suspect, however, that will be the only time he turns me down this evening. Yes, he’s kind, polite, and religious, but he’s still a guy.
“Okay, but if we leave now, then they win,” I say.
“We can’t let the terrorists win,” Scott says, then laughs. We’ve talked politics, current events, movies, and books. Unlike Cody, Scott reads the paper beyond the sports page.
I laugh, as I’ve done a lot this evening. Cody made me laugh by accident; Scott does it on purpose. As I watch Cody and his crew yak it up, I wonder how I stood him for a second, let alone six months. “Okay, we’ll stay,” I say, then smile. “What were we talking about?”
Scott pauses, bites his bottom lip, then mumbles, “I don’t want to think about death anymore.” We were talking about Robyn; but he’s thinking about his grandmother. Scott and Ileft for our date from the hospital, a strange start to a beautiful evening.
“How is your grandmother?” I ask, unable to resist what comes naturally.
“Not much better,” he says, looking down. “I know she’s in pain, but she can’t tell us.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” I ask.
“I overhear Mom on the phone. She needs full-time care and we can’t afford it. Mom can’t do it because she’d need to quit her job. I work all I can, but I can’t quit school because then I’ll never get into college,” he says, then sighs. “It’s a vicious circle, like life itself.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“The whole thing about you’re born helpless and sometimes, like my grandmother and my grandfather before her, you spend the end of your life equally as helpless. It’s a circle.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He pauses, then once again finds his smile, a small, sideways one, but a smile nonetheless. “All we can do is pray to God that something will work out.”
“Don’t tell Samantha,” I crack.
“She doesn’t get it,” he answers, then shakes his head in amusement and disgust.
“What do you mean?” I slide my hand another half inch closer to his.
His hands stay in place: one on the glass, one in his lap. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“It’s okay, Scott, whatever you want,” I say, then pause to think how different Scott is from most guys I’ve met at Lapeer High. Most of my exes couldn’t wait to speak badly of the girl who came before me. I wonder if the laughter at the other table comes from Cody cracking wise about me. Maybe he and Tyler are entertaining their dates with tales of the backseat. Whatever they’re doing, it’s causing a disturbance. I see their server speaking to them, but she’s not getting anywhere. Her words are easily swallowed up into that ocean of assholes.
“Okay, but it’s complicated,” he says, showing he is open, but just needs a little prodding.
So I say, “Maybe you don’t want to speak badly of the undead.” He doesn’t laugh.
“I guess I understand people like her,” Scott says, then sighs. “They’re afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of being themselves,” he says. “That’s why they adopt poses or join cliques.”
“I don’t know her that well,” I say, although that might be changing. After the big door slam in the library and the eye knives in biology class, she’s toned it down. I think her new thing is to act all mature, like she’s above it. She surprised me by finally adding me as a MySpace friend, then also asking if she could interview me for the school paper about the peercounseling service. Samantha thinks she’ll be asking the questions; she obviously doesn’t know me at all.
“I knew girls like her at Powers.” He says the name of his old school with a wince, like a bad memory. Not bad because it was scary, but awful because it was good and now is gone.
“Well, there are a lot of them at Lapeer as well,” I add. “I try to avoid all the groups.”
“I noticed,” he says, almost whispering.
“I think she’s like all of us, just
“Okay, but if we leave now, then they win,” I say.
“We can’t let the terrorists win,” Scott says, then laughs. We’ve talked politics, current events, movies, and books. Unlike Cody, Scott reads the paper beyond the sports page.
I laugh, as I’ve done a lot this evening. Cody made me laugh by accident; Scott does it on purpose. As I watch Cody and his crew yak it up, I wonder how I stood him for a second, let alone six months. “Okay, we’ll stay,” I say, then smile. “What were we talking about?”
Scott pauses, bites his bottom lip, then mumbles, “I don’t want to think about death anymore.” We were talking about Robyn; but he’s thinking about his grandmother. Scott and Ileft for our date from the hospital, a strange start to a beautiful evening.
“How is your grandmother?” I ask, unable to resist what comes naturally.
“Not much better,” he says, looking down. “I know she’s in pain, but she can’t tell us.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” I ask.
“I overhear Mom on the phone. She needs full-time care and we can’t afford it. Mom can’t do it because she’d need to quit her job. I work all I can, but I can’t quit school because then I’ll never get into college,” he says, then sighs. “It’s a vicious circle, like life itself.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“The whole thing about you’re born helpless and sometimes, like my grandmother and my grandfather before her, you spend the end of your life equally as helpless. It’s a circle.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He pauses, then once again finds his smile, a small, sideways one, but a smile nonetheless. “All we can do is pray to God that something will work out.”
“Don’t tell Samantha,” I crack.
“She doesn’t get it,” he answers, then shakes his head in amusement and disgust.
“What do you mean?” I slide my hand another half inch closer to his.
His hands stay in place: one on the glass, one in his lap. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“It’s okay, Scott, whatever you want,” I say, then pause to think how different Scott is from most guys I’ve met at Lapeer High. Most of my exes couldn’t wait to speak badly of the girl who came before me. I wonder if the laughter at the other table comes from Cody cracking wise about me. Maybe he and Tyler are entertaining their dates with tales of the backseat. Whatever they’re doing, it’s causing a disturbance. I see their server speaking to them, but she’s not getting anywhere. Her words are easily swallowed up into that ocean of assholes.
“Okay, but it’s complicated,” he says, showing he is open, but just needs a little prodding.
So I say, “Maybe you don’t want to speak badly of the undead.” He doesn’t laugh.
“I guess I understand people like her,” Scott says, then sighs. “They’re afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of being themselves,” he says. “That’s why they adopt poses or join cliques.”
“I don’t know her that well,” I say, although that might be changing. After the big door slam in the library and the eye knives in biology class, she’s toned it down. I think her new thing is to act all mature, like she’s above it. She surprised me by finally adding me as a MySpace friend, then also asking if she could interview me for the school paper about the peercounseling service. Samantha thinks she’ll be asking the questions; she obviously doesn’t know me at all.
“I knew girls like her at Powers.” He says the name of his old school with a wince, like a bad memory. Not bad because it was scary, but awful because it was good and now is gone.
“Well, there are a lot of them at Lapeer as well,” I add. “I try to avoid all the groups.”
“I noticed,” he says, almost whispering.
“I think she’s like all of us, just
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