Authors: Debra Garfinkle
She frowns. “Former best friend. Could you give me that makeover you were talking about before?”
“You d on’t need it.”
“But Tyler—”
“Listen, Evie. You d on’t want a guy who just cares about your looks. You want a guy who loves you for who you are. Like, a guy who d oesn’t even mind if you wear an apron and carry books around and put your hair up in a pony to scrub pots and pans.”
“But Tyler—”
“Tyler may have a big brain, but he needs to think with it for a change.”
“Get in,” The Dick
says as we approach his Mustang.
I get in. I’m so scared, my brain’s gone numb. I warn my leg not to shake, but my leg doesn’t listen. I leave the car door open.
Rick reaches over me with his bulky and quite hairy arms, possibly to grab my neck and shake me like a squawking chicken.
Instead, he slams the car door shut. His huge body practically takes up the whole driver’s side. He has a great build. I can almost see why Shay digs him. Not that I’m into checking out other males, but it helps keep my mind off thoughts of getting hit.
“Are you sleeping with my girlfriend?” he asks.
My leg is shaking like Jiffy Pop. “No, Di—Rick. Never.”
“Never?” It comes out like a growl.
“I mean, not that she isn’t desirable.”
He bares his teeth at me.
“She’s been sleeping in Heather’s room. Shay and I, we’re actually more like sister and brother.”
“You’re not lying to me, are you? Because Debbie M. said—”
“Debbie M.’s drunk, and she’s mad I wouldn’t let her pull down my pants, and . . . Rick, Shay likes
you
, not me.”
“Really? Did she tell you she likes me? I mean, really likes me?” He doesn’t sound so tough now. I never knew anyone from the popular table could sound like this. Especially The Dick. He’s supposed to be cocky, not gawky.
“Tell me she loves me.”
I’ve told enough lies the last few weeks. I take a deep breath. “I don’t think she loves any guys. I think she sort of uses guys, to tell you the truth.” I hope he doesn’t believe in shooting the messenger, or even beating up the messenger, the messenger being me. I take a deep breath. “Sorry, D—Rick.”
He pounds the steering wheel. “It’s because I’m so stupid. I just couldn’t understand all that weird science stuff.”
“Physics?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. She’s always going on about magnet fields, and waves or something, and stuff she reads.”
“What? Shay? Seriously?”
“I didn’t understand half the things she said.”
If I weren’t within striking distance of The Dick right now, I’d be smiling.
“She’s too good for me,” he moans.
Before I realize the extreme risk I’m taking, I put my hand on his arm. It feels like it’s made of metal.
“What are you doing?” he says.
What
am
I doing? I shouldn’t touch a huge guy with steel arms. I drop my hand down and sit on it. “Sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. I wish I was as smart as Shay.” He’s shaking his head right and left.
Maybe he’s not actually a dick. Maybe Shay had slightly better taste than I gave her credit for. Maybe I should help the poor guy before he bursts into tears. It could happen. After watching Evie cry tonight, I’d believe just about anything. “I think, actually, she likes you a lot. Just, like, give her some time.”
“Really?” His head slows down.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, Tyster.”
“Anytime, bud.”
“You can get out of my car now.” He leans over me again and opens the door.
I scramble out and return to the party.
I search for Evie, but it’s hard amid the noise and crowds. “Stairway to Heaven” is playing again, and a group in the living room is chanting “Chug it.” The nasty smell of beer permeates everything. In the kitchen, someone’s spilled the blue cheese dip all over the counter, which doesn’t improve on the beer smell.
I look for Evie in the backyard. I know my odds of actually finding her there are low, given that (1) it’s packed with people, (2) she’s little, and (3) it’s dark. I wish everyone but Evie would leave right now.
Wait a minute. Aren’t I supposed to be enjoying this?
Yeah, well, I’m not. As Shay would say,
Whatever.
I go inside and upstairs and into my bedroom, shoo out two juniors with their shirts off and their hands down each other’s jeans, and close my door.
I try to read
The Great Gatsby
for English class, but it’s hard to root for a guy who’s screwing up his life just to impress people.
Someone knocks on my door.
“Off limits!”
“It’s me. Shay.”
I open the door.
“You said you could get me back to 2006. I’m ready to go now.”
Good, I guess.
“There’s a line for the bathroom,” she says. “You can do this fast, right?”
I nod. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I can’t help asking her.
“You think I messed up everything for you here. Your dad left, you and Evie aren’t friends anymore, Heather’s drinking. I’m really sorry.” She walks into my room and closes the door behind her. “You want me out of here, right?”
I stare at my poster of Albert Einstein. He was a man who got things done. “Yes, I still want you to leave.”
“Okay.” She looks like I’ve just slapped her, which is ironic because she recently slapped me.
“So you’ll follow my directions and return home.” I don’t ask it. I order it. Like Dad used to do before he moved out. I get the box from my closet containing the fan, scissors, and duct tape.
We walk down the hall in silence and stand in line for the bathroom. “Mariel!” Shay exclaims to a short Mexican girl who lines up behind us. “You okay? I lost track of you.”
“I am good.” She looks at me. “Is Tyler?”
“Yes,” Shay says. “Tyler, this is Mariel. Mariel, Tyler.”
“Do you go to our school?” I ask her.
“I start school yesterday. Shay, she talk me in it.”
Huh? Why would Shay do that? She doesn’t even go to school herself, except for physics class. “How did you meet her?” I ask Mariel.
“We work Krasno’s Diner. We clear tables and wash dishes. She teach me the English too.”
I bet the circumference of my open mouth right now is at least five inches.
“She need money to pay back you.”
Holy moly. So that’s where she got her money. Shay Saunders did menial labor.
“She say owe you,” Mariel says.
And I owe her. An apology.
I’m about to tell Shay I’m sorry when Heather stumbles out of the bathroom like a Gumby doll and the girl in front of us goes in. Heather clutches my arm. “I don’t feel too good.” Her breath is sour from smoke and beer.
I glare at Shay. “You see why you have to go?”
“Go where?” Heather asks.
“Far away. She messed up our whole family.”
“Mom’s a lot happier,” Heather says.
“Say what?”
“Didn’t you hear her crying all the time before? She was miserable. Shay made Mom brave enough to do what she really wanted. Don’t go, Shay,” Heather pleads.
“It was Tyler who actually invited me here in the first place. I’ve already worn out my welcome mat or whatever with him,” Shay says.
“Shay messed up my life,” I tell Heather.
“Poor you. Looking a lot better, eating lunch with the cool people, dating Debbie M.”
“Ugh. We’re not really dating. And Evie’s barely talking to me.”
“Because you blew her off. That’s your fault.”
The bathroom door opens and the girl walks out. I pick up the box and step forward. “Let’s go. Let’s do it.”
I hope I’m not making a mistake.
He’s making a mistake.
Tyler turns on the bathwater, then stands on the ledge of the tub, d uct-t aping the fan to the ceiling. “Once you leave, everything should revert to how it was.”
“I think you’re wrong,” I say.
“It’s the best I could do. It’s b attery operated, and I rigged it to go extremely fast.”
“I think I changed people for good.”
“For bad.” He frowns. “Would you mind removing your clothes? I ’ll try not to look.”
“ You’ve seen me naked before. What’s the big deal?” But it is a big deal. I d on’t take my clothes off so easily anymore.
I remove everything but my undergarments. He steps off the bathtub ledge and sets the scissors and what’s left of the roll of duct tape on the bathroom floor.
Someone knocks. “Use the bathroom downstairs,” Tyler yells.
“The fan i sn’t going to send me back in time, anyway,” I say. “The tides d on’t work like that.”
He looks at me, blushes when he sees me half naked, and turns away. “We d idn’t learn about tides in physics class.”
“ I’ve been reading books, Tyler. What did you think I was doing every morning at school? You said I wasn’t stupid.”
“ You’re not.” He looks at me again, this time holding his gaze on my eyes.
I stare right back at him. “Albert Einstein himself said time travel would have to reach the speed of light. There’s no way you can rig a fan to go that fast.”
“Then how did you get here in the first place?” he asks.
“I d on’t think physics or science had anything to do with it. The force was a lot bigger than physics. As Einstein said, ‘The intellect should not be made—’ ”
“ ‘Our god,’ ” I say.
“ ‘The intellect should not be made our god.’ You read one of my books about Einstein.”
“Two of them.” She smiles. “Actually.”
I have to grab the wall to steady myself.
But if Shay’s correct and a super-charged fan didn’t send her through time, then how the heck did she get here? Einstein also said the most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is at all comprehensible. Maybe we’ll never know why Shay came here. Maybe it was meant to be. Einstein was passionate about science, but he also believed in God.
“I’ll get in the bathtub if you want to try out your plan. If you still want me gone.” She removes her bra and panties and climbs into the warm tub.
“I don’t
want
you gone, actually, but you
have
to go. Don’t you?”
“Let me be honest, for once in my life. Besides wanting to help people here, there’s also a selfish reason I’d like to stay.” She takes a big breath. “I deserve your family. I deserve a sister like Heather, and a mother like Mrs. Gray, and you, Tyler. And, believe it or not, Rick’s a good guy and I deserve him too. I know I acted like a jerk before, ditching school and sleeping around and yelling at Mariel and all that crap. I guess I thought I didn’t deserve a better life, a classy one. Then Mrs. Gray said I was sweet, and you asked me for help with physics and
The Great Gatsby
, like I really could help you, and Heather actually looked up to me. Actually. And Rick treated me like I was worth something too.”
“Of course you’re worth something. You’re worth a lot.”
“I deserve your family. I deserve Rick. I deserve you. And, Tyler, if you ever stopped sulking and blaming and being so stupid, you might just deserve me too.”
Someone knocks again. “Shay, could you put your clothes back on?” I never thought I’d be telling a beautiful girl to put her clothes back on. “I’m going to get rid of this stupid fan. You’re right. It won’t work. And, like, I wouldn’t want it to work anyway.”
She gets dressed in a hurry and we walk out with the fan. There’s a huge line for the bathroom. “Sorry about holding you up,” I say before a guy rushes in.
I point to the fan inside the box and tell Shay, “I’m going to put this outside in the trash can. You should go find Rick. He loves you, Shay.”
She kisses me on the cheek. “And what are you going to do after you throw out the fan?” she asks.
“Probably resume reading
The Great Gatsby.
”
“Oh, I can tell you about it. Gatsby was an idiot. He gave himself a makeover when he should have just, like, stayed who he was. It’s hard to explain. The dude dies in the end.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You’re not actually going to hide out in your room during your own party, are you?”
“Well, yeah. Shay, I thought I’d really like partying with the popular people. But actually, I’d rather be doing what I used to do on Saturday nights, playing backgammon with Evie. Or going to the movies with Evie. Or, actually, doing anything with Evie. Sometimes we just hung out. That was fun too.”
“Where is she?”
I shrug. “She’s so little. There’s no way I can find her in this crowd.”
“Aren’t you even going to try?”
“I . . . She’s mad at me. And she’s acting strange. She put all this makeup on her face.”
“Why do you think she did that, Tyler?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Gawd, Tyler, for a smart guy you’re really dumb. Okay, what color eyes does she have?”
“What? I don’t know. She wears glasses.”
“Behind those glasses she has two things called eyes, Tyler.”
I sigh. “I never thought to really look before.”
She shakes her head. “Exactly. Now go toss that fan, find Evie, apologize, and figure out why she’s wearing makeup and what color eyes she actually has.”
“Actually?”
She grins. “Yeah, bro. Actually. I’m going to look for Rick.”
After she leaves, I search all through the backyard and inside the house. But Evie’s gone.
25
I get out of
bed at eight A.M. because my blue cheese dip/beer/overnight breath smells gnarly, Heather’s snoring loudly, I’m craving Tab badly, and I need to clean the house.
After wrapping myself in Mrs. Gray’s old robe, I head to the bathroom. It’s a wreck. The counter is littered with plastic cups, some still full of beer. The sink contains cigarette butts and black hairs. The mirror is so grungy, I can barely see myself in it. I brush my teeth, but skip my hair and shower because there’s a ton of work to do.
The downstairs reeks, mostly of beer, but also of tobacco and clove cigarettes and pot. Luckily, Mrs. Gray i sn’t due home for nine more hours. I grab a Tab and gulp it down as I go from room to room opening windows. Then I pick up trash: a million plastic cups, napkins, directions to our house, h alf-e aten celery sticks, and a condom still in its wrapper, which I pocket, making a mental note:
Do not leave condom in Mrs. Gray’s robe!