Random (13 page)

Marly DeSoto
go tori! its your birthday! go tori!

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Lucas Mulcahy
is it your birthday tori????

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Marly DeSoto
lucas you're so dumb. its an old joke.

 2 people like this.

Albert Jiminez
Lucas was just a kid when people were saying that. He doesn't know.

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Tori Hershberger
Thanks Marlycat! :) Lucas, don't listen to Albert.

 You like this.

Kevin Cooper
You can do it Tori!

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Marly DeSoto
no one asked you cooper. go read Twilight again.

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“Whoa,” Andy says. “You kissed him?”

“Just once. But yeah.”

“How?”

“Well, not with
tongue
 . . .”

“Oh my
God
, no,” Andy says, and Noah doesn't even try to suppress a laugh. “I mean, how did it come about?”

I feel myself blush. “Oh. Right. Well, that's the thing, the other boys put him up to it. I don't think he really wanted to do it. We were at a school dance and they kind of surrounded us and pushed him into it.”

“I remember that,” Noah says.

“
No
-ah,” Andy sings, “did you help push him into it?”

“No,” Noah says. “We didn't really know each other at the time.”

“Did you wish you were the pushee?” Andy goes on.

I think it takes Noah and me the exact same number of moments to figure out Andy's phrasing. Because when I get it, I look at Noah and he looks at me at the same time.

Noah lets his mouth fall open, but it's another second or two before he answers, “I probably wouldn't have needed to be pushed, no.”

Softball and baseball are slow sports for the most part. They're more about the drama, for lack of a better word: the
story
. The Yankees versus the Red Sox, or rooting for the Cubbies every year because, well, Jesus, they've got to catch a break someday, right? But sometimes there's a moment, whether it's a high school field or a major stadium, when everything changes. Bill Buckner missing an easy grounder, or a three-run homer to tie a game. It brings both the home and visiting crowds to their feet, and every speck of dust flying around the infield becomes charged with history.

Well—that's what just happened. A game changer.

Noah clearly sees it too. He almost looks apologetic, like he knows the timing couldn't be worse. Luckily—ha-ha—we have Andy to keep us occupied.

“But Kevin was pushed,” Andy says. “Or cajoled, or put-upon, or . . . bullied . . .”

“Yeah,” I say, before Andy can keep going. “They said he was a—”

“What?”

“Sorry. I'm just a little sensitive about word choice right now.”

“All things considered, I doubt you have much to fear from me, Tori.”

“Faggot. They said if he didn't kiss me, then he must be a faggot.”

Noah winces. He must remember that part too.

“Ah,” Andy says.

“Yeah. I wish he wouldn't have done it.”

“Did you stop him?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “He was cute.”

Andy snorts a laugh. Noah raises an eyebrow.

“But still,” I say, “in retrospect, he shouldn't have done it if he didn't want to.”

“How do you know he didn't? You sound pretty cute to me.”

I let the second part of that comment slide, because I have no idea where to go with it. I avoid Noah's eyes.

“He wanted to kiss Rachel Roland, not me,” I say.

“They ended up dating for two years,” Noah adds.

“Right, exactly,” I say. “He even apologized to me for kissing me. He said it wasn't personal. So, okay. Whatever.”

“Did it bother you?” Noah asks me.

“What, that he did it?”

“That he did it but didn't want to.”

“I don't—no, it didn't. Not in so many words.”

“How many words does it take?”

“Look, you didn't see his face when he was coming in,” I
say. “It looked like he was smelling dog poop. It was a real confidence booster. So fine, sure, maybe it did bug me.”

“Uh-huh,” Andy says, and I imagine instantly what he's thinking:
But you're still alive and he's not.

This thought makes me mad. I can't help it. “He should have stuck up for himself. Why wouldn't he do that? They would have left him alone then.”

“How do you figure that?” Andy says.

“Sixth grade,” I say. “First day of school. New bus, new route. This Godzilla-size jerk named Vince Bretz, I'll never forget his name—”

“Oh yeah!” Noah says. “Screw that guy! Sorry.”

“I know, right?” I say. “So Vince Bretz is sitting about in the middle of the bus. And every boy who walks down the aisle, he trips. And every one of them gets up and either punches Vince in the arm, or yells at him, or shoves him, and each time, Vince just laughs. But he never tripped them again either.”

“Let me guess,” Andy says.

Noah pinches the bridge of his nose, nodding.

“Exactly,” I say. “Except for Kevin. Kevin just got up and went back the other way, sitting up front by himself.
Sixth
grade. What might've been different if he'd hit Vince too that day?”

“Well,” Andy says, “I hate to state the obvious, but I guess we'll never know.”

“Yeah.”

“Sooo . . . I dunno, can I just . . . ? I don't want to put
words in your mouth or anything, but are you saying it's his fault?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry if that makes me a bitch or whatever, but that's what happens when you let someone push you around.”

“It does reveal a lot about your worldview.”

“ ‘Worldview'? I thought you said you were sixteen.”

“A very precocious sixteen.”

“And what's it reveal?” I almost add,
O wise sage of the universe
, just to stick it to him, let him know how it feels, but I don't.

“It reveals that you believe every human being on earth should have the innate ability to defend him or herself, and if they can't, they deserve to—”

“Hold on!” I say, partly because I don't agree with what he's about to say, and partly because I just can't hear him say it.

“What?” Andy says.

“You
are
putting words in my mouth,” I say. “That's exactly what you're doing.”

“No, I'm extrapolating a belief system based on what you said about Kevin.”

“Well, you can stop. It's not true.”

“What's not true? I haven't said anything yet. You cut me off.”

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. He's starting to sound like all the lawyers. I can't keep up.

“Just, whatever,” I say. I turn to Noah for help. He raises his shoulders with a
What do you want me to do?
look.

“I think this is important,” Andy insists. “Clearly you feel that victims are somehow to blame for their situations.”