Two Parties, One Tux, and a Very Short Film about The Grapes of Wrath (21 page)

“Oops,” is my macho response to the situation. I follow with an “Excuse me” and he lets me pass. I have to at least pretend I was planning to go in, why else would my hand be on the door?

After an appropriate amount of time, I leave the bathroom and finish the circuit to the library. Amanda is gone. I don't see Danielle yet, so I find a little table off to one side, near the window and …

“Hi, Mitchell.” Amanda slides into the chair across from me. I want to tell her it is already taken. “I think you've been avoiding me,” she says in a soft voice.

Avoiding, hiding, actively running away from. “No,” I
tell her as confidently as I can, given that both of us know I'm lying. She is half smiling, like she's thinking of something pleasant and far away. It's a confusing sort of smile. An angry smile.

“I heard you're taking Danielle to the prom,” she says with a casual vehemence.

“Yeah, um … well, we've started, sort of … seeing each other.” That's honest. We might be slow and unserious, but it still counts.

“I know. I heard.” Meaning, you didn't tell me yourself.

“Do you have a free this period?”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Because you are really late for your class.”

“
Were
you going to tell me?”

I don't know. “Yes,” I tell her. “Yes, I was. Next time we bumped into each other.” Which would have been never if I could have helped it.

“It would have been nice if I could have heard it directly from you,” she says, losing the smile from her anger.

“I'm sorry.”

“Thanks, because I think you mean that. Can we talk?”

I so want to say no.

“I know that it isn't going to come out right and I know I don't have any right to say this, but I consider us friends and I feel like someone has to tell you.”

Have I contracted some disease? Is there something stuck in my teeth? What is she talking about?

“Mitchell, I'm worried about you. I know you like Danielle and I'm sure she's a really great person, but everybody knows she uses people. Don't you think it's a little strange that she is suddenly in love with you? What, has she not noticed that you've been in her class since first grade? And now, just when no one else will even speak to her after what she did to Ryan, this lightning bolt hits her that you're the one? You're cute, Mitchell, but you're hardly her type. She's got to be desperate. That sounds harsh, but I just think you should know that's what people are saying. And if it were me, I'd want someone to tell me if everyone thought I was being used, you know.”

Amanda stops short and looks up. I can tell from her facial expression who is crossing the library toward us.

“I've got to go—I'm late for class. I'm just trying to be a good friend, Mitchell, really.”

Really?

I'm sure Danielle saw Amanda fleeing the library, but all she says when she joins me is, “There you are, buddy.” I feel her hand on the back of my head before she speaks. Danielle likes to touch. My hair, my arm, a hand resting on my shoulder. If I am being used, what am I being used for? Other than a date for the prom, it's hard to see what Danielle gains from dating me.

While I'm busy enjoying the hair stroking, a less welcome face slides into view.

“Buddy? Wow, that's so … saccharine. It's cute. If
you're going to emasculate the poor guy, at least call him ‘puppy' or ‘sweetie' or something.”

“Louis?”

“Yes, Danielle.”

“Go away.”

“Can't,” Louis says as he plops his bulk into the chair Amanda just vacated. “I need to talk to my little buddy here.”

“Not now, Louis.”

“Please go away,” Danielle repeats.

“No, no—this is for your own good. You guys can play library later. If you can keep your hands out of her indices for a few minutes, I have something serious to tell you.” He turns to Danielle. “You know, from what I know of Mitchell, yours may be the first pair of female lips he's ever sucked on. Is he a fast learner? Is he figuring out what to do yet or is it like sticking your tongue into an open spigot?” Danielle rolls her eyes, sits next to me, and opens her chemistry book. Nothing will deter Louis.

“I just got the word. Sorrelson is sending you to the J-Board. Day in court. Very interesting. Passing the buck, letting the juvies decide your fate. Now usually I'm the hanging judge type …”

“How did you even get on the Judicial Board?”

Louis looks offended. “Elected by my peers, and lucky for you I was too, because I am one of the few people who truly gets it. It's a freedom of expression thing. First
Amendment. Tits as art. Someone has to take a stand, and I'm proud of you, my son. Now, usually I recommend groveling. That goes down well with the J-Board. But a brave man like yourself should take on the establishment. Give it to the man. Consequences be damned, liberty or death. We are with you, brother. Long live the revolution!”

Louis stands, raises his fist in solidarity, and finally leaves. Danielle looks at me.

“J-Board?”

“Yeah. Next week.”

“I could kill my parents.” She looks genuinely upset. We spend the rest of the period writing out flash cards, Danielle's left elbow resting on my right arm as I whisper chemical elements to her softly. I decide being a nerd isn't such a horrible thing.

Who is “we”?

It is Friday. Usually on Fridays David and I go to a movie. Or hang out and watch TV. Sometimes we go to a party or a game. But it's always been easy. We did
something
. Now there's Danielle. We haven't talked about what happens now.

First attempt to talk to David:

Me: It's Friday.

David: I know.

First attempt to talk to Danielle:

Me: About tonight …

Danielle: I don't know what you were thinking, but I was thinking maybe about eight. Could I be ready at eight? Maybe, but I could try because then we could have a little time before going over to Emily's. Don't look that way. It isn't a party, just a couple of people, and Emily is one of the few people who has been relatively nice to me since everything happened.

Second attempt to talk to David:

Me: Danielle said something about Emily having a party tonight. Not a
party
party, just a few people.

David: I don't know. What about a movie?

Second attempt to talk to Danielle:

Me: I was talking to David. Just checking in about tonight.

Danielle: Is he coming to Emily's?

Me: I don't think so.

Danielle: That's good. I wasn't supposed to be telling lots of people about it. She gets all wiggy about her house when her parents are gone and she doesn't want a lot of gatecrashers.

One, maybe two, or possibly three of us are in denial. In a bizarre turn of events, I have too much to do on a Friday night. I consider faking a stomach virus. Instead I call David when I get home.

“Hello.”

“Hi, David, it's Mitchell.”

“I know.”

“Danielle really wants to go to Emily's tonight.”

“And you want to go with her.”

It would be helpful to know if that is a question or a statement.

“No, but I think I maybe should.”

“Okay. What time is the party?”

“I don't know. It's more just a few people getting together.”

“Call me back.”

I call Danielle.

“Hi, guy.”

“David wants to go to the party.”

“I thought you said he wanted to go to a movie.”

“He did, but with me.”

“Can't he go with someone else?”

“I don't know.”

We all go to Emily's. David meets us there. I stand uncomfortably between him and Danielle while they talk to different people but never each other. Danielle insists it's not a party, but it's a lot like all the parties I go to except I'm here with two people, neither one of whom is
spending much time talking with me. David is also drinking. He's decided he likes beer, he tells me in the same assured way he defended his lack of taste for it in the past. All told, he drinks about three beers, which I tell myself isn't enough to worry about. When it gets late, I leave with Danielle. David half smiles a good-bye.

An herbaceous, biennial, and dicotyledonous flowering plant of the family Brassicaceae (or Cruciferae), sometimes decorative but often used in dishes such as coleslaw—but that's not what's for dinner

Doesn't one of you have a teacher named Al Curtis?” Dad asks as he walks into the house. None of us except Hubert are standing in the hallway, so the question is more or less addressed to the dog. The bipedal members of the family are all sitting in the kitchen.

“I do, or did,” I stammer from my perch at the breakfast bar.

“Nice guy.” At first I assume this is a question, but the inflection is wrong. Dad is making a statement. Where has he met Curtis?