rubbed me the wrong way. Has he tried calling you since you left his house?"
"I put his number on my cell's ignore list about an hour ago." Phoebe took out her phone and checked for any unanswered calls. "Apparently not...I wonder if he drank his own poison."
"What?"
"Um, nothing...listen Rita, can I ask you something that I have no right to ask at this point?"
"I suppose."
"Why Ian?"
"Huh?"
"You can easily have any guy in the school, or for that matter, outside the school that you want, and you're with Ian."
Rita mulled it over for a second, and then responded, "Hmm, let's turn this question around. Why not?"
Phoebe took a deep breath. "Alright, I'll state the obvious. When he graduates from high school, if he graduates, you know there's no way that someone with his grades is going to be accepted to any college. I can't even picture him in a community college. He's probably going to just wind up bagging groceries at some supermarket. The best case scenario I can see for him is possibly working his way up to cashier after about five years."
As Phoebe spoke, Rita was rubbing her chin, absorbing it all.
"Well Phoebe, I don't know about you, but in my book, cashiering is certainly preferable to prison, which is probably where Felix is going to wind up even before he graduates high school."
"Please Rita, I've already conceded that was a big mistake, and I am embarrassed about it."
Rita continued. "You know, as I'm sitting here listening to your mouth off, I just keep learning more and more about your mother's philosophy of the world. Apparently she doesn't think too highly of the working class in general, huh?"
She looked down. She knew that she had said enough.
"Phoebe, now that we're getting all of this out in the open, would you like to explain to me why I've never met your dad?"
Knowing the jig was up, Phoebe just acquiesced. "Before I was born, my mother was an adult film actress. Apparently, I was conceived on the set of one of her films." She looked down. "I lied when I said my parents are divorced. They were never married. I don't even know who my dad is, and my mom isn't too sure either. She was a shrewd business woman, however. She's one of the only...talents in that field who actually owns a piece of all her films from the 1980s. So she makes a little profit every time one of them is aired. Not just on her website, but any others as well."
"Alright, there's something else I've got to ask you." Rita put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Why the hell do you hate Ian as much as you do? Even following your mother's twisted view of humanity would only make him someone to avoid, not hate. What is the source of your hostility?"
Tears were now starting to drip down Phoebe's cheeks. "I don't know. I guess it's because everyone else seems to hate him, and I was afraid that if I didn't, they'd hate me too."
Rita now put both arms around her friend and hugged her tight. "O.K. Phoebe, it's time for me to answer your initial question."
"I've even forgotten what that was" sniffed Phoebe.
"The question was, 'Why Ian?' and I'm going to tell you." She now held Phoebe's hands as she spoke. "Quite simply, he has the most profound sense of self-awareness of anyone I have ever met. He may not be a scholar or a star athlete, but at least he's aware of his limitations, and doesn't pretend to be either. Furthermore, he treats me like royalty. He doesn't even curse when he's around me, and I do curse when I'm around him...a lot!"
"What's up with all those striped polo shirts? Doesn't he have any other clothes?"
This question brought a smile to Rita's face. "Actually, there's a great story behind them. He told me that last summer, he was at the mall, and noticed that K-mart was having a massive close-out on those things. They were going for something like two dollars each. He just walked in and tried one on. Once he figured out what size he wore, he just bought one in each color combination, feeling rather clever for being able to purchase a year's worth of wardrobe for fewer than twenty bucks. The part that I find most amusing is how delighted he was that he only had to try on one pair, and not waste a lot of time in the dressing room. Compare that to the likes of Felix, who probably spends at least an hour combing his hair in the mirror every morning." Rita shook her head and sighed. "Ian might not be particularly coordinated or athletic, but he sure is masculine."
"And that's another thing," Phoebe continued. "You know, some people would say that a guy who publicly takes batting lessons from his girlfriend has no shame."
"And some others might say that is the ultimate demonstration of someone who is secure in his masculinity."
Phoebe paused. "Rita, I've got one more question to ask. And it's of a slightly more personal nature."
"I think I can guess where this is going."
"Do you and Ian...you know...?"
Rita smiled. "Phoebe, what the two of us do when we're alone is between me and Ian. I know that it's traditional for girls to get together and gossip about this sort of stuff. But I'm not going to. By this time, I'm sure that more than a few guys have asked him about that, and I'm also sure that he doesn't answer them. I intend to show him the same courtesy. I'm afraid you're just going to have to use your imagination."
This was not what Phoebe was expecting to hear at all. "Well, Felix tried to feel me up, and it really creeped me out."
"Ah, hah," declared Rita. "You don't realize it, but you just revealed something really important about yourself."
"What's that?"
"Phoebe, I don't think you're ready to have a boyfriend yet. And by the way, that's nothing to be ashamed of. You were never really attracted to Felix in the first place. You just thought it would make you look cool, hanging out with a rich 9th grader. As a matter of fact, it probably has a lot to do with why you're so good at math. You're mind isn't all clouded with...other things, like mine is...and Ian's is."
"So do you know what it is that he wants to see me about in room #201 tomorrow afternoon?" Phoebe's tears were starting to dry a bit.
"I have no idea, but I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised. Ian has a way of making things interesting, no matter what the situation is." Rita looked down at her watch. "You know, the P.T.A. meeting should be coming to an end about now. It's time to give your mom a call and let her know that you're no longer at Felix's. You can have her pick you up over here, or if you'd like, I can have my folks give you a lift home."
"That's O.K Rita, I'll give my mom a call. You've done enough for me this evening."
10:00 PM
Upon arriving home, Ian went straight to his room and resumed his position at the computer, trying to make sense of his math homework. The evening's excitement was once again tempered by his realization that it still wasn't making any sense to him, and that there would be a test at the end of the week. There was a knock at the door.
"Come in." Ian looked over his shoulder. Erma entered with a serious look on her face. "What's up?"
"I couldn't help but overhear that discussion you were having with your friend in the back seat."
"I'm not so sure she's my friend just yet."
"That's not what I came here to talk about, Ian."
"I'm really busy Erma, would you get to the point."
"How come you never told any of us about being thrown in a pool, and nearly getting drowned?"
Ian let go of the mouse and swung around in the swivel chair. "And might I ask what good that would've done? It would've been my word against about twelve others who were at that party."
While Erma was vaguely aware of the fact that her brother wasn't exactly the most popular kid in middle school, she had no idea of the situation's magnitude. "Ian, what had you done to deserve the hostility?"
Ian thought about the question for
a few seconds, and then snapped back. "You want to know the truth? It's mainly your fault."
"My fault?" Erma was understandably confused. "Would you like to explain that?"
"Two years ago, you just had to be the school best student. Most of the teachers you had are now my teachers. Very few days go by without at least one of them telling me about what an idiot I am compared to you. Your old math teacher Norman is particularly sadistic about it. He always makes sure the whole class is listening while he's berating me. The students just follow his lead...and most of the other teacher's leads as well."
Erma was at a loss for words. "I'm sorry. I had no idea Norman could be such a..."
"Look," Ian interrupted. "I sincerely wish to thank you for helping out tonight with the driving and all, but I've got to get back to studying all this useless crap, that I'll either never understand, or immediately forget a day after I learn it." With that, he spun around in his chair and buried his face in the computer screen once again.
"Goodnight Ian."
"Goodnight."
7:30 am
Phoebe was awake a little bit late. All the excitement of the previous evening had taken its toll. Not having time to carefully apply make-up and choose exactly the right clothing as was her normal routine, the still tired girl just slipped into an easy fitting pair of corduroys and threw a sweatshirt over her head. She made her way to the breakfast room, poured herself a bowl of cereal and gulped it down. After quickly