“I’ll give you a hint,” she says. “Starts with a J and ends with eff?” I realize that Jessie heard that Jeff and I double-dated last night. “Now I understand why you’re so tired on Sunday mornings. Shit!”
“Ughhhhh. This Jeff guy. Jesus!” I say.
She perks up a little at seeing my genuine annoyance at the mere mention of his name.
“Look. I have a shitload of stuff to tell you,” I say. “When we’re done, you’ll understand all of it. Even this stupid date.” I bring my fingers up to air-quote the word date, and the blanket slides down into the crack of my elbow. I start up the trail to the clearing, and she follows me. We’re both still in kitchen garb. I’m pretty sure I smell like shrimp veins.
When we reach our favorite picnic area, I spread the blanket out and lie on my back. “I’m not sure where to start. I mean, first, you have to promise everything stays between us.”
“Duh.”
“No. I mean it. This has to stay between us,” I say. “Even if we break up or hate each other one day or whatever,” I say.
“Break up? Are we in a relationship?”
I put my middle finger up so she can see it. “Promise.”
“I promise,” she says.
“Okay. First I want you to go out with me next Saturday night.”
“Uh, with or without Jeff Garnet?”
“Without. We’d be going after that date.” I use air quotes again.
“That’s called two-timing where I come from,” she says. But she’s smiling, so I know she isn’t mad anymore. “Hold up. Did you say after? Like—how late?”
“From about eleven to two thirty?”
“That’s late.” She stops and realizes and love-smacks me on the arm. “Hey! Is that why you’re so tired today?”
“I would call this exhausted,” I say. “Thanks to Atlantis.”
She turns her head to look at me and makes me turn my head, too. “Are you kidding me? You went to Atlantis?” Then she looks concerned. “By yourself?”
“With friends.”
“Now you have g*y friends?”
“Actually, a long time before I met you,” I say.
“You’re full of surprises,” she says. “Do I know them?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“And?”
“And here’s the thing you have to never tell anyone. You still promise?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Between us?”
“Oh, my God, just tell me.”
I take a deep breath. “Kristina and Justin.”
She totally doesn’t get it. Blank stare.
I say, “Kristina and Donna and Justin and Chad.”
“Who the hell is Chad?”
“Chad is Justin Lampley’s boyfriend.”
She sits up and stares at me. “You mean Kristina Houck? Your friend?”
“Yep.”
“Wow,” she says. I watch a plane fly west above me—just a small sparkle in the sky. I send my love to it just for a second because I feel guilty leaving all those people up there all alone.
“But I hear all these rumors about those two!” she goes on. “How she’s into all sorts of weird stuff. Last week I heard she likes to bark when she does it.”
I raise my hand. “Guilty. She made me spread that one. All I had to do was tell Shelly Anne, and my work was done. Shelly Anne has a three-district-wide spread.”
She says, “Jessie always says she’s like the hometown girl over there.” She takes another minute to grasp it. “People would freak out if they knew this, wouldn’t they?”
“True. So? Saturday? Will you come?”
“Isn’t your curfew midnight or something?”
“That’s where Jeff comes in.” I roll my eyes. “Apparently, my mother takes the word of a boy she’s never met when it comes to important things like extending my curfew. Jeff says we’re going to a midnight movie, and Mom says, Fine, be home by two thirty, and there’s your answer to the Jeff question.”
“Yeah, but Jessie told me that he’s really into you.”
“He is really into me.” I make the gag face. “But Kristina promised him liquor, and so when we go out, he covers for me. Sadly, this means I have to endure another date with him next weekend. But it’s a double date with Kristina and Justin, and it’s the last time, so it’ll be totally okay. Then I get to go to Atlantis with you, right?” I take her hand in mine and watch another airplane enter my field of vision from the east. “So, I could cover for you if you want. I mean, we can say we’re all going to the movies together or something.”
It’s a big jet—probably a 747. I want to ask the passengers if they can see us lying here holding hands. I want to ask them if we look happy.
“My mom is pretty cool about stuff like that,” she says. “So, what you said earlier. About breaking up. You never answered me.”
“What?”
“Are we in a relationship?”
I ask the passengers: Are we in a relationship?
“Yes. I think we are,” I say. “But it’s a secret.”
“I know,” she says.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she says.
I ask the passengers: Why am I still sorry?
“It doesn’t seem very fair to you. I mean, I wish there were other places we could meet and hang out,” I say.
She rolls herself to the space above me. “How about here? And now?”
When Dee kisses me, the taste of her is enough to make me die right here on the spot. I don’t care if some mountain biker zooms through on the path. I don’t care about anything. Not Zeno or Socrates. Not motion or truth. When Dee kisses me, I am alive. I am moving. I am the truth.
19
THIS IS NOT POLITE DINNER CONVERSATION.
AT DINNER MONDAY NIGHT, Ellis is a complete douche.
“So it turns out the whole front line is like a dyke picnic,” she says. “I thought it was just Kelly and Kira, but now I hear it’s Michelle and Gabby, too.”
Mom says, “Ellis, that’s ridiculous.”
“I know, right? Jesus! It’s, like, spreading.”
Mom says. “You’ve been hanging around these small brains for too long.”
“Yeah,” I say.
Dad just eats. I can’t believe no one else can smell the pot wafting from his core. At this point, I think we could scrape off his epidermis and smoke it for a buzz.