Blue Eyes and Other Teenage Hazards (7 page)

“Of course. There’s so much to study. For example, did you know that ants live in a highly complex society and communicate with one another through chemical secretions?” He kept taking his eyes off the road to look at me. “About ten-thousand different species exist, but you can group them into six categories: army ants, harvester ants, fungus growers, dairy ants—the dairy ants keep aphids like we keep cows, and milk them.”

“You can milk an aphid?”

“Sure, and they’re not even the most interesting variety of ant. The slave makers raid other ants’ nests, kidnap the pupae, and make them work as slaves in their colonies.”

I tilted my head at him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Not at all. Honey ants use certain members of the colony as living storage tanks. Those ants become so engorged with honey that they’re immobile. The ants lay motionless until another member of the colony taps them with their antennae. Then they regurgitate.”

“That’s . . . really . . . interesting.”

“Ants are fascinating.” Bob went on. “I’ve studied them since I was twelve and got my first ant farm. Did you know an ant can carry from ten to fifty times its weight? That would be like you carrying . . .” He looked me over. “How much do you weigh?”

“The right amount for my height.”

“Oh, sorry. That’s one of those questions you’re not supposed to ask women, isn’t it? Well, let’s say that you weigh 150 pounds—”

“A hundred and fifty? You think I weigh 150 pounds?”

“Too much?”

I blinked at him. “I weigh 115.”

“I wasn’t implying that you’re overweight. Actually, I think you’re skinny; 150 is just a nice round number. Anyway, it would be the equivalent of you carrying an elephant or a car or something. Ants are amazingly strong.”

I crossed my arms. “You think I’m skinny?”

Bob looked at me in disbelief. “What? I thought all women wanted to be skinny. My older sister’s main goal in life is to keep her thighs from touching when she stands. I bet there are inches between your thighs.” Bob cleared his throat. “Not that I’ve ever looked at your thighs before.” I crossed my legs too. “You were telling me about entomology.”

“Oh, yeah. Insects are amazing. Most people don’t know anything about them. I bet there are thousands of bug facts you don’t know.” We parked and went into the Super China Buffet. Bob and I looked out of place in our dressy clothes. Everyone stared when we walked in, but Bob was oblivious. He apparently planned to tell me all of the thousands of bug facts about which I had somehow remained ignorant until now.

I tried to block him out as we went through the food line. I couldn’t find the food appetizing while the guy next to me was using words like larvae, pupae, and maggot. I nodded and smiled and tried not to think about what all the unknown objects in the Chicken Chow Mein looked like.

When we got to the cashier’s station, the woman behind the register gave us a scathing stare. I tuned Bob in long enough to hear him say, “And since flies digest food outside of their bodies, do you know a fly can throw up hundreds of times each time it lands? Think about that next time you see a fly walk around on something.”

The woman said icily, “That will be eighteen dollars and sixty-five cents. And let me tell you, we maintain the highest standard of cleanliness here, and we’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell our customers otherwise.”

For the first time I looked at the people in the line behind us. They were all staring at us.

Bob took his wall et out of his pants pocket. “Sorry. I was only explaining the life cycle of the fly. When I said that one fly can lay a thousand eggs, I wasn’t suggesting any were in your restaurant.” He glanced around. “Although, of course, it’s always a possibility.” I tried to shrink until I became invisible.

Bob paid and we went and sat down at one of the few empty tables. He continued to entertain me with bug trivia, and I ate as quickly as possible in hopes it would speed up the evening. Occasionally I smiled and told him how good my meal was, just so I could tell my parents I had.

Right in the middle of a treatise on the scorpion, which can survive temperatures from below freezing to well above 120 degrees Fahrenheit, I asked Bob to pass me the soy sauce. I hadn’t finished my fried rice because he’d given me a complex about my weight. All through the meal I’d wondered if someone could really mistake me for weighing 150 pounds. At the same time, I remembered my father telling me to eat everything when a date took me out to dinner. I pondered whether it would be better to appear as a glutton or an ingrate on my first date. I finally decided that Bob wasn’t paying attention to me anyway and opted to eat it. I liked fried rice.

Bob reached across the table with the soy sauce. It slipped from his hand as it passed over my plate. The bottle hit the dish with a crash, and both objects flipped into my lap. The lid hadn’t been screwed on tightly, and soy sauce spurted out, mingling with the rice now in my lap.

“I’m so sorry!” Bob stood up, then sat down. “Here, let me help you.” He dipped his napkin into his water glass. Unfortunately, he did this a little too forcefully, and half of the water splashed out onto the table.

I stood up to avoid it trickling off onto me. “That’s all right. I’ve got it.” I wiped off what I could with my napkin, but it was a hopeless cause.

“I’m so sorry,” Bob said again.

“It’s okay. I’ll just go home and change into something else.” As we left, I thought: At least it can’t get worse. As it turned out, I was overly optimistic.

My parents were understandably surprised to see us again so soon. Dad took one look at me and asked, “Food fight at the restaurant?”

“A minor accident. I need to change.”

“That’s fine,” Dad said, settling into his recliner. “Bob and I will sit down and talk about the future.” I ran up the stairs, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”

Mom followed me into my room. While I flipped through my closet, she asked, “Well, besides that, how’s it going?”

“Are you aware there are thousands of fascinating bug facts you don’t know about? I, of course, know them all now.” I glanced at the clock on my night stand. “And the evening is still young.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She searched for something positive to say. “You still look lovely.”

“But now I smell like soy sauce.” I flipped through church dresses until I found one that was nice enough to wear and slipped it off the hanger.

“The dance will be better,” Mom said as she left the room. “You’ll see your friends there.” I would have liked to see Elise. Somehow I knew she would have found a way to save the evening. She would have joked about it and made everything seem funny. She might even have found a way to get Bob to talk about something besides bugs. But Elise wasn’t going to be at the dance. She hadn’t been asked.

Elise had been sull en about this fact for days. At school she kept pointing out guys to me and saying, “See that guy? He’s a jerk. He didn’t ask me to the dance, and I’ve been nice to him since I moved in. That guy over there—major jerk. He’s taking the girl who sits behind me in algebra, and she’s a total ditz.”

“There’s always the Tolo,” I told her. “You can ask whoever you want to that.” It was the girl ask guy dance in March.

Elise hadn’t been at all cheered by thoughts of the Tolo. March isn’t much of a consolation in October.

When Bob and I got to the dance, I looked for Faith and Caitlin but didn’t see them. Chad was standing on the edge of the dance floor with Lisa Litton, a junior girl who always looked like she was part of a fashion show. He was telling her something, leaning close with his head bent towards her ear. She smiled. Somehow I didn’t think he was rhyming words for her.

Josh was out on the dance floor with a senior named Courtney. She was one of those bouncy, friendly girls who were always involved in the cute little skits during pep rallies. I wondered if Josh thought she was mature. I wondered if she’d ever hit a bike rack.

“Do you want to dance?” Bob asked.

“All right.”

We danced for a while. Although, to be accurate, the term dancing only generally described what we were doing. Bob’s dancing looked like he was lurching back and forth—sort of the step you do as you’re coming out of an elevator that’s about to shut on you.

I never looked around to see if anyone was staring at us. I didn’t want to know.

After a while we went and stood in the picture line. Josh and Courtney were in front of us.

When Josh saw us, he smiled. “Hey, how’s it going?” He turned to Courtney. “You know Bob, don’t you? And this is Cassidy Woodruff. She’s one of my sister’s little friends.” Then he laughed. “I mean my little sister’s friends. Sorry, Cassidy. I wasn’t saying that you were short.” Short, no. But what about immature? “Right,” I said. “What would Freud say?”

Josh shrugged. “I don’t think Freud would say you’re short either. What are you, five-eight?”

“Five-seven.”

Bob lowered his voice. “Don’t ask her about her weight. She’s touchy about it.” Now Courtney peered at me with wide eyes. “You’re not trying to lose weight, are you? Because you don’t need to.”

“I told her the same thing,” Bob said. “And she got all defensive.”

“I’m not trying to lose weight,” I said.

“You can ruin your body by dieting too much,” Courtney went on. “We learned about anorexia in health.”

“I’m not anorexic,” I insisted.

“Well, no one ever admits it.” Courtney turned to Josh. “It’s all men’s fault, you know. You expect us to be shaped like Barbie dolls.” Josh held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ve never said any such thing.” He turned to me. “You’re great the way you are, Cassidy. I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

I blushed. And glowed. And didn’t know what to say.

Josh didn’t wait for me to comment. He turned to Bob. “Hey, how’s your computer program going?” Then to Courtney and I, Josh explained,

“Bob’s a programming wizard. He made his computer sound like Spock from Star Trek. When it shuts down it says, ‘Live long and prosper.’”

“It also does McCoy,” Bob said. “When you search for a file it says, ‘Darn it, Jim. I’m a computer, not a magician.’” I laughed. Momentarily I forgot I was talking to Bob and asked, “How did you do that?” He spent the rest of the time in line explaining sound cards, hertz, and RAM to me.

After the picture, Bob asked if I wanted to go to the refreshment table. “No thanks,” I said. “I’m planning on binging and purging later.” He looked at me oddly. I’m not sure he realized I was joking.

I found Caitlin and Faith, and we spent a few minutes talking to them, then went to the dance floor again. After a few songs I grew hot. I hoped the soy sauce smell wasn’t permeating through my clothes. When the next slow song started, I asked, “Do you want to go outside to cool off?” Bob nodded and we left. We went out back, down by the bleachers. A few other couples were wandering around. Silhouettes in the evening. I wondered if Chad was out here with Lisa. Then I sighed and sat down. Bob sat down next to me.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about your dress.”

“It’s okay.”

“And I’m sorry about the hygiene comment in front of your parents. When I get nervous, I babble.” It was the first thing he’d said on the whole date I could relate to. “I do the same thing.”

“You do? I’d think a pretty girl like you would never get nervous.”

“Thanks, but I babble more than I’d like to admit. Either that or I can’t think of anything to say.”

“You can get away with that, though. You don’t need to say anything to get a guy’s attention.” Bob had been leaning down with his elbows on his knees. At this point he attempted to sit up and put his arm around me. At least that’s what I assume he was doing. Instead, his elbow caught me on the nose. A flash of pain shot through me, and I fell backward into the seat behind me.

“Sorry!” Bob jumped up and hovered over me.

I put my hand to my nose. It was bleeding.

Bob took hold of my other hand and pulled me to my feet. “Are you okay?”

I tilted my head back to try and stop my nose bleed, but it just got worse. Blood ran between my fingers and down my arm.

“Aw be awight in a minute.” I headed towards the school and Bob followed beside me, apologizing all the way. “I’m so sorry, Cassidy. I can’t believe I did that. Do you think it’s broken? I can take you to the ER if you want.”

“No, no, Aw be okay.” I was lying. I wasn’t okay. I was dripping blood across the pavement. If someone didn’t clean it off before school started on Monday, it would look like the scene of some grisly crime.

By the time we made it to the bathroom, my dress was splattered red and a crowd of people had gathered around me. Caitlin gave me a wad of toilet paper to hold against my nose. Faith soaked some paper towels and swiped at my dress. One of the chaperones got ice from the kitchen, and I held it up against my nose.

When it finally stopped bleeding, I told Bob, “Maywe you’d betta tage me homb.” Bob nodded and we left.

We ran into Chad and Lisa at the front door. He saw me and did a double take. “Are you all right?”

“Ya. Ah wiw be.”

“What happened?”

Bob cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I hit her with my elbow.”

Chad shook his head. “Trying to beat her into submission, Caveman?”

“It was dust a wittle accident,” I said.

Chad kept shaking his head. “I don’t know if you should hang around this guy. Your boyfriend is obviously a brute.” He chuckled, though I wasn’t sure what he thought was funny—the idea of Bob being a brute, the idea of Bob being my boyfriend, or just my disfigured face.

I strode out the door without looking back.

Chad called after us, “Next time, try over the head with a club. It isn’t as messy.” There was only one good thing about coming home from a date wounded. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bob wouldn’t attempt to kiss me. On the porch I said, “Aa tink Aw’d betta go id now.” He nodded, offered one more apology, and let me go inside.

I went straight to the bathroom to survey the damage. My nose was still red, but it wasn’t misshapen. So at least it wasn’t broken.

Mom came in and saw my dress. “What did you spil this time?”

“Blood.”

She gasped, and I told her the story.

She listened to it, mouth open. “When I said your first date would be memorable, I didn’t think it would be this memorable.”

“I’m never going out on a date again.”

Mom gave me a hug and two ibuprofens. I went up to bed and fell asleep, even though it was only nine thirty.

I was awakened from my sleep, and a dream in which I was being chased by six-foot-tall boxing ants, by a gentle tapping sound. I sat up in bed and looked at the clock. It was eleven forty-seven p.m. The tap came again. Something had hit my bedroom window. I pushed back the curtain and saw Josh on our front lawn. He motioned for me to come down.

I threw on a sweatshirt, some exercise pants, and my shoes. Then I tiptoed down the stairs and out of the house as quietly as I could.

Josh was still wearing his suit. He looked out of place, standing there on my lawn all dressed up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. His face was in shadow and I couldn’t see his expression clearly.

“Do you know where Elise is?”

I shook my head.

“She told my parents she was with you—a story I found hard to believe, considering I’d just seen you at the dance, and she didn’t appear to be anywhere around.” He sighed and lines of frustration drew across his brows. “She’s not answering her cell phone, so I’m supposed to be here getting her. I’ve got to find her before my parents freak out and call the police. Any ideas where to look?” I shrugged. I was still half asleep.

“Who are her other friends?” he pressed. “Where do they live?”

I folded my arms to keep warm. “Faith and Caitlin were both at the dance . . . she wouldn’t be with them. She could have gone to Mischa’s. She lives on High street. Or maybe Becky’s. She’s on Garfield. They live on college Hill.”

“What are their addresses?”

“I don’t know. They both live in white houses.”

“Could you be more specific?” Josh’s voice had an edge to it. “I can’t knock on the door of every white house on the street.”

“What are you so upset about?” I asked. “So Elise said my name and she meant someone else’s. She’ll call for a ride eventually, won’t she?” He shook his head. “It wasn’t a mistake. She’s out getting wasted somewhere, and the sooner I find her, the less upset my parents will be. Can you come up with addresses or not?”

“I’ll come with you.”

I thought about telling my parents I was leaving. I really did. I pictured my mother’s face as I woke her up to tell her I was going to drive around alone with Josh in the middle of the night. Then I decided it was better not to disturb her.

I climbed into the passenger side of Josh’s car. He sat down at the wheel and jammed his key in the ignition. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s Elise I’m mad at, not you.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

When I’d finished putting on my seatbelt, Josh pulled away from my house. His lips were drawn tight. “Elise didn’t even bother coming up with a good cover. I guess she wanted you to be the first to know she’s gone back to lying and partying.” He was right, I realized. If one of Elise’s parents had come to get her from my house, they would have woken up my parents, and it would have been a huge deal. Had Elise even considered that my parents might not want me to be friends with her after that?

Maybe that’s why she’d done it. Maybe she thought I was too boring and was looking for an excuse to ditch me.

“Where should I try first?” Josh asked. “Which of her friends is more likely to have a fake ID or parents with a liquor cabinet?” Good question. Where would Elise go to find someone with alcohol? I’d barely posed the question to myself when I thought of the answer.

Kaylee McGee, resident sophomore drunkard. Her boyfriend had broken up with her a couple weeks ago, and she’d decided to boycott the dance by throwing a party of her own. It was something she did without much provocation anyway. Her parents were frequently out of town, and her college-age brother could get the liquor for her. This made her a celebrity among the sophomores, and her parties were widely advertised. Even some of the more alcoholic juniors and seniors went to them.

“Kaylee McGee is having a party tonight,” I said, “but I don’t know where she lives. Look it up on your cell phone.” Josh pulled over to the side of the street. “I don’t have internet on my phone. Can you look it up on yours?”

“I didn’t bring my phone with me.” I hadn’t known when I left my bedroom that I was going anywhere.

Josh took out his phone and called someone. While he waited to get the address from whoever he was talking to, he looked over at me. After studying me for a moment, he slipped off his suit coat and gave it to me. “Here, you must be freezing. Your nose is all red.” I didn’t want to explain why my nose was red, so I put on the coat without saying anything. Josh went back to his phone conversation. He got the address and a few minutes later we pulled onto Kaylee’s street. It was easy to spot her house. The lights were on and cars lined both sides of the street.

Josh double-parked in front of Kaylee’s house and left his keys in the ignition. “If anyone needs to get by, move the car for them.” He opened his door, then turned back to me and added, “Carefully.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but he was already heading toward the house and probably didn’t see my facial commentary. I sat in the car, waiting, and wondered what Elise would do when she saw me. Would she be mad I’d helped Josh track her down? I was glad I had Josh’s coat. It was comforting to be wrapped up in something that smelled like his aftershave.