activity that kept her busy in the afternoons and gave her a ready-made social life. But she’d hung up her pompoms at the end of football season—she just wasn’t peppy enough—and immediately found herself exiled from the clique of pretty, popular girls she’d drifted into freshman year, coasting on the widespread misconception that she was a younger version of Mandy, who actually was a pretty and popular varsity cheerleader, though she now regretted it on feminist grounds.
All Ruth really knew as that fateful April cracked open was that she was living in a kind of limbo, a waiting period between what hadhappened before and what would happen next. Temporarily sisterless and friendless, she spent a lot of time in a state of vague anticipation, staring at the phone, willing it to ring, hoping to hear a friendly voice on the other end, a mystery boy who confessed that he’d been watching her and thinking about her, and wouldn’t she like to put away her homework and maybe have a little fun?
SO IT was nice to suddenly have a regular date with Paul Caruso, even if it didn’t amount to anything more than a fifteen-minute walk home from the bus stop. They hit it off right away, slipping easily past the awkwardness of the first day into a realm of relaxed intimacy that made her feel like they’d been friends for years instead of neighbors who’d barely acknowledged each other’s existence until a few days ago.
He confided in her about his troubles with Missy, who’d become increasingly clingy as they approached the end of high school. They were heading to different colleges—she’d been recruited to play soft-ball at the U. of Delaware; he was going to major in Music at William Paterson—and Paul had no illusions that they could survive as a couple beyond the end of summer. But Missy was adamant about committing to a long-distance relationship.
“It never works,” he told her. “Have you ever heard of a case where it works?”
Ruth liked the serious way he asked these questions, as if she were a mature adult with a wide experience of the world, someone he could count on for good advice.
“It didn’t work for my sister,” she said. “And she and Rich were only an hour apart. I guess she just wanted to make a fresh start or something.”
“That’s kinda how I’m feeling,” Paul admitted. “But I don’t know how to say it. Missy’s just so emotional these days. She cries over every little thing.”
Ruth usually considered herself a compassionate person, but she found it impossible to scrape up any sympathy for Missy, who refused to say hi to her in the halls even though they’d spent several Saturday mornings together in the fall, sorting glass and metal at the Recycling Center. Ruth just hated that, the way someone could be so nice to you one day, then cut you dead the next.
“She’s probably just scared,” Ruth speculated. “About going away and everything.”
“Personally, I can’t wait. I mean, don’t you think it gets a little boring around here?”
“A little ?” she said, and he gave a knowing laugh that made her feel thrillingly conspiratorial, like the two of them knew something that crybaby Missy didn’t.
Every day she followed him inside and set his backpack and trumpet down on the kitchen table, then suffered through an excruciating moment of suspense, waiting for him to ask if she’d like a sandwich or a soda, or even a glass of ice water, but he never did. It was as if he’d taken her refusal on the first day as a statement of principle, a philosophical objection to food and drink.
THE WEATHER turned warm at the end of April, a glorious stretch of perfect days—birdsong, blue sky, blossoms dropping from fruit trees in little blizzards of pink and green. If Ruth had owned a dog, she would’ve taken it for a walk, but instead she changed into terry-cloth gym shorts and a T-shirt, spread a beach towel out on the lawn of her backyard, and lay down on top of it, her face
All Ruth really knew as that fateful April cracked open was that she was living in a kind of limbo, a waiting period between what hadhappened before and what would happen next. Temporarily sisterless and friendless, she spent a lot of time in a state of vague anticipation, staring at the phone, willing it to ring, hoping to hear a friendly voice on the other end, a mystery boy who confessed that he’d been watching her and thinking about her, and wouldn’t she like to put away her homework and maybe have a little fun?
SO IT was nice to suddenly have a regular date with Paul Caruso, even if it didn’t amount to anything more than a fifteen-minute walk home from the bus stop. They hit it off right away, slipping easily past the awkwardness of the first day into a realm of relaxed intimacy that made her feel like they’d been friends for years instead of neighbors who’d barely acknowledged each other’s existence until a few days ago.
He confided in her about his troubles with Missy, who’d become increasingly clingy as they approached the end of high school. They were heading to different colleges—she’d been recruited to play soft-ball at the U. of Delaware; he was going to major in Music at William Paterson—and Paul had no illusions that they could survive as a couple beyond the end of summer. But Missy was adamant about committing to a long-distance relationship.
“It never works,” he told her. “Have you ever heard of a case where it works?”
Ruth liked the serious way he asked these questions, as if she were a mature adult with a wide experience of the world, someone he could count on for good advice.
“It didn’t work for my sister,” she said. “And she and Rich were only an hour apart. I guess she just wanted to make a fresh start or something.”
“That’s kinda how I’m feeling,” Paul admitted. “But I don’t know how to say it. Missy’s just so emotional these days. She cries over every little thing.”
Ruth usually considered herself a compassionate person, but she found it impossible to scrape up any sympathy for Missy, who refused to say hi to her in the halls even though they’d spent several Saturday mornings together in the fall, sorting glass and metal at the Recycling Center. Ruth just hated that, the way someone could be so nice to you one day, then cut you dead the next.
“She’s probably just scared,” Ruth speculated. “About going away and everything.”
“Personally, I can’t wait. I mean, don’t you think it gets a little boring around here?”
“A little ?” she said, and he gave a knowing laugh that made her feel thrillingly conspiratorial, like the two of them knew something that crybaby Missy didn’t.
Every day she followed him inside and set his backpack and trumpet down on the kitchen table, then suffered through an excruciating moment of suspense, waiting for him to ask if she’d like a sandwich or a soda, or even a glass of ice water, but he never did. It was as if he’d taken her refusal on the first day as a statement of principle, a philosophical objection to food and drink.
THE WEATHER turned warm at the end of April, a glorious stretch of perfect days—birdsong, blue sky, blossoms dropping from fruit trees in little blizzards of pink and green. If Ruth had owned a dog, she would’ve taken it for a walk, but instead she changed into terry-cloth gym shorts and a T-shirt, spread a beach towel out on the lawn of her backyard, and lay down on top of it, her face
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