Ask the Passengers (13 page)

I hear Mom and Ellis clip-clop their way down the steps after sufficient makeup application and jewelry adornment.

“I say we make Thursday the new Friday,” I hear Mom say to her on the way out the door. “Who needs school?”

And for sure, Ellis doesn’t go to school on Friday. Neither
does Penny Uppergrove. But her father comes to see the principal, which is the talk of sixth-period lunch.

They say:
That Ms. Steck is letting the kids run her class.

They say:
What kind of class doesn’t have tests? Is this where our tax money goes?

We start our unit on the Allegory of the Cave. It’s a part in Plato’s
Republic
where he wrote a dialogue between his brother Glaucon and his teacher, Socrates. The short version: People chained in a cave are only able to see a wall. The wall has shadows cast from a fire they can’t see. They guess at what the shadows are. Their entire reality becomes these shadows.

Clay has read it before. Of course. Knows
all about
the Allegory of the Cave. “The only life these prisoners know is the sounds and shadows of the cave. Imagine living like that!” he says. “Or maybe we are living like that, right?”

Ms. Steck stops him before he can spoil the rest. Apparently there is more excitement to come for the prisoners in the cave. For now, all we have to worry about is a three-hundred-word essay from the point of view of one of these prisoners exploring the realm of belief versus the realm of knowledge.

Which, if you think about it, is a really funny subject to explore around Unity Valley.

COMPARED TO LAST SATURDAY
, work is a breeze. I am sent into the freezer to do inventory for the second big job next week. I see Dee a few times—out in the kitchen from a distance. She smiles at me and I get that feeling again, like the first time she smiled at me at the hockey game.

Before we leave the parking lot, she says, “I’m really stoked for tonight.”

“Me too.” I reach for her, but she pulls away a little—like she’s trying to make me want her more by keeping her distance all morning.

She fiddles with the zipper on her sweatshirt, then looks up and has a weird expression on her face. “What’s it like, Jones? I mean—what should I wear?”

She’s clearly nervous. I smile and say, “Whatever you wear will be perfect. You’re beautiful. You’d look good in anything.”

“You really think I’m beautiful?”

“Would you rather I said you’re hot? Sexy? Hot
and
sexy?”

“Beautiful works.”

“Good. Wear whatever you dance in. You do dance, right?”

“I dance.”

“Good. Then tonight will be our first dance. I can’t wait,” I say. Only when I hear it come out of my mouth do I remember that I am a robot.

“Have fun on your date,” she says, which reminds me I have to see Jeff and lie to him for a few hours before I go to Atlantis. “I want a full report.”

“See you in the parking lot at eleven?”

She nods. No kiss good-bye. We just keep staring at each other and grinning.

The Legion Diner is particularly busy tonight, so we go early for once. Justin, Kristina and I wait for Jeff to show up, and we talk.

“I really can’t string him along like this anymore. Everyone knows he’s really into me, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I mean, he’s an okay guy. I hate lying to him.”

“You didn’t hate lying to us,” Kristina says.

God. I wish she could just pick a side and stay there for a minute.

“Meow,” Justin says. He winks at me.

Then Jeff walks in, so we can’t have the rest of the discussion.

Here are the stats from dinner:

LEG SQUEEZES:
21

COMPLIMENTS ON HOW I LOOK, WHISPERED TOO CLOSE TO MY EAR:
6

USES OF THE TERM BRO WHEN CONVERSING WITH JUSTIN:
13

ASS PINCHES (WHEN I GOT UP TO GO TO THE LADIES’ ROOM):
2

FRANK SOCRATES SIGHTINGS:
0

MINUTES I FELT GUILTY FOR LYING:
approximately all 110 of them

Dee is waiting in the bar parking lot when we arrive in Justin’s car at 10:56. We are eager. I see the lights of a passing plane above me.
You’d be eager, too
, I tell it.

I hop into Dee’s car and jump on her like a lonely dog after a day at home alone. This is probably the most forward I’ve ever been with her, and while I’m doing it, I try to figure out why. I think it has something to do with Jeff Garnet.

She slips her hands into the waistband of my jeans, onto my hips. I kiss her as if we are not in a parking lot surrounded by a bunch of other people. Someone raps on the window.

“Break it up, lovebirds. Let’s go!”

Though Dee knows Kristina and Justin vaguely, I introduce them as if they have never met before. And oddly, they interact as if this is the case. I sense a respect toward Dee. She’s out. We aren’t.

Getting through the door only causes me minor heart palpitations this time. Jim the bouncer seems to recognize us from last week, and he takes our five-dollar bills and stacks them atop the other five-dollar bills in his little cashbox.

Dee stays close, and I hold her hand as I lead her from the back of the bar to the border of the dance floor.

“Is it always this loud?” Dee screams into my ear.

I hold up two fingers and say, “I’ve only been here twice, but yeah. I think so.”

She nods.

We’re both dancing in place—just a little. Dee’s arms are wrapped around me from behind like a blanket, and I feel myself relax. After a half hour of watching other people dance, Donna asks me if I want something to drink, and before I can ask for a bottle of water, Dee orders us two hard lemonades and hands Donna ten bucks.

Donna brings the bottles, and Dee takes them both and hands one to me and holds hers up to toast. The music is a particularly loud techno song, and she has to nearly scream, “To us!”

I clink. I drink. It’s not half bad. Tastes like lemonade.

A half hour later I am feeling really loose. And happy. Loose and happy. I know this has something to do with the
hard lemonade. As I look around the bar, I see people smiling at me. One of them is Biker Lady with her whistle. She waves, and Dee asks me if I know her.