wait.”
I stood rock-still in the field as tryouts began. The sun scorched the top of my forehead, but I didn’t budge. I needed every ounce of energy in my body to figure something out. Something was familiar. Something about the way Todd looked at me and spoke to me reminded me of . . . what?
Then it clicked.
My parents. The verbal sparring. That’s what they did. They liked it, but why?
Because it was exciting. And Todd probably liked it for the same reason. That was why he hadn’t really freaked out at the dance. And why he’d come over to Sam’s. It was fun for him. He liked fighting. But what was worse was that he seemed to like fighting with me. Oh, barf. I slunk back to the bleachers and sat with my head between my knees. I felt a light tap on my shoulder, and looked up. “Mar! Johnny?
What are you guys doing here?”
“We have an hour to kill before dance class,” Mar said. (Mar had gotten to pick their shared activity. Ballroom dance lessons. All I could say was, poor Johnny.)
“We came down here to give you some moral support,”
Johnny said. “Or extra spit in their water. Whichever.”
A light breeze blew down the football field. “Thanks,” I said. I scooted to my right and pulled Mar over for a bit of 102 Kristin Walker
privacy. “I need to talk to you,” I whispered. Johnny must’ve gotten the hint, because he sat down a few feet away, pulled out his MP3 player, and popped in the earphones. Mar sat. “What’s up?”
I took a deep breath. “I have a problem. I think Todd actually enjoys my company.”
Mar reached out and fiddled with a curl at my hairline.
“And that’s a problem because . . . ?”
“Because all this marriage has to go on is our hate for each other. That’s our one thing we have in common. Unwavering mutual disdain.”
She set her hands neatly in her lap. “But you just said he liked you.”
“No, I said he enjoys my company. That is, he enjoys hating me. Or pretending to hate me. I don’t know which. But I’m finding it difficult to completely dislike someone who gets pleasure from having me around.” The breeze died down and I felt sweat collecting under the nosepiece of my glasses. A dribble of it also ran down my cleavage. I dug in my backpack and got my clip-on sunglasses and a tissue. I snapped the sunglasses on my glasses and shoved the tissue down my shirt. Mar made a face, of course. But I didn’t care; I’d rather be comfortable.
“So he likes being mean to you,” she said. “And you like that he likes being mean to you.”
“And I like being mean to him, too, don’t forget.”
“Of course not. Pleasure from meanness. There’s a name for it: sadomasochism.”
CHAPTER 12 103
“Thanks a lot,” I said, pressing my stomach in with both hands. “That’s just what I need. A mental picture of Todd Harding laced up in a black leather bodysuit with a whip in one hand and his wang in the other.”
“I hope he’s hitting you with the whip .”
I smacked her thigh. “I’m serious, Mar. I don’t know how to act around him now. I can’t be nice, because he’ll hate that. But I can’t be mean just to be nice.”
“You really need medication.”
“I’m in a quandary. A catch-22. I’m screwed. Help me, Mar, please.”
Marcie lifted her hair off the back of her neck for a few seconds and then let it fall. “Okay, you like fighting with him too—you said so yourself. So keep fighting with him.”
I shook my fists at her. “How?”
“Look, you don’t love the guy. There are plenty of reasons to hate Todd Harding. Pick one.”
“Yes. Yes ,” I said. “I just have to find one thing. One thing about him that I hate and focus on that. But what?”
Marcie glanced at the cheerleading tryouts. “How about his taste in women?”
I looked over to where Amanda was hooked onto Todd’s middle with her arms wrapped around his waist so tight that he actually crimped over sideways. “Brilliant, Mar,” I said. “I’ll funnel
I stood rock-still in the field as tryouts began. The sun scorched the top of my forehead, but I didn’t budge. I needed every ounce of energy in my body to figure something out. Something was familiar. Something about the way Todd looked at me and spoke to me reminded me of . . . what?
Then it clicked.
My parents. The verbal sparring. That’s what they did. They liked it, but why?
Because it was exciting. And Todd probably liked it for the same reason. That was why he hadn’t really freaked out at the dance. And why he’d come over to Sam’s. It was fun for him. He liked fighting. But what was worse was that he seemed to like fighting with me. Oh, barf. I slunk back to the bleachers and sat with my head between my knees. I felt a light tap on my shoulder, and looked up. “Mar! Johnny?
What are you guys doing here?”
“We have an hour to kill before dance class,” Mar said. (Mar had gotten to pick their shared activity. Ballroom dance lessons. All I could say was, poor Johnny.)
“We came down here to give you some moral support,”
Johnny said. “Or extra spit in their water. Whichever.”
A light breeze blew down the football field. “Thanks,” I said. I scooted to my right and pulled Mar over for a bit of 102 Kristin Walker
privacy. “I need to talk to you,” I whispered. Johnny must’ve gotten the hint, because he sat down a few feet away, pulled out his MP3 player, and popped in the earphones. Mar sat. “What’s up?”
I took a deep breath. “I have a problem. I think Todd actually enjoys my company.”
Mar reached out and fiddled with a curl at my hairline.
“And that’s a problem because . . . ?”
“Because all this marriage has to go on is our hate for each other. That’s our one thing we have in common. Unwavering mutual disdain.”
She set her hands neatly in her lap. “But you just said he liked you.”
“No, I said he enjoys my company. That is, he enjoys hating me. Or pretending to hate me. I don’t know which. But I’m finding it difficult to completely dislike someone who gets pleasure from having me around.” The breeze died down and I felt sweat collecting under the nosepiece of my glasses. A dribble of it also ran down my cleavage. I dug in my backpack and got my clip-on sunglasses and a tissue. I snapped the sunglasses on my glasses and shoved the tissue down my shirt. Mar made a face, of course. But I didn’t care; I’d rather be comfortable.
“So he likes being mean to you,” she said. “And you like that he likes being mean to you.”
“And I like being mean to him, too, don’t forget.”
“Of course not. Pleasure from meanness. There’s a name for it: sadomasochism.”
CHAPTER 12 103
“Thanks a lot,” I said, pressing my stomach in with both hands. “That’s just what I need. A mental picture of Todd Harding laced up in a black leather bodysuit with a whip in one hand and his wang in the other.”
“I hope he’s hitting you with the whip .”
I smacked her thigh. “I’m serious, Mar. I don’t know how to act around him now. I can’t be nice, because he’ll hate that. But I can’t be mean just to be nice.”
“You really need medication.”
“I’m in a quandary. A catch-22. I’m screwed. Help me, Mar, please.”
Marcie lifted her hair off the back of her neck for a few seconds and then let it fall. “Okay, you like fighting with him too—you said so yourself. So keep fighting with him.”
I shook my fists at her. “How?”
“Look, you don’t love the guy. There are plenty of reasons to hate Todd Harding. Pick one.”
“Yes. Yes ,” I said. “I just have to find one thing. One thing about him that I hate and focus on that. But what?”
Marcie glanced at the cheerleading tryouts. “How about his taste in women?”
I looked over to where Amanda was hooked onto Todd’s middle with her arms wrapped around his waist so tight that he actually crimped over sideways. “Brilliant, Mar,” I said. “I’ll funnel
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