Take Me There (20 page)

Walks are never as good during the day. At night, when everyone’s apartments are lit up and you can see inside, that’s where the action is.

Everything about this fascinates me. Windows, lampposts, building facades. Looking into other people’s lives. The way it all comes together, this entity greater than the sum of its parts. I feel inspired. I’m excited about my future life.

Then I pass a twenty-four-hour deli and there are all these flowers outside. For some reason, I notice them. And that’s when I see those flowers Rhiannon likes.

I don’t think about what it means when I get them. I just know that I want to give them to her.

IF MY NEIGHBORS
weren’t having the loudest sex ever last night, then maybe I would have gotten more than three minutes of sleep. But the sad reality is that they were. And that’s why I’m dragging my tired ass into physics like it’s a remake of
Night of the Living Dead
and I’m the most exhausted zombie ever.

I need coffee. Big-time.

I collapse into my chair and lean back. I take my glasses off and rub my hands over my face. I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the day. But whatever. It’s not like I haven’t been up all night because of them before. It’s especially embarrassing when I see them the next day. Because then I have to pretend like I’ve never heard them having sex. Like this one time after a night of particularly loud screaming from her, I saw the guy in the basement dumping his recycling. I tried to ignore him completely, but I couldn’t help staring. And he’s not even all that. He’s like some schlub you see eating alone at Noodle Bar, all slurping down his soup and reading the paper.

The bell rings. Everyone’s opening notebooks and yelling conversations across the room and turning off their Sidekicks and copying homework problems from other people. I’m lusting a double espresso. It’s a problem. The orange Mudtruck where I always get my coffee wasn’t in its usual spot. Their coffee rocks something extreme. And Joe isn’t on my way to school, so I decided to have no coffee instead of some weak deli schlock.

Danny slides into his desk, next to mine. Danny’s a vegetarian, with his weird tofu bacon and egg substitute sandwiches he gets for breakfast at this special vegan deli. He wolfs down the last part of his sandwich.

“Can you do it by Friday?” he wants to know.

“Definitely.”

He’s strategizing for his big speech Friday. Danny has mad public-speaking skills. Some people are just naturally talented in that area. I, however, am not some people. I practically pass out when I have to talk in front of people. But Danny is the only one who can keep us awake when we have to do oral reports. He can make even the most boring things seem interesting. Like politics.

“I can’t believe turning out the lights is considered a fire hazard,” I complain. “What about for movies and stuff?”

“That would be why we never see movies in there.”

“But isn’t an auditorium supposed to be for everything?”

“Ideally. And then there’s realistically.”

Danny has this righteous idea for his speech. But to make it work, the lights need to be off for a minute. The principal wouldn’t even let him do that. It’s so bogus. They’re always telling us to be creative and think outside the box, but every time we do, we get shot down. So I’m helping him out.

“I’ll take the heat if you get caught,” Danny says.

“Don’t sweat it,” I tell him. I mean, really. If I get caught, what’s the worst they can do?

I raise my hand in calculus and ask to go to the bathroom. But that’s not where I’m going.

When I open my locker, I’m psyched to see that the flowers still look decent. And there’s a history with them. One time I was walking with Rhiannon down Charles Street, and someone had these flowers planted in their front yard. She said how they were so pretty. She stood there for a long time, staring at them.

Yeah, so I got her flowers. Maybe they’ll make her feel better. It’s the kind of thing we do for each other. Except I’ve never given her flowers before. But it was just one of those impulsive-type things.

I take the flowers out of my locker and make sure the little water containers on the bottoms of the stems are still on. Then I turn her lock combination, which I know because we tell each other our new ones every year. I’m leaving the flowers in there without a card. Since girls remember everything, she has to know they’re from me.

Girls are always complaining about how much stuff guys forget. I can’t wait to see how impressed she is that I remembered.

The decent thing about lunch is that Rhiannon’s been sitting with me since the thing with Steve ended. The crappy thing about lunch is that even though she’s sitting with me, she’s staring at him.

It’s annoying. He rips her heart out and stomps all over it, and she’s still hoping he’ll look at her.

She sat with me a couple times when they were in a fight. And it was great and everything, but in a way it felt like I was just good old James, always there, like some comfortable sofa. Which gets irritating.

“So I’m doing this computer program for Danny’s speech,” I ramble. “It’s what’s up. Really cool lighting effects and original fonts and . . .”

When did I start babbling? As soon as she sat down? And since when do I say things like
It’s what’s up
?

Rhiannon hasn’t said anything about the flowers yet. She probably didn’t go to her locker.

I should just get to the point here. Something I was thinking about last period. Just this idea that showed up out of nowhere. No big or anything.

“And then the dance is that night.”

Rhiannon goes, “Um-hmm.” Still staring at Steve.

“So, like . . . are you going?”

She finally looks at me. “Where?”

“To the dance.”

“Oh. Um . . . yeah. I think so.”

“So, like . . . with Nicole or . . . ?”

“Well . . . maybe with Steve.”

The Hot Pocket sticks in my throat. Obviously, my hearing’s on the fritz. “Huh?”

Rhiannon blushes. “No, I mean . . . I don’t know for sure, but . . .”

“Yeah . . . didn’t he break up with you, though?”

She gives me a harsh look. “Technically maybe. But things change.”

I’m shocked. Why would she still want to be with that dumbass after everything he put her through?

Rhiannon looks at Steve again. And this time, he looks back at her.

And he smiles.

And she practically melts all over the table.

Screw this. I get up to leave.

“Where are you going?” Rhiannon says.

“I’m done.”

“But . . . don’t you want to sit with me?”

I’m tired of being taken for granted. Does she even appreciate me at all?

I don’t want to fight with her. I really don’t. But if I stay here and watch this, I’m going to blow.

“I gotta go,” I say.

And I’m out.

I can see Mrs. Schaffer on our stoop from half a block away. She’s just standing there, holding on to the railing. I run up to our building.

“Hey, Mrs. Schaffer!” I climb the stairs up to her.

“Oh good. Would you . . . ?”

“Of course.”

I help Mrs. Schaffer inside and up the rest of the stairs. It’s so weird how a lot of older people live in walk-up buildings without an elevator. How do they get around when they live alone and there’s no one to help them? Living in a third-floor walk-up is nothing for me, but it’s a serious deal for her. It takes her like ten minutes just to get up to her place. And lately it seems like she’s struggling more.

We stop on the second-floor landing for a breather. The hallway smells like mothballs. Mothballs and cabbage. I hate it when people cook stuff that takes over the entire building.

“And so?” Mrs. Schaffer prods. “What’s new with the girl?”

Man. This is the last thing I want to talk about. I just want to go to my room, get my homework done, and work on programming for Danny’s speech. Keep busy until it’s time for
24
. Then go to bed. And forget how warped Rhiannon’s being.

“Nothing to report yet.”

“Oh? And why is this?”

What am I supposed to say here? I hate stringing her along like this, but she always gets so excited about the prospect of me having a serious girlfriend. Someone I can take over to her place for visits. And so she can feed us cookies. I just can’t let her down. Especially since she has such high expectations of me.

“I’m waiting for the right opportunity to arise,” I explain.

“In my day, a boy liked a girl, she was the first to know. None of this scheming.”

Mrs. Schaffer is like a grandma to me. My grandparents on Ma’s side live in Germany, where she’s from. But I haven’t seen them since I was small. I hardly remember them. Just fragments. Pieces of another life. And on Dad’s side, my grampa died and my grandma lives in a nursing home.

So I’m really protective of Mrs. Schaffer. Over the years, I’ve felt like it’s my responsibility to take care of her more and more. She’s family now.

When I get to Danny’s, I can’t believe how tricked-out his roof is. There’s a huge cooler with subs and a bucket packed with ice and soda. Four chairs are set up around a TV. Which is plugged into what has to be the longest extension cord in the world.

“James, my man!” he yells. “Come on up!”

Tonight’s the season finale of
24
, so Danny’s having a farewell screening on his roof. Evan and Carl are also coming. We’re all hard-core
24
fanatics. Danny and I have been watching since it came on when we were in seventh grade. I remember being scared because it premiered right after September 11 and it’s all about terrorism, but I was riveted at the same time. I haven’t missed an episode yet. It’s the one show I have viewing rights for at home, but I usually try to watch it at Rhiannon’s. It’s so much cooler on the big screen.