Out (12 page)

“This morning?”
I snort indignantly, or at least I hope it sounds that way. “I just went for a
run. Am I supposed to get permission for that?”

“You know what
I’m talking about. I told you he wouldn’t let it go.”

“Why is he so
stuck on McFarland?”

Warren puts his
coffee cup down with too much force; caramel-colored liquid sloshes onto the
paper, but he doesn’t even bother to clean it up. “He wants the best for you,
and for Jana. This is his way of showing that he loves you.”

“He has a funny
way of showing it,” I mutter. “Acting like I’m a criminal or something, just
because I’m not interested in some old man I’ve barely met. Maybe he should ask
me what
I
want.”

Warren closes
his eyes, sighs deeply, and buries the lower half of his face behind two
massive stacked hands, as if forcing words to stay penned up. He lowers his
hands and says, “I am only going to say this once. I agree with you.”

“Then why don’t
you stand up to him?”

“I told you
last night. It’s practically impossible to fight David, at least in the open.
Arguments are like gasoline on a fire to him.”

He’s right. I
decide I’m just going to try and keep out of the way until supper. Where would
Carmen be today? Maybe I could watch her from a distance. Is that like
stalking?

I eye the
church as I head into the garage to pull out my bike. It looms next to our
house. I’ve always hated growing up in the shadow of it. If God really hates
Perpendiculars, what does He think of me? I shiver.

I ride into
town, and the cool autumn morning feels good, cleansing. It’s not much of a
town, actually; hardware store, library, post office, a few stores, coffee
place, but it all seems different now. Because I’m different.

Maybe
Andi’s
right;
but is there any way I can just go back to what I was? Maybe tonight…maybe I
can tell her that we shouldn’t see each other.

Even as I think
it, I know it’s not true. I know I don’t want to forget about her, or forget
about who I am. I’m scared. But I’ve never felt so right in my life. How can
that be wrong? Just being me?

The coffee shop
is busy, as usual. Since we’re on break, a lot of kids are there even though
it’s early.

“Hey, Chris.”
Joe
Peralti
waves at me. He has an arm around Robbie
Barthon
. They’ve bullied me since I can remember.

“Hey,” I call
out cautiously as I park my bike against the wall. “What’s up?”

Joe salutes me
with a cup of coffee. “We’re talking about you, queen. Robb has a friend he
wants to fix you up with.”

My stomach
sinks. This has happened since eighth grade…people are always trying to find me
a date.

Robb nods. “Yeah,
he’s into books and stuff, like you. Academic League. Interested?”

“Uh…no. I’m too
busy. Thanks, though.” I try to walk past them and into the shop.

 
“That’s right. I heard your dad already has
somebody picked out for you, huh?”

“What?”

They laugh as
if they share a secret. Robb says, “My mom told me that David’s got some big
hook-up for you, some upwardly mobile dude who’s going to make your dreams come
true.”
 
Joe whispers in Robb’s ear and
they laugh as if it’s the funniest joke ever told.

As I walk by,
Robb whispers, just loud enough for me to hear it, “Perp.”

“What did you
say?” I turn, anger bubbling up inside.

Joe snaps his
fingers. “Oh, oh, oh. I think you angered the queen, Robb.”

I don’t even
think about it. I pick up a glass of water and dump it on Robb’s head. Then I
grab my bike and pedal like a madman before they can react.

Perp. Yeah,
kids have been calling me that all my life. That’s not even the worst of the
names. My legs are working the pedals automatically, and with each downward
push, I’m pretending to smash the faces of Robb and Joe and all the other asses
who’ve teased me my whole life.

Turns out they
were right, I guess. Great.

Without
planning it, I end up back at the place where I carved the Parallel sign. I
check to be sure no one has followed me, prop the bike against the sturdy tree,
and dig through the rocks and dirt until I find the magazine I buried.

I pull my coat
around me tighter, frame the magazine with my sleeves to hide the cover. I flip
to the index, and something catches my eye: Why They Hate Us, written by K.P. I
flip to page 30, and read:
We threaten
the way of life. We threaten the power structure.
 
Basically, we are terrorists.

Terrorists. I don’t feel like a terrorist. I’ve
never wanted to strap bombs to my chest or hijack an airplane.

If Perpendiculars were given the same rights
as Parallels, we’d be competing for the same jobs, the same wealth, the same
housing. But that’s not the real reason they hate us. They hate us because we
are not them
.

Not them. The
anger is still bubbling inside of me. How am I so different? Why am I not them?
I’m still the same Chris I was yesterday, aren’t I?

Staring into
the clear morning sky, I wonder if God knows what’s going on down here.

At about
sunset, I finally go home. There’s no way around it. I can’t really go anywhere
else.

Hoping to
escape to my room unnoticed, I go in through the kitchen, but David’s sitting
there like a lion waiting to pounce. “Chris,” he says briskly.

“Hi, David.” I
get a glass of water and drink it so I don’t have to talk, at least for a
second.

“Could you sit
down? I'd like to talk to you.”

Uh oh. Well, I
guess it was inevitable.

I scrape a
chair out from the table and slump into it.

“I was really
unhappy about how you treated Jim last night.”

“I’m sorry,” I
mumble, weaving my fingers into intricate patterns so I don’t have to look him
in the eye.

“What happened?”
He pauses. “Look at me.”

He’s staring
with that preacher stare, the one that makes people confess. “Dad…I just don’t
think I’m ready.” How can you argue with that?

Instead of
yelling, he covers my fidgety fingers with his own perfectly manicured hand.
The
Anglicant
ring, the burnished gold inlaid with
Parallel crosses of diamonds, glints on his finger. “I want what’s best for
you, son.”

“What if
McFarland is not what’s best for me?” I ask softly.

He sighs. I’m
gearing up for a smack, a lecture, a thunderous tirade, but instead, he
withdraws his hand and his eyes well up with tears. “All I’ve ever wanted for
you was to be happy. Truly.” He wipes at his eyes. He’s actually crying. Is
this a trick? “When I was your age, my
mothers
took
me on a trip to Europe. They have much loser morals than we do, you know, and
they allow…well, lots of things. Drug use. Prostitution. Perpendicular
marriage.”

I bristle at
this; there’s no way he could know, is there? No. Don’t sweat. Don’t panic. He
doesn’t know. He can’t.

“I saw
first hand
what that does to society. It was a sinful place
full of decadence and decay. When people stop following the laws of the church,
when they stop honoring their parents, things begin to slip, to erode.”

“Dad, I
understand that, but—”

“Wait. Let me
finish. My
mothers
brought me back after the trip,
and I was fourteen. They arranged a marriage with Warren’s family, and although
we didn’t marry until we were of age, it was the best thing that ever happened
to me. Other than you and your sister.”
 
He stands up, comes over to me, and hugs me. “I am so proud of you. I
don’t tell you enough, but I am. Please, let me do this for you. I do know
what’s best, I promise. This is God’s plan for you, I know it in my heart. Will
you trust me?”

Leaning against
his chest, I desperately want to answer yes. I want to tell him that I will
follow God’s will, and that I will do everything he tells me to do. But it
sticks in my throat. All I can manage is a guttural sound that he takes as
agreement.

“Good.” He
kisses the top of my head, and I feel my eyes getting damp. “I love you.”

“Love you too,
Dad.” I hug him, but it’s hollow, painful. He’d probably kill me if he knew
what I really was.

The rest of the
day is like suspended animation; I feel like I'm floating from room to room,
wrapped in cotton, watching stupid TV, not reading a book, trying to take a
nap. Finally it's supper time. After last night’s high-intensity spread,
tonight is leftovers. I fix a turkey sandwich as Warren nibbles on the pork
roast and Jana sips canned soup from a big blue Starbucks cappuccino mug. David
is nowhere to be seen, which is fine with me.

The idea of
meeting with Carmen seems even more wicked and dangerous. I watch the clock;
she didn’t say a specific time, so I guess I should head out as soon as I can. “I’m
going out to do some stargazing,” I say casually. Warren nods; he’s reading a
book. Jana just grins at me across the table as she slurps soup.

I shrug into my
coat and slip out the back door. The church basement is lit up; David must have
a meeting. There are a few cars in the parking lot, but I don’t recognize any
of them. I scurry away into the darkness, hoping no one sees me.

I pick my way
across the field behind our house, back the way we came yesterday, until I come
to the path leading to the tree. Treading softly, I inch toward it, searching the
dark for the bright oval of her face. She’s not there yet.

I sit and lean
into the tree trunk, listen to the wind rustling mostly bare branches now. The
lights from the house and the church are far away, just golden smudges in the
dark.

After about ten
minutes, I hear someone walking toward me, stumbling on the path. “Hello?” I
call tentatively.

“Chris.” It’s
her. Breathless, she shuffles to the tree, and falls into my arms, laughing
softly. “I am not a good wilderness explorer. I almost couldn’t find this tree.”
For some reason, I find that adorable.

She pulls me
close, around to the dark side of the tree. “How was your day?”

“Let’s talk
about you instead.” I pull her down and we’re sitting huddled against the
trunk. “My day sucked.”

“Mine did too.
Lainie
had me doing all this paperwork for the
Perpendicular League.” She shakes her head, disgusted. “I am so sick of
pretending. And I’m becoming bitter. I mean, why do people like
Lainie
get to have everything they want while we have to
hide? It’s not fair.”

“David told me
today that he went to Europe, where Perpendiculars can marry. He says that
people like us would ruin the country.”

In the dim
light, I see her face turn hard. She turns and kisses me passionately on the
mouth, and that ridiculous high feeling courses through my blood again. “When
people like us have to hide and pretend, this country is weak and ruined
already.”

“What do you
mean?” I’m conscious of her skin on mine, of a slight friction that both
tickles and tortures. “What do you mean, the country is ruined?”

She turns her
head away from me. “Oh, Chris.” She sighs with such sorrow in her voice that I
want to fold her into my arms and melt into the tree. A diamond tear glistens
in the moonlight. “I know in my soul that I love you. What kind of place, what
kind of people would ever say that love,
any
kind of love, would ruin a country?”

So clear. So
wise. How can we be the same age? She’s amazing, the way she thinks. And she’s
right. Why haven’t I ever thought of it that way before? I want to touch every
inch of her, to memorize it, but just as I reach her breasts, she stops me, and
brushes the dampness from her face. “I can’t stay long,” she whispers. “I told
Lainie
I was going for a ride, but she needed me back
pretty quickly. It’ll take me a while to bike back over there. I wanted to tell
you that…I wondered if we could meet again tomorrow. I’ll make sure we have
more time.”

“More time?” I
stroke her hair. “We don’t have any more time. We can’t meet anymore. Dad is
dead set on matching me with McFarland, and this…I can’t.” Even as I parrot the
words I’d decided to say, I know they’re a lie. If I don’t see her again, I’ll
die. At that moment, no punishment they could dish up would matter. I see it. I
feel it.

“I have to go,”
she says, pulling herself up by a tree branch. “But I have to see you tomorrow.
I have to tell you something.”

“I thought we
said we weren’t—”

“I know. We
did. But...” She stands toe-to-toe with me, her chin tilted defiantly toward
me. “I just learned about something new. I need to tell you about it, and after
I tell you, I’ll do whatever you decide.”

“Something new?
What—”

She puts a
finger to my lips. It tingles where she touches me. “Tomorrow. Promise. And
after that if you decide we should forget, I will.”

I shouldn’t. I
know I shouldn’t. But I will. “Same tree tomorrow?”

“Same tree,
same time,” she says. I hear the smile in her voice as she snuggles against my
chest once more before she has to go.

The next
morning, Jana ambles into the kitchen, which is weird since she never wakes up
before noon. Today, though, she’s ready to go. “Hey, Warren. Any more coffee?”

He makes a
disgusted face. “All out, I’m afraid. I don’t know where it all went. Seems
like we had plenty yesterday.”

“Hmmm.” My
sister traces the back of a kitchen chair with her finger. “I could run and get
some more.”

Warren eyes her
suspiciously. “You’re offering to do an errand? What do you want?”

Jana pouts. “Aw,
I can’t offer to do something nice for my favorite dad?” She gives him a big
hug. What a poser.