Deadly Chemistry
Part II: Oddballs and Round Ball
7 Stupid Ideas
“SORRY, COACH. I didn’t know I’d made the team. I didn’t try out.”
“Yeah. That’s why you’re not on varsity.”
“Huh?”
“Coach Mitchell has this thing about not putting guys on his team who don’t show up for try-outs.”
“I’m sorry, Coach. I haven’t been all together this year. I didn’t think I’d be playing.”
“I don’t know the whole story and I don’t need to. I’ve seen you working out with Whitney every morning and that was good enough to tell me you were still in shape and strong. Between that and the story that you sank nine out of ten free throws at the fair this summer with that undersized hoop and over-inflated ball, you were a shoo-in. Now don’t make me regret it. Get out there and show these guys how a team works.”
All of last year’s juniors had moved up to varsity except Phil. I was sorry that he wasn’t getting to play in the big time, but he was cool with being on JV. As the only senior on the squad, I expected he’d be elected captain, but it about knocked me out when the team voted the two of us as co-captains. I suddenly realized that outside my private little world where I suffered over the loss of my girlfriends and baby, high school was going on at the same rapid-fire pace that it had for the past two years. I was in the thick of it.
Bert had gotten my spot on the varsity as a guard. Well, good for him. He deserved it. Coach Mitchell was looking for more depth, though, and had Joe rotating in and out at guard with Sean at forward. Lionel was dominating everyone in the center and Carl, Doug, Derek, and Josh were still jockeying for final positions.
On the JV, we had all our freshmen back, which put Barry at center. He’d actually been working out over the summer, so he was getting up in the air a little better. He wasn’t as tall or dominating as Lionel, but he was a good anchor in the middle. He still carried around a big attitude. John and Geoff were our utility players. It looked like George had gone up another couple of inches and he was anchoring one corner. By the time practice was over, I realized I hadn’t been shooting as much over the summer as I usually do. I was deadly at the foul line, but my three-pointers weren’t quite on the mark. I was going to have to practice a lot and talk to Whitney about doing more court work in the mornings during our workout.
Sam was kind enough to pick me up after practice since she’d zipped me home and back right after school. I was surprised when she walked up to the house with me.
“Thanks for the ride, Sam. You know you don’t have to walk me to the door unless we’re on a date. Samantha, are we going to date again?”
“Who says this isn’t a date?” she asked. We walked into the kitchen and my girlfriends all yelled.
“Surprise!” Cassie, Liz, Rose, Whitney, Brenda, and Samantha had decided to give me a late impromptu birthday party. I was really surprised to see Nicolette there. Each of the girls was taking a turn to hug me and almost shyly put a kiss on my cheek.
“Nicolette?” I asked as she came up to me.
“Apparently, I have some kind of honorary status until they invite me to sign some document. I don’t join things. Just so you know. And I don’t like hugging and kissing. So just get over it. People touching me give me the creeps. That being said, Happy Birthday.” She reached up and gave me that kind of cheek to cheek air kiss that Europeans do. The back door slammed.
“Surprise!” Jennifer and Courtney yelled.
“Are we too late?” Court asked.
“Happy birthday, Brian,” Anna said as she came into the room. Of course, with Anna coming in, Mom and Dad were right there, but they were carrying a birthday cake with lit candles and everyone started singing to me.
“What’s going on?” I asked when I’d blown out the candles. “My birthday was like a month ago.”
“Your so-called girlfriends have had their heads up their asses for almost two months,” Brenda said. “We finally did what we should have done in September when we found out Hannah wouldn’t speak to any of us. We called Sarah. She told us the whole story, at least as far as she knew.”
“Brian, I was the worst and shot everyone else down whenever they suggested that we get together and talk,” Sam said. “I understand if you don’t want me to be one of your girlfriends anymore. I was so hurt when Hannah sent me that letter and then wouldn’t talk to me on the phone that I blamed everything on you. Instead of sharing our grief, I turned it into anger and let it influence everyone else. I’m sorry.”
I pulled Samantha to me and just hugged her.
“You were right,” I said. “All of you. It was my fault. I let all of us feel safe because of the stupid agreement. I let myself feel safe and I hurt Hannah. I don’t feel safe anymore and I’m frightened that I’ll hurt one of you.”
“Hush, my love,” Courtney said. “We all know that you would never hurt us intentionally. We’ll all just have to be double-careful. It’s not just your responsibility. Hannah knew she wasn’t protected. She told Sarah that she was in control the whole time and it was all she could do not to slam down onto you. I know that feeling. We just have to be especially careful.” Mom and Dad and Anna had been listening to all of us talk as they cut the birthday cake and served ice cream. Mom and Dad knew, of course. There was no way I could go two months as depressed and miserable as I was without telling them what happened. Mom had even talked to Evelyn Gordon, but it was no use. Evelyn said that now that she knew she was not coming back here, Hannah was adapting to her new school. It was just better this way.
I wasn’t sure who it was better for.
It was a school night and Anna had to drive the girls almost two hours south so they’d be ready for school Tuesday. All my other girlfriends kissed me and headed out at the same time. Nicolette still looked at me a little uncertainly and shook my hand when she said she’d see me in the morning.
Mom called the tux shop to reserve a rental for me for the 12th. I’d have to go in on Saturday for a fitting, but they said there was no big demand that weekend so they’d be able to handle it with no difficulty. I asked Nicolette what color her dress was and what type of flower she would like. She looked at me like I’d lost my marbles.
“You don’t have to get me a flower!”
“Nicolette, are you going to wear a formal gown?”
“Yes.”
“With army boots?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes in what I’d come to find was a characteristic gesture that indicated that everyone else in the world was an idiot. “I have shoes.”
“Then you will have a flower, too,” I said firmly.
“Yeah fine. A black rose, then.”
“Um… I’ll do my best. Do you have a second choice? Just in case they are out of black?” She actually smiled. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her smile.
Our first game was at Churubusco on Friday night. That meant that both varsity and JV would ride the bus and the JV cheerleaders would ride with us. Unlike football where there were so many players that the cheerleaders couldn’t fit on the bus with them, during basketball season we could all travel together—at least sometimes. There was a fan bus going to the game as well and the varsity cheerleaders were on it. There might actually be a few people in the bleachers to cheer us on.
JV had eighteen regular season games including two tournaments. The varsity had a couple more and then went to Sectionals. Cheerleaders rode in the front of the bus, JV team in the middle, and varsity in the back. I never really figured out what was so special about riding in the back of the bus. On the way home, we weren’t as segregated and several cheerleaders rode beside their boyfriends.
Churubusco is a smaller school than we are, so it turned out that we both had about the same number of fans. I liked this school because they really had grit. A couple years ago they took out the team favored for the State Championship, but they wouldn’t play that caliber opponent again. They were class 2A and we were a class 3A team. We’d all play in different Sectionals.
It was a good game. Our JV won by three, but only because I finally found my range and hit three three-pointers. They scored as frequently as we did but didn’t make any from the outside. It was great that it was a really clean game and there were only a dozen foul shots all evening. After we got showered, we cheered our lungs out as our varsity went out and dominated the court. There was still a lot of camaraderie between the two teams and we won mostly because Lionel absolutely owned the boards.
On the bus headed back, Sora slid into the seat next to Geoff and Rose sat next to me. Brenda, of course, found Carl for a cuddle on the hour trip back. The varsity cheerleaders jumped buses after the game.
“How come you are still on JV cheer squad, Rose?”
“I guess I didn’t try very hard to move up,” she said. “This whole thing affected all of us, Brian. I just wish we’d all handled it better.”
“I certainly wish I had. I promised Reverend Gordon that I wouldn’t tell anyone about Hannah taking all those pills, but when that speech topic came up last week all I could do was stare at it and think that she was desperate and had nowhere to turn. I’m so glad we all know now.”
“Me, too. And Brian, I’m still sad. Not just for you, but for all of us. We wasted two whole months that we could have been comforting each other. Things are changing again. We’re all going to be seventeen this year. That puts the burden right back on us with no agreement that says ‘no you can’t.’ It’s scary.”
“You know I’ll back off if you want me to, Rose. We don’t have to jump in just because we turn seventeen.”
“Oh, we won’t.” She kissed me on the cheek. “But I’ll want to, you know. The night of the twenty-first of December, I’m going to want to rush over to your house, undress and feel you slide into my wet little slit. I’ll wait, though.”
“Rose, that kind of leaves me breathless.”
“Have you thought of who you want to be your first?”
“You mean do I want you to rush over on the 21st of December?”
“That would be flattering, but I’d like you to have a little experience under your belt before you start plundering my pussy.”
“Well, Jennifer and Courtney would like to have started already, but they’ve also backed off because they already know I’ll be their first—so they say—but want me to choose who my first will be. I always figured the girl got to choose and the guys just went along with what they could get. We really are different, aren’t we?”
“Hmm. We could choose for you. Let’s see; there’s Jennifer, Courtney, and me. We’ve all decided you should have more experience before you get to us. I don’t think Cassie is going to be ready for a long time. She’s still got a lot of hang-ups even though she’s challenging herself in a lot of areas. Samantha would let you do her now and so would Liz, even though they won’t be seventeen until February and May. Elaine, of course, would be able to give you the benefit of her experience. Older, wiser. What are your intentions toward the new girl? Nicolette?”
“None. I can’t believe she even wants me to escort her to this dance thing, but apparently, it’s pretty important in her family. I can’t believe I’m going to see her dressed up formally.”
“Is she really as weird as she seems?”
“Oh, yeah. But she’s cool. It’s a weirdness that says there is something deep going on here and somebody is going to be very lucky to figure it out. You know a couple weeks ago we had to read a Shakespearean sonnet in our speech class. We paired off to practice and she’s been sitting near me in class so we worked with each other. I’m reading this sonnet and we’re supposed to mark the cadence and rhyme scheme and she rolls her eyes at me. ‘It would rhyme if you read it with an English accent,’ she said. Then she proceeded to correct my pronunciation and accent on every word.”
“Did it work?”
“Yeah. Incredible. She never got a chance to practice hers but went in front of the class and read it cold with so much emotion you’d think she’d just written it.”
“So is she out for your first?”
“I like her, but I don’t think it’s ever going to be quite like that.”
“Well, that brings us to Whitney.”
“Um…”
“No, Brian. Please don’t tell me you don’t feel attracted to her. Please?”
“I do feel attracted to her. Not only that, but she’s my buddy. And we’ve played around a little. But she beats me to a pulp almost every morning. Maybe you haven’t watched us work out together. If she was like that during sex, I might not survive.” We laughed.
“Don’t write her off, Brian. She’s as in love with you as the rest of us and I think she has her heart set on taking you to Prom this year.”
Saturday, I went in to get the measurements for my tux for next week and then headed for the florist. A black rose she wanted. I’m a chemist. I will get her a black rose.
“I’d like to order a corsage for a formal dance next Saturday.”
“Hmm. Saturday the 12th? That would be the Job’s Daughters installation cotillion. You know all the officers receive a bouquet. Is your date being installed as an officer?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. She didn’t seem very enthused about going because she had to have an escort. That’s how I came into the picture. She had to ask someone.”
“Okay. Did you have an idea of what kind of corsage you want? Wrist corsages are the prevailing trend.”
“No, this one will have to be a shoulder corsage. I’d like it made up of black roses.” She looked at me and shook her head.
“You want a black rose for a Jobie? Do you have your last will and testament drawn up?”
“It’s what she said she wanted.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it is November. If I was able to get one of the flowers commonly referred to as black roses—which by the way are actually very dark red or maroon—I still wouldn’t be able to get it until spring. At this time of year, I only have stock of white, pink, yellow, and red.”
“How dark are the red roses?” She pointed me to a display. They were pretty dark, but certainly not black.
“Are you aware of the symbolism of the colors of roses?” I shook my head. “Red roses are for romance and passion. If this girl asked you to the dance because she had to ask someone and you’d do, she probably isn’t in a red rose category. Yellow would be more appropriate. That’s friendship. You could go with pink. That’s a kind of neutral happiness, appreciation, thank you sort of color.”
“White?”
“Not unless you are marrying her.”
“Could I have six of those red roses please?”
“Six? That indicates a need to be loved or cherished.”
“In this case it indicates the fact that I’m a chemist and I’m going to get a black rose because that’s what she asked for.” The florist wrapped up six roses and gave me a packet of plant food along with instructions on cutting them and the temperature of the water. The colder the water, the tighter the bud will stay, but it doesn’t drink it up as quickly either. Warm water will cause the petals to open up. I ordered a red rose corsage. I wished I had my old botany partner Angela around to help with this. I wondered how she was doing. I hadn’t seen her in six years.
I filled six glasses with water and tested the temperature in each. According to the instruction book I got from the florist, the water should be between 100 and 110 degrees, just like for yeast. I gave each rose a fresh cut using an X-ACTO knife so I wouldn’t crush any of the capillaries. I wanted these roses to drink. I went through my chemistry set and chose a variety of chemicals that were either black or blue to mix into the water. I used iodine, tannic acid, copper, and bleach. Yeah. Bleach is used to extract color, but sometimes it works differently and I was thinking of bleaching out a flower before I tried to darken it. There was a girl in the theater group a couple years ago who had blue hair. Really, really bright blue. I found out she had to bleach out her brown hair completely before she could color it blue. It was pretty cool.
I looked at the last two flowers and opened my desk drawer. I got all artsy-fartsy in sixth grade and decided I’d write with a fountain pen. Well, one with ink cartridges. That lasted until the first shirt came back with an ink stain all over the front where the cartridge leaked. I ruined the shirt and had a black spot on my chest that faded more slowly than bruises. I found a few ink cartridges in my drawer and used the knife to puncture them. I squeezed three blue cartridges into one glass of water and three black ones into the remaining glass. Well, now all I could do was wait and see what happened. I figured as a last resort, I’d bake the corsage until it turned black in the oven.
“Brian, I’d like you to work on oral interpretation for our next speech competition.”
“When is that, Ms. Streeter?”
“That will be on Saturday, December second. I’ve already checked the basketball schedule and you play Friday night. I’d like you to find a poem or two and work on interpreting them.”
“What about extemporaneous? I’ve done all this research.”
“None of which you used in your last outing. You can enter in two events.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That play was two years ago. I expect you to audition for our spring show.”
Mom picked up the corsage I had ordered on Thursday night and was curious when I took it to my room instead of putting it in the refrigerator like corsages are usually stored. She also thought red roses were a little much, but I told her not to worry they wouldn’t be red for long.
It turned out that the ink worked best and I carefully recut the bottom of the roses and dipped their feet in a mixture of blue and black ink, rose food, and water.
Friday night the eleventh, we faced Whitcomb High School and Coach had us change our defensive structure. We’d always played man-to-man in the past two years, but he was trying to get us to expand to a zone defense. That meant that we moved with the ball, usually keeping the guy with the ball double-guarded. The problem was that the Bruins had a sharp-shooter and any time we managed to block him from getting the ball inside, he’d shoot from the three-point zone. He missed a lot of them, but they were enough bigger than us that they took the shots and often scored on the rebound. At the half we were trailing by seven, twenty-six to nineteen. That’s a low-scoring game, even in high school.
“All right, guys,” Coach said in the locker room. “We’re letting number twenty-one get too many shots off. We’re going to stick with the zone defense, but Phil, you need to tighten up on that guard. Brian, float with the ball, but don’t get in Phil’s way. Watch for the fast break opportunities. Phil, if you steal the ball, launch it toward our end. Brian, your job is to be there. Anytime Phil makes a grab or that guard puts the ball up, head for our basket. Let’s turn defense into offense.”
We hit the court encouraged and it showed. Whitcomb had already benched most of their starters except the playmaker. We’d about caught up with them by the time they realized we were hot and sent the first string in again. That worked to our advantage. The second string guys were beginning to figure out how we were playing. The first stringers came in and had to start from scratch. The rest of the game was all about speed. Whitcomb started putting on the fast breaks, too. Barry and George were barely making it to our end of the court before they had to run back under the basket. Coach started rotating relievers in at center and forward, even sending Geoff in at center for a while. When Whitcomb started tightening up on our fast break and leaving a guy down court, I started nailing three-pointers.
We weren’t quite able to overcome the deficit from the first half, but we lost by only one point at the buzzer. It was a good game, but I couldn’t help but think that if Whitney was still playing with us we’d have won. She was tearing up the court at Potawatomi High. The girls’ team only had fifteen games in the season before their tournament, but Whitney had already set the school records for points in a game and rebounds.
Saturday morning, I went to get my tux, have the fit checked, and get a haircut. Mom had been busy and talked to a friend who was in Eastern Star. I guess when Jobies grow up, they become Eastern Stars. It all had something to do with the Masons. The upshot was that escorts would bring their dates into the Masonic Lodge downtown. There would be some introductions and formalities and then the escorts would be taken to a separate room where there would be food and soft drinks. When the actual ceremony or ritual or whatever it was ended, we would be returned to our dates and then there would be more food and dancing. Unless you were a member of the Masons, you couldn’t be present for the secret ceremony. Oh well.
I went to the address Nicolette gave me and was suddenly a little ashamed of the old Chevy station wagon I was driving to pick her up. She lived in a mansion. Well, that’s what it looked like to me. There was a gate at the entrance to the neighborhood and another one at their driveway. The gates were open, so maybe they were just for show, but I had a feeling that if I showed up with all my friends from the basketball team we’d find out how fast those gates could close. I parked in the circle drive and went to the door with the flower that I was now thinking might not have been such a good idea. She’d warned me not to get any stupid ideas and I stupidly thought she just meant about being my girlfriend or something romantic. How stupid was bringing your date for a formal ritual a black rose corsage. It had worked so well, too.
A woman in an elegant formal opened the door. I assumed she was Mrs. Duval. I hoped that was who it was.
“Mrs. Duval, I’m Brian Frost. I’ve come to escort Nicolette to the event this evening.”
“Yes. Come in, Brian. Let me look at you. You are a little short. You know she will be taller than you in heels.”
“I think she’s taller than me without heels. I don’t mind as long as she doesn’t mind.”
“And what the rest of us think doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Duval snipped off my response. “Please come into the sitting room and meet Nicolette’s father.” Sitting room? I didn’t know houses had sitting rooms anymore. “Brian, this is Mr. Duval, Nicolette’s father. Jean, this is our daughter’s date, Brian Frost.” I’d been hoping that at least Nicolette would have greeted me when I got there and made the introductions. I had yet to see a sign of her.
“Ah. So, you are the young man that we’ve been hearing about,” he said. He blew a mouthful of smoke into the air and took another puff on his pipe. He didn’t offer his hand, so I didn’t get any closer.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Duval.” I couldn’t say anything else. Nicolette hadn’t told me anything about her father, her mother, her home, or even the event tonight. I wondered if everyone at this thing was going to be so stuffy. Mr. Duval flicked a stray ash off the collar of his tux.
“How old are you, young man?”
“Seventeen, sir.” When you are in over your head, just be polite and stand straight. It seemed to work.
“Nicolette will also soon be seventeen, but of course you know that. You’ve gone to school together for over ten years, haven’t you?”
“I believe we met in first grade.”
“Yes. We wanted Nicolette to have a public school education, though sometimes I doubt that we made the right choice. There are times that the boarding school in Switzerland looks awfully appealing.” I guess my eyes popped open. Seriously? “I’m joking,” Mr. Duval said. I noticed Mrs. Duval had disappeared as soon as he started his inquisition. I figured out the men waited in the sitting room until the women were ready.
“What do you know about the Fraternal Order of Freemasons?”
“Very little, sir. Aren’t you the guys with funny hats who drive miniature cars in the parade?”
He actually sighed.
“Technically, that is an appendant organization that focuses on social activities and good works. Not all Masons are Shriners. But I’m not going to bore you with the details of Freemasonry. When you are interested in joining us, you may come to me and ask questions. For now, suffice it to say that we have a seven-hundred-year history and began as a guild of actual stonemasons. Most of our rituals and teachings are secret and steps are revealed one at a time to initiates. The Order of the Eastern Star is a fraternal organization associated with Freemasonry which has both male and female members. The Daughters of Job is also affiliated and is reserved for teen women related to Masons. Not all join Eastern Star, but it is a well-regulated social outlet for young women that often results in lifelong friendships.” He sounded like he was reciting from a recruitment manual. “I tell you all this simply so you will understand that some of the rituals this evening will be private and all those not affiliated with Freemasonry will be taken to a separate room. We’ve tried to make it as pleasant as possible. You should not worry about what goes on in the secret ritual. There are no virgin sacrifices or any kind of illegal act. Do you have any questions?”
“I was aware that the ritual would be secret and that the escorts would be sent to a different room, so the only other question I have is whether there is any special behavior or ritual that I should be aware of so I don’t mess something up?”
“Good question, but unnecessary. You’ll be told exactly where to stand, how fast to walk my daughter to her position, and where to take her. Just don’t run down the aisle when you leave. After the ritual, it is just a formal dance, not unlike your prom. Perhaps if you are successful at this you’ll be able to convince Nicolette to go to the prom. Ah, here’s my little Lettie now.”
Holy shit! There was nothing little about Lettie. Her gown was pink which went nicely with the new pink stripe in her black hair. There was a single sort of strap over her left shoulder and the right shoulder was bare. It wasn’t immodest, exactly, but the amount of cleavage left no doubt that she was all woman. It was pretty tightly fitted right under her breasts which just made them look bigger and then the skirt fell from there to her ankles where she was wearing pink open-toed heels—about three inches’ worth of heels. Well, if she was okay with the height difference, so was I. The thing is, she looked really feminine. With her usual baggy sweaters, ripped tights, and army boots, I’d never imagined what I was seeing now.
“Don’t you dare say it, Brian.” I looked at her in surprise.
“Nicolette, I’m enchanted. I do have a flower for you. May I pin it on?”
“Um… Oh. Yeah. Sure. If you feel me up, I’ll kill you right here,” she whispered. I’d kept the flower pretty well concealed while I was talking to her parents. I held it between us so she could see it. “You didn’t!” she squealed. “It’s so cool!” I pinned it to her gown which was made a lot easier by the wide strap over her shoulder and we turned toward her parents. A camera flashed and Mr. Duval smiled at us.
“Oh, my God! He’s one of them,” Mrs. Duval said, rolling her eyes. It must be a family trait.
The thing went okay, I guess. I escorted Nicolette to the front of the auditorium and stood behind her until all the young women had been presented. She was antsy and they let her stand at the end of the line. I noticed she stayed a full step away from the next person. The guys were led out. We had food and soft drinks. There was a ping pong table and a pool table. I recognized a couple of the guys from school, though I didn’t know them. I found out there were people there from all over the area and only a few of the girls were from St. Joe Valley. Eventually, we were admitted back into the auditorium to escort our dates to a receiving line where all the parents walked through congratulating the girls and getting introduced to their dates. Again, Nicolette was at the end of the line a step away from everyone else and at least half the people peeled off and out of line before they got to her. In addition to her corsage, she now held a bouquet of pale blue flowers. She held the bouquet in both hands so she couldn’t shake hands with anyone. About half a dozen of the girls held bouquets, so I assumed that meant that Nicolette had been installed as something or another.
By the time everyone was out of the receiving line, the auditorium had been reset with a buffet and tables. An area had been cleared for a dance floor and a band was tuning up. This wasn’t a typical high school garage band. This group was about fifteen guys and a couple women with strings, horns, and the standard drums and guitars. It was a serious dance band and I had a feeling we weren’t going to be standing in one place shaking our booty to the top twenty.
As soon as Nicolette and I had plates of food, she found a table with no one at it. Even her parents didn’t join us. It was pretty much just like school. Nicolette put her flowers down and started eating in silence. Well, at least she seemed to have an appetite.
“So, how’d it go?” I asked. It was going to be a pretty dull night if all we did was sit at a table and stare at the room.
“That bitch tried to kill me,” she said, nodding vaguely across the room. She could have meant anyone. “They all hate me.”
“Why?”
“Do people need a reason? Alice thinks you’re cuter than her boyfriend, so she wants to kill me to take you. Karen thinks I’m too tall. Lisa just hates me. And I hate her. I wish I could kill them all.”
“Hey, Nicolette,” I said. I wondered if she’d skipped her drugs or something. “I’m sure they don’t all hate you and I certainly don’t. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to kill you right now. I suppose that’s something.”
“I’m glad. I rented the tux and I’d hate to get blood on it.” Nicolette turned to look at me and then laughed. I’d seen her smile once, but this was honestly the first time I’d ever heard her laugh. She seemed to relax.
“So, are you going to leave me now that your girlfriends all want you back?”
“You know our table isn’t just my girlfriends. We’d all like to have you join us.”
“I’d have to sign that agreement thing.”
“No, you don’t. You can just be our friend. You don’t have to be part of the dating group—though I’m enjoying being on a date with you. I mean, can I call this a date or is it just an official function?” She looked at me hard and scowled. I was thinking I might get blood on the tux after all.
“If you dance with me. Can you dance to this stuff?”
“It’s an amazing thing that when you have so many girlfriends, they all want to dance to something different. I think I can manage a few of the traditional ones… or make up something as we go.”
We danced. We talked. We laughed. I did okay with a simple box-step, but the band eventually loosened up into some swing tunes and we really got into it. Nicolette was pretty good.
“So, now I have to come up with a couple of poems to read for competition,” I laughed. “Like I know anything about poetry.”
“You should read a couple of mine.”
“Really? I mean, I know you write a lot, but you never let anyone see anything that isn’t a class assignment. I didn’t realize you wrote poetry.”
“No. Not really. If you read my poems in school they’d have to shoot you or lock you up or something. Zero tolerance, you know. Why do you think there’s a padlock on my backpack? They’d love to get rid of me.”
“I’d still like to read them. I know you’ve got a lot of anger and… uh… pain, but I think I can take it. I’d like to get to know you better.”
“I had a boyfriend once. We dated for a month before he read my poetry. We never dated again.”
“I swear I’ll date you again even after I read your poetry. At least once.” We giggled again.
“Well, don’t wear a rented suit. I’m not going to give you any of them. If you happen to find one, you can deny you knew about it.”
“You’re really serious, aren’t you Nik… uh… Nicolette.” She looked at me a little funny.
“When nobody else can hear, you can… call me Nikki. If you want to.”
I escorted Nicolette home but didn’t come into the house. Her parents arrived a few minutes before we did and had the front porch lights blazing. I took her hand and she kissed me on the cheek.
“Thank you for escorting me tonight, Brian,” she said formally. “And thanks for the tattoo.”
“What?”
Nicolette pulled the strap of her dress aside and showed me a black spot on her skin where her corsage had been pressed between us. The ink!
“Oh no! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would bleed. Oh God! Your dress.” Nicolette laughed again.
“I like it! I think I’ll have it made permanent. A black rose tattooed on my boob, symbol of anarchy. It will be our secret!”
“Are you sure it’s okay, Nikki?”
“Yes. What do I have to do, kiss you for real?” I didn’t answer. I just stood there while she plastered her lips to mine and held my head in place. It wasn’t really a sexy kiss. She wasn’t very good at it, but it was lip to lip and I think that meant a lot to her.
“Viva la revolución!” she said and stepped through the door.
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