Vibes

  "Um—" I begin, but then he swallows really hard against my head, making a very audible glug sound. I actually feel his Adam's apple moving against my forehead. He's totally acting like a freak on purpose, making it as weird as possible.

  I decide to make it even weirder, so I continue the conversation with my mouth against his T-shirt. "So how was your night last night?"

  "It was okay," he says, totally deadpan. When he talks, his chin hits my head, which makes me giggle.

  "What did you do?" I say. My breath is making his T-shirt moist, which makes me giggle even more.

  "Hmm, let me think." He strokes his chin, getting his fingers totally tangled in my hair, but he pretends not to notice. "Read a book about sharks. Played video games. Trimmed my toenails."

  "Your toenails, huh? How'd that go?"

  "Not so great. They tasted terrible."

  I laugh so hard, I have to step away from him. He's laughing, too, but silently, so his face is bright red. We stand there giggling, smiling at each other for a long time, until finally it gets a little awkward and someone has to say something. "Anyway," he says, a goofy grin on his face, "the next assignment is due on Tuesday. Do you want to meet this weekend to work on it?"

  "Okay. But not at Pluribus," I say, cringing.

  "I'll call you Saturday morning, and we can meet up Saturday afternoon, okay?"

  "Yeah."

  For about ten seconds I am ridiculously happy. I watch as he trots away from me to go stand next to Eva and Hildie, who have seen the whole thing.

  One eye on me, Eva tugs on his T-shirt to demand his attention. He turns to face her, and she moves in on him, wrapping one lithe arm around his neck and pulling him toward her to whisper into his ear. I want him to pull away from her—I will him to. But he doesn't pull away. I can tell he likes standing close to Eva. The way her slender body undulates as she whispers into his ear is so sexual that I have to look away.

  When Gusty stood near me, it was only for a joke.

  I feel shredded.

  Hildie sees the look on my face and grins with satisfaction. She doesn't want Gusty getting near me. She never has, even when we were friends, ever since that day Gusty and I went behind the shed.

  It was years ago, and the three of us were playing together over at their house. We made up a game with a football and a Hula-Hoop that we leaned against their dying oak tree. If one of us was able to pass the football through the hoop without knocking it over, then the other two had to do that person's bidding.

  Gusty was the worst of us, which is weird since he's such a good athlete. I was the one winning. I had them get me a root beer Popsicle and watch while I ate it all myself. I made Hildie French-braid my hair even though it made her arms tired and it took forever because my hair was super long. I made Gusty walk on his hands all the way across the yard, and he could do it, too.

  When Gusty threw a spiral that finally sailed through the Hula-Hoop, he stood looking at us, trying to think of what to make us do. He licked at his upper lip where a little sweat was forming, and that made me lick my upper lip, too. "What do you want us to do, Gusty?" Hildie asked as she twisted her long blond hair into a rope that bounced against her back and came untwisted again.

  "Just Kristi," he said, his voice barely audible.

  "Why just Kristi?" Hildie asked. She looked at me suspiciously.

  "Behind the shed," he muttered, looking at the ground.

  "No way," Hildie spat at him, but I was already walking around the shed. "You don't have to go," Hildie called after me.

  "I have to do his bidding. It's the rules," I called over my shoulder.

  "This is stupid, Gusty," she spat.

  They started fighting in whispers.

  I waited in the space between the wooden fence and the shed. It was dirty there, but the tree branches from the neighbor's yard leaned over the fence like a roof. Carved into the brown fence were lots of primitive figures. Most of them were four-legged animals, dogs and cats and maybe a horse or two, but one of the carvings was of two stick figures holding hands. One of the figures had very long hair, and the other was wearing a backwards baseball cap, the same way Gusty always wore his.

  I heard a step behind me. Gusty was with me.

  I looked at him. I was standing the way I always stood when my boobs started growing, with my right hand clasped around my left elbow. He had both hands in his jeans pockets, and his eyes kept traveling up and down my body, which was still skinny like a dancer's. I loved my body then.

  "What do you want me to do?" I asked him, a little afraid of what the answer would be.

  "Do you like my carvings?" he asked, and pointed.

  I didn't have to look to see which carving he was pointing at. I said, "Yes. I like them."

  "I did them with my knife," he said, and pulled from his pocket a large Swiss Army knife. He unfolded a couple of the blades and handed it to me. It felt heavy in my hands, sturdy, like Gusty seemed to be. I pulled the scissors attachment out and used it to cut a thread that was hanging from my dolphin T-shirt. I liked the way the blades slid back into their spots, a little reluctantly, but with a snap that told me they would stay in their place. "It's cool," I told him, and handed it back.

  "My dad got it for me on a business trip. It was really expensive." He shrugged, pretending it was no big deal, so I knew it meant a lot to him.

  "I like it," I said, my voice a little breathy.

  He nodded at me as if he understood what I'd really meant to say even if I didn't.

  "What do you want me to do?" I asked him again, surprised at my courage.

  He took a half step toward me, but stopped when Hildie called, "What are you guys doing?" from the other side of the shed.

  "Just wait, Hildie," Gusty snarled.

  "Kristi! What are you doing?"

  "Nothing!" I squealed.

  "We'll be done in a minute, Hildie," Gusty told her.

  She huffed, and I imagined her twisting her hair angrily.

  "What do you want me to do?" I asked him again.

  "Uh..." He seemed suddenly confused. "I don't know. I just wanted to show you my knife."

  "But you have to make me do something," I said. "That's the game."

  "Okay. Uh ... c-close your eyes."

  I closed my eyes, and that seemed to make my whole body wake up. I was suddenly tingly standing there, waiting for what Gusty was going to do. I wished I could stand like that for a whole hour, close to Gusty with my eyes shut, waiting for him to do something to me, but it lasted only for a second.

  I felt something cold and wet in my right hand. It was slimy and soft and pliant, and I opened my eyes.

  In my hand was an earthworm.

  "There you go. From me to you." He smiled at me, and I knew he didn't mean it as a mean trick, but as a joke.

  "Thanks. It's just beautiful," I said, and wrapped it around my middle finger like we used to do in first grade, making an earthworm ring. I held it up to him so he could see, and he smiled.

  "Come on, you fags." We turned to see Hildie standing at the edge of our little green fort behind the shed. "Are you done? We're all three of us supposed to be playing," she added angrily.

  "Stop being such a baby, Hildie," Gusty said.

  Hildie's mouth dropped open and she looked at me, expecting me to say something, but for the first time I didn't take her side in an argument. I only dropped my hand so that she couldn't see the earthworm on my finger.

  "What are you holding?" she asked me suspiciously.

  "God, Hildie, you are so nosy!" Gusty charged at her.

  The two of them erupted into an argument that made me glad I was an only child. They marched to the yard and left me alone behind the shed.

  I took the earthworm from my finger and curled it into a little mound at the base of the fence, just under where Gusty had carved the stick-figure lovers. I wished I could keep my earthworm ring, but I wanted that worm to live a good long life there in Gusty Peterson's secret place.


  I was too young to know what was really happening between Gusty and me. It wasn't until a whole year later that the secret parts of me started to wake up and I knocked on his door only to have it closed in my face. Somehow, though, I remember that day behind the shed as a kind of promise between us.

  That's why it hurts so much to watch him standing so close to Eva. She finally releases him from her grip, but he is still standing way too close to her. He glances over at me, and I can sense in his thoughts the word sick fighting its way to the surface of his mind. I quickly look away.

  "Hey," murmurs a voice behind me, close.

  I whirl to see Mallory grinning at me. His skin looks even more flaky and grotesque, and I wince visibly.

  His eyes are pained, but he forces a smile. "You've noticed. I'm doing that medication. The one my mom doesn't like? Remember?"

  "You are? Is it working?"

  "I don't know yet." I get a flash of him imagining himself dashing and handsome as he sweeps me off my feet and into a deeply passionate kiss.

  I squint at him, trying to see beyond his acne. He might actually be kind of good-looking if it weren't for his skin. He has a long face, but it's pleasant, with sharp-looking cheekbones and a strong chin. His teeth are white and crooked in a way that actually looks kind of good. "Well, I think it's really great that you're doing it."

  "Eva was the one who talked me into it." He looks across the room at her, and she gives him a huge smile before flipping her shiny black hair over her shoulder. Hildie looks to see whom Evil is waving at and narrows her slanty eyes at me. I narrow my eyes right back at her. Mallory says, "You should give Eva a chance. She's been great. We talked about my acne during one of our character education meetings, and she was really encouraging."

  "I'm not surprised she'd focus on something so shallow."

  "It's not shallow!" He pulls away from me as if I'd bitten him. "You try walking around like this."

  I feel stung, but he's right. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about it like that."

  "Anyway, Eva doesn't have it so easy. She's got some real problems, you know."

  "Yeah, anorexia for one."

  "So? Would that make her a bad person?"

  "No, her personality makes her a bad person."

  We're interrupted by the loud clanging of a bell, and everyone quiets down to look at Brian, who is twirling in the center of the room, a huge smile making him look like a deranged elf. "Attention, everyone! Are there any announcements?"

  Evil Incarnate raises her hand and steps to the center of the circle. "Starting on Monday I'll be gone from school for the next three weeks, and I'm wondering if there are people in my classes who would be willing to gather my homework assignments for me? Mallory will be bringing them to me." She looks at Mallory, who gives her a thumbs-up signal. I wonder what the hell is going on between those two.

  Brian calls, "Anyone who's willing to do that for Eva, please see her after Morning Meeting. Are there any other announcements?"

  The spunky little freshman who always serves lunch raises her hand. Her hair is pulled tightly into the pigtails she's so devoted to. "Get ready for a special treat at lunch today! It's a chilled Russian soup that you're all going to love." She twists her mean little face into a smile, and I notice for the first time that she has a mouthful of shiny metal braces.

  "She's going down," Mallory says, twisting an invisible mustache. He leans down to whisper his sinister plot into my ear.

  This time there's no ambiguity. Mallory wants to stand close to me, and it's not for a joke. He can hardly keep his body away from mine.

  It feels nice to know for sure that someone wants me.

  MALLORY'S MAGNUM OPUS

  After my last morning class I get to the Bistro as soon as I can so I don't miss anything. Mallory is already there, casing the area for the best angle of attack.

  I spy the nasty little freshman standing at her usual place in line, serving the soup from a cauldron perched on a metal table. She's wearing overalls that are way too big for her. She's barely tall enough to reach her ladle into the enormous vat of soup she's doling out to people. She seems unusually chipper today, as though she is ... proud?

  I get in the lunch line behind Jacob and tap him on his now muscular shoulder. "Jacob, what's the deal with that nasty little freshman?"

  "Katya?"

  "Her name is Katya? So she's Russian?"

  The line moves forward and I can hear her talking to a kid who has looked at the borscht with a particularly disgusted expression. "It's supposed to be cold!" she tells him. "You'll like it. It's my grandma's recipe."

  Perfect.

  I turn around and raise my eyebrows at Mallory, who has taken off his white leather jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. He has to do it soon—otherwise they'll be nearly out of the soup and it won't work. Mallory starts toward the lunch line after giving me a secret little thumbs-up.

  Jacob heads for our usual table at the back of the room, but I stop him. "Let's sit right here." I point to a table near the door in case we need to run.

  We sit down just as Mallory gets in line.

  Jacob shouts across the table at me nonstop. "I was wondering if you could suggest to Gusty that we all go out to a movie or something, Kristi? Would you want to go to a movie with a whole bunch of people? You and me and Gusty and maybe Eva Kearns-Tate or someone like that, like a friend of Gusty's so he will feel socially secure? Hey, do you like my shirt?" He holds out a sleeve for me to look at. His shirt is a multistripe button-down that he's wearing tucked into dark blue corduroy jeans. His belt is braided leather, brown to match his loafers. He looks preppy, but in a good way.

  "You look good," I have to admit.

  "Thanks!" He turns to Felix Mathers, who is sitting at the next table. He has terrible blue circles under his eyes. "Kristi likes my outfit, Felix!" To me, Jacob says, "Felix thinks I overdid the accessories."

  When he sees me noticing him, Felix turns away quickly without even acknowledging Jacob, his bony back hunched over a comic book. That guy is one weird dude.

  "Jacob, why don't you sit next to me?" I pat the bench. I want him where he'll be sure to get a good view.

  Jacob seems flattered and sidles near me. I get a flash of him imagining my boobs covered in pickled cabbage, and I shudder. "Gross, Jacob," I say.

  "What?" he asks, then breathes into his palm to check his breath. "I brushed!"

  "Shh," I say, because Mallory begins.

  Mallory starts breathing hard, kind of panting, and rubs at his nose. Really loudly he makes a weird harrumphing sound. He holds his palm up to his head and lets out the first fake sneeze. "AAAACH-CHOOOO! Ahg. Excuse me!"

  It was a good one. He made it sound really juicy.

  I look sideways at Jacob, who says, "Oh no."

  "Oh yes," I tell him.

  We're both startled by an even louder fake sneeze.

  This one sounds even more wet.

  I had no idea how easily Mallory could command a room. The noise is so loud that everyone hushes to look at him, and that's when he lets go with the third one.

  "Oh God, oh God!" he says, and does it again. "AAAAGGG-ACHOOOO!"

  "Hey!" Katya screeches, her ladle poised in midair. "Keep your mucus to yourself, you degenerate!"

  Mallory doubles over, panting. The people behind him in line back away. "I'm sorry!" he says. "Oh God! HERE COMES ANOTHER ONE!"

  Katya leans over the huge vat of thick red soup to shield it with her body. "Stop! Sneeze the other way!" she cries.

  "It's just so uncontrollable!" Mallory exclaims, and lets fly. "AAAACH! AAAACH! AAAACHOOOO!"

  His body spasms, and he pretends to lose balance. His limbs flail as he dances around trying to get his feet under him. By now the entire faculty is staring at him and Brian has gotten up to help, but it's too late. Mallory trips over his own feet and, desperately trying to save himself, grasps Katya's arm. He pulls her over, and she screams, "No! NOOO!"

  The entire
vat of borscht topples.

  Mallory saves himself, but Katya and the borscht fall headlong into the first row of tables. Suddenly the entire Bistro is awash in a tidal wave of cold, sloppy, deep red borscht, with squidlike flaps of soggy cabbage, chunks of squishy beets, and the deeply penetrating smell of garlic.

  The entire room erupts into complete madness. Most people are laughing so hard, they already have tears in their eyes. The people who got hit with the first wave are standing up, picking cabbage and beets off their arms. From head to toe Katya is coated with thick, chunky soup. She is crying big-mouthed sobs as she tries to pick herself up off the floor. Brian has rushed to her side and has put one arm around her, so now his white shirt is stained with big pink blots of beet broth. I look around to see Gusty picking cabbage off Hildie's face, saying, "It's okay, It's just messy, that's all."

  Mallory leans against the wall surveying the destruction. He is trying to look horror stricken and mortified, but I know him well enough to see that he is barely able to keep from laughing.

  Jacob stares at the scene with his mouth hanging wide open. "Why did he do that?"

  This question stops me. When Mallory told me what he was planning to do, I was kind of thrilled at his daring, but now that it's happening, it's a lot less funny than I thought it would be. Katya is nasty and mean, but seeing her covered in red slime makes me wonder if she really deserved this.

  "Does Mallory hate Katya for some reason? Kristi?" Jacob grabs my elbow and shakes it to get my attention.

  "No, I don't think he hates her. I think he hates ... everything."

  Why else would anyone be so cruel?

  Mallory kicks into Act Two with a pretty brilliant performance, apologizing and appeasing. "Oh God! I'm so sorry! I must be allergic!" And then to prove it he sneezes again and again and again, apologizing after each sneeze.

  Even if he's taken it too far, it's still kind of funny, and I find myself giggling a little. But it's not pure laughter. It's tainted with bad feelings, and I can't really enjoy it.

  Once Brian has gotten Katya seated on a bench, he walks over to Mallory, squinting with suspicion. Mallory has to work a little too hard to keep a straight face. Brian isn't fooled for a second and grabs Mallory's T-shirt by the scruff, pulling him out of the room.