Project 17 (13 page)

"I'd
like to do some homework." Chet raises his hand.

"Honestly, hornboy," Mimi says, "do you ever quit?"

"They don't call me Chet, the Energizer Honey, for nothing."

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"Funny," she says. "I thought what they called you was Chet, the Energizer
Dummy."

"You know you love me," Chet says, bumping her with his shoulder.

Oddly enough, Mimi doesn't object. She even has a quirky little smile curled across her lips. They end up moving away, into a faraway corner--peculiarly across from Greta and Tony--engrossed in conversation

"So," Derik says, sensing the sudden awkwardness. "Cracker Jack?" He holds the sailor-adorned box out to me as an offering. But even the promise of a prize inside doesn't tempt me.

"No thanks," I say, pulling a Balance Bar from my bag. "I think I've had my fill of food additives for the day."

"So you're a health freak?"

"Sort of." I shrug, tearing at the wrapper. "I'm going to be a doctor."

"For real?"

I shrug again, breaking off a piece of my bar for him. Derik pops it into his mouth. "It tastes like sandpaper," he says between chews.

"They call it Almond Brownie."

"Almond Sandpaper, maybe."

I smile and take a bite, noticing how, despite all this ghost talk, I'm feeling a bit more at ease--for the first time tonight.

"So how come you don't seem so excited?" he asks me. "About what?"

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"About working with drugs."

"Seriously?" I nearly choke on my Almond Brownie.

"No, I'm kidding." Derik smiles. "About getting to see people naked."

I can't help but laugh in response.

He grabs a bottle of water from his bag and passes it to me. "In all seriousness," he says, "how come you're not more excited about entering a profession with so many perks?"

"Because I'm scared that no colleges will accept me."

"Are you trying to be modest?" He positions the camera so that it points upward at us.

"I'm trying to be honest," I correct, following up with a sip of water. A trickle rolls down my chin.

"Well, I've heard about your grades," Derik continues. "I'm sure you'll get in
wherever
you applied."

"You'd be surprised."

Derik gives me a look--his eyebrows crinkling up like he just doesn't get it. I take another bite of my bar to avoid having to answer further probing, but now he's staring right at my mouth as I chew, waiting for some explanation. "Where are
you
going next year?" I ask, once I can swallow down.

"Red's Diner, ever hear of it? Best pancakes on the North Shore. And no food additives whatsoever."

"For real?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Food additives are a cook's best friend."

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"No." I smile. "I mean, are you serious about working at your parents' place? Didn't you say before that you
didn't
want to work there?"

He nods. "But unless something better comes up, I have no choice."

I glance at the camera, suspecting that
something better
has a lot to do with this project. Derik leans forward to click the camera off, and for one disappointing moment I think our conversation's ended.

But then I realize that things are just getting started.

"I want to be a filmmaker," he says, a shy little smile inching up his lip.

"Seriously? Like, for work?"

"Seriously," he says, staring at my mouth again. "For work."

"That's so exciting," I say, accidentally bumping my knee against his. He smells like citrus and candy--like something good enough to eat.

Derik goes on to tell me all about the contest he's entering, about how if he wins, his film will be shown on RTV. "It's just what I get really excited about," he says.

"That's great," I say, wondering what it feels like to be that excited about anything. Derik's pale blue eyes are wide, like I could jump right in. The feeling completely takes me aback--how close I feel to him, how excited I am just talking like this. It almost makes me forget where I am.

And who I'm with.

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I think back to that time during our freshman year, when we were both standing outside the school, waiting for the bus. He was staring at me then, too. I could feel his eyes, watching as I turned the pages of my book. I knew he wanted to say hello, but he didn't. Of course, it didn't help that I ended up walking away, leaving him there because I was too nervous to say something interesting-- or maybe I simply didn't feel I had anything interesting to say.

"Is it that way for you, too?" he asks, nudging in a little closer. The candle flame casts a shadow over his light brown hair. "I mean, what do
you
get excited about?"

I bite the corner of my lip, remembering how the guidance counselor had asked me almost the same thing. But the truth is, when you take away my goal of becoming a doctor, of going to Harvard, and studying my way to get there, there isn't much left--just a dull girl with an endless supply of health-nut trivia. A girl who doesn't have time for friends or boyfriends--whose last date was in the third grade, during a school field trip to the Museum of Science.

"It's not a trick question," Derik says. "I mean, do you get excited about medicine stuff ... about playing doctor?" He smiles extra wide, making my cheeks heat up.

I give an enthusiastic nod, but it's nowhere near as enthusiastic as Derik's--the way he looked when he was talking about his film. "My parents and I have been planning this since forever," I say. "They bought me a real

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first-aid kit when I was eight years old. They let me tape up their fingers and wrap up their knees as practice."

"So
they're
excited."

I nod.

"And how about you?"

I open my mouth to say something--to give him one of my stock answers, something I've scripted for guidance counselors or admissions reps--but instead I just keep silent.

"It's okay if you don't know," Derik says. "I mean, my parents have got it all planned out for me, too. Sometimes it's easier not to think about it, to just go with the flow and let somebody else decide."

I nod, gazing at his mouth--at the pale pink color and the freckle on his upper lip--wondering if all those rumors about him are true.

"I'm glad you're here," he says, moving even closer to me. He takes my hands and presses his thumbs into my palms. And makes my heart beat fast.

He stares at me for several moments, and I notice how his eyelashes turn upward, how his eyes look so serious-- like he needs to tell me something. And how his breath is warm against my chin. "I'm not sure what you've heard about me," he says finally, "but I think we have a lot in common."

"I'm glad I'm here, too," I say, knowing that we do have a lot in common and hoping to get to know him more.

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DERIK

LIZA IS AMAZING.
I mean, looks aside, the girl is sheer perfection: sweet, easy to talk to, likes to laugh. Not like one of those girls who just nods her head and agrees with everything I say, who says whatever she thinks I want to hear. Or needs me to tell her what to think. She's different.

It's like, when we're talking, she's really into it--she's really into what I'm saying, like she's trying to figure stuff out just as much as me. I mean, I never really saw myself with some brainy girl, but Liza seems to get me in a way that nobody else does.

I hold her hands, wondering if she notices how I can't stop smiling--and how our lips are just inches apart. I'm so into the moment that I don't even put up a stink when Chet tells me that he's taking Mimi to the bathroom. I don't even remind them that they need to stick together, that they shouldn't veer off anywhere alone, and that they

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need to bring their walkie-talkies. Instead, I focus on Liza.

"Are you cold?" she asks, staring right at me.

I shake my head, wishing we were alone, that I could be with her someplace nice. I pull a blanket around her shoulders, catching a waft of her vanilla scent. "I'd really like to get to know you better," I say.

"I'd like that too," she says, and she's smiling when she says it, like this could really be something good.

I watch her mouth, the way she keeps biting at her bottom lip, and wonder what she's thinking right now-- if she's heard some of the stuff people say about me at school.

The truth is, I'm not like that anymore. Maybe I used to like the chase--to tag a girl and be done with her right after. But that's not me now. It hasn't been for the past six months, but it's like, once you have a rep like that, it's hard to shake it.

"So what do you say we hang out sometime?" I ask.

"Hey, don't we have a movie to make?" Greta barks, totally interrupting us. She untwists her legs from Tony's. The two have been squirreled up in the corner since we first sat down.

I pull away from Liza, a bit too quickly, maybe, wishing we had just a few more minutes alone.

"Hey, where did Mimi and Chet go?" Tony asks.

I feel my jaw lock, knowing that they should have been

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back by now, that it's been a good twenty minutes since they left.

And that I never should have let them out of my sight in the first place.

139

CHET

IT'S MY IDEA TO SNEAK AWAY.
While Derik is busy hitting on Liza--and Tony and Greta are busy hitting a homer-- I suggest to Mimi that we grab our bags, tell Derik we're heading off to the bathroom, and then sneak away for a little urban exploration. What's surprising to me is that she doesn't object. But even more surprising is how cool the girl is. I mean, take away all the black clothes--and wouldn't I love to--Mimi is completely down-to-earth.

Oddly enough, the hardest part of sneaking off is resisting the urge to burst out laughing. But we manage, first moving slowly down the hallway, and then booting our asses well past the bathroom, toward the cafeteria. At one point, I reach out to feel for Mimi's hand, sensing her close by my side. Without even having to say anything-- to tell her that my hand is extended out to her--she takes it, curling her fingers into my grip. And squeezing ever so slightly.