with lemons on them, and a ripped T-shirt.
I felt like crying again, but I didn’t. “Lester,” I said. “If there was this girl you had really, really liked for a long time—”
“Don’t start,” he said.
“No, I need to know. And let’s say there was this party and all your friends were there, and it was going on all night, everybody having a good time …”
Lester reached into the fridge and took out the butter carton.
“… and the next morning you found a Polaroid picture somebody had taken of”—I didn’t want to say “kissing” because Lester probably wouldn’t be bothered by a kiss—“of this girl lying naked on the couch with a naked guy on top of her, and—”
“What?” Lester yelled, dropping the butter. “… and you found out it was all trick photography to make them look like they were having sex, but they weren’t, would … ?”
Lester grabbed me by one arm. “Who was it? Pamela? Jill?”
I shook my head. “Nobody.”
“Al, did anyone get naked last night while I was sleeping?”
“No.”
“Did anyone have sex with their clothes on? ”
“No.”
“Then will you please get out of my face and let me enjoy my breakfast in peace?”
“Lester, really! I need your advice!” I said, sitting down across from him, and told him about the photo of Patrick and Penny.
“So if it’s all a joke, what’s the big deal?” he asked.
“It hurts, Lester!”
“Maybe so, but the best thing you can do is laugh and forget it.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay, then. Get on the bus tomorrow and claw Patrick’s eyes out. That’ll really endear you to him. C’mon, Al. Snap out of it.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, and went upstairs.
For a while I managed to put the picture out of my mind, and worked on a paper for history. I went back down around two and ate part of a sandwich Dad had left and some pretzels, but when I started to go up again and saw the sofa where Patrick had been sitting with Penny, where everyone had been whispering, it started the feelings all over again.
I lay for a long time on my bed staring up at the ceiling, at the cobweb that was strung between mylight fixture and the wall. It was beginning to collect dust, and looked like a cable on the Brooklyn Bridge. Was Karen trying to start a fight between Patrick and me? I wondered. Was Penny trying to come between us?
I heard the doorbell ring. Lester’s footsteps in the downstairs hall.
“Hey, Al! It’s Patrick,” he called.
Patrick! For a moment I didn’t move. I wouldn’t go down. I couldn’t! Then I realized how weird it would seem if I didn’t. I leaped up and yelled, “Be down in a sec.” I brushed my teeth and put on a little eye makeup so my eyes wouldn’t look puffy, then went downstairs. My smile felt about as false as Jill’s eyelashes or Karen’s fingernails.
“Hi,” I said. Even my voice sounded fake. It sounded as though it came from the tiny chest of a Barbie doll.
“Hi,” said Patrick. “Want to walk over to the school or something? Get some ice cream?”
The school is the elementary school nearby, where our gang still gathers sometimes. We sit on the rubber swings, talking to each other, whirling the swings around, scaring all the little kids away.
“Well, I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m sort of busy. We’re taking Lester out to dinner tonight, and I’ve got all this homework.”
“So have I, but I’ve been at it all morning. Need a break,” he said. A lock of red hair hung down over the left side of Patrick’s forehead, and he seemed to have grown another two inches since the day before. He playfully jiggled my arm. “C’mon. It’ll do you good.”
“Okay,” I said.
We went outside. Dad was still at it, transplanting azalea bushes. He always seemed to be tinkering with the yard or the house since he came back from England. Getting things ready for Miss Summers, of course.
“Going for a walk, Dad,” I called.
He waved and bent over the
I felt like crying again, but I didn’t. “Lester,” I said. “If there was this girl you had really, really liked for a long time—”
“Don’t start,” he said.
“No, I need to know. And let’s say there was this party and all your friends were there, and it was going on all night, everybody having a good time …”
Lester reached into the fridge and took out the butter carton.
“… and the next morning you found a Polaroid picture somebody had taken of”—I didn’t want to say “kissing” because Lester probably wouldn’t be bothered by a kiss—“of this girl lying naked on the couch with a naked guy on top of her, and—”
“What?” Lester yelled, dropping the butter. “… and you found out it was all trick photography to make them look like they were having sex, but they weren’t, would … ?”
Lester grabbed me by one arm. “Who was it? Pamela? Jill?”
I shook my head. “Nobody.”
“Al, did anyone get naked last night while I was sleeping?”
“No.”
“Did anyone have sex with their clothes on? ”
“No.”
“Then will you please get out of my face and let me enjoy my breakfast in peace?”
“Lester, really! I need your advice!” I said, sitting down across from him, and told him about the photo of Patrick and Penny.
“So if it’s all a joke, what’s the big deal?” he asked.
“It hurts, Lester!”
“Maybe so, but the best thing you can do is laugh and forget it.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay, then. Get on the bus tomorrow and claw Patrick’s eyes out. That’ll really endear you to him. C’mon, Al. Snap out of it.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, and went upstairs.
For a while I managed to put the picture out of my mind, and worked on a paper for history. I went back down around two and ate part of a sandwich Dad had left and some pretzels, but when I started to go up again and saw the sofa where Patrick had been sitting with Penny, where everyone had been whispering, it started the feelings all over again.
I lay for a long time on my bed staring up at the ceiling, at the cobweb that was strung between mylight fixture and the wall. It was beginning to collect dust, and looked like a cable on the Brooklyn Bridge. Was Karen trying to start a fight between Patrick and me? I wondered. Was Penny trying to come between us?
I heard the doorbell ring. Lester’s footsteps in the downstairs hall.
“Hey, Al! It’s Patrick,” he called.
Patrick! For a moment I didn’t move. I wouldn’t go down. I couldn’t! Then I realized how weird it would seem if I didn’t. I leaped up and yelled, “Be down in a sec.” I brushed my teeth and put on a little eye makeup so my eyes wouldn’t look puffy, then went downstairs. My smile felt about as false as Jill’s eyelashes or Karen’s fingernails.
“Hi,” I said. Even my voice sounded fake. It sounded as though it came from the tiny chest of a Barbie doll.
“Hi,” said Patrick. “Want to walk over to the school or something? Get some ice cream?”
The school is the elementary school nearby, where our gang still gathers sometimes. We sit on the rubber swings, talking to each other, whirling the swings around, scaring all the little kids away.
“Well, I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m sort of busy. We’re taking Lester out to dinner tonight, and I’ve got all this homework.”
“So have I, but I’ve been at it all morning. Need a break,” he said. A lock of red hair hung down over the left side of Patrick’s forehead, and he seemed to have grown another two inches since the day before. He playfully jiggled my arm. “C’mon. It’ll do you good.”
“Okay,” I said.
We went outside. Dad was still at it, transplanting azalea bushes. He always seemed to be tinkering with the yard or the house since he came back from England. Getting things ready for Miss Summers, of course.
“Going for a walk, Dad,” I called.
He waved and bent over the
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