caitlin rolls her eyes at her own choice of words. “I just don’t see the point in spending any amount of time with someone and not learning anything about who they are.”

  I see the earnestness in her eyes and give her a small smile.

  “I think that’s where you and I differ,” I suggest, mentally kicking myself at shutting her down at every turn. Adam Hayes—king of self-sabotage.

  “Good to know. Then that’s the last we shall speak of frivolous things,” she says loftily. “See? I did learn something about you. I learned that you don’t like people learning about you.”

  She’s smirking, leaning her chair on its back legs as she folds her hands in her lap.

  “Wow, you really always have to have the last word in an argument, don’t you?” I say, smirking back.

  She shrugs smugly.

  “Aren’t you glad to have me as a debate partner?” she asks in that way that’s not really a question, rocking back and forth on the chair legs. Her self-satisfied smile is taking up her whole face and it’s infectious, dissolving the cloud that so often hangs over my head. This kind of verbal sparring is my raison d’être and I’m about to counter when—

  “Hey, Caitlin?”

  Caitlin nearly loses her balance, her chair tipping dangerously far back before she catches it, slamming forward, her palms smacking the tabletop.

  “Caleb!” She jumps up, her voice like a shout in the quiet library. Caleb has appeared out of nowhere, like he has the ability to just materialize silently in the library whenever he wants. I haven’t spoken to him since the Incident on Friday and I have absolutely no idea what I would say to him now. I do my best to dissolve into the bookshelves behind me.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he backpedals awkwardly. His hand is clenching around his backpack strap and it feels like he’s looming over the table.

  “Oh,” he says, his eyes landing on me. “Hey.”

  I just nod, my voice stuck somewhere between my heart and my throat.

  “What’s up?” Caitlin chirps, and I try not to notice the hearts in her eyes as she looks at Caleb. I especially try not to think about how my eyes probably look the exact same way. This whole thing is mortifying.

  “I was just wondering if I could borrow your notes from English yesterday? About The Aeneid?” he asks sheepishly, glancing down at his feet. I take the opportunity to stare at him a bit, and his whole body is rigid. Except there’s also a squirrellyness to him, like he’s ready to bolt at any second. This could not be more different from our last library encounter. He must not be thrilled to have found me when looking for a private moment with his date.

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” Caitlin says, her posture relaxing somewhat. “I don’t have them with me but I can e-mail them to you when I get home?”

  “That’d be great.” Caleb nods eagerly.

  “I didn’t take that many. It was pretty basic—just an overview of the themes we should be looking for as we read, that kind of stuff.”

  “Cool, yeah, I just totally spaced out, I don’t know what happened.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking down again.

  “You’ll catch up in no time, I’m sure,” Caitlin offers, swaying slightly.

  “All right, well, I’ll let you get back to it,” Caleb says, gesturing at the table, where I’m still sitting in complete silence like some weird forgotten puppet. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “It’s fine,” Caitlin assures him. “We just got started.”

  “Yeah, but I know you’ve been stressed about the competition coming up—” Caleb cuts himself off midsentence and there’s a flash of panic on his face.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess I have been.” Caitlin’s face scrunches up and that’s now twice in one day I’ve seen her confused. What in the world is even happening? “God, I must be talking about it all the time.”

  But she hasn’t been. She always seems insanely confident in debate club. I’ve never overheard her and Jessica talk about it either, and I feel like I get the full rundown every day sitting in front of them in English. I had no idea she was nervous about our competition. I wonder if that’s why she was going on and on about the dance just now—was she trying to distract herself?

  “Yeah, well, anyway,” Caleb says, edging away from the table, “I’m sure you guys will do great.”

  “Yeah.” Caitlin nods, some confidence reentering her voice. “Yeah, I mean, we’ve got the dream team right here.” She throws a grin at me and I give a single nod in concurrence, my ability to speak apparently still out of reach.

  “Right, yeah, for sure.” Caleb stumbles briefly, having backed into another table. “Well, good luck with all the … debating. I’ll see you guys later.”

  He brings his hand up in a strange little wave before turning around and rushing out of the library. Caitlin looks after him for a moment before slowly retaking her seat.

  “Yeah, I see what you mean,” I say as brightly as I can. “If you waited for a guy like that to ask you out, you might have been waiting forever.”

  The comment leaves a funny taste in my mouth—joking about Caleb this way feels weird and wrong—b
ut Caitlin’s shoulders relax slightly and it’s almost worth it.

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know, part of me thinks he only said yes because he was too flustered to say anything else.”

  She shrugs it off.

  “Well, never mind about all that,” she says, full bravado back. “We have a moratorium on talking about personal things and we’re sticking to it.”

  We smile at each other as we both refocus on the study materials in front of us.

  “Exactly,” I say, trying to match her renewed energy and falling completely short.

  But as Caitlin talks on about the history of same-sex institutions, I can’t get Caleb’s panicked face out of my head. Has he been … spying on Caitlin or something? That seems like a stretch, but she was definitely caught off guard by his stress comment.

  Clearly I’m not the only one who Caleb can see through.

  17

  CALEB

  All right, take two. I can do this.

  Yesterday caught me a little off guard. I knew Adam was in the library—could feel his feelings like a homing beacon—but I didn’t realize that he and Caitlin were debate partners now. Based on his feelings, he was equally thrown by the whole thing. He felt surprised and panicked and … embarrassed. And then I let slip that I knew Caitlin was stressed, like an idiot, after promising Dr. Bright that I would lie low, and I just really don’t want to be thinking about that conversation at all anymore.

  But after seeing how Caitlin and Adam seemed to be getting along, I’m even more determined to talk to him. Maybe he won’t be totally against me trying to apologize. But I think the key is to approach Adam on his own, which is what I’m doing now. Well, he’s not entirely on his own—there’s a bunch of other kids in the hallway, but at least Caitlin and Bryce aren’t going to come popping out of nowhere at any second. Hopefully.

  Adam is crouched at his locker, trying to get a book that’s jammed at the bottom, and I’m hit with the waves of frustration coming off him. It’s all tangled and irritated, like when you pull your earbuds out of your bag to find a mess of wires that hardly resembles headphones.