Tell (12 page)

Shane gathered up his brown leather jacket in the foyer.  The party was still in full swing, but he had promised his parents that he would be home by twelve, and they were liable to throw a conniption if he was late.  He was also going to have to orchestrate his arrival so that he would be standing downwind of them, in order to avoid their smelling the beer on his pants.

At least he had ten dollars, thanks to Cadie.  He figured that was worth the smell of alcohol on his clothes—although his thighs felt pretty clammy and he was desperate for a shower.

Will appeared at the top of the staircase to see Shane off for the evening.  “You’re a gracious loser, my friend,” he said.

“I wish I could say you’re a gracious winner,” Shane responded, “but you’ve pretty much been rubbing my face in it.”

Will laughed.  “You’d be doing the same thing.”

“You’re probably right,” Shane admitted.

“That twenty bucks is nice, though.  I just bought a family pack of condoms today.  It’s kind of like a reimbursement.”

Shane stared at him.  “You mean, a
value
pack of condoms?”

Will narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.  “It was a family pack.”

“I thought the whole purpose of condoms was to
prevent
families, but okay.”  Shane looked past Will into the sitting room.  He caught Amanda’s eye; she smiled at him and lifted her hand in a wave.  He smiled and nodded in return, but she was not who he had been hoping to see.  Shane turned back to Will.  “Have a good night, man,” he said, opening the front door.

“Oh, I will.  Family pack,” he repeated.

“Yeah.  Good luck with that,” Shane said brightly, walking out of the house and shutting the door behind him.  He thought it was unlikely that Will would be using those condoms that night, considering Stacy had been two-thirds unconscious during their poker game.

As he walked to the Camaro, parked a short distance down the street, he heard a phone ringing ahead of him, accompanied by voices.  When he got closer, he recognized that the voices belonged to the Dawson sisters, and he found it difficult to suppress a smile.  There was also a male voice, which Shane assumed belonged to Melody’s friend Andy; he could not remember if he had ever actually spoken to the kid face-to-face.  The light was dim, but he could see them piling into Cadie’s Ford.

“Cadie,” he called before she shut the driver’s side door.

He saw her lean out of the car and turn her head toward the sound of his voice, though her expression was impossible to read in the darkness.  “Shane?” she called.

“Do you have a sec?”  He drew even with the rear bumper of her car.

“Um, sure.”  She climbed out of the car and shut the door behind her.  The other voices were instantly muffled; Melody and Andy were inside.  The two of them stood alone in the street.

“I think I owe you something,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?  What do you owe me?”

“Well, a ‘thank you,’ first of all,” he responded.  “Also, this.”  He took her hand and pressed a piece of paper into her palm.

“Did you just pass me a note?” she asked incredulously.

“A note of legal tender,” he answered.

She opened her cell phone to shine a light on what he had just given her.  “Five bucks,” she said in alarm.

“Yeah, it’s half of my winnings,” he explained.  “Sorry it wasn’t more, but Will kicked my ass the last round.”

“I can’t take this,” Cadie said.

“You can and you’re going to.  I would have been out of the game hours ago if it wasn’t for you.  And Zack and Ryan probably would have robbed everybody blind.”

She sniffed.  “I suppose that’s true,” she said airily.  “But I still feel guilty taking your money.  You were the one who played, after all.”

“Just take it, Cadie.”

“Maybe I’ll buy you something with it,” she decided.  “We can get grilled stickies at
Eat’n Park.”

He laughed.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

A moment of awkward silence stretched between them.  In another universe, it was almost like she had just asked him out on a date and he had accepted.  He wondered if she were realizing that as well, and if that was why she was silent.

“Well, I have to go,” he said.  “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” she answered as he walked away.

Shane felt safer, somehow, once he was in the Camaro and driving away from Stacy’s house.  He felt like that whole party had been entirely too oppressive—just people he did not want to see, and one weird incident after another.  He also had a nagging feeling that he was doing something he was not supposed to, or he had neglected to do something that he needed to do.

It was probably because of Cadie, he allowed himself to realize.  This thought had been circling around in his brain all evening, but he had not let his consciousness fully grasp it until now.  He was fairly certain that he and Cadie had been flirting with each other all night, something that he had told himself he would never do with her.  It was not just flirting, either; it was the way the room had seemed to get completely quiet when he had stared into her blue (and gray) eyes.  It was the smile she had given him in the kitchen.  And, he was forced to admit, it was the way she looked when she was walking away from him.

Suddenly his face fell, and he pounded the steering wheel in disgust.  Or, he realized, it could be the fact that he had promised Amanda they would hook up tonight and he had completely forgotten and just left her there at the party.

Eleven

The next day, Felicia retold her entire excruciating evening to Elliot as they were stretching before dance rehearsal.  She was alert and focused; Elliot was bleary-eyed and yawning.  Felicia smacked her leg irritably as they sat next to each other on the floor.  “Pay attention,” she scolded.

“I was paying attention,” Elliot said defensively.  “It’s just really early in the morning.”  It was almost nine o’clock.  She paused to yawn again, then continued, “So, you were supposed to have sex with Brian—”

Felicia interrupted her by shushing her loudly, causing the pair of Lauren and Elizabeth, who were stretching nearest to them, to cast a dirty look in their direction.  In all likelihood, they had not heard Elliot’s comment at all, but the shushing had been hard to miss.

Elliot mimicked their dirty look.  “I don’t get you,” she said quietly to Felicia.  “I’ve never met someone as uptight about sex as you are.  I mean, I get that you don’t want any of these girls to know your business”—she gestured around the dance studio—
“but I don’t get how you
ever
expect to be comfortable enough to
have
sex if you can’t even
talk
about it.”

“Excuse me if I like to be tactful,” Felicia retorted snippily.  “I guess I just prefer a classier form of conversation.  You know, one devoid of sexual connotations and bad words.”

Elliot snorted.  “You have something negative to say about
everything
.  Oh, yeah.  You’re the epitome of class.”

Felicia was affronted.  “I do not have something negative to say about everything!” she protested.  “I told you that we won the game last night.  That’s positive.”

“You’re probably going to use that comment as a segue into some complaint about how Shane was being a homo about winning.”

“Quarter,” said Felicia automatically.

Elliot looked at her in bewilderment.  “What?”

“You said ‘homo.’  That’s a quarter.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped.  “You charge a quarter for ‘homo’?”

“Sure.”

“That’s not offensive!”

“You used it in a derogatory way,” Felicia explained patiently.  “You said Shane was going to be a homo about winning.”

“Well, maybe I meant that he was so excited about winning the game that he went home and redecorated your house!  Did you ever think about
that
?”

“That’s
not
the way you meant it,” Felicia argued, but she was smiling in spite of herself.

“Do you charge a quarter for ‘hetero’?” Elliot inquired.

“No, but—”

“Ha!” she exclaimed loudly, causing Lauren and Elizabeth to give them another look.  Elliot pointed a defiant finger in Felicia’s face.  “You are discriminating against certain swear words based on their sexual orientation. 
That
is offensive. And not classy.”

Felicia put her face in her hands and began rubbing her temples.  “What were we talking about before you went on your ‘homo’ crusade?” she asked through her fingers.

Elliot shrugged.  “Fuck if I remember.”

“Okay, that is definitely fifty cents.”

For each of the five assigned summer reading works,
students should submit a paper in which they discuss the main characters, identify the central themes and significant symbolism, and analyze select quotes.
  Shane had read over this several times in the past half hour, but he was no closer to finishing the paper than he had been when he had read it on the first day of school when Mr. Johnson had handed it out.

He sat on his bed, tapping the eraser of his pencil against a yellow legal pad.   It was a little after eleven on Saturday morning, and he was alone in the house.  His parents were both working today, and Felicia had left a note saying that she was going out with Brian after dance class. 

Shane heard the front door open and close and set down his pad and pencil.  No one was supposed to be home for a few more hours.  He stood up and crossed the room to stand in the doorway.  “Hello?” he called with some trepidation.

He was surprised when Cadie appeared at the top of the staircase, but he hoped he masked it well.  “Hey,” he greeted her.

“Hey,” she replied.  “I came to get Felicia.”

“She has dance class on Saturdays,” Shane answered.

“Yeah, I know, but we’re going shopping after that.  I told her I’d meet her here so she could get a chance to change afterwards.”

Shane raised an eyebrow.  “She left a note saying she was going out with Brian after dance class.”

Cadie’s jaw dropped.  “What?”

He shrugged.  “That’s what she said.”

She looked outraged.  “I can’t believe she flaked on me.”

“Really?  You can’t?”

Cadie sighed.  “I guess I can.”  She cast a bored look around the hallway.  “Well, what are you doing?” she asked hopefully.

“Homework,” he answered immediately.  Although he would not have minded hanging out with Cadie under normal circumstances, he was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable standing there in his mesh shorts, running shoes, and wife beater with sweat stains that were, in all probability, visible from where she was standing.

“Oh.”  She looked disappointed.  “Okay.  Well, tell Felicia I stopped by.  Also, tell her that she’s a huge bitch for ditching me.  And don’t let her charge you for ‘bitch.’  Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

“Wait,” he blurted as she turned to walk away.  He took a deep breath and said, “Do you have Johnson for English?”

“Yeah,” she responded, shifting her purse from one shoulder to the other.

“Did you have to write that
Oedipus Rex
paper?” he wanted to know.

“Yeah, we had to do it over the summer,” Cadie answered.

Shane hesitated.  “Would you mind helping me with mine?”

She looked surprised, but recovered quickly.  “Sure,” she said.  She began walking toward him, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Just… let me change first.”

He changed into what he considered to be a much more presentable ensemble (jeans and a t-shirt) and sprayed himself with a significant amount of Axe.  Shane hastily picked up assorted articles of clothing that were strewn about his room.  He and Cadie had known each other for years, but he was almost certain their relationship was not at the point where it was acceptable for her t
o see his underwear, at least not without sufficient warning.  As an afterthought, he drew his comforter flat over his mattress and threw the pillows on top, in lieu of actually making the bed.

Finally he opened the door and let Cadie into his room.  There was a brief moment where the two of them stood there awkwardly, considering what the seating arrangements for this little study date would be.  Finally, Shane settled the decision by sitting at his desk, where it would be easier for him to write.  Cadie crossed the room and sat on the bed, setting her purse down next to her.  He silently congratulated himself for remembering to hurriedly make it.  Bare sheets were too personal for a discussion on
Oedipus Rex
.

The Mackereths’ house was a bi-level, and Brian’s bedroom was downstairs; they had converted their original garage into his bedroom and built a separate garage on the other side of the house.  His bedroom had a tendency to be cold and damp.  Felicia took off her sweatshirt and slung it over Brian’s desk chair.  “So, are you sure your parents aren’t going to be here?” she asked.  She rubbed her bare arms with her hands, trying to warm herself.  “I mean, I’d feel weird if… if, you know, they came home.”

“They won’t be back for at least an hour and a half,” Brian answered.  He crossed the room toward her and put his hands on her bare shoulders.

Just as he leaned forward to kiss her, she blurted, “Do you want to put on some music?”

Brian pulled away and looked at her strangely.

“I mean, wouldn’t it be better if there was music playing?  In case your parents did come home?”

“Do you want me to put on some Barry White?” he asked dryly.

“Are you making fun of me?” she demanded.

He smiled at her, then touched her chin with his fingertips.  “Of course not.”  He walked over to his stereo and, after a few moments of turning the dials, found a radio station that was playing soft jazz music.

Felicia sat on his bed and hugged herself nervously.  Brian sat down next to her.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m kind of freaked out,” she said abruptly.  “I don’t mean to be, but I am.”

Brian slipped his arm across her shoulders.  “You know what might make you feel better?”

Felicia almost wanted to start crying.  She turned her face downward so he could not read her expression and took a deep breath to stave off the tears.  She wanted to scream at him that she was not ready, that she needed to talk about this more, and could they please hold off until another day?

But she did not scream, and she did not say any of those things.  He had given her the opportunity to say no, and she had declined.  It would be rude of her to turn back now, when he had been waiting for this for so long.  Instead, she regained her composure and turned to look him in the eyes.  “What?” she asked quietly.

He kissed her, as she had known he would.  His lips parted hers and his hand slid to touch the side of her neck, just beneath her jaw line.

She kissed him back without closing her eyes.  Felicia was not typically in the habit of kissing her boyfriend with her eyes open, but for some reason, she felt that if she closed her eyes tonight, things might get out of control.  A pointless feeling—this was the kind of situation where control was meant to be lost.

Brian, still kissing her, carefully laid her down on the bed.  She wished they were in her bed; Brian’s box spring tended to creak and his mattress was far less comfortable.  Besides, her bed was queen-sized and his was only a twin.

Brian sat back to unbutton his shirt.  Felicia wondered if the size of the bed would make a difference.  Every time she had seen people having sex in movies, they always seemed to be rolling around passionately and frantically.  She wondered if they were going to be doing that.  She watched Brian slowly remove his shirt, noting how tall he was and wondering how their bodies were going to line up, considering he measured over a foot taller than she did.

Brian’s hands moved to the front of Felicia’s shirt, and she noticed his hands were shaking.  She grabbed one of his hands in her own and looked at him curiously.

He swallowed, and there was an audible click in his throat.  “I guess I’m nervous, too,” he said meekly, in a voice that sounded completely unlike his own.

Felicia did not say anything; instead, she raised his hand to her lips and gently kissed his fingertips, then lowered his hands to her shirt, which he pulled gently over her head.  As he finished undressing her and himself, Felicia closed her eyes and willed her mind to concentrate on anything but the present.

Shane and Cadie were not in the present, either; they were about 430 years BC.  They started by writing brief character descriptions and continued from there.  Cadie was good at picking out the themes and symbolism, something for which Shane had never quite developed a knack.

“I just don’t understand how they come up with this garbage,” he said, scrawling the word “blindness” at the top of the page.  “I mean, do you really think authors sit down and think, ‘Gee, what do I want the
theme
of this story to be?  What symbolism can I cram in here that reminds people of that?’”

“No,” Cadie answered.  “Well, sometimes,” she amended.  “I do think that authors do it sometimes.  But I don’t think they do it as much as English teachers tell us they do.  The trick to succeeding in an English class is learning to see things that are completely obscure in something that seems totally obvious.  Teachers love that.”

“Well, how am I supposed to do that?”

“It’s not as hard as it sounds.  Like, we read
Ethan Frome
this summer—”

“Yeah, we read that too,” Shane interrupted. 
Well, we were
supposed
to,
he added mentally.

“—and I wrote about five pages about how the cat knocking over the pickle dish was a symbol of the destruction of Ethan and Zeena’s marriage.”

“And Johnson bought that?”

“He wrote, ‘Good observation.  Nobody else got that.’
”  She rolled her eyes.  “Of course nobody else got it.  We’re seventeen.  If a cat knocks over a pickle dish—”

“—you wonder what kind of household you’re in that has a pickle dish?” Shane supplied.

“Exactly.”

Shane paused to write a few more notes down.  “Do you think she
really
thought of that when she was writing it?” he asked.  “You know, about the cat and the pickle dish?”

Cadie shrugged.  “Maybe.  It was a pretty random thing.”