The Graduation (13 page)

If Nick had been told his first week at Tabb High that he would end the school year as perhaps the most popular person on campus, he would have laughed. Yet, when the basketball game was over and the class gathered in groups to discuss it, the biggest group gathered around Nick. It was true, of course, they were talking about a subject he was an acknowledged master of; nevertheless, had they just watched a war movie, he still would have drawn the most people to him. He knew this without understanding it.

He was the best athlete in the school—he had no qualms about accepting
that
distinction—and he was no longer the shy mumbling ghetto exile he had been last September. He was, however, still soft-spoken and hesitant to express his opinion on any subject, including basketball. Also, his fearsome appearance had not changed with Tabb’s capture of the league basketball title. But perhaps Michael had explained Nick’s popularity best when he had said that Nick was the only one in the school who even vaguely fit the definition of a hero.

“
And people are always searching for a hero, Nick. Just look at who’s big in Hollywood. It’s usually the actor who can rescue the most prisoners of war in two hours or less. Enjoy it while it lasts. Someone’s sure to come along soon and take your place.
”

Nick did enjoy the adulation, although he found himself shying away from it at the same time. A few minutes of attention from a big group gave him a pleasant high. More than that made him anxious. As soon as was politely possible—after saying for the tenth time that he didn’t like second-guessing the Lakers’ coach for going for the win instead of the tie-he excused himself from the lounge and wheeled Maria onto the deck. Here there were fewer people; it was now cold and the fog had gone beyond thick to frightening. Nick had once seen a television show on the Bermuda Triangle—a place in the Atlantic Ocean where many ships had disappeared. Had those ships ended up in another dimension, he imagined, it might have resembled
Haven
’s present environment. Complete darkness would have seemed more natural. The damp grayness was spooky.

“Are you cold?” he asked Maria, parking her chair near the rail. The splash of the ocean against the hull could be heard beneath the fog. Maria pulled her shawl tighter.

“No.” She looked up at him. “Are you?”

“The fresh air feels good.”

A period of silence went by. There had been a lot of those between them since he had picked her up at the rehabilitation clinic. “They like you,” she said finally.

“I guess. They like my jump shot, that’s for sure.”

“I wish I had gotten to see you play again.”

The remark warmed his spirits somewhat. Maybe she did still care about him. She had given him few signs one way or the other. “It was a fun season Making the CIF playoffs was exciting. Track was fun too. I ran the quarter mile and did the long jump.”

“I was told they gave you a trophy at the awards banquet?”

He nodded. “It was for having done well in more than one sport.” Coach Campbell had presented the award, the same man who had almost expelled him the first week of school when he had floored The Rock in the weight room. Coach Campbell had given him a big smile and a slap on the back with the trophy, but still no apology. Nick didn’t feel any resentment. It was easy to forgive when you were winning. His father had been at the banquet. He had been the first one to stand and clap. The rest of the school had followed suit. Nick had never received a standing ovation before.

“Trophies, fans, scholarships,” she said. “You must be happy?”

He looked down at her white tennis shoes lying still on the wheelchair’s metal footrests. “I’m not happy, Maria.”

“Why not?”

He turned away. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Another spell of silence.
Haven
’s foghorn broke this one. Maria touched his leg. “Don’t worry about me, Nick.”

He chuckled, staring into nothing. “Sure. I’ll just wheel you all over the place and forget that you used to walk. How can you tell me not to worry?”

“I don’t want you to. I don’t know why you do.”

A note of anger entered his voice. “You know why.”

She took her hand back. “I don’t.”

He turned on her. “How would you like it if I got crippled that night? What if I had gone up for a rebound and came down wrong and broke my neck? Would you even—” He stopped, realized what he was saying. Awful as it was for him to see her paralyzed, it was nothing compared to
being
paralyzed. She answered his unfinished question.

“I would care.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. His apology had a strange effect on her. She seemed to take up his shame. She turned her chair as if about to leave, as if she were embarrassed to be with him.

“Nick, you don’t have to—” she began, getting upset. “I can take care of myself. Really I can.”

He touched the handle of her wheelchair instead of her arm, holding on to her just the same; the chair was a part of her now. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, afraid she would respond by telling him to go away. He didn’t understand till right then how much he loved her. Maria composed herself and looked in the direction of the lounge.

“Later, when things slow down,” she said. “I want you to talk to everybody who was still at the party when Alice died: Bubba, Clair, Bill, The Rock, Kats, Russ, Sara, Polly, Michael, and Jessica. I want you to gather them below, where we can be alone.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

The night went on. The air grew colder. The fog grew thicker. Around midnight
Haven
encountered four-foot swells and began to rock uneasily, her hull softly groaning with each rise and fall, the stomachs of many of her passengers doing likewise. A few kids lost their dinners over the ship’s rail. Yet the rough waters did little to slow the momentum of the party. Time took care of that. No matter that for many it was the most exciting night of their lives—passing the three o’clock hour, the bulk of the senior class could be found lying curled up in the lounge or the game room on sheets of foam someone had been thoughtful enough to provide. Those who were resting were smart. They would be fresh for the upcoming day on Catalina.

If they lived that long.

Once again, Jessica and Sara were in Jessica’s cabin, trying to decide about the contraceptives. Jessica was not enjoying the pitch and roll of the ship. It made it impossible for her to pretend—as she had done most of the night—that she was still on dry land. The way
Haven
’s hull kept creaking was particularly disturbing. Sara’s reassurances that the sound was natural didn’t ease Jessica’s mind in the slightest. Sara knew as much about boats as she did, which was precisely nothing.

“I don’t see how you can be worried about drowning at a time like this,” Sara said, the bottle of foam in her hand. “You should be worrying about how you look.”

“Excuse me, but I’ve heard that when you drown it can affect your appearance,” Jessica said, sitting on the bed beside Sara. Jessica had already changed into her bathrobe. Sara was going to have to pop next door in a minute and get ready. Ten minutes ago they had told Bill and Russ—Jessica had told Bill and Sara had told Russ, to be precise—to meet them in their rooms in exactly twenty minutes. Bill and Russ thought they were being invited to a private party.

Just our luck they’ll bring their buddies with them.

But it seemed unlikely. Jessica and Sara had both made it clear that they were to come alone.

“I don’t think I like the ingredients in this stuff,” Sara said, studying the foam label. “Nonoxynol nine, potassium hydroxide, benzoic acid—does that sound like something you want inside your body?”

“It sounds like it’ll work.”

Sara handed her the foam. “You take it then. If you explode, don’t blame me.”

“Thanks,” Jessica muttered sarcastically. The room had a lamp hanging from a corner of the ceiling. The motion of the boat made it swing back and forth, sending shadows chasing its light, giving Jessica a headache.

“You don’t look very excited.”

Jessica shrugged. “I’ll get excited when Bill gets here.”

Sara nodded, thoughtful, chewing on her lower lip. “Can I ask you something, Jessie?”

“As long as it’s not about your ass.”

“Well, I’ve been getting a lot of complaints about it lately. Come on, you’ve taken showers with me in PE.”

Jessica groaned. “I just cannot believe you are asking me this. Who’s complained about it?”

“Bubba.”

“Bubba! Bubba’s screwed half the girls in the school.”

“Yeah. So he’s a goddamn expert on the subject.”

“What did he say?”

“It’s not what he said. It’s what he didn’t want to—Look, I’m asking for a vote of confidence here.”

“You have a great ass, Sara.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Please don’t make me say it again. I’m changing the subject. How much light should we leave on?”

“I’m turning off all the lights.”

“You’ll be in the shower when Russ gets there. How can you have all the lights off?”

Sara looked worried. “I guess it would seem strange.”

Jessica realized Sara was more scared than she was. Actually, Jessica was surprised at her own lack of fear. She felt more resigned to the event than anything else. One thing had become clear: she was not giving up her virginity in joy. She just wanted to get it over with.

“How are you getting along with Russ?” she asked gently.

Sara snorted. “Oh, we get along fine, as long as we don’t talk. So far tonight, we’ve been doing
splendidly
. He’s been with his buddies since he came on board.” Sara glanced at her watch. “Well, I guess I’ve got him to myself now, for a few minutes, anyway.” She stood. “You promise to tell me exactly what happens?”

“I’ll videotape it.”

Sara smiled. “I guess this is it.”

Jessica hugged her. “I hope this is it for one of us at least.”

When Sara was gone, Jessica stood by the porthole for several minutes, staring out into the eerie night. Alice had loved the fog. Alice had loved everything. Jessica had been trying to tell Sara she had no hope for herself. Not for love.

“
I’m going to the movies Saturday night. You won’t believe it, I asked the guy. His name’s Michael Olson… That reminds me, where’s that fantastic guy you were going to introduce me to?
”

“
Ask me after your date.
”

And then Alice had lain down to sleep.

“I could go to sleep here and never wake up,” Jessica whispered, remembering her exact words.

The bathroom was small but neat. Jessica removed her robe and got in the shower. The water came out hot and hard at first, and she jumped back, almost slipping and falling. She had left her hair down, although she didn’t want to wash it; she looked a lot better with it down. Well, it was going to get wet, there was no helping that. She wondered how long Bill would be. The shower curtain was translucent; at least it would have been without all the steam. She had read somewhere that steam was supposed to be very sensual. She hoped she started to feel sexy soon.

Several minutes went by. During that time she scrubbed herself from neck to toe using her own soap—just to be sure. The spray of the shower waved up and down in rhythm to the ocean swells. Finally there came a knock at the door. Naturally, she had left the bathroom door open—it was part of the plan. The distance between the two doors couldn’t have been more than eight feet.

“Bill?” she called, pulling the shower curtain to the edge of the tile, on the small chance he did have someone with him.

“Yeah.”

“Come in.”

He opened the door to the suite, paused. She could see his outline through the curtain, but that was all. He was alone. “Jessie?”

“It’s all right. I’ll be out in a minute. Come in.”

He entered, closing the door, and then sat on the bed. She peeked around the edge of the curtain. He had his hands folded in his lap and was staring at his feet. He was being a gentleman. “Where’s the party?” he asked.

“It’s in Sara’s room.” She added, “I’ve been running around all night. I thought I’d grab a quick shower. I won’t be long.”

“I could go on ahead of you.”

“No.” He was still looking down. “Just let me wash off this soap.”

“OK.”

Now what? Sara and she hadn’t given this enough thought. It would have been much easier had he come into the bathroom and tried to peek around the curtain or something. There was really no good excuse to invite him into the bathroom.

Fine, I’ll give him a lousy excuse.

She turned off the water. “Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you hand me my towel?”

“Where is it?”

It was right outside the shower, on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. She could see it through her crack in the curtain, along with Bill, searching the bedroom. “I don’t know,” she said. “Don’t you see it?”

“No.”

“God, there’s so much steam in here. Is it on the sink?”

He paused in the bathroom doorway. “I don’t see it Jessie.”

She grabbed hold of the edge of the curtain and stuck her head around at him and smiled. He couldn’t have been three feet away. He jumped slightly. She pointed to the towel with her wet and dripping arm. “There it is,” she said sweetly.

He handed it to her, saving her a six-inch reach. “You want me to come back?” he asked, his eyes down.

“That’s all right.” She let go of the shower curtain and began to dry her face. “I’m almost done.”

“OK. I’ll wait for you.” He closed the bathroom door and returned to the bedroom. She couldn’t believe how proper he was being. In all the teen movies she’d ever seen, guys were always dying to get peeks at cute girls in showers. And she was cute. She had almost been voted homecoming queen for god’s sake.

She quickly dried herself, climbing out of the shower and slipping into her bathrobe. Sara had given it to her last Christmas. It was pink, thin, and it clung to her damp body in a number of important places. She glanced at herself in the foggy mirror. Wet, her hair appeared almost black, and the heat of the shower had flushed her face. In her totally unbiased opinion, she thought she looked pretty fantastic.

I just have to get him to kiss me. Just get him started.

She opened the bathroom door. Bill was standing by the window, admiring the fog. He jumped again when he saw her. She smiled to put him at ease. “I didn’t know you’d get here so soon.”

“You said twenty minutes.”

“Oh, that’s right, I did.” She gestured to the bed and reached for the towel around her neck. “Have a seat, let me dry my hair.”

He sat on the bed. She stepped past his knees and sat beside him, on his left. They had the bathroom and its diffusing steam in front of them, the door to the hallway on their right. Bill still had on his yellow turtleneck and tan pants. She reached up as if to fix his collar. Too bad he didn’t have a collar. She brushed a hair from his neck, playing the role of the seductress to the hilt.

“I haven’t gotten to talk to you much tonight,” she said.

“Yeah, where have you been?”

“Oh, I went for a little swim.” She giggled. “I wish you could have joined me.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” She turned to face him, tucking her right knee under her left leg while pressing her knee against the side of his leg. She had made a similar move months ago on his parents’ couch without much success. But now they knew each other a lot better, and her bathrobe was split open and my, didn’t her wet legs look fine. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

His gaze strayed to her legs. She was not sure how far up he could see, not exactly, nor did she care. Suddenly she began to enjoy herself. “You’re going to catch a cold,” he said.

“I’m not cold.” She smiled her naughtiest smile and moved her hand into his hair. “Are you?”

“No.”

“That’s good.” She tugged lightly on the hair at the base of his neck. “If you were, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Jessie?”

“Yes, Bill?”

“What about Sara’s party?”

“It’ll wait.” She leaned closer, her wet hair hanging over the arm of his yellow sweater. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?” she asked.

“No.”

She continued to play with his hair, continued to smile as if she couldn’t wait for him to kiss her, which was the truth of the matter. “That’s good, because I feel real comfortable with you. I mean, I like you, Bill. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Yeah. I like you, Jessie. You’re a nice girl.”

She gushed over the remark as if he had just sworn his undying love. “Really? Oh, that’s neat. I mean, I wasn’t sure if you felt that way.” She let her right hand slip from his hair to the top of his right shoulder and caught his eyes. “You know what I liked most about the prom?”

“What?”

“When you kissed me afterward.”

He took the hint. He kissed her. He might not have intended for it to be a deep and passionate kiss, but the moment his lips touched hers, she tightened her arm around his neck and pulled him close. She had not kissed many guys in her life. She was unaware of the finer points that constituted a great kiss. Nevertheless, she didn’t feel Bill was giving her his all. She felt that way very strongly when he suddenly pulled back.

“It’s late,” he said.

She laughed, tugging him toward her. “It’s early.” They started again and things began to pick up, possibly because they rolled back onto the bed. This had nothing to do with her; it just happened. He put his right hand on her robe near her left breast. The kissing got harder, deeper. Yet she still felt as if she was doing most of the digging. She wished he would touch her breast. His hand kept moving toward it, then pulling away. It was driving her nuts.

“Jessie?” he mumbled.

“What?” She was having trouble with other parts of their bodies as well. Her legs were up on the bed. His feet were still on the floor. She tried swinging her left leg over his hip, but it kept slipping loose. Surprisingly, her robe continued to hold together; she must have tied the belt too tightly coming out of the shower. She took his right hand and put it on the knot, hoping he would work on it.

“Why are we doing this?” he asked, between heavy breathing and kissing.

“Because we want to.”

“I don’t think it’s right.”

“Don’t think, Bill.”

He didn’t loosen the knot. He put his hand on her hip instead. That would have been fine except his hand just stayed there, while his kisses became less and less passionate, until finally she began to feel as if she were chasing a strawberry around an empty bowl with a baseball bat. She had heard him when he said he didn’t think what they were doing was right, but she hadn’t
really
heard him. When she took his right hand and pressed it to her left breast, his reaction took her completely by surprise. He leaped off the bed and began to yell.

“What are you trying to do?”

She had never seen him mad before. “Huh?”

“You’re trying to seduce me!”

She sat up, very slowly. “No. I was just, you know, being friendly.” There was something not quite right here. She still hadn’t figured out where she had messed up. He looked positively livid.

“Look at you. Jessie. You’re practically naked. And you’re trying to undress me!”

“No. I was in the shower, and—”

“The shower! You knew I was coming. What kind of girl are you anyway?”

It hit her then—the humiliation. Her voice came out small and shaky. “I’m a nice girl, like you said.”

He began to shout again, then suddenly balled his hands into tight fists and turned to face the wall, breathing heavily. She thought he wouldn’t speak again, that he’d just leave. But finally he got hold of himself.