Breathing Underwater (14 page)

Do us a favor. Wear a mask this year.

Halloween, we had lunch at Mr. Pizza, as usual. We flocked there days it was too hot for the beach, attracted less by the food than by our ability to take the place over. The restaurant was small, and two of its three benches belonged to our group. The last, we left for whatever losers straggled in
.

Waiting by the counter, Peyton asked how I’d voted in that day’s homecoming court elections. When I shrugged, Peyton said, “You voted for Caitlin and Liana so you and Tom will get reflected glory from having famous girlfriends.”

Did I mention Caitlin was nominated? Needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled at her getting that kind of publicity. I wouldn’t be good enough for her anymore. Still, I avoided the issue of how I’d voted, telling Peyton, “Caitlin doesn’t reflect on me.”

“You going to take that from him, Cat?” Peyton asked
.

Caitlin smiled. “Oh, he’s just talking. Anyway, you and Liana will win.”

Peyton patted Caitlin’s shoulder and told her it was a big honor for her even to be nominated. Caitlin looked at me for help, but I said nothing. I gripped her arm and steered her to the far side of the room. Then we stopped
.

There were people on our bench
.

Now, I know it wasn’t our bench officially. Still, we had squatters’ rights born of two months’ staking our claim, and there was plenty of room on the third bench. That’s what Peyton was explaining to the intruders. One problem: The invading army consisted of Derek Wayne (dressed as Beethoven or Mozart—one of those) and Elsa (wearing something feathered, which may or may not have been a costume)
.

Peyton was saying, “But you don’t get it, it’s our table.”

“You’re right. I fail to understand,” Elsa replied. “Do you have record title, or do you lease monthly?” I figured her comment translated to, “Don’t see your name on it,” but Peyton was totally confused. Elsa said we were welcome to wait. She turned to Derek, and they high-fived
.

But Tom took the seat by Derek. Liana was already sitting, probably the reason behind Tom’s swift and wusslike action. I wasn’t about to let Caitlin near Elsa or Derek, so after the others sat, I led her toward the center
.

Elsa’s voice filled the room. “Sit, Caitlin. Gooood girl,” and other dog comments. I fed Caitlin a bite of my lunch
.

She said, “Not pizza, Nick. I’m on a diet.”

“What for? You’re skinny.” I kissed her. “And beautiful.”

“I want to stay that way.”

But a second later, she snuck a piece of pepperoni
.

“Not to worry, Caitlin,” Elsa said, not quite aloud. “You can always excuse yourself if you have the urge to purge.”

“Ignore her,” I said. Derek was staring at us. I fed Caitlin another bite. We crossed arms and ate off each other’s forks until Derek looked away and even our friends started throwing balled-up napkins at us. As soon as we finished, I was out of there, Cat in tow. Since just about everyone had come with us, the table cleared
.

In my car, Peyton said, “How sad. A lezzie and a geekoid.”

Caitlin glanced at me then back at Peyton. Finally, she almost whispered, “Elsa Perez is one of my best friends.”

“Yeah, she looked thrilled to see you,” I said. “Why don’t you hang with her? That’s so obviously the cool group.”

From the backseat, Tom tried to change the subject, asking if Caitlin was going to Zack’s Thanksgiving weekend. I started to say of course we were. It would be our “big weekend.” But Cat interrupted, looking at me
.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Her voice was soft. “I have to visit my dad then.”

My hand welded to the gearshift, and I eyed the road. Finally, I said, “Fine. Spend the weekend with the great man. It’s been, what? Six months since he called? I’d run before he changes his mind.”

“I have to go,” she said
.

I told her to go ahead. But I wasn’t staying home. After all, Key West was a pretty wild town. I hung a right into a space, then got out and slammed the door behind me, finishing with, “You can be replaced!”

I was halfway to school before everyone untangled themselves and Cat ran after me, yelling for me to wait. I kept walking. “Go hang with the geek brigade. You fit right in, you fat loser.”

Behind me, Tom started to say something. I ignored him
.

Caitlin said, “I’ll go with you, okay?”

“You have to visit Daddy.”

“I don’t want to now.” She grabbed at my arm, saying, “I want to be with you.”

“I don’t know.” But I slowed, and she draped herself around my shoulders
.

“I want to be with you,” she repeated, kissing me
.

I kissed her back. “That’s my girl.” I put my arm around her and slid my hand under her shirt. “I have plans for that weekend, you know.”

Caitlin said she knew. Then, she said, “But I’m not sure. I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be afraid of me.” I kissed her. The others caught up by then and followed us, making smoochy noises. I ignored them and focused on Cat, saying, “I’m the only one who cares about you, not your dad, not Elsa. Even these guys are just jealous of you. I’m the only one you can trust.”

“Hey, Nick! Buddy!”

Saint. We haven’t spoken since December, but today, he’s behind me. I find my locker and lower my backpack to the ground.

“How come you never told me Caitlin had such a great body?” he says. “Can’t appreciate it in those dresses she wears.”

He just wants to piss me off, I know. And it’s working. I try to concentrate on my combination lock, but my fingers feel thick. I forget the numbers.

“I mean, usually girls who lose weight got tits like little elf-shoes,” he continues. “Not Caitlin’s. They’re gr-rreat.” He says it like Tony the Tiger.

Don’t react. That’s what he wants. But it gets me mad. This guy’s a hero and I’m a scum? Around me, lockers slam. I’m still opening mine. Saint’s voice rumbles in my ear.

“Mmm, mmm. Much more than a mouthful.”

I whirl to face him. He towers over me, licking his lips.

“You wanna hit me, Andreas?” Saint’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Be a new experience for you, picking on someone who’d hit back.”

He walks away.

After school, I’m at 7-Eleven again, dialing Caitlin’s number. She answers on the third ring, and I blurt out, “You know O’Connor’s telling everyone about your breasts?”

“Don’t call me!” she screams. The line goes dead.

But she listens fifteen minutes later when I call back. I repeat Saint’s comment, figuring she’ll know what a sleaze she’s with. Instead, she says, “Sounds like something you’d say.”

“I never talked about your body to other guys.”

“No, just to me, putting me down and making me want to die.”

“I didn’t do that.”

“Spare me. You did it all the time.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I made you feel that way.” The sound of her voice puts my heart in my pants again. “We had good times too, though. Remember?”

She doesn’t answer.

“How about when we saw the dolphins? Remember that?”

Caitlin doesn’t speak, but the pause holds a promise like she’s missing me too. Finally, she says, “Of course I remember.”

“Does O’Connor ever do anything romantic like that?”

No answer.

“I bet he doesn’t. Bet he throws a burger at you and tries to jump you in that clunker of his.”

“Nick…”

“The dolphins are still there, Cat, and the beach. And us. We could do it all again.”

“I can’t.”

“I miss you, Caitlin. I miss holding you. You know there’s no one else.” I pull the receiver from my face, hating the feel of someone else’s skin oils. I listen, though. Caitlin’s breath quickens, and I say, “How about I meet you there in an hour—just to talk?”

It takes her a moment to say, “Make it six o’clock.”

“Six o’clock.” I hang up, fingering the ring in my pocket. In two hours, it will be back on Caitlin’s finger.

I pull out the journal. I’ve gotten used to carrying it around, writing in it. But if all goes well, this will be the last time I write. So, today, I’ll write about something good. There were those too, you know.

Caitlin was chosen Homecoming Princess. She wore blue and, at halftime, they drove her onto the field in a loaner car from Albritton Cadillac. I sat beside her. Liana was the other princess, so she and Tom were with us. We were making the big loop, and the whole time, I’m remembering the Kennedy assassination films we saw at the Smithsonian during last year’s Close-up Trip. Like, one second, they were smiling and waving. The next, brain city. But Cat turns to me and says, “This is the best day of my life.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and it’s because of you.”

I reached for her hand, loving her and unspeakably sad I didn’t vote for her. Then, Liana had to butt in
.

“It’s not because of him,” she said. “Everyone loves you, Caitlin.”

Caitlin said, “They love me because I’m thin and I’m Nick Andreas’s girlfriend. A year ago, I couldn’t have rented space at your lunch table, and if I’d shown up, they’d have called me a geekoid or a lezzie like they call my friends.”

“Peyton’s such an idiot,” Liana said
.

“Then we all are, even me.” The whole time Cat talked, she kept smiling a beauty-queen smile, waving. “Every day since then, we’ve practically run to stake out our table so they don’t sit there. I do it too.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“All I’m saying is it could have been me you were running from.”

Liana took Caitlin in her arms. “Oh,
pobrecita
, poor little thing. You’re wrong. It could never be you.”

“I know what I know,” Caitlin said. “It still could be.”

We circled at two miles per hour like a buzzard staring down a lunch box full of carrion, and Liana hugged Cat until they looked like a heap of discarded prom dresses. Principal Fernandez’s voice came over the loudspeaker:

“And in the red Seville STS from Albritton Cadillac, here come sophomore princesses Liana Castro and Caitlin McCourt with their escorts.”

She said it was the best day of her life
.

At six-thirty, I’m still waiting for Caitlin. And seven. And seven-thirty. I want to scream at the seagulls to stop screaming or throw myself into the wild surf and never crawl out. And I want to see Caitlin. That bitch. I feel the urge, no, the compulsion to go to her house and make her talk to me. I rise, planning to do it. But Saint’s probably there, waiting. I sink to the sand. I’ll go some other time.

The sudden rain is a wake-up call, but I don’t move. Some of us are meant to be rained on. I lie back and stare at the sky.

Almost a week since I’ve written. I had this fantasy that I wouldn’t have to write anymore, that I’d get back together with Caitlin and she’d drop the restraining order. Then, I wouldn’t have to go to class or write this journal or anything. But that’s what it was, a fantasy. The reality is, everything’s still a mess. Maybe that’s why I don’t mind writing about this particular memory. It was probably the best night of
my
life.