18
Can You Get into Flattery?
“Hello,” Joyce said, adjusting her clipboard on her lap, her stubby legs in navy wool pants. She had on a blue-and-white sweater that I couldn’t decide if I liked.
“Hi,” I said.
We sat in silence for a second, and I suddenly realized there was so much to talk about, I didn’t even know where to start. Mom finding out. Julie and me fighting. Josh calling me! I took a deep breath. I took another.
“What’s up?” Joyce said.
“Not much,” I said. “I mean, a lot, I guess. I don’t know.”
Joyce just waited.
“I mean, there’s this guy . . .” I continued, and could already feel myself smiling. “His name’s Josh Heller, and I have, like, the hugest crush on him in the history of the world and he called me last night for the first time!”
“Uh-huh,” Joyce said, smiling like,
Go on
. She scribbled something.
“But then I didn’t see him in school today, even though I spent, like, the whole day trying to bump into him, and I was thinking about him all day, hoping, praying we’d run into each other, but we never did.” I took another deep breath.
“What would you have said to him if you had run into each other?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’d say ‘Hi.’” Then I thought for a second. “I guess it’s good I didn’t run into him! I’d probably look like such a fool!”
“Why would you look like a fool?”
“I don’t know, I’d probably start babbling like an idiot or say something stupid. Sometimes I talk too much; I can be a total idiot! Especially if I’m nervous. Which I totally am in front of a gorgeous guy.”
“What do you want him to say to you?” Joyce asked.
“I want him to ask me out,” I said without hesitating. “On a date.”
“Ah,” she said. Then she waited again. I took a deep breath again.
“Are you feeling nervous now?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, exhaling. “All this talk about Josh Heller makes me feel kind of . . . I don’t know . . . kind of . . . I don’t know if
nervous
is really the right word. . . .”
“What would be the right word?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped. Sometimes Joyce really annoyed me.
“What’s the matter?” Joyce said.
“I don’t know, I don’t really care what the right
word
is. I feel like this is so stupid.”
“What’s so stupid?”
“This! This conversation we’re having! It’s just a stupid crush! Nothing’s ever gonna happen! I mean, it’s not like Josh Heller could possibly be my boyfriend or anything. Or even ask me out!” Why wasn’t I talking about my fight with Julie? Or stealing? Wasn’t that what I was supposed to be talking about?
“Why couldn’t Josh Heller be your boyfriend?” Joyce asked. “Is that what you want?”
Then I made this gasp-snort sound like,
Duh!
My mother hated when I did that. “It would be, like, a dream come true! But he probably just wants to be friends. Or he thinks I’m cute or funny or whatever, but not like a girlfriend. I’m too big a dork . . . I don’t know. . . . I’m probably not cool enough.”
“Well, what if you are?”
“Please.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. “So, what’s bothering you?” Joyce said.
“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my palms on my thighs. “I just can’t stop thinking about Josh Heller ever since he called; I mean, haven’t you ever liked anybody? Don’t you know what it’s like?”
“Yes,” she said, in her calm voice, and she smiled. She recrossed her legs. “Of course I know what it’s like.”
“Well, okay then.”
“But what I want to know is,” Joyce said, “what’s it like for
you
?”
“Like this!” I said, and my leg started bouncing away like it might break off and fly around the room. “I don’t know, I guess I’m scared. Josh is so unbelievably cute and cool and—”
“What does it mean to be cool?” Joyce interrupted. “Who do you know who is cool?”
“Well, Julie, obviously.”
“The other Julie,” Joyce clarified.
“Duh, I mean, yeah,” I said, thinking “duh” was probably obnoxious of me to say.
“How is she cool?”
“Well, ’cause she’s beautiful and popular.”
“So being cool is about looks?”
“No,” I snapped. God, I sort of felt like I was talking to my mother. My mother never seemed to understand anything about teenagers. Like, she was always saying idiotic stuff like, “Why do you have to have
one
boyfriend? Why can’t you have one for Friday night and one for Saturday night? And then have different ones the next weekend?”
“Because, Mom, it’s not nineteen fifty-six!”
I always wanted to scream at her.
“This isn’t
Happy Days
!”
I mean, how stupid can you get?
“Julie’s also cool because she knows how to flirt and dress and say the right thing and stuff. . . .” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And she’s never insecure around guys,” I said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“So she’s cool.”
“Okay.” Joyce paused. “And aren’t you her best friend?”
“Yeah,” I said, kind of hesitating. I thought I was.
“So wouldn’t that make you cool, too—that a cool girl likes you enough to be her best friend?”
“Well, yeah.” I thought for a second. “I guess. Except that it feels like a lie.”
“What does?” Joyce asked.
“That I’m cool. I mean, maybe people think I am, but it’s not true.”
“How so?” she said.
“I don’t know. Like, I know what I really am, deep down inside, but that’s not what people see. Whatever they see isn’t really me.”
“Ah,” Joyce said. “So who are you really?” she asked softly, leaning forward a little and looking me right in the eyes.
“Not good enough,” was all I could think to say.
Friday in French, Josh Heller passed me a note that said,
What are you doing tonight?
Right away I felt a fluttering in my chest and I started smiling the biggest smile. My cheeks felt like they were up in my eyes, and I could not make the smile go down no matter how I tried. I turned to look at Josh, smiling like an idiot, and he smiled back at me. Then we both started laughing. We tried to laugh silently so Madame Craig wouldn’t notice us. She was writing on the board, so I mouthed to Josh, “Nothing,” and shrugged. Julie was trying to ignore me, but I saw her glance at us every now and then. Josh surreptitiously ripped out another little piece of paper from the back of his spiral notebook and wrote on it,
Want to see a movie? After school?
Of course I wanted to scream
“Yes!”
immediately, but then I remembered my Friday job: putting away the groceries. I’d have to call my mom and beg her to let me out of it. Luckily the bell rang, so we didn’t have to keep passing notes. Everyone’s desks and chairs started moving as people packed up their bags and shut their books, and I was glad Josh and I could talk in the privacy of a noisy classroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julie look over at us, then she left for homeroom.
“Yeah . . . sure,” I said to Josh. I slowly got my books together, wanting to make every second last.
“Great!” he said. “There’s just one thing. I have to go back to Long Island after school. I promised my mom I’d pick the car up at the mechanic’s. We can take the train there and see a movie, then I can drive you home.”
“You have a car?” I said, trying not to sound too stupid.
“Well, it’s my mom’s car. It’s a brown Chevy. Don’t be too impressed,” he said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. I was just impressed that he knew how to drive. I didn’t know any New York City kids who had their licenses.
“Okay,” I said, laughing. Total nervous laughter—I wondered if he could tell.
“So . . . should we just meet outside after school?” he said. He was so cute! I almost couldn’t stand it.
“Yeah,” I said. “All right.”
“Okay then. You’re sure you don’t mind going to Long Island with me?”
“No, that’s fine!” I said, though I really had no idea what I was saying and how I was going to get my mother to agree to this. But Josh Heller could have invited me to Africa, and I would have found a way to go.
“Cool,” Josh said. “See you later!” And he headed down the hall.
As soon as I got to homeroom, I told Mr. Werner that I had to go to the bathroom. I raced down to the basement to call my mom from the pay phone. Thank God I caught her. She only worked a half-day on Fridays and had just gotten home.
“Mom!” I said, realizing I sounded breathless.
“Hi-ya!” she said, sounding in a pretty good mood. I imagined her in the kitchen glancing at the clock over the toaster oven ’cause she said, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Everything’s fine. I’m still at school. Mom, I have the hugest favor to ask you....”
“Okay,” she said. “What is it?”
“Um. I got asked out on a date tonight!”
“Honey, that’s terrific!”
“Yeah, I know, but um, it starts right after school, so I can’t come home first and put away the groceries, is that okay? Please please? I’ll do something extra if you want; I don’t know what, but I’m sure we can think—”
“Of course, pussy cat, don’t worry about it. It’s your first date!” Something about her saying that annoyed me, but she was being so cool, I couldn’t complain.
“Thank you, Mom! Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome. So, who is he?” she asked.
“It’s Josh Heller,” I said, lowering my voice and looking out the glass door of the phone booth to make sure I didn’t see anyone I knew. “He’s in the drama department.”
“You never told me about him,” she said.
“Yes I did, Mom, I’m pretty sure I did,” I argued. How annoying.
“Well, where are you going?” she asked.
“We’re going to the movies, but I’m not sure which theater yet.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “But he said he’d bring me home. I swear I’ll be home by eleven thirty, okay?”
“Will you have dinner?”
“Yes, we’ll probably have dinner, too.”
“Okay . . . I’d feel more comfortable if I knew where you were going.”
“Well, we’re gonna decide later, Mom. You just have to trust me. Josh is this totally smart guy and he’s really responsible.”
“All right,” she said, still sounding unsure. “But you’ll call if you’re gonna be late or for any reason, right?”
“Right, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine!”
“Do you have mad money?” she wanted to know.
“What?”
“Do you have mad money?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what that
is
!”
“It’s your own money to get home with in a cab or whatever, in case he makes you mad,” she said.
“What? Why would he make me mad?” I said. Why was my mother so weird?
“You never know. . . .” My mother’s voice trailed off.
“I have a little money. Mom, I gotta go. It’s the middle of homeroom. I just wanted to call.”
“I’m glad you did, sweetie pie. Have fun!”
So we were sitting next to each other in the Freeport, Long Island, Cinema, our shoulders touching, and all I could think about was how clean Josh Heller smelled. It was killing me, he had such good hygiene. He smelled like some kind of really nice soap. What kind of soap was it? I was racking my brain to remember. Zest? Dial? It was so strong, I couldn’t
not
smell it; it was a good thing I liked it. We were seeing the movie
Diner
and I kept wondering, who was even in it? I thought maybe Mickey Rourke was, and some other cute guys, but I couldn’t really be sure ’cause all I thought about the whole time was Josh Heller sitting next to me smelling so good. And our hands were so close to each other on the armrest between us, I was going crazy wondering if he was going to hold my hand or if something physical would happen.
During the movie at one point, he leaned toward me and whispered, “Look at that lady two rows in front of us. Doesn’t her hair look
trapezoidal
?” That totally cracked me up. And trying to laugh quietly is practically impossible in a dark move theater, so Josh started cracking up, too.
“What, are you a geometry whiz or something?” I whispered. “Is ‘trapezoidal’ even a word?”
“Actually, I happen to be pretty good at geometry,” he said. “I got a ninety-eight on the regents.”
“Wow,” I said.
Each time Josh leaned toward me I could smell him even more, but I kind of avoided looking him right in the eyes ’cause it was just too intense. When I looked at the screen, it was like the characters were speaking jibberish. I couldn’t follow the story at all. Each time Josh sat back in his seat after whispering to me, I’d notice the profile of his teeth—I
loved
his teeth. There was a little gap between the front two.
“Can I tell you something?” I whispered. “And I hope you won’t think this is weird to say, but—”
“You can say anything,” whispered Josh. “I won’t think you’re weird.”
“Okay.” I inhaled. “I think you have great teeth.” Then I started giggling again.
“Thanks,” Josh said, laughing, too. “What’s weird about that? That you think I have great teeth, or that I’d think you’re weird for saying so? I mean, I don’t think my teeth are so great, but it’s not weird that you said that.”
“Okay, good,” I said, feeling really nervous. “I thought it might be weird to say it.”
Try to calm down, Julie, just calm down.
But it was my first movie alone with a boy—how was I supposed to act?
“You have pretty great teeth yourself,” Josh whispered. “They’re so
white
!”
I thought about Joanie and Chachi on a movie date on
Happy Days
, and how once Chachi tried to touch Joanie’s chest when reaching for the popcorn and she smacked his hand. I wouldn’t know what to do if Josh tried anything like that. I mean, I wouldn’t want him to think I was a prude but, oh my God, there was his smell again. I hoped I smelled good, too. Just before I left school to meet Josh outside, I had run into Natalie in the girls’ bathroom and she let me have a spritz of her Jean Naté perfume. She was so excited for me, she said, “Break a leg!” as I hurried off to meet Josh.