The Islanders (24 page)

BENJAMIN WOKE TO MOZART'S SYMPHONY
Number Forty, having programmed his playlist the night before. The music carried through on the speakers in his bathroom, clearly audible as he showered, shaved, deodorized, and combed his hair.

“Why,” he asked his invisible reflection in the bathroom mirror, “would a girl who likes the Black Keys and the Strokes want to go out with a guy who likes Mozart?”

“Why?” he asked, sticking a toothbrush in his mouth, “wou a gir who ever even goes ou choose e?”

He quickly finished brushing, then answered his own question. “I'll tell you why, Bat Boy—because you're safe. You're nonthreatening. Story of your life, man.”

He located and put on underwear, a shirt, hopefully white if his mother had put it in the right part of his closet, a pair of pants, definitely denim, and a pullover. Color unknown, but once described by Zoey as “something that would go with anything.” Good enough.

A jacket. It would be cold at the game tonight. The leather jacket. He didn't mind being non-threatening, but a little macho wouldn't hurt. Would it?

Jeez, this was going to be so different from going out with Claire. Claire wasn't exactly a tender, easily bruised flower. It would take a baseball bat to bruise Claire.

Nina was different. Not that she wasn't tough in her own way, but there was this big, unhealed wound on her soul. She was vulnerable. This was a big thing for her, going out with him. Probably Claire had been exaggerating in saying that Nina was in love with him, that was too much, but she
was
sort of putting herself on the line in a way that Claire never did.

“I guess she has a right to start off with someone safe,” Benjamin said thoughtfully. “Although . . . I
am
wearing leather. I don't know what color leather it is, but it's manly just the same.” He laughed and headed out to the hallway.

“Zoey! You ready?” he yelled upstairs.

Zoey came clattering down the stairs. “Here I am. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Bye, Mom!” Zoey yelled.

“Bye, you two,” their mother called from the kitchen.

Outside the air was brisk, but Benjamin felt direct sunlight on his face. It was clear, or at least not completely cloudy. They set off at a walk, Benjamin keeping the count of his steps
almost unconsciously as he swung his cane from side to side in a narrow arc.

“I cannot wake up,” Zoey complained.

“That's what you get for going out in the middle of the night.”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nah. I hear everything, you know that. What did you do, go deliver Christopher's papers?”

“Aisha and I, yeah. Thank God it's Friday.”

“Mmm. Big night tonight.” Benjamin smiled. “How is Lucas doing with the homecoming king deal?”

Zoey laughed. “You'd never guess that being popular and well liked could piss someone off so much.”

His sister shifted into her ever-so-casual voice. “So, tonight I guess you're taking Nina to the game.”

“Uh-huh. You know how I love listening to football. The crowd murmurs, the crowd starts yelling, there's the sound of a loud crunch from the field, the crowd sighs heavily. Almost as fun as tennis. Thock, thock, thock, thock, crowd groans, then one of the players starts yelling, That was in; what are you, blind?'”

“Maybe Nina can describe the game to you,” Zoey said, still in her overly casual voice.

“Well, we'll probably be busy making love under the seats,”
Benjamin said. Zoey was being subtle, which wasn't her greatest talent.

“Very funny.”

“That was where you were heading, wasn't it? A few well-chosen words about not doing anything to upset Nina; after all, she's in a sort of vulnerable condition right now? Claire already gave me that line. Jeez, what do you people think I am? The ruthless despoiler of virgins?”

“Of course not,” Zoey said. Now she sounded embarrassed. “It's just she's my friend, and you're my brother, and I want it all to work out so there aren't any major conflicts.”

“Look, she's going out with me precisely because I'm safe. I mean, come on. I grope in slow motion. I can't kiss anyone without directions from ground control to guide me in. We'll do the thing tonight, we'll do the dance tomorrow night, she'll probably decide it was dull and get on with her life.”

“Is that what you think? That you're just a sort of tryout for her?”

“Training wheels. That's my role in life. For someone like Nina, I'm a safe place to start. For someone like Claire, I'm more a curiosity, a unique experience so that someday she can say
Oh, yes, I've had them all. Why, I even had a blind guy once.
”

“I don't believe I'm hearing self-pity from you.”

Benjamin stopped and did a sort of double take.

“Damn. You're right. Slap me if I do that again.”

They resumed their progress. Benjamin was still disturbed that he had given vent to what sounded a lot like bitterness. That was the wrong attitude. Yes, he'd gotten dumped. But in the same week Claire had dumped him, Zoey had dumped Jake. These things happened to everyone. Especially lately.

“Anyway, I'm just saying that underneath Nina's abrasive and occasionally weird exterior there is a very sweet girl, so don't be fooled.”

“Uh-huh. Got it. By the way, what little advice did you give her about me, Mom?”

Zoey laughed. “I told her that underneath your abrasive and occasionally weird exterior there was an abrasive and occasionally weird interior, so she shouldn't be fooled by your nice guy act.”

LUCAS STOOD ON THE GRASS
at the far end of the field and watched the early part of the homecoming game with a sense of impending doom. Not just because the Weymouth team was being beaten by the team from Bangor. Frankly, he didn't really care who won. Inasmuch as he was at all interested in football, it was an abstract interest, not tied to any one team.

But as each play went by, the moment drew nearer.

He had already seen the suit—a white tuxedo. Each of the five candidates for homecoming king had been supplied with a white tuxedo, rented for the occasion and currently hanging in the boys' locker room. They'd be a little chorus line of Barry Manilows.

He was standing behind the opposing team's goalpost, idly wondering why Jake was playing such lousy ball. He was probably burned over the white tuxedos, too, since he also was one of the nominees. Tad Crowley, a third candidate, was standing
nearby, smoking marijuana and admiring the distant legs of the cheerleaders.

It was a cool, almost cold night. Thermoses were in heavy use in bleachers packed with students, parents, alumni, and those other members of the local population who lacked meaningful lives.

At halftime Lucas, Tad, Jake, and the other two male candidates were due to march out onto the football field wearing the white tuxedos. They would be joined by the five female candidates. The big announcement of the king and queen, already known to everyone in the school, would be made by the principal.

The moment when his name was read out over the p.a. would be the most embarrassing moment of his life. Worse than the strip search when he'd entered the Youth Authority.

Zoey and the female candidates were already in the girls' locker room doing their hair and whatever else it was girls did to get ready.

On the field, Jake went out for a pass. The ball sailed through his fingers.

“I think we're getting our butts kicked,” Lucas remarked.

Tad sucked in smoke, and in an I'm-holding-my-breath voice said, “You think Maddie's a real redhead?”

The gun popped, ending the first half, and the team, muddy and dispirited, began to trot across the field in their direction, aiming for the locker room to be berated by their coach.

Lucas cursed. With a sigh, he headed toward the gym. Tad put the joint out on the bottom of his shoe and fell into step beside him.

“Do I look high?” Tad asked.

“Red, unfocused eyes, idiot grin? No, no one would ever guess.”

The vanguard of the team passed by across the grass at a jog, slinging their helmets and muttering.

Jake separated himself from them and slowed to fall in with Lucas and Tad. Jake and Lucas had been bitter enemies back before Jake had discovered the truth about the night his brother was killed. And even afterward, there was the fact that Lucas had, by some interpretations, stolen Zoey away from Jake. Recently the two of them had managed to remain polite, but not exactly close to each other.

Jake was muddy and sweating. He looked distracted.

“What's up, big Jake?” Tad asked.

“We're down twenty-seven to seven,” Jake said grimly. “Haven't you been watching the game? Or did you just decide you couldn't stand it anymore?”

“I was watching the cheerleaders,” Tad admitted.

“They might be the ones playing in the next half,” Jake said. “I suck tonight.”

“I doubt it's all your fault,” Lucas said mildly.

Jake pointed angrily at his teammates, now a dozen yards away. “Tell them that. They're putting the whole thing on me.”

“It's this damned dress-up monkey show,” Lucas said. “Get that over with and you'll be set for the next half.”

“Pathetic,” Jake said. It was clear he was referring to himself.

Lucas didn't know how to respond, so he kept quiet.

After the darkness they had traversed from the football field, the fluorescence through the back door of the locker room was blinding.

Jake went straight to the showers, ignoring his dirty, depressed teammates and their occasional sullen barbs. Lucas sighed and picked up the plastic-sheathed tuxedo, shaking his head in disgust.

“By the way, I will have to kill the first person who gives me any crap about this,” he said in a conversational tone.

He undressed down to his underwear and pulled on the slick, cold tuxedo pants. “Oh, man,” he complained. “These things are about two sizes too big around the waist.”

“That's so K-burger can fit in there with you tomorrow
night at the dance,” one of the football players said. He got a high five for his wit.

“Let's not get into tomorrow night,” Lucas said. “One disaster at a time. Besides, this is it for the tux. Tomorrow night I think I'll dress myself.”

Jake had toweled off and opened his locker. Lucas saw him look around quickly, then bend over, sticking his head and one hand into the locker. There followed a sharp snorting sound. Then another. Jake emerged, wiping his nose.

“I must have a cold,” he told Lucas.

“Yeah, it's going around,” Lucas said, playing along with Jake's lie. It wasn't any of his business if Jake was doing coke. It was amazing, given what he knew about Jake, but it wasn't Lucas's problem.

It was also ironic, Lucas realized. He was the one who had just been released from jail, and he was going to walk out on the field perfectly straight, flanked by one guy who was stoned and another guy who was high.

“This younger generation,” he said to himself. “What's the world coming to?”

Zoey and the other four girls had to take off their high heels and walk barefoot across the gym floor. Upon reaching the door to the outside, they used each other as supports while they put the
heels back on. Then they waited for the white convertibles that were to pick them up and sweep them in semiregal splendor around the football field.

“So where are the guys?” Louise Kronenberger asked. “I can't believe we have to wait for them.”

“Yeah,
you
never keep guys waiting,” Kay Appleton said, with a wink at Zoey. “Any guys.”

“Was that a subtly snide remark?” Louise asked.

Not all that subtle
, Zoey thought. “We're going to freeze to death out there. Bare shoulders and a plunging neckline in October? Maybe in Florida.”

“Maybe Lucas can warm you up on the way out there,” Louise suggested. “He looks like a guy who could warm someone up.”

Zoey seethed, but was determined not to show it. Louise was one of those girls who enjoyed making other girls feel insecure. Probably she had a really bad self-image and had to try to compensate, Zoey told herself.

Psychobabble could be such a comfort sometimes.

“He does know how to dance, doesn't he?” Louise asked. “I mean slow dance. You know, where to put his hands on the girl's body, how to move around?”

“I wouldn't know,” Zoey said through chattering teeth.

“It seems to me they used to give the girls little fur things
to wear over their shoulders,” Kay said.

“Not politically correct. Fur is dead,” Zoey explained. “And I guess flannel just wouldn't work with the image.”

The door opened and Jake was the first one out, snapping his fingers, bobbing his head and looking like he was ready to go. “Ladies, ladies, and more ladies,” he said. “You all look beautiful. Even you, Zoey; no hard feelings, you always did look great, Lucas is a lucky guy. Marie, Amelia, Kay, you're hot. Louise, as always.”

“You're in a good mood,” Kay said dryly. “Twenty-seven to seven. Just think how happy you'd be if it was fifty-seven to seven.”

“We'll be back in the second half,” Jake said. “Don't worry, no problem, big Jake has the situation totally under control. I've just been dogging it so that the last-minute comeback will be even more amazing.”

Lucas and the rest of the guys came out, most looking content enough. Lucas was scowling.

“Somehow I feel you got me into this,” Lucas accused Zoey.

“Wasn't me,” Zoey said.

“It was Aisha,” Lucas said darkly. “She denies it, but this is all her fault. She should at least be here to see what she's done.”

“She's in the stands with Nina and Claire and Benjamin,” Zoey said. She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “I asked her
to take some pictures. Who knows when I'll see you dressed up again?”

“Any word on Christopher?”

Zoey's face fell. “She said he was much better, but she wasn't able to spend much time with him. He was still dopey.”

Lucas gave her a significant look and then directed his gaze at Jake. “He's not the only one.”

Zoey stared at Jake. He was flirting happily with Louise as though he didn't have a care in the world, laughing at her jokes as well as his own.

The white convertibles pulled up in a long procession. Zoey had been scheduled to drive out to the field with Tad Crowley. She pulled Kay aside. “Do you mind if we switch and I drive out with Jake? He's being a little weird.”

“What are you doing?” Lucas asked suspiciously.

“Jake doesn't use drugs,” Zoey explained under her breath. “I just want to see if he's all right.”

“Zoey, trust me. I spent two years living with every kind of druggie known to man. The boy's buzzed.”

Zoey began to argue, but it was time to get going. She climbed into the car, arranging herself precariously on the top of the backseat with her feet resting on the leather cushions.

Jake hopped in beside her, still grinning and tossing lines at Louise, Lucas, and everyone else within hearing.

The car took off, adding a stiff breeze to Zoey's chill. Her arms were goose bumps. Her teeth were literally chattering. “It's f-freezing out here,” she said.

Jake shrugged. “It's not bad. You cold? Here, you want my jacket? I can still loan you my jacket, right, without Lucas getting all bent and thinking I'm like trying to get you back? Although you do look good in that dress, I have to admit. Showing leg through the slit, with the heels. And the cleave and all.”

“Jake,” Zoey said through her shivering, “I don't
have
any cleavage. You're mistaking me for Claire. And as for this dress—”

“Claire's not so hot,” Jake said in his new, rapid-fire way. “She thinks she is. I mean, a lot of people, especially guys, think she is. But she's not. I'm not saying anything bad about her or anything, but underneath it all she's just a cold, selfish person. She doesn't care. She thinks she can get away with anything and like everyone is just supposed to go
Oh, it's all right, it's Claire, so we just have to forgive and forget.
See, because it's Claire and everyone thinks she's this . . . this, I don't know.”

“Jake? Are you . . . all right?”

“To tell you the truth, Zo, I'm great. I know I sucked in the first half, but I'm stoked for the big comeback. Stoked.”

“Stoked on what?” Zoey asked.

Jake cracked his knuckles and slapped his hands together.
“Get this little thing over with and boom. Back in the game. I'm so good I could even catch Fitz's lousy passes. You watch. Is Claire here, even?”

“Yes. She's with Nina and Eesh and Benjamin.”

“I know, everyone thinks I lost it first half, but don't give up on me yet. Hundred-yard game, and almost all of it in the second half. Cool. Count on it.”

Zoey turned and looked back at the car behind them. They were just coming under the brilliant stadium lights, and cheers were going up from the onlookers. A pothole sent her lurching and she grabbed Jake's shoulder for support. Glancing back again, she caught a cool, dubious look from Lucas.

Suddenly Jake stared at her, hard, some idea lighting up his eyes.

“What?” she asked him.

He smiled. “You know something? This is what we'll remember when we get old.”

“Is it?” She smiled. “I guess it's one of the things we'll remember.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I always figured homecoming would be you and me. Prom the same thing. You and me, Zoey. You and me and I'd gain a hundred yards or more and be the big hero. It's okay, though. Things change. Onward and upward, right?”

“And hee-e-e-ere they come,” Nina announced. She laughed and nudged Aisha. “Zoey must be freezing her cheechees off.” For the benefit of Benjamin, who was on her right side, she elaborated. “Picture five white convertibles coming across the field. A guy and a girl in each, along with the drivers who, judging by the little red hats, are all Shriners. Our proud male candidates are in ill-fitting, Las Vegas white tuxedos with powder-blue cummerbunds. Girls in powder-blue gowns, long, glittering, slit up one leg and down the chest. Very Miss America. Jake is waving like he's running for senator. Lucas looks like he may make a run for it at any moment. Zoey is turning a deeper shade of blue than her dress.”

Nina was delighted to hear Benjamin laugh. The stands were crowded and they had been forced close together. Her leg was actually touching his, and she was finding she enjoyed the contact. In fact, she was feeling almost giddy. If Claire hadn't been sitting just beyond Aisha, Nina might even have gone all the way and tried to hold his hand. Or not. But in this environment, with everyone bundled up in the great outdoors, everything seemed safe.

“We're having a minor problem,” Nina said. “The car exhausts are steaming so much it's like someone turned on a smoke machine. Steaming cars, steaming breath, steaming cups of coffee all around in the stands, the stadium lights turning
everyone gray, and here's Mr. Hardcastle to make the big announcement.”

“The announcement everyone already knows,” Benjamin observed. “I like this. It sort of crystallizes the whole school experience—a series of surreal, semimystical rituals that no one understands, that very few people care about, and that always involve elements of embarrassment and discomfort.”