Are You Alone on Purpose? (12 page)

They stared starkly at each other. Marc had settled down again. He was sucking wetly on two fingers, watching his sister from beneath his incredible lashes. Alison rubbed his head with her chin. “It's just that I don't believe it,” she told Paulina finally.

“Don't you
want
it to be true?”

Alison blinked. “I don't know. I...I guess.” Did she? She wasn't sure. At least when you were Queen Nerd, you knew what was what. You knew who your friends were, and you knew who they weren't.

But she hadn't known how Paulina felt until now.

“It might be true,” said Paulina. “You know you've gotten pretty lately.” Her voice held a slight tinge of accusation. “Even my dad said something.”

Alison shrugged. She felt embarrassed. “That's stupid. I mean, he's grown up.”

Impatient, Paulina rolled her eyes. “What are you going to
do
? I have to call Felicia and tell her.”

“I don't know.”

“You can't say that! You have to say yes so I can tell Felicia so she'll tell George so he can tell Jason!”

Alison looked down. She played with Marc's fingers for a long time. Finally, not meeting Paulina's eyes, she shook her head. “Tell Felicia,” she said slowly, “to tell George to tell Jason that he has to ask me himself.”

“Alison!” Paulina was horrified. “He'll never do it. Not unless he knows you'll say yes.”

“Too bad.” Alison felt cold.

“You're going to ruin our only chance! We'll be nerds forever. And I'll never have a boyfriend.”

This isn't about you, Paulina de Silva, Alison thought. Then she was shocked at herself. Quickly, she explained. “Listen. This way, if it is a joke, we won't be made fools of. And if it isn't, Jason will ask me out himself.”

“It doesn't work that way! You'll lose him!”

Alison stared at Paulina defiantly. “I don't care.” And she thought, Why should I care? I don't know him. I can't like someone I don't know. And I won't come running just because he's cute and popular. If he doesn't ask me out, that's fine. Things will stay the same. Paulina and I will stay the same. Being Queen Nerd isn't so bad.

Alison stood up. “I have to get back,” she said. “Adam and I have to go to the Roths' for Adam's lesson.” And I have to see Harry, she thought. He'll know if Jason and his friends are making fun of me. And he'll tell me. He won't care if my feelings are hurt. He couldn't care less about my feelings. He won't play any games. It was a comforting thought. She bounced the baby one last time before handing him to Paulina.

“Okay,” said Paulina reluctantly. She trailed Alison down the hall and through the kitchen. “Listen, think about it some more. Okay? Call me this afternoon. I won't call Felicia till after. Please?”

“Okay,” Alison promised. She knew she wouldn't change her mind. “I'll call you.”

“Good.”

Frowning, Alison pedaled home.

I
f not for Alison Shandling, Harry thought he might have died that first week back at school. It was pretty funny, being grateful to Queen Nerd. Not that she knew about it, of course.

Each day began with the utter humiliation of getting dropped off by his father. The whole process was intolerable: the handicapped parking space that his father pulled into; the endless minutes while his father got out, pulled the chair from the trunk, unfolded it, and wheeled it over to Harry's side of the car; the struggle to transfer himself from the bucket seat to the chair. And—most horrible on that first day—trying to control himself, trying not to scream at his father to get away, not to touch him, not to help him. And everyone either watching, or pretending not to. It was almost a relief to wheel himself, alone, up the wide wooden ramp into school.

Everyone else stuck to the steps, of course. He'd felt them there the first day, hanging out, staring. He hadn't looked at anyone, had gone straight into the building. Early, before the bell, like the nerds who had nothing better to do than sit in homeroom before they absolutely had to be there.

They had arranged his schedule so that all his classes were on the ground floor and he wouldn't have to deal with stairs. They'd even moved a couple of classes onto the ground floor so Harry could be in them. The principal, Loretta LoBianco, had been so pleased with herself about this that Harry had wanted to smack her.

On that first day back, he'd found his homeroom, 107, and yes, there she'd been, Queen Nerd in all her glory—okay, not exactly in the room but right outside so that under no circumstances would she risk being late. She was standing with that friend of hers, Paulina, and they were listening to Felicia Goren. Oh, right, that Jason Shepherd stuff. Alison had told him about her little problem. He didn't know why. How was he supposed to know whether Jason Shepherd really wanted to ask Alison out? Or maybe he was supposed to be impressed? Well, he didn't care about Jason Shepherd and Felicia Goren and their stupid in-crowd politics. He had his own problems.

The girls hadn't seen him. Felicia Goren flicked her blond hair back with one long-nailed hand. Alison and Paulina listened. When Felicia finally paused for breath, Alison shook her head. She turned toward the classroom door, and noticed him.

“Hi,” she said cautiously. She held her books very still before her in her arms.

After a second, Harry nodded at her, then looked away. He turned his chair and went on into homeroom. Nobody was there yet, of course, and all the desks were attached to chairs. Great. Loretta LoBianco was really on top of things. Maybe he could snag a tray from the cafeteria, use that as a desk. He wheeled in farther, stopping near the back beside the first row of desks. It would have to do.

“So what's your schedule?” said Alison.

She had followed him in. Stubborn little bitch. He tried to feel angry, but it was too much of a relief not to be alone. Harry watched her sit down at the desk next to him. She was wearing regular Levi's and a white T-shirt with lace trim. Tiny pearl earrings and that ponytail.

Maybe Jason Shepherd really did want to ask her out.

Harry unhooked his backpack from the chair arm, reached in, and handed her his schedule. He watched her look at it. Other kids were coming in now, talking, laughing. He knew some of them from last year, but not all. A couple nodded to him, but no one came over. But then, no one had visited him at the hospital. Not even the guys he'd played sports with. Certainly not the great Jason Shepherd, who wasn't bad at defense but couldn't shoot if his life depended on it.

“You're in my English class,” Alison was saying. Her ponytail had swung over to the left side of her face and was hanging down, almost touching his schedule as she studied it. “And math, first period.” She looked at Harry doubtfully. “We're doing trig.”

“The rest of the class is, maybe,” Harry said nastily. “But you're not, are you?” She thought he was stupid. He had always known she thought he was stupid. It stuck out all over her, how stupid she thought other people were. It felt good to be mad at her.

Alison stared at him. The bell rang. The rest of the kids in homeroom rushed in; a girl Harry had never seen before came up and looked at Harry curiously while waiting, ostentatiously, for Alison to get out of her seat and go across to her own. Mr. Grandison took attendance, after which Harry was kept busy fielding his advances and concern. By the time the bell rang for first period, and Alison came back over, frowning, Harry was ready.

“What do you mean I'm not doing what the rest of the class is?” she began. “How do you know? You haven't been there!”

They started down the corridor toward math. It was amazing, Harry thought, how Alison never noticed anything. Right now she was so busy glaring at him that she didn't even see how people were looking at them. “Don't yell,” he said pleasantly. It wasn't so bad. If she was that absorbed, he could pretend to be equally so. If she didn't notice all the other kids, he'd pretend he didn't either.

Obediently, she lowered her voice. “What did you mean by it?”

They'd arrived outside the math room, but still had a couple of minutes before the bell. “I was in your math class last year. Mrs. Atterbury never asked you questions like everybody else. And you always folded up your homework before handing it up the aisle, but I saw it once, and it wasn't what we were doing. And you stayed after a lot and had a different math book in your bag all year. And Mrs. Atterbury acting like you were God's gift.” Harry smirked up into Alison's stricken face. “Doesn't take a rocket scientist, Shandling. Why the hell don't they skip you, anyway?”

“But only Paulina—”

The bell rang. “We'll be late,” said Harry sweetly. He watched Alison grit her teeth in frustration.

All that first day back at school she pestered him, showing up briefly even between the classes they didn't share, upset, wanting to know how much he'd figured out about her. Secretly, Harry was grateful. He never had to go alone from one class to another, didn't have to fumble with his tray at lunch—she just grabbed two, still talking, not even giving him a chance to protest—or, alone, search for a place to sit. More, her presence gave the day shape, distracted him a little from the other kids, from the classes in which, as his father had predicted, he was badly behind despite the tutoring, and from the horror and pity and curiosity and malice he saw everywhere.

And the best part of all was how oblivious she was.

The rest of the week, Harry kept an eye, too, on Jason Shepherd. Shepherd sat right behind Alison in math class—Shandling, Shepherd, everyone but Harry was in strict alphabetical order—and he was playing it cool, but there was definitely something going on. Not that anything would come of it. Alison had rejected the usual channels, and Shepherd wasn't going to risk ridicule by asking out some nerd who might say no.

Harry thought it was actually pretty funny to watch—especially since he'd taken care, at lunch that first day, to tell Alison she'd done the right thing. Shepherd, used to being pursued, was waiting with growing impatience for Alison to show interest. He'd fidget in his chair, and once even jostled the back of hers with his desk. And, to Harry's glee, he'd ask every day about her math homework—which, of course, drove Alison crazy with the suspicion she was being mocked.
Do you think he knows about the extra work I do?
she'd whisper to Harry later.
He'd tell everyone. It'd be awful
.

Clueless, his Queen Nerd. Just totally out of it.

 

On Saturday morning Harry woke up early. He stayed in bed anyway, waiting for his father to leave for the synagogue. They had stopped talking about whether Harry would go too. Harry supposed Alison would be there, but that wasn't enough to make him go. And anyway, Alison would be with her family. The Mad Professor. And his wife who'd been here last Sunday, drinking coffee in the kitchen, eyeballing Harry like he was some lower species of life. And that creepy kid that his own father was so nutty on. Alison's twin brother.

Harry got up as soon as he heard his father leave. It was one of those gorgeous April days that felt like May—the kind of Saturday it had always killed him to waste by going to synagogue, hanging out with his father playing Scrabble or some other half-assed game. Well, at least that was over for good.

But it wasn't as if he was free now. In the old days he would've been outside on a day like today. He might have gone down to the park and found some guys to play ball with. He wondered what some random guys at the park would say if he showed up now.

He thought about calling Zee. He'd run into him a few times at the hospital. Once or twice they'd been there at the same time for physical therapy, and had stayed later to play one-on-one at the gym. But it was different, running into Zee like that. He didn't think he could call him. Anyway, it was stupid. Zee lived south of Boston, in Milton. He couldn't get there, not by himself. Could Zee get to him? It didn't matter. Zee wasn't really his friend.

“Do you have any friends?” Dr. Jefferies had asked once.

She had not meant the guys Harry used to hang out with. They'd hung out with him because he was good at sports. They did some stuff together, but not outside of school.

“Paulina's my best friend,” Alison had said, last Thursday. “Since I was little.” They'd been in the cafeteria. It was the one day Paulina had the same lunch period as Alison. Paulina had come in with her tray and seen Alison sitting with Harry. Alison waved at her, and Paulina had waved back, but then she'd gone over and sat down at the table by the windows, with Felicia Goren and some other girls. Harry hadn't said anything. He didn't like Paulina de Silva any more than she liked him. And Alison was perfectly free to go sit wherever she wanted. He hadn't asked her to sit with him.

He'd almost laughed when Alison asked him if he liked Felicia. He didn't know why she thought his opinion of Felicia mattered. She'd seemed comforted, though, when he said no.

He didn't know what was in her head. Why was she hanging around with him, anyway? Why wasn't she with her best friend, eating lunch with Felicia Goren, putting the moves on Jason Shepherd? Alison wasn't his friend, either. He couldn't mention her name to Dr. Jefferies. He couldn't call Alison. Could he?

He stared outside, felt the breeze coming through the window he'd just opened. She was just a nerd, after all. And she'd started this. She'd hung out with him all week at school. Did it matter why? And she lived close enough to come over.

The Shandlings would be home by noon, he figured. And his father would be at the synagogue all day. Keeping out of Harry's way. Well, that was fine with Harry. Better than fine.