Exposure (14 page)

I dropped my books in the locker and plucked my hefty economics tome from the bottom of the stack. Slamming the flimsy metal door I turned to find Leonard waiting patiently, his arms behind his back. The halls were still filled with students changing classes, and a few glanced at us, oddly, as Lenny revealed his gift: a giant bouquet of fake plastic roses that were somehow illuminated and glowed various colors, morphing from blue to purple to orange to yellow. It was a garish sight to behold.

“They're battery-powered,” he said, his tone triumphant. “I wanted to get you something that would actually last, because that's how I feel about our relationship.” Our relationship?

“Lenny, wow. I don't know what to say.” I really didn't know what to say.

“And would you believe a dozen of these suckers was actually cheaper than if I'd bought you a dozen of the real thing? I knew you'd appreciate my delivering them in person, too. I got one like this for your prom corsage.” Oh no, he didn't. As more bystanders stood in the hallway gawking at us, my humiliation grew.

“Yeah, well, Lenny, that's still a few months off,” I said. “You might change your mind — ”

“That's like saying the Cubs might win the pennant this year,” he said. “Not gonna happen.”

“Okay.” I managed a weak smile. “I've got to get to class.” I could feel the roses lighting up my face from blue to purple to orange to yellow. Could this banner day get any worse?

If there was ever an occasion that merited skipping class, today was it. No way could I make it through economics class, and what was I supposed to do with these roses? Mr. Richter had a pottery class this period, and I didn't have time before the bell to slip unnoticed into the darkroom. Damn. It would have to be the girls' bathroom near the cafeteria, which should be empty this time of day.

I was relieved to find that no one else seemed to have had the same idea. You could have heard a pin drop in the windowless bathroom, which was at the end of a long hallway, off the radar of school staff at this time of day. I guiltily shoved the technicolor roses into the trash can, then went into the last of the six stalls, dropped the lid on the toilet, and sat down to write in my journal. I had a flood of thoughts going through my brain and knew the best way to excise them was to write everything out and then try to forget about it. I'd only just written the date on the page when I heard the outer bathroom door swing open. I froze and lifted up my feet. The last thing I needed was to get caught playing hooky.

“But I don't understand,” said a voice that sounded eerily similar to Beth's. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“You know
exactly
why.” That was Kristy. Her tone of voice meant business.

“No I don't!” Beth said.

“Try telling that to my absentee boyfriend.”

“Duff? Is
that
what this is about?”

“That, yes, among other things. And just because you've been acting batshit crazy since Duncan's death doesn't mean I'm just going to forgive and forget.”

“Kristy, wait!” I heard the door swing open and shut again. Kristy must have left, but I could still hear Beth. She was sobbing now, loudly. I peaked under the stall door and saw her collapse to her knees on the grungy tile floor. What was wrong with her? I decided to make a break for it before things got weirder. I quietly opened the stall door. When she turned and saw me, Beth's wailing got louder, almost to the point of hyperventilating. But it was the look on her face that stopped me in my tracks. I don't know that I've ever witnessed such agony in another human being's eyes before. It sent shivers down my spine, but also compelled me to show her an ounce of compassion.

“Beth!” I stooped down to the ground and gripped her upper arms in my hands, hoping to shake some sense into her. “Beth, what's gotten into you?”

“I ruined everything,” she said in a near rasp, looking up at me with an expression that seemed almost innocent, like a little girl who'd just gotten caught playing with matches. “My hands are not clean,” she said, her voice barely audible. She was shivering now, so I reached for her cheerleader jacket, which was slung over her purse on the floor. She cradled the coat to her chest like it was a baby, rocking it back and forth as her limp blonde hair hung over her face. Then it happened. Our eyes both landed on that same red pinprick, the spot I'd seen in the moonlight after the party. The spot of … was it really blood?

“Oh my god!” she said, looking at me and then back to the coat with a ghastly, horrified expression. She jumped to her knees, turned on the faucet, and shoved the coat under the soap dispenser, letting a huge puddle of pink liquid drizzle over it. She started rubbing furiously at the wool and leather coat with her bare hands until they were raw and chafed. “It won't come clean!” She seemed to forget I was there as she scrutinized her coat. “He's dead and buried, so why is he still here? Why is the spot still here?” She was freaking out so completely by this point that I felt sure an adult would be swooping in any second to investigate the commotion. I decided to bolt before that happened. Any armchair psychologist could figure out why Beth was going bonkers, and while I was definitely concerned about her state of mind, it was also hard for me to feel completely sorry for her.

STAMPING MY FEET ON THE SNOW didn't seem to help much, but I did it anyway in the hopes of warming up my toes. With the wind-chill factor, it must have been somewhere around minus-four degrees outside. Brief patches of sun offered a little relief when the clouds were feeling generous, but my thick ski gloves made picture-taking problematic. It was easier for me to pull off one glove with my teeth and try to adjust the aperture until my bare hand became too raw and chapped to stand it. Luckily, there were enough people squeezed in around me that they blocked a little of the wind as we waited on the curb.

“Kingston! Hey!” I looked up and saw Cat, Kaya, and Tess tromping down the street, laughing their asses off. If the cold was bothering them, they didn't show it.

“Aren't you guys freezing?” I asked. “I'm a human Popsicle!”

“It's a cauldron in here,” said Tess, tapping her down-filled parka. “It's all about dressing in layers. Traps the heat.”

“You scored a primo spot!” Cat said. “Scooch.” I pushed a little to my left to make room for the three of them. The older woman standing next to me sighed loudly, obviously annoyed with me.

“I was saving this spot for my friends,” I said, only semi-apologetically.

The sidewalks were jam-packed for several blocks with spectators awaiting the annual Running of the Reindeer, an event modeled after the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain. A herd of deer gets unleashed on a street full of people who, in turn, run for their lives. Only the truly undaunted participate in the run, although there's never really any fear of being mauled — reindeer antlers are velvety soft, and besides, they curve inward. Those of us not interested in taking our chances lined the streets to watch.

I'd been hanging out with Cat and the girls more often in recent weeks, which had gone a long way in helping me feel like the new year was off to an okay start. I was grateful to them for including me in their small group, even though I knew I'd never really be as tight with them as they already were with each other. In any case, I was enjoying my late-in-the game transition from loner to “one of the girls.” It was different for me, but fun.

“This is my second latte this afternoon,” Kaya said with a giggle, her bare hands wrapped around a plastic-lidded cardboard cup. “I am soooo wired!”

“When does this dog-and-pony show get on the road, anyway?” Cat said, craning her neck to see down Fourth Avenue.

“Should be any minute now.” I noticed she had a slight grimace on her face. “Everything cool?”

“Oh, just reveling in the irony of it all,” she said. “A bunch of reckless hooligans, drunk, no doubt, thinking it'd be fun to outrace a pack of wild animals.”

“Such the ‘white-man' way,” Tess said while idly scrolling through her cell phone.

“Okay….” Since I didn't quite get their drift, I started checking out my camera again, making sure there was no condensation on the lens.

“Don't get me wrong,” Cat said. “I'm totally stoked to gawk alongside everyone else. But this pretty much flies in the face of everything our people believe about nature.”

“Oh, here she goes — ‘Eskimo lecture time,'” Kaya said with a sigh. Cat ignored her.

“You don't try to conquer nature, let alone try to outrun it … you just plain don't mess with it, that's all.”

“Hey, Cat, we heard it
ad nauseum
on the way here in the car. We
get
it.” Kaya jokingly rolled her eyes and took another sip of her latte. “You're preaching to the choir.”

“All I'm saying is, the minute you think you can outsmart life, that's when life will outsmart you. Next thing you know, you've got a reindeer nose up your ass.”

“What would prompt somebody to want to outrun a reindeer, anyway?” I said.

“To tempt fate,” said Cat. “No one can ever just accept their life for what it is.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning everyone is looking for the next big thrill to feel alive, chasing the unattainable. They think they're standing apart from the crowd, when really they're just one of the pack.” I decided not to remind her that the event was a charity fundraiser since I didn't sense that she was likely to concede her point.

“I hear a drum!” said Kaya. “Does that mean it's starting?”

The start of the race was located a half-mile down the road and around a corner, so we couldn't see much. Suddenly, the crowd's low muffle turned into shouts, laughter, and gasps. I looked through my camera's viewfinder expecting to see a mad-dash of jogging frat boys enter the frame. Instead, who should round the corner but our own Jenna Powell! Cat put her fingers to the corners of her mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

“Get a load of her!” Kaya placed both of her hands on my shoulders and jumped, apparently hoping it would give her a boost to see more.

“I can't see anything!” she said. “What's happening?”

Jenna was waltzing down the street waving like a pageant girl who'd just received the crown, only instead of a tiara, fake felt reindeer antlers were perched on her head. Over her red bikini she wore a sash that said, “Stop the cruelty” and she hoisted a sign on a wooden pole that read, “Beers and Deers Don't Mix.” She managed to sashay her way halfway up the street to the sound of catcalls, jeers, and a smattering of applause, until, finally, a chubby police officer jogging behind her caught up and escorted her off the street.

Kaya and Tess were busting a gut by now, while I snapped as many pictures as I could. Jillian would high-five me for this on Monday.

“Deers,
plural
?!” Tess was almost crying with laughter. “Oh my god, and she plans on graduating in four more months? That is so sad!”

“Something is not right in that girl's head,” remarked the lady next to me.

“You've got to give the chick credit,” said Kaya. “
She
doesn't follow the herd mentality!”

Before I could respond, another surge of cheering erupted from down the block. The reindeer had officially been let loose. Rounding the corner, a throng of hundreds of runners looked like they were just unleashed from a house of horrors. They'd each paid thirty bucks (no pun intended) for the privilege of participating. Many wore stupid costumes. As they passed by our block, I snapped a picture of one guy with a bunch of carrots tied to his ass and the words “come and get me” written on the back of his shirt. I took pictures of people slipping in the snow and landing flat on their face. I took pictures of the reindeer weaving stealthily through the crowd. Despite Jenna's fears, they didn't seem much the worse for wear compared with their human counterparts. The runners and reindeer all came and went in under a minute. That was that. People immediately started to mill about on the street or head for their cars.

“How anticlimactic,” said Kaya. “I could barely see anything anyway.”

“You didn't miss much. What should we do now?” Tess threaded her arm through mine.

“There's a plate of chicken fingers with my name on it at the Hurlyburly,” Cat said. “Who's in?”

I smiled, glad to be a part of their camaraderie. Tess rode in my car on the way there, and we talked about our plans for after graduation.

“I'm thinking about double-majoring in chemistry and math, but it depends on where I'm accepted,” she rambled as I concentrated on the icy road. “But then I also would love to minor in fine arts, so who knows?”

“Speaking of fine arts, what are you gonna do for Richter's end-of-semester senior project?”