Double Twist
Chapter 169
“Sanity is over-rated. It lacks color.”
—Forrest Carr, A Journal of the Crazy Year
WE WERE BACK to the crazies as soon as we returned on Sunday. With the orchestra concert coming up on Tuesday, LeBlanc was holding a special rehearsal Sunday afternoon and a dress rehearsal Monday night. I picked Cindy up at two and we headed for the school.
“I think I have program material for our next two recordings,” she said as she settled into the middle of the truck seat and fastened her seatbelt. She leaned against me, careful not to interfere with my hands on the wheel. There was hardly a high school student with a driver’s license I knew who hadn’t done a day of community service for driving one-handed while his girlfriend occupied the other. It was funny, though, that I found it as easy to obey the traffic laws in this life as I had found it to disobey them in V1. It’s all a matter of what we get used to, I guess.
“That’s great. What did you find?” I asked.
“Schubert’s Original Dances, D 365, Op 9,” she said. “I found a flute and guitar arrangement. If we wanted to, we could divide them up and have two or three videos. There are 36 of them.”
“Sounds like a complete orchestra concert,” I sighed. “Can we learn that much new music?”
“The dances are all very short. They are kind of exercises for piano students when it comes down to it. We could do a dozen of them in ten minutes. The music is recital music and maybe it isn’t as challenging as some of the things we’ve worked on; people really enjoy the light and lively waltzes,” she said.
“Sounds like you are reading from the YouTube blurb,” I laughed.
“Well, someone had to do some research!” she said. “You need to come up with the live program for our California tour in December.”
“We’re really going to do that, aren’t we?” I said. “From what Sophie said, we’ll be featured as an hour-long act in a three-hour performance. They’re really going all out on this tour thing.”
“Well, those poor guys forced to work in the fields deserve some reward. We need to bring them a spark of brightness in the drudgery of their day,” Cindy said.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it,” I said. I checked my mirrors and reached down to pat her leg before I turned in to the school parking lot.
“Yeah. Jacob, when you meet with the commission again, you need to get an alternative to manual labor across to them. I mean, I know they need laborers, but Mr. Richards gave us a reading assignment Friday. He said it was inspired by my suggestion last week about equality not always being sameness. I think I’ve heard you mention the book before. It’s short and by a guy named George Orwell called Animal Farm. The quote he pointed out was ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.’ His question was whether the jobs assigned in the National Service were all equal or if they should be weighted in some way. I read the book Saturday morning while you were running.”
“I should reread the whole thing so I remember it correctly, but he has a point. The question I have is if job inequality can be reconciled with people equality. I mean, we definitely have differences already. Doctors are paid more than my dad working on an assembly line. How do National Service occupations get compensated?”
We grabbed our instruments and went into the auditorium where we spent the next four hours in intense rehearsal.
If equality is not sameness, does that mean some animals are more equal than others?
We’d just run a half marathon on Saturday, so Nanette went light on us Monday morning. I surprised my study hall monitor by actually showing up and sitting through half the period. At 9:30, during third period announcements, I was recognized for winning the half marathon in Rockville over the weekend. Even Ms. Pixler applauded the achievement.
And, of course, the rest of the day was mostly dedicated to orchestra. Rehearsal went through lunch and then we were summoned back at five for dress rehearsal. I practiced with the cross country team and Jock sounded pretty proud when he called the team for a meeting and presented my first place medal. He had me lead the 10k team on a six-minute mile to celebrate and then called me off the track while the team headed out on the new trail where they’d be racing on Thursday. I never left school after I showered and got dressed in concert clothes. I left the locker room at four and was headed to pick up my viol when I suddenly felt like my legs wouldn’t carry me any farther. I just crumpled on the floor.
I don’t think I passed out. Maybe for a while. I just lay there with the hall spinning around my head. My whole body was shaking. I tried to assess my condition and see where the threads of my life were but I couldn’t focus on them. I knew something was wrong but it felt easy to fix if I could find the solution.
Guys coming out of the locker room saw me on the floor and yelled for Jock. He ran out with a couple of trainers and after a quick assessment, got me to drink something. It tasted funny but my eyes started to clear and focus.
“When did you last eat?” Jock demanded. I had to think.
“Had a protein shake for breakfast,” I managed.
“Somebody, get me an energy bar and a bottle of water,” he shouted. I managed to choke down the dry bar and bottle of water. By then I was feeling pretty much fine, though my stomach was still growling. Desi came pelting down the hall with Beca in tow and I looked at them, amused.
“What’s up, girlfriends?” I asked. I hadn’t seen them since English class this morning.
“What’s up indeed?” Beca demanded. “What are you doing passed out on the floor?”
“I guess I forgot to eat today.”
“Why weren’t you at lunch?”
“LeBlanc rehearsed us right through the whole period.”
“That idiot,” Jock said. “Can you two get him to some food?”
“Yeah, we can do that,” Desi said. “I have my car outside. Come on, Jacob. It’s dinnertime.”
“I need to get to rehearsal,” I said stubbornly.
“I’ll talk to LeBlanc,” Jock said. “And you need to make sure you eat regularly. You did a three-mile run this morning and another mile this afternoon. Then you lifted weights. And you are still recovering from a school record half marathon and long car ride this weekend. You can’t perform if you don’t eat!”
“Yes, sir,” I said contritely. “I just didn’t think of it.”
Desi and Beca led me out and we went straight to Firehouse Subs where I devoured a footlong New York Steamer, basically corned beef, pastrami, and provolone. I felt a lot better by the time I’d finished eating and washed it all down with an iced tea. Then I had to go face LeBlanc. This was a dress rehearsal and I arrived with my instrument nearly half an hour into the program. He never looked at me as I took my seat, found my place in the music and joined with my viol.
“Okay. Since Jacob seems unable to remember to eat after he’s worked out, we’ll have to take responsibility for him, I guess,” Emily said when I got home at eight. A full meal was waiting on the table. Donna and Nanette joined us there. Emily took charge of serving me a healthy portion of roast chicken, potatoes, broccoli, gravy, and carrots. Donna prepared a salad bowl and pushed it in front of me.
“I’m not a child,” I said, sounding incredibly childlike. “I can serve myself.”
“You aren’t taking care of yourself,” Nanette said. “This whole performing and running thing is stressing you. We’ve been stupid not to notice. How much weight have you lost?”
“Weight? Well, I always weigh a little less after a long race. I don’t know that I’ve lost weight overall.”
“Except that you run long runs every week. And you are rehearsing non-stop. It isn’t enough that LeBlanc has you rehearsing three hours this evening. I’ll bet you planned to practice more tonight, didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to let anyone down,” I said. Didn’t they understand how much depended on my performing well—especially as we moved toward this stupid holiday concert tour in California.
“You let everyone down when you are lying unconscious on the floor,” Donna said.
“J, it’s not about you letting us down. We’ve let you down,” Em said. “Honey, we have all lined up to be around the great Jacob Hopkins, runner, musician, writer, government adviser, lover. But we haven’t been supporting you the way we should. We—and I mean all eleven of your girlfriends, haven’t been paying attention to what you need.”
“For once, we’re not talking about keeping you sexually exhausted,” Donna laughed. “You’re providing an opportunity for all of us to live together, travel together, love together. Without you, we’d all fall apart. Oh, Joan and Beca would continue to be a couple. Rachel and Livy would find a way to be together. The rest of us would try to stay together but eventually we would discover we didn’t have the strong common thread that holds us together. You. Our carbon element.”
That got me thinking. I hadn’t spent more than a few fleeting encounters with pod two all summer and not at all this fall. How were they doing without their carbon element? Brittany was the only older sibling in town. Rachel and Livy were in service. I’d really been dumb. Those poor kids were suffering and I was too wrapped up in ‘important matters’ to pay attention to them.
“Can we invite pod two out for dinner Friday night?” I asked. All three of my girlfriends looked at me strangely. I guess it was a bit of a non sequitur. Em figured it out first and nodded.
“Good idea. But, J, you have to let us fuss and take care of you a little. We won’t hover over you or try to smother you, but we are going to be watching to make sure you get rest and food—in addition to sex,” Em giggled.
“I guess…” Donna, Em, and Nanette were looking at me intently. “I understand,” I sighed. “I didn’t mean to make it look like the relationship was all one-sided. It seems like you all do so much for me. I love you and I want to do my best for you. If that means letting you take care of me a little, okay. Just don’t let me start taking you all for granted.”
“We won’t,” Nanette said. “Now finish your meal. You gave us all a scare today. You need to build up a little energy so we can work out our anxiety with some three-on-one action when you’ve finished eating.”
The orchestra concert Tuesday night was good. People enjoyed it. The soloists were right on. LeBlanc was flashy as always. He never spoke to me. It looked like I’d truly made it onto his shit list.
“Jacob, may I have a word with you?” I looked to my left and directly into the eyes of Sharon Long, Joan’s mother.
“Mrs. Long,” I said. “Of course.”
“First of all, I haven’t been Mrs. Long since you were a freshman. I’m still Sharon and there is no reason for you to revert to making me feel old.” I was on alert. Sharon could be a devious cougar and I wouldn’t put it past her to get me into a compromising situation. Under other conditions, I’d have thrown caution to the wind and happily fucked Sharon. She wasn’t only a cougar; I knew from V1, she was a wildcat. I nodded my acknowledgment. “Joan tells me you are looking for a place to record your next duet with Miss Marvel. You kids spent days in my TV room—and some nights, if I recall correctly. Why don’t you bring your friends over on the sixteenth and record your video there?”
“Really, Sharon? That’s awfully kind of you. I’ll run it past Donna to see how it fits with our planned audience. I think it’s only going to be family, so it should be just fine. I appreciate your offer. I do kind of miss those days when we all gathered in the TV room,” I said. ‘TV room’ was a modest name to call it. Yes, there was a wide-screen television and playback units to make it feel like you were in a full theater. The audio system was fantastic. There was comfortable seating. And behind that was the pool table, the ping pong table, foosball, parlor games, and tables. It was a full entertainment center and play room. With a little extra seating, we could put twenty in it comfortably.
“Well, give me a call. Or have Donna call if you’re not comfortable. I won’t bite.”
Okay. Right.
I opened my lunch Wednesday at noon when we sat down. I’d been handed the brown bag on my way out to meet with Cindy and Ms. Devine for our special class on arranging. I was beginning to understand more of the concept but I was a long way away from actually doing any arranging. Cindy was more advanced. And it got me thinking about what we were going to do for our holiday concert. I’d run five miles this morning listening to Christmas music. It was sick. It just wasn’t the kind of music Cindy and I did.
I started laying food out on the table as my girlfriends watched. An egg salad sandwich, not assembled. I had a baggie with bread in it, a plastic container with egg salad, and a baggie with lettuce and tomato in it. I had a thermos with hot vegetable soup. A huge, carefully wrapped brownie topped off the meal with a thermos of milk.
“I’m going to move to the farm,” Beca said, looking at the macaroni and cheese she’d picked up in the cafeteria line. “How do you rate?”
“Um… Donna, Emily, and Nanette decided I wasn’t taking good enough care of myself to fulfill my duties to my girlfriends,” I said. “After Monday afternoon’s little episode, I weighed myself and discovered I’ve lost ten pounds since the beginning of summer. It’s easier to move a lighter body around the course, but it doesn’t give me much to spare.”
“I’m in agreement,” Desi said. “You need a little more meat on your bones. I don’t want to be the only one providing padding when we’re bumping uglies.”
“How vulgar,” Brittany sniffed. “When Jacob and I have sex, we’re making love.”
“Or dancing the horizontal mambo,” Cindy snickered. We all stopped eating and looked at our youngest girlfriend. “What? I might be a little behind you all in becoming sexually active, but I listen.”
“And watch,” Beca giggled.
“Yeah. And sometimes participate a little,” Cindy continued. “I’d like it if Jacob had enough energy to satisfy me when we finally go all the way. Eat your lunch and build up your strength, partner.”
“You blow me away, Piper.”
“If I can get you away from the other girlfriends for a while tonight, I’ll just blow you,” she whispered.
“I need you,” I said quietly into the phone. It was a risk making a call like this from school before practice. I planned to do another five miles this afternoon and had stopped to eat a protein bar and drink some water before I headed out. The risk was in not knowing if she’d be available.
“I’ll get my clothes off,” she said. “We’ve never had phone sex. Are you naked?”
“Thank you, but that’s not what I need.”
“Darn.”
“It’s a nice thought, but I need your arrangement skill. I’m floundering on preparing our holiday concert.”
“I can do that,” she said. I’m playing Saturday night, but I could be there Sunday afternoon and probably arrange for three or four days,” Remas said. “If you could fit me into your schedule… or schedule fitting into me for a while.”
“You know I’d love to fit into you for a while. You’re eight hundred miles away and I can feel you turning me on as we talk. But this weekend won’t work.”
“Not even a little?”
“I’m racing on Sunday and then we’ve got midterms all week. We have no school on Friday next week. Could you come out then?”
“Let me see if I can get out of next weekend’s concert. Dr. D has made it pretty clear that your pod is my first priority. I don’t think there will be a problem. Do you have an idea of what you want?” Remas asked.
“Yeah. I’m sending you the music I have. Most of it is orchestrated and we’ll have to pare it down for our instruments and vocalist. I just sent it to you. If you say it can be done, I’ll get Donna on acquiring the necessary rights. We’ve already done one of them, so she knows what agencies we need to go through to get rights.”
“Are you serious?” she said.
“What?”
“I just opened the file. This isn’t holiday music.”
“Do you think Dr. D will have a problem with it?” I asked.
“Does your contract state specifics about the music you’re supposed to perform?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then let’s just not tell her.”
We hosted the 10k sectional at Mad Anthony Thursday after school. Buses had already started arriving by the time school got out and I’d been released from my last class to act as a host for the event. I met each school’s team and pointed out the area of our athletic field that had been set aside for them to warm up and relax. The weather was a little on the cool side at about sixty-three. It was great for running but not so great for standing around waiting. Each team space was equipped with a propane gas heater.
I was waiting at the door of the North Huntington bus when Lacie stepped off. She didn’t recognize me at first since I was in street clothes with an official polo shirt on that said ‘staff.’ She looked at me and her brow creased.
“Aren’t you running today?” she asked.
“Nope. I’ve got a half marathon on Sunday and I don’t see any percentage in running myself to death trying to keep up with you today.” I had to stop talking to her and greet Mr. Patterson and point out where his team’s area was. He didn’t seem happy I wasn’t running. The team left but Lacie stayed behind with me, her duffle bag slung over her shoulder.
“Seriously, Jacob. Can’t you run today? I… I don’t think I can win this without you setting the pace.”
“You’ve run enough of these to know your pace,” I said. “And my pace is only good for third place in an event like this. You know that. There are twenty teams here.”
“Patterson has been working with me by using an ATV on the course to set the pace. I can keep up with a pace fast enough to win this. But when he follows me and I set the pace, I’m all over the map. I don’t have an internal clock like you do. I’m lost.”
I looked around. I was still waiting for two buses but no one was headed my way at the moment. I took my watch off.
“Let me put this on your wrist. It helped me get my pace evened out.” I had to tighten the strap on her wrist way past where I wore it but the mark was still on the band where Nanette had worn the watch. “Comfortable?”
“What is it? I mean, why do I need to wear a watch?”
“This is a runner’s watch,” I said. “What’s your best pace?”
“Five-thirty.”
“Dynamite! That’s better than I’ve ever run it.” I fussed around with setting the watch for her 5:30-mile pace. I guess working on the watch and showing her how to start the pace meter and follow the tempo of the watch meant that I had to hold her hand. I mean it was more convenient that way.
“Why are you doing this for me?” she asked. She didn’t let go of my hand.
“I think you’re super. You can win this race at a five-thirty pace. I’d like to greet you in the winner’s chute.” She looked me in the eye and then put a hand behind my head and pulled me in for a kiss. It was a surprise for me to find her tongue in my mouth and feel her pressed against me.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “See you in the winner’s chute.” She jogged off to join her teammates and I turned to greet the next bus just pulling in.
I watched the runners line up across the soccer field. Nearly 150 of them. I sure hoped Lacie could hold that 5:30 pace. I knew my own team would be running about 5:50 miles and would be two minutes behind her at the finish line. Crap! Livy’s best 5k in school had been a touch over seventeen minutes. Lacie’s pace in the 10k would mean crossing the first 5k in 17:03.
The gun sounded and there were only five runners who took off near her pace. I recognized the lead guy as a rabbit from Northrop. He’d set a blistering pace for the first mile and then fall back toward the end of the pack. If the lead runners tried to keep up with him, they’d all be worn down before they got to the end stretch. I was relieved to see Lacie didn’t fall for it. Our team was near the front of the pack and pacing in a solid seven-man line when they hit the narrowing of the trail.
I understand why tracks like Terre Haute and Warsaw are contained in a small area that is all open. You can see the entire race from the judging stands. We had judges spaced out all along the six miles of our course but that doesn’t keep every runner in view all the time. And as far as the race spectators and chute judges were concerned, they didn’t see the runners for nearly half an hour.
I think everyone was surprised, though, at how quickly we saw the footrace taking shape in our own version of the bubble. Two runners were stretching out as far as they could and running next to each other as they kicked toward the finish line. It looked like an all-out sprint and I identified the runners as one from New Haven and Lacie from North Huntington.
Lacie stumbled.
I didn’t see exactly what happened, but she caught herself with one hand and was upright and running in a split second. That split second, though, had given her opponent a full stride on her as they crossed the finish line. I heard whistles blowing in the chute as we saw the next flight of runners moving into the bubble a hundred yards from the finish line. I had water in my hand and as an official staff member, I could approach the chute where an argument was underway. It included both runners and their coaches along with the race umpire. The New Haven runner was led to the right side of the chute and Lacie was led to the left side. I made my way over to her and gave her a bottle of water. She was glaring across at her opponent and swallowed half the bottle before pouring the rest over her head.
“You okay?” I asked.
“He pushed me!” she breathed. “He fucking pushed me.”
She turned and walked away with Patterson. I grabbed up the remaining bottles I had and stepped back to the chute to meet my teammates as they entered. Our lead guy was at about fifteenth place, but the team was so tightly clustered we might still place in the top three. I congratulated the guys as they took bottles of water.
Race results were delayed by twenty minutes as the judges conferred. It’s a race violation and disqualification to interfere in the run of another competitor. But the judges and umpire had to agree the interference was intentional. The competitors were kept apart until the final decision was made.
They ruled the interference was unintentional after viewing the video taken down the bubble from the finish line. I looked around for Lacie, but she’d already left the area without waiting for her second-place medal.
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