Bright Lights, Dark Nights (10 page)

 

Chapter Five

 

Kate was in love with Naomi already. It was Wednesday, lunch break, and I was with Just Nate and Just Kate on the outside staircase behind the school. We were looking over the woods and city on the third floor while Nate and Kate smoked. It was another nice day, and the leaves were red and falling. I'd explained the dinner, the date, and even the hallway passings and the harp from before I'd even officially met her, and Kate hung on to every dorky word like it was the world's worst romance novel.

“So you kissed her?” Kate asked.

“I think so,” I said.

“Well, dude, you either kissed her or you didn't,” Nate said. “It's that thing, with the lips touching…”

“Okay, yeah, I kissed her,” I relented, pacing around. “But, like, right after she basically told me no, no kissing. But then she was apologizing for saying no, and she was hinting I should maybe be more assertive, but assertive feels douchey to me, so I had no way to tell if I was being an aggressive douche or romantic. I don't know if the kiss was any good. I mean I'd never really made a move like that before, and I didn't know if I should open my mouth or not. It was probably a terrible kiss, honestly. I probably was just smooshing my closed mouth into her face. I should have gone on the Internet and looked up how to kiss or something first.”

“No, don't go to the Internet for love advice,” Kate said. “Bad move. I'm sure your kiss was perfect. She didn't squirm or hit you or anything?”

“No, she didn't hit me,” I said.

“Awww,” Kate said with a big grin. “She didn't hit you! Walter!”

Nate and Kate brought it all back down to earth. It didn't feel so monumental when I said this stuff out loud, and heard their reactions. It felt like this was a normal thing that people go through. A good thing.

Nate and Kate were in some ways the most ideal couple; they fit like Legos. Somehow they could still talk, they could still be inseparable, and they could still be Nate and Kate, even though the relationship hadn't worked out. You look at the statistical probabilities of failure and heartbreak, which are astronomical, but you realize sometimes it can still end like this: decent. They were a failed romance but a spectacular failure, as these things go. You looked at Nate and Kate and you were almost not afraid to try.

“Now the issue is, what do I do next?” I said, and I'd been pacing back and forth and leaning over the railing. I'd felt nervous for a couple of days and really needed to know how to stop feeling nervous.

“You ask her out!” Kate said. “You ask her to be Walter's hot little mama.”

“I'm not ready,” I said. I had the jitters right then, and the jitters were bad enough. The thought of asking her out made me want to toss up everything inside me. “I'll ruin everything if I try to force it.”

“Walter, you give yourself the worst advice,” Nate said from his spot in the shade. “You'll ruin everything by sitting around waiting while someone else asks her out. This girl has a taste for kisses now, and if she doesn't get more Walter loving, she's gonna look for it somewhere else. It's on to the next one, son.”

I'd gone to Nate and Kate because they were normal and thought normal and had normal relationships, except for right now, I guess. But they still had a better track record than I did for this stuff. Nate was right: my own advice was terrible. And what did I know? My family was a mess. I wouldn't know a normal relationship if it asked me to a Foo Fighters concert.

I was in the stage of a budding romance that I've named “The Awkwardness of What's Next.” There were too many lingering questions, too many unknown variables, too many unspoken words still. I needed to find Naomi so we could figure it all out.

*   *   *

I skipped the bus ride home and stayed late at school to see if I could find Naomi. If I was going to ask her out or admit to feeling a certain way, I'd rather do it in person than wait for a response online. I also had the comfort that she brought me when we were face-to-face. She had a way of making me feel like I could say or do anything. This would put it to the test, if I could actually find her.

I sat at a table in the hall with my books out, halfheartedly starting some homework. But mostly I was people-watching, hoping to spot Naomi. As I waited, I overheard a conversation.

“Those sneakers were expensive,” this one kid was saying. “Since when do I have to worry about my stuff being stolen in gym class? I'm gonna pound someone.”

“Did you hear about Jeremy?” the other kid said. “His house got hit by the burglar. His mom's jewelry, small stuff—they didn't even realize it was missing until Sunday morning.”

I couldn't actually focus on work, so I wandered. I didn't really stay at school late often, but walking home wasn't a big issue when I did have to. There were football players making their way to the gym area. People doing homework in the hall. Seven hours was generally enough for me.

I made a turn toward the lockers and bumped into Jason.

“Hey, man,” he said. “I'm running late today.”

“Hey, I can't make it to Shadows,” I said, not expecting the conversation. I had forgotten completely that it was Wednesday, and that meant comic books. I had more important things on my mind, and not things I could talk to Jason about.

“Don't have to run it by me,” Jason said, and walked past me. He didn't ask what I was doing there late, and I didn't have a reason primed if he had asked. “Catch you later.”

I hadn't talked to Jason since the concert, but the way he walked past me and kept it short made me wonder if he knew about the kiss. I couldn't imagine Naomi would tell him. I didn't even know if he knew I was at the concert.

I wandered aimlessly down the hall, through the science lab wing, and turned back. I'd pretty much given up when I saw her ready to leave, walking to the exit doors. I couldn't catch her in time.

“Hey!” I shouted out, embarrassing myself. She turned around. I couldn't think of a word to follow up with. She was wearing short pink shorts and a light jacket. She had a track uniform on. Her legs were a mile long. She wore glasses on her head, like she sometimes did. I'd seen her with the glasses on her head before but rarely actually wearing them, so her eyes had to have been a lot better than mine.

“Hi, Walter,” she said as I made my way over. I felt like a stalled car in a heist getaway. I couldn't get the engine in my mind to turn.

“Um, I wanted to ask you something,” I sputtered out.

“I'm late for cross-country,” she said, still walking. “Can we walk and talk?” She jogged in place for a second.

“You do track
and
harp?” I asked. “I'm an underachiever, aren't I?”

She smiled, and we went out the doors to the open air. I was comfortable in my layers and jeans, but Naomi was going to have to work her way up to comfort in her shorts. There were a few people waiting for rides in the parking lot, but not a lot. Nobody I knew. I was walking with the cutest girl in the school, and no one was there to witness it and prove it was real. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Yeah. Do you like movies?” I asked with all the charm of a sociopath. Naomi laughed. “Or TV, or anything?”

It wasn't the best opening question. I might have been better off blurting out
DO YOU WANNA BE MY GIRLFRIEND?
But it could work—it could lead to a movie date, at a theater or the home version. I could work with it still. Maybe.

“That's what you had to ask me?” she asked. “I do watch TV, like, really bad TV. Singing competitions, reality shows. I'm a
Biggest Loser
junkie. Let's bump it up to a jog,” she said, and started a light run. I couldn't handle my half of the conversation. Her smile was too much. I had a rush like I was skydiving. I ran after her, lugging my stuffed backpack around so it knocked me on the back with every step. I was winded within a minute.

“I had another question,” I said. “That was just the appetizer.”

“You want to know my favorite sports team? Book?” Naomi asked. “It's the Red Sox, and the Chronicles of Narnia. But I don't watch baseball.”

Those were good answers. She looked like a posed picture you'd find in a newly purchased picture frame, and our light hobbling had already left me sweating a bit more than what was acceptable for a seventeen-year-old.

We got off the pavement and onto crunchy grass and dead leaves, cut through a line of trees, and made our way to the field, where all her teammates were warming up. We'd exhausted reality TV as a conversation subject by then. I was out of time.

“Anyway,” she said as she stopped and laughed. She grabbed her foot behind her and gave it a good stretch. She was just showing off now. “I have to take off. They're waiting for me.”

“Cool, yeah,” I said. I couldn't find the words I needed. My mind was a black hole, a vortex that thoughts were sucked into and crushed to particles. “Hang on. Uh…”

Naomi laughed. “Hey, there's this Halloween party my friend was trying to get me to go to. I wasn't planning on going, but if you wanted to go, I could be convinced still…”

“Yeah,” I said, not being completely honest. I didn't really go to parties, and the idea of going to one with Naomi was like a double shot of nerves, like I got socked in the stomach. “Yeah, that sounds good, definitely. I'm in.”

Her coach was staring at us and at her stopwatch at this point, and Naomi backed away toward her team. I caught my breath. “Halloween?” I asked. “So like … costumes?”

“Yeah, we'll need costumes,” Naomi said. “I'll talk to you later. We'll figure it out!”

*   *   *

My dad was standing in the living room and putting on a tie in the mirror when I got home. “I'm working nights this week,” he said without looking over as I closed the door. “So you'll be on your own for dinners if you can handle it.”

“Yeah,” I said, and put my bag on the chair in the corner.

“This shirt used to fit just right,” he said, tugging at the sleeves with a critical eye. “I must have shrunk it in the laundry.”

“Hey, Dad?” I asked. “I'm going to a Halloween party on Friday, and I need a costume. I was thinking of going as Bogart or something, or a generic detective. I need the parts for it, though.”

“Party?” he asked. I didn't go to many parties. He sat down on the couch to put his work shoes on. “There gonna be girls there?”

“I would wager it's a strong possibility,” I said.

“Who are you going with?” he asked, looking up at me while hunched over tying his shoes.

“No one,” I lied. “I know some people who'll be there, though.”

Dad stood back up. “And you came to your old man because your friends wanted a chaperone, right? A man of the law on the scene, to keep everything on the up and up? No, huh? I've got just the thing. Come here.” I followed Dad into his room, surprised it wasn't messier. He opened his closet door and pulled a box out and opened the top.