Saving Montgomery Sole (17 page)

Whatever happened now officially
did not happen
.

I remember the three of us just standing there. Thomas, Matt, and me. And Matt kind of looking at me. And smirking.

“Uh. Matt,” I said hesitantly, “this is my friend Thomas.”

“Charmed.” Thomas smiled, holding out his hand for a handshake.

“Uh. Right.” Matt turned and looked at his friends. Turned back. Looked at me. Smirked. “Charmed.”

A few days after that, he was walking with the football team, like almost the whole team, and I passed him in the hallway. I was a few steps away when I heard, “Just because she's a dyke doesn't mean I'm not gonna tap that.”

That's pretty much the whole story.

Except to say that I threw the skirt away.

Except to say that after that, I heard Matt tell Madison Marlow's boyfriend, or boyfriend at the time, Fred Brewer, that I jumped him his first day. And I offered to have sex with him. Because I'm desperate for sex. Even though I'm a dyke. I'm desperate to have man sex.

“Don't listen to them,” Thomas always says. “There's nothing they have to say that has any value. So it's not worth listening to.”

Then they should all just shut up
, I thought. But they don't. They just keep talking and saying whatever they want, because who will stop them?

“
Hey!
” someone screamed, and I looked up to see a soccer ball headed my way, kicked ferociously by a Parte twin.

Mrs. MacDonald, phys ed teacher extraordinaire, finally noticed my horizontal position.

“Get up, Sole!”

I stood up just in time to spot a girl in a rainbow wig and a My Little Pony T-shirt changing toward me. I ran to the ball, throwing my foot out as it rolled my way. I kicked the ball … right into my team's goal.

Game over.

 

8

On Tuesday, I woke up, tumbling. In my dream, I was scaling this path around this mountain. Momma Jo and Mama Kate and Tesla were ahead of me.

The bridge was made up of black slats, dark like the Eye. Each step looked like a black hole.

What if they are black holes?
I thought. My brain was dream-mushy.

I reached around my neck. The Eye wasn't there.

Was it the bridge? Was it safe?

“Wait!” I yelled.

Everyone on the path just turned and looked at me. No one moved.

The bridge shook and Tesla slipped backward, shrieking.

“
Help!
” I screamed.

I woke up, and I was standing on the edge of my bed, still falling backward.

“Montgomery,” said a black bird perched on my computer, feathers flapping in the wind. “You're still dreaming.”

 
Dream control and not control

It's called a false awakening. You think you're awake, but you're still in the dream.

“Agh!”

Tesla's scream. My default alarm clock.

“Mommmmaaahhh!”

I threw on what looked like a relatively clean top and my overalls. Tucking the Eye of Know into my pocket, I ran downstairs and just ate whatever Momma Jo threw on the table in front of me, which unfortunately turned out to be oatmeal, which is the most disgusting breakfast on the face of the earth. Tesla loves it and sprinkles protein powder on hers. And flax seeds. And whatever else she thinks is going to make her faster and stronger than the average kid.

Today it was green omega powder.

“When did you start sprinkling stuff on your food?” I asked between hesitant mouthfuls.

“Uh. Since forever?” Tesla scoffed, her mouth full of what looked like moss.

“I can't believe you like that stuff.”

“Well, obviously we like different things,” Tesla said as she frowned.

Under the table I could see she was still only wearing one sock.

“Have you ever considered flip-flops? We do live in California.”

“Flip-flops are gross.”

“True. Wow. We actually agree.”

Tesla rolled her eyes and shoveled another mouthful of oatmeal in her mouth. “Magic,” she muffled.

Mama Kate walked into the room and froze.

“Monty, honestly! That shirt is
stained
. Go upstairs and put something else on. You look like you're wearing the dirty hamper.”

I sniffed the sleeve. It smelled worn and comfortable, a little bit like toast. There was just a tiny stain on the sleeve. “This is fine,” I grumbled. It felt cozy. Also, I noted looking down, it was my Bigfoot shirt. You pretty much can't go wrong with Bigfoot.

Maybe Mama Kate agreed. Maybe she was just too tired to argue. Staring at my shirt, she let out this big breath. “Okay, Monty. Just … have a good day.” She pulled what was clearly a strategically stashed pair of socks out of her pocket and motioned for Tesla. “Finish up. We don't want to be late.”

Tesla had an appointment, so I walked to school that day, which meant it was a coffee-on-the-way-to-school day, which is like my little reward to myself. I get a double Dark Horse blend, and I put honey and cream in it, and it is delicious. Mary's Grounds only has dark blends and all her pastries are full of gluten. And Mary, whose name is Phyllis, doesn't take cards. And she doesn't like talking to people.

So, of course, I am a loyal customer.

I was sipping and walking when I saw them. The latest flood of posters from the Reverend White. On every pole between coffee and school.

THE REVEREND WHITE WANTS YOU

TO SAVE THE AMERICAN FAMILY!

The night before, fueled by my masterful soccer game and fabulous day at school, I'd watched more Reverend White vs. Gay Wedding videos. Now when I looked at the posters, I could hear his voice ringing in my ears, calling out from a crackling megaphone. “It's evil and it's everywhere, brothers and sisters. Not a union of God. Evil.”

The posters had changed. No more posters with the happy family being coddled by a loving White. Now it was just him. Magnanimous. Arms wide. Not arms wide like “let me give you a hug.” Arms wide like “I am saving you.”

I could see him standing behind the pulpit.

Across the street, a woman pushing a stroller with a kid on her hip looked up at the poster. Down the road, a tall man shifted his ball cap as he leaned in to get a closer look. How many people were reading this and thinking,
Yeah, that's what this town needs, someone to take a stand against the freaks who think they can disobey the laws of Adam and Eve and all that biblical stuff that says there's only one way to do the whole family thing?
How many people would join up with the Reverend White?

A truck roared by, fast and loud, country music blaring. It made my heart pound a bit, in this nervous way, like my heart wanted me to be running.

THE REVEREND WHITE WANTS YOU

I reached up and grabbed the poster, crumpled it into my bag.

By the time I got to school, I was kind of sweaty. I tried to just switch my brain to autopilot, just get through the day. I ran my laps at gym. During lunch, I went to help Thomas paint a bunch of trees for the set. I could hear Matt and the boys rehearsing onstage.

“Okay, guys”—Coach Choreographer clapped his hands—“greasers on this side and the, uh, other guys over here. Matt! Eyes front! What's your name? Yah, you too. Okay, now we're going to fight with just some light slaps, okay? Nothing too hard.”

Matt chuckled. “Get Thomas out here to show us some light slaps.”

I hadn't realized he could see backstage. I looked up, and there was Matt waving at us through the curtains.

What happened after that? Bio. Surrounded by the smell of bleach, I tried to think about something that didn't make my head hurt, while, at the front of the class, Mr. Jenner cycled through endless PowerPoint presentations of hearts. Lungs.

After school, I was supposed to meet Thomas on the far side of the field, and we were going to walk to this hardware store to get some supplies for set building.

As I walked out, there were kids selling crafts and snacks for different charities and teams. Which I have always found kind of weird. Like, why do I have to pay fifty cents for a coconut square so the soccer team can have new uniforms? As I thought this, I nearly slammed into the
CHEER TREATS FOR BREAST CANCER
table, staffed by a bunch of girls in cheerleading uniforms.

They all had the same squeaky, high voices. “Um, can you even be careful?” One of them said, “This is for
breast
cancer.”

“Um. Okay,” I said. “How much for a treat?”

“Uh. The sign says two dollars.”

“Pfft,” another girl scoffed. “Obviously.”

I noticed all their nails were painted pink.
Little pink claws
, I thought.

“Fine,” I said, grabbing a treat and tossing two dollars on the table. “Thanks for the great customer service.”

There's something about the way the girls at this school look at me, like I'm some sort of genetic experiment. Like a hairy monster.

I wish I felt like Naoki seems to feel. Like some sort of beautiful mythical creature.

Screw them.

Ten minutes later, I was standing in the field and eating my for-breast-cancer Rice Krispies treat when I spotted Thomas.

“Hey,” he called, trudging across the field. “We need to make an extra stop at the paint store.”

I was licking the remnants of my snack off my fingers when I heard the boys laughing on the other end of the field.

“Hey! Snow White! Here's your apple!”

I stood up just in time to see a blurry red object zing toward Thomas's head, whizzing past his hair.

Both Thomas and I screamed, equally high-pitched.

“Heads up! I mean, whoops!” Matt and his friends, in hysterics. They were wearing their
Outsiders
costumes. Which they weren't supposed to be wearing. Jeans that I had distressed for these idiots. White tanks I'd aged with tea bags and charcoal.

Which they were wearing because they were just doing what they always did.

Whatever they wanted.

Thomas looked down at the ground. “Oh,” he said. “From yesterday. Right. Nice. I guess we—Monty? Montgomery!”

Thomas's voice was an echo. A distant vibration in the air that was already thickening around me. I started across the field toward them, my feet like big dinosaur feet, pounding the grass.

“Oh shit, buddy,” some kid yukked. “You're in trouble now.”

“Here she comes!”

They were prancing away. Not even away, just in wide circles. They moved in exaggerated strides, like a dance. Matt was at the center, walking, looking back, looking at me. He turned around. Put his hands up.

We were at a standoff. Five feet apart, our respective armies holding. Waiting.

“Chill out, Montgomery,” he laughed. “I didn't hit him, okay? Don't get your tampon in a knot.”

“Funny,” I growled.
“You're so funny, Matt! You're so hilarious! What would this school do without you?”

“Monty,” Thomas called, his voice strained.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like one of those punching bags boxers practice on, but trapped in the cage of my chest.
Punch, punch, punch.

I closed my eyes. What did the card say?

In sight

not see

black light

not be

“
Hey
,” Matt called.

I opened my eyes.

“You know what's wrong with you? You dress like a dyke, and you can't take a joke.”

“Why don't you just shut up?” I seethed.

“What?” Matt cupped his ear as he started to jog backward. “Sorry, I can't hear you.”

“Tell her you don't speak lesbian,” someone yelled.

“Tell her to shave her legs!”

I stepped forward. I reached up and grabbed the Eye, curled my fingers around it, tight. And I yelled, “
Shut your mouth! Don't even breathe! I swear to God if you make one more noise I will destroy you!
”

Matt stopped. Like, he froze. Like a cartoon character. One foot still hovering over the ground.

Then he fell to his knees. His fist pushed into his chest.

“Montgomery!” Suddenly, Thomas's hand was on my shoulder like an anvil.

Matt fell onto his side. My hand fell to my side.

His face was white against the green grass. His mouth opened wide. Like he was screaming. Like a fish out of water. Screaming with no sound coming out.

“Matt?” Thomas voice caught.
“Matt!”

Matt's friends came charging back. The grass squeaked under their shoes.

“Hey, Matt, man, you cool?”

“Matt?!”

“Oh my God.”

They clustered around him, their voices swirling around in the wind, which had picked up and pushed against us, like a crowd. Like a riot.