was on my feet and we were all belting out the words so loud we couldn’t even hear Bjorn and Bjork or whatever they were called, any more. When it was over, Jennifer just picked up the needle and dropped it back at the beginning of the song, and we did it again.
After that we burned through “Crocodile Rock” and “Rocket Man” and then, when we needed a breather, Jennifer put on “Seasons in the Sun.”
“This,” she said, “is the saddest song.”
It was a super-sappy tune about this guy dying, and David and I started singing along in these really schmaltzy voices and pretending we were breaking down and weeping andclutching each other’s arms. At first Jennifer kept shushing us, but by the end she was giggling too. “Goofballs,” she said.
After that, David put on
Dark Side of the Moon,
which was not a sing-along kind of album, so we just listened and talked a bit.
After a while Jennifer said, “Teach me some sign language.”
“Which signs do you want to know?”
“Start with
hi
and
bye.”
Those were easy, and I showed her.
“What are the ones you use with Zan?” David wanted to know.
I felt like I had something special and rare to give them. I taught them
up
and
drink, give
and
more
and
eat.
“Cool,” said David. “Hey, where’s your bathroom?”
When he opened the door to go out, the sounds of our parents laughing downstairs swirled in, along with the slightly skunky smell of the Godwins’ cigarette smoke. It seemed they were having a good time.
Jennifer said, “Did you really teach him his first sign?”
“Yeah, sort of,” I told her, pleased. She must have gotten that from
Time.
It meant she’d read the whole article. Maybe she’d stared a while at the pictures of me.
“So what’s hug?” she asked.
I showed her.
“That’s so cute,” she said, gripping herself with her arms. “Like really hugging someone.”
“Yep,” I said, wishing her arms were around me. “And
tickle’s
pretty close, only you tickle yourself right there.”
I wiggled my fingers to show her.
“Right
here?”
she said, reaching over and tickling me under my arms.
I laughed in total surprise. “Or down here—that’s where Zan likes it,” and I went for her under her ribs.
She squealed and giggled and tried to twist away and I could’ve held her tighter, but I let go. She stepped back, just a little, still breathing hard.
“What other signs do you know?” she asked.
I put my fingers to my lips and then moved them to my cheek.
“What’s that?”
“Kiss,”
I said.
She repeated the sign, smiling at me in a playful kind of way.
I was staring at her glossy lips and I wanted to kiss them for real, but I heard David coming back from the bathroom. Probably I wouldn’t have done it anyway, because I was afraid she wouldn’t like it, and maybe David would see, and Jennifer would be upset and run downstairs in tears and I’d be humiliated.
I totally had the hots for her. She probably didn’t have the hots for me. Not yet. But I wanted her to. I wouldn’t rest until she did. I’d do
anything.
If I could teach a chimp sign language, I could probably teach Jennifer Godwin to fall for me.
N INE
G IVE H UG
Z an loved washing up. Sunday night after dinner he sat right up on the counter beside the sink, holding a dish in one hand and the scrubber brush in another. Sometimes he just cleaned the same plate over and over again, but it kept him happy, and we all signed to him while we washed. It was a good way of teaching him
water
and
dirty
and
soap,
which he was pretty interested in. We had to make sure to lock the bottle of soap up right after using it, because Zan liked squeezing it into the water and making more and more bubbles.
All weekend I’d been thinking about Jennifer. I kept remembering the feel of her fingers tickling me. I could still feel her waist in my hands as I tickled her back. Project Jennifer had taken a big leap forward, but part of me was worried tomorrow at
After that we burned through “Crocodile Rock” and “Rocket Man” and then, when we needed a breather, Jennifer put on “Seasons in the Sun.”
“This,” she said, “is the saddest song.”
It was a super-sappy tune about this guy dying, and David and I started singing along in these really schmaltzy voices and pretending we were breaking down and weeping andclutching each other’s arms. At first Jennifer kept shushing us, but by the end she was giggling too. “Goofballs,” she said.
After that, David put on
Dark Side of the Moon,
which was not a sing-along kind of album, so we just listened and talked a bit.
After a while Jennifer said, “Teach me some sign language.”
“Which signs do you want to know?”
“Start with
hi
and
bye.”
Those were easy, and I showed her.
“What are the ones you use with Zan?” David wanted to know.
I felt like I had something special and rare to give them. I taught them
up
and
drink, give
and
more
and
eat.
“Cool,” said David. “Hey, where’s your bathroom?”
When he opened the door to go out, the sounds of our parents laughing downstairs swirled in, along with the slightly skunky smell of the Godwins’ cigarette smoke. It seemed they were having a good time.
Jennifer said, “Did you really teach him his first sign?”
“Yeah, sort of,” I told her, pleased. She must have gotten that from
Time.
It meant she’d read the whole article. Maybe she’d stared a while at the pictures of me.
“So what’s hug?” she asked.
I showed her.
“That’s so cute,” she said, gripping herself with her arms. “Like really hugging someone.”
“Yep,” I said, wishing her arms were around me. “And
tickle’s
pretty close, only you tickle yourself right there.”
I wiggled my fingers to show her.
“Right
here?”
she said, reaching over and tickling me under my arms.
I laughed in total surprise. “Or down here—that’s where Zan likes it,” and I went for her under her ribs.
She squealed and giggled and tried to twist away and I could’ve held her tighter, but I let go. She stepped back, just a little, still breathing hard.
“What other signs do you know?” she asked.
I put my fingers to my lips and then moved them to my cheek.
“What’s that?”
“Kiss,”
I said.
She repeated the sign, smiling at me in a playful kind of way.
I was staring at her glossy lips and I wanted to kiss them for real, but I heard David coming back from the bathroom. Probably I wouldn’t have done it anyway, because I was afraid she wouldn’t like it, and maybe David would see, and Jennifer would be upset and run downstairs in tears and I’d be humiliated.
I totally had the hots for her. She probably didn’t have the hots for me. Not yet. But I wanted her to. I wouldn’t rest until she did. I’d do
anything.
If I could teach a chimp sign language, I could probably teach Jennifer Godwin to fall for me.
N INE
G IVE H UG
Z an loved washing up. Sunday night after dinner he sat right up on the counter beside the sink, holding a dish in one hand and the scrubber brush in another. Sometimes he just cleaned the same plate over and over again, but it kept him happy, and we all signed to him while we washed. It was a good way of teaching him
water
and
dirty
and
soap,
which he was pretty interested in. We had to make sure to lock the bottle of soap up right after using it, because Zan liked squeezing it into the water and making more and more bubbles.
All weekend I’d been thinking about Jennifer. I kept remembering the feel of her fingers tickling me. I could still feel her waist in my hands as I tickled her back. Project Jennifer had taken a big leap forward, but part of me was worried tomorrow at
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