Second Helpings (22 page)

Too bad, she replied.

Whats too bad? another voice asked.

I looked to my left and Marcus was standing next to me.

Its too bad that Jessicas, like, future husband is gay, Bridget replied.

Yes, that is unfortunate, isnt it? he said, holding my gaze a little longer than necessary.

Good luck, Marcus, Bridget said.

If you get nervous, just imagine everyone in their underwear, Pepe said. Thats what I do when Im onstage.

Its easier to do with some people than with others, Marcus said, looking right at me.

How did I become a part of yet another conversation about Marcus and underwear?

True dat, said Pepe, glancing at me, then zoning in on Bridget.

The truth hit me like a dodgeball to the face: Id been replaced as his older-woman object of lust. Fortunately, Bridget hadnt heard any of this banter because she was distracted by Dori Sipowitz and the rest of the theater crowd convening in the corner. Obviously, theres no hope for Pepe and Bridget. Like me, Bridget enjoys Pepes sense of humor and his company, but she will never see him as dating material. Im going to have to talk him out of it. One friend to another.

Lets, like, bond with the rest of the cast, Bridget said as she whisked Pepe away.

Marcus and I were alone. Alone surrounded by a hundred screaming, scamming, shot-slamming buffoons. Our peers. The walls were vibrating. The air was thick with smoke and the airborne form that beer takes on at parties, so it hangs heavy over everyones heads.

Arent you going to ask me how Len is doing?

Hows Len ? Marcus replied with extra dramatic emphasis.

Len is fine.

Thats good.

I guess.

Our conversation had already become a parody of itself.

Nice shirt, he said.

Thanks, I replied, sincerely flattered that someone appreciated its awesomeness. I was about to say the same to you.

For the Anti-Homecoming, Marcus was wearing another one of his custom white T-shirts. This one said: COMINGHOME. If Id had an adequate number of beers, I probably wouldve pressed my fingertip to one of the letters, to feel the soft fake-velvety texture.

Thanks. I ironed it myself, he replied.

The image of Marcus toiling over an ironing board was too domestic for me to handle.

I happen to be very crafty, he said, laughing along with me, knowing exactly what I had thought was so funny.

I glanced at the plastic cup in his hand. The liquid was dark and bubbly.

That better not have any alcohol in it, I said disapprovingly.

What was I doing? Why was I saying this to him?

Do you want a taste?

Why is it that everything that comes out of that boys mouth sounds like a come-on? Because it is ?! No! I still cant believe it. The Game Master was just messing with me.

Sure. I took his cup, put it to my lips, and let the liquid wash over my tongue. Mmmm. Plain Coca-Cola. No Jack. No Bacardi.

Arent you tempted?

Im tempted all the time by lots of things, he replied. But alcohol and drugs arent among them.

I was about to ask what tempts him, when Len broke in.

Hey, Jess. Um. Flu, Sara wants us on soon. Its almost. Um. Time.

Cool, Marcus said, handing me his cup as Len headed toward the Game Room. You can finish this for me.

Uh, okay.

Oh, and dont worry, he said when Len was out of earshot. I didnt slip you a roofie so Len can have his way with you later. Then he grinned.

He is maddening.

Sara stumbled on the stage, her tube top slipping so dangerously low that it was almost a belt. Her lipstick was smeared from nose to chin, a sure sign that P.J.or someone elsehad discovered the only surefire way to shut her up.

Sara shouted into the mike so loudly that when her words were amplified by the sound system, they (with the exception of the occasional Omigod!) came out totally garbled and unintelligible, or so I thought. When she paused, the crowd cheered, as if they understood.

Pepe had miraculously found me again in the crowd. Knowing how good he is with languages, I consulted him for a translation.

She said that if the band totally sucks, itsomigod!totally not her fault and that the audience should totally throw things at them if they totally want to.

Leave it to Sara to promote civil disobedience at her own party.

Then Sara screamed something else, the band took the stage, and the audience roared.

Len stepped up to the mic. I remember thinking that standing in front of the mic, guitar strapped over his shoulder, in a Nirvana Bleach T-shirt, Len looked really hot. I also remember thinking that I would forget about how hot he looked the moment he opened his mouth.

This is the Anti-Homecoming! Len said. Were Chaos Called Creation!

No stuttering. No babbling. Remarkable. I was wrong. He still looked hot.

Then the band launched into their first song.

Marcus stayed stage-left, almost completely hidden behind the speaker. I was surprised by this. I thought for sure hed want to be up front and more conspicuous.

I dont know if it was Marcuss addition to the band, the extra rehearsal time, the clear skin, or what, but Len was a smoother, more confident front man for Chaos Called Creation than he ever was for the Len Levy Four. He looked and sounded less tortured. And the band sounded great in that loose, loud, guitar-heavy way. It was too punk for dancing, too pop for moshing. Perfect for hopping and head-bopping. Id say they were kind of like the Clash, though everyone else would probably compare them to the Strokes. I prefer eighties synth pop, but I was obviously in the minority. When they finished their first number, the audience went apeshit. Sara grabbed me from behind by my shoulders and shook me violently, both with her hands and her voice.

Omigod! They totally dont suck! Omigod! I cant believe it!

Even Manda was impressed. They rock!

I scored the winning touchdown in todays game, slurred Scotty, dejectedly. He had gotten very drunk and disheveled since I last saw him. He had ditched the jacket and was wearing the tie around his head like a kung fu master.

And their songs are all about how women are the superior sex, continued Manda, ignoring her boyfriend.

Really? I hadnt been able to understand any of the words.

Yes! I am so impressed!

She wasnt the only one. There was a lot of commotion after the band finished. Chaos Called Creation was swarmed by fourteen-year-old Hoochie Babies who were wearing more body glitter per inch than actual clothing. It was gross. Just gross. You know what? Seeing those little girlies push up on Len made me want him for myself. He was my geek cute guy, not their guitar god. And if he wasnt brave enough to make a move, then goddamn it, I was going to do it for him.

I stole Pepes beer and pounded it. Then I snatched Bridgets cup and did the same. All in less than sixty seconds.

I know, I know. Liquid courage backfires because when you wake up with a hangover, youre back to your same old self, and your problems are still there, only now youve got to deal with them with a debilitating jackhammer headache blahdiddyblahblahblah. Sometimes knowing something is bad for you isnt enough to stop you from doing it. This was one of those cases. Besides, I wasnt drinking to obliterate, just to loosen up. I didnt want another puke-on-the-shoes scenario.

It worked fairly well. When Len and Marcus finally approached us, I grabbed Len by the arm and said, Lets get out of here.

When we got in the car, I remember thinking that we were alone for the first time since we arrived. I was about to tell him how much I liked him when Len cleared his throat.

Look, Jessica. I like you.

I was about to tell you the same thing.

Um. Yes. He barked out a cough, to get himself back on track. Im so happy that you like me back and Im flattered and quite frankly flabbergasted that you wanted to lose your virginity to me tonight and were nice enough to let me know your intentions by forwarding me the Pinevile Low e-mail, but I wished you had felt comfortable enough to discuss it with me directly

I wasnt getting it. And it wasnt the alcohol that slowed my synapses, no. It was the shock value of what he was saying. WHAT TYPE-A BRAINIAC HAS VOWED TO FINALLY HAVE SEX FOR THE FIRST TIME ON HOMECOMING NIGHT?

I assumed it was Len. And Len had assumed it was me. HAHAHA-HAHAHAHAHA. I defy you to tell me thats not the funniest Threes Company-style high jinks and shenanigans youve ever heard in your life. But he was too busy babbling for me to clear things up.

which is why I simply cant go through with it. I have quite strong feelings for you, but I feel I should tell you that I have decided not to have sex before I am married, not because of religious beliefs, but because I cannot afford to jeopardize my future with an unplanned pregnancy or a sexually transmitted disease. Not that I think you have a sexually transmitted disease, Im just speaking in the broadest terms. And I know abstinence contradicts everything that Im supposed to do as a teenage guy, but even if I did believe in sexual relations outside of marriage, I cant help but think that having sex with you tonight would be wrong when we havent so much as kissed yet

There only seemed to be one logical, rational response to this, Lens first spontaneous, emotional, and factually inaccurate speech.

I leaned over and kissed him. And he didnt stop me.

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December 1st

Dear Hope,

Today was the start of the second marking period. For seniors, this means the class weve been waiting for since fifth grade: Health and Human Sexuality. A whole marking period devoted to penises and vaginas, brought to us by none other than the always-bubbly Brandi, Professional Counselor and Certified Sexpert Extraordinaire. Why they wait until our senior year to teach us about sex is beyond me. I mean, the only people in our class who still rely on secondhand sex education are me and, appropriately, Len.

I should be relieved, right? His no-sex stance makes things a lot less complicated. I know for sure that hes not just being nice to me so he can dick me over. Besides, even if Len were a typical bootyhound, I doubt Id be in a hurry to hump him. Hearing Brandi gush about the magnificent mons pubis and the delightful vas deferens is all the negative conditioning I need to delay my devirginization by another decade or two. At least.

Its weird having a boyfriend. Or maybe its just weird for me to be a girlfriend. Im not very good at it. Like, I have to remind myself not to bolt out of class when the bell ringsIm supposed to grab Lens hand, then bolt. Or I have to remember to call him before I go to bed, and to pick up the phone when he calls me. I have to remember that Im supposed to be thinking about Len.

You might be wondering why I bother. Sometimes I wonder, too. Then I remind myself that Len is smart, focused, and driven to go somewhere and do something in life. He has goals beyond Pineville High, and its nice to have that in common with someone. His babbling and/or stuttering doesnt distract me so much from his hotness anymore. Hes not a bad kisser, either.

Most important, I know Len likes me in an uncomplicated, straightforward way. Im tired of playing with (and being played by) Marcus. Game over.

Forfeitingly yours,

J.

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december

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the fifth

I finally understand why the whole Marcus thing happened last year. I needed Marcus to lead me to my true love, Len Levy. My elementary-school crush wasnt just a crush, it was the first chapter of our complicated courtship. Now I just have to Love Him. Right now Im stuck somewhere between Liking Him Enough and Liking Him a Lot. I didnt go into this thinking Id come out as Lens girlfriend, which is why it is just so meant to be. Really.

Then, the day after the Anti-Homecoming, Len launched into a list of reasons why hes happy Im his girlfriend.

HHHH1. Im smart.

HHHH2. Im focused.

HHHH3. Im driven to go somewhere and do something with my life. HHHH4. I see life beyond Pineville High, unlike most girls.

HHHH5. I have a very attractive figure.

(Yes, this bears a vague resemblance to the list I gave Hope. So I cribbed it. Sue me.)

Never in my life has a member of the opposite sex so thoughtfully and so thoroughly expressed his appreciation for my virtues. I was touched. So much so that I told him to come right over. He said hed be there in ten minutes. Len does what he says hell dohe was on-the-dot punctual. Precisely ten minutes and thirty seconds after I had hung up, we were hooking up.