The Unwritten Rule (2 page)

I got sidetracked in the study. which was your usual study-a dad refuge complete with comfy , dumpy chair that clearly wasn’t

allowed in any other room in the house, a collection of newspapers

and magazines all opened to articles about sports, and two huge

bookshelves. They ran from floor to ceiling and were filled with paperbacks and what looked like old textbooks, but there were also some coffee table books, the kind that are all pictures. One of them was about shoes.

And here’s the thing about me: 1 like shoes. %Vell, sneakers. I have twenty-seven pairs, and twenty-five of them are ones 1 either decorated myself or bought custom-designed. (Two pairs are in my room now, plain white and waiting for inspiration to strike.)

Which leads me to what happened. There I was, thumbing through the shoe book and wondering if I could get a copy and decorate a pair of sneakers with pictures of shoes (i saw heels running around the edges, boots dancing along the top, and bright yellow laces with tiny silver shoe charms at the ends), when I saw a painting on the wall.

I don’t know a lot about art, but the painting was clearly valuable. It was. nicely framed and had one of those little “Look! Look at this ART!- spotlights above it. I half expected to see one of those little white cards bolted to the wall next to it with a title like Intt’nidl Stntggtt’ of the Humart Spirit (Season 8) but there wasn’t anything there, just the painting and its light.

And the painting … well, it looked like crap.

I don’t mean that figuratively, I mean it literally.

I moved a little closer, interested and horrified, and practically had my nose up against the glass frame when someone else came into the room. I looked over, saw it was Ryan. and grinned at him.

And then I felt my heart drop into my stomach because … Well, the summer had been very, very good to him. Ryan had always been three things: low, thin and obsessed with art. But during the summer, it had grown, I had to look up to find her eyes and was thin but still was not skinny. I had muscles. Not big and bulky type that always think of when you hear the word, but a long and toned. He looked … oh, I would like to be a poet … but it looked strangely beautiful, exotic, and when he said “Hi, Sarah ? wanted to run towards it and follow the lines of his cheeks with my fingers and then touching their hair. And okay, the rest of it. Although I did not. Ryan just said “Hey, come and tell me what this ?, like the normal old Ryan, who had vomited just before giving an oral job in the fifth … and suddenly it is not wonderful creature whose face had all angles and it was huge, with amazing blue eyes, had come together in a way that worked and made me stagger. “Well, it’s a painting, he said, smiling. I’ve always liked Ryan’s smile was friendly and warm, but now, that face had become, was lethal. “I … uh. Somehow I realized that I said, clearing my throat and trying to talk normal. Brianna I knew that being beautiful was not all that great. Brianna had changed in the second and third high school. One day two girls were in seventh, the next day, she was a supermodel who had a girl in seventh and best friend. Maybe it was not as dramatic, but it was quite sudden.

Brianna had always been pretty, but it became pretty quickly, and people had noticed. She liked it at first, until it was all that they noticed. And then she got used to that. Although it took a while, and I remembered crying - I’m just breasts!, You know ? a guy we met at the mall just after everything had changed for her, and then how he had cried that night in my room, hating people look at her and saw her body and face and nothing else. “It looks like …” said Ryan, then was silent, squinting at the painting. - Shit? “I said and then he smiled back. My stomach flipped with that smile from him and I swallowed hard. I told myself it was Ryan, and that he had known and liked me ever since. The thing was that he had always liked me. “So look, but do not think it is, he said, and still sound the same, still sounded like Ryan, a voice that had been a bit serious and deep for him before. Now fit. I think it’s dust, “he said, pointing to the painting, careful not to touch the glass. Look, you see that? I looked and only saw his reflection in the glass. I nodded anyway. “It looks like a smudged handprint” he said. As someone leaves a mark, and the time and nature of wear. Maybe it’s about what remains after you create something. The little that is not supposed to see, but you have to be so that a painting exists. Now he really sounded like he knew Ryan, who was greeted in the halls each day last year, that was my friend. “Or some guy just thought,” hey, I have this lump of coffee, why not smeared on a canvas? ? Said. “Disgusting” he said, smiling even more. Where have you been all summer, anyway? - Me? “I’m ashamed to admit that I screamed. As a scream actually. “Yes. Did not see you here.

“That’s because he was at home, helping and all that. My father paid me to paint the garage. Great. Now it sounded like a girl room. My father paid me to paint the garage! I had no life! “I painted it too,” he said. Casas, I mean. No paint, paint. I did something about it, but most were home, as I said. I relaxed a little more time. Despite their appearance, he was still Ryan. “So that’s how you get those muscles I said, and pushed his arm. He shrugged, blushing a little. Imagine a boy. He is a little higher than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams - touch me! ? And dark hair and beautiful blue eyes and he looks so sweet, and is so sweet. And then keep that a little flushed. Surely you can understand why I dropped the book he was still holding. He stooped to pick it up at the same time as me, and for a moment we were so close I could have bent and kissed him. “Here,” he said, handing me the book. We were still so close, and he was looking at me, smile in his eyes darkening into something deeper, more intense. “Thanks,” I said, though I bet that sounded more like “Geratyuhrh ?, and then reached the book and he handed it to me, their hands touching mine for a moment. And then he said “Sarah ?, and took my hand again. I looked down, my fingers were stained with a dark green that my father wanted for the garage, and his hands were also stained, white and yellow, and the book slid to the floor as he did more than touch my hand. He held, and slid his fingers in mine. Our palms were pressed together, and all I could think of was a line I had read somewhere, about palms pressed together like a kiss, and he still looked at me and then we stood, still holding hands, and was close, so close, and was leaning, and I could not breathe, I could not move, could only watch and wait, hoping to breath and moved closer and closer and …

“Sarah, you will not believe what I heard it would play. It’s … oh, “said Brianna, and stopped talking. Ryan looked straight, and smiled the smile she gave when she saw a boy who wanted to see. “Hey, you,” she said, and was gorgeous, tanned, tall and beautiful, her black hair curled around her heart shaped face, and saw Ryan smiled back. “Hi, Brianna, he said. - What have you been doing this summer? Come and tell me all while I go to the store for some sodas, “she smiled. I have to go a little bit. A story about camping and start screaming. I swear. I wish I could go. “I know, I said, because he had been there when his mother told him no, and tried not to notice that my hand was no longer playing Ryan. Not only bring grape soda, right? “No grapes would just … well, okay, I would. But I will, “she said, and put his arm around Ryan as he drove out of the room, leading to her as only she could, and by the time they returned with a few six-packs of soda, their mouths were slightly purple. Brianna smiled at me, a pleasant and bright smile, and said, “Ryan likes grape soda, too ? while throwing me a root beer and said: Here is your favorite. ? Mine too, actually,” said Ryan, but I was watching as he did. Brianna was looking a little puzzled, a little stunned, and I knew he was not going to turn. I looked, and was smiling the smile she wore when I saw a guy he wanted, and that’s when I knew I would get it because that was what she was and what she did. I saw it already had. I went into the kitchen to drink my root beer. Poured me a glass, put in ice, and waited for the excitement is dissolved. Delaying tactics, and for the moment I took it and went back to where Brianna was, she and Ryan were sitting together talking.

Brianna was nodding intently, as if everything he was saying it meant the world to her. Ryan still looked slightly

but then I looked dazed and started to say something, and then Brianna touched her face and kissed him in front of everyone. And there it was. He was hers. He could have spoken to me first. Might even have held my hand first. But that did not matter. Except for me.

Five

I take the long way home because I do not want to be thinking of Ryan and Brianna when you get there. I do not want to play, and if … ? as I’ve done more than half of the time. I want to be happy for Brianna and nothing else. But when I get home, Ryan’s car at the entrance. I stand beside him, twisting my stomach while my heart (stupid, traitor) is stirred in my chest, making me dizzy. I look at the porch and I see my father sitting there, Brianna and Ryan, the three partially illuminated by the large area of ground glass that my mother won second place as a finalist in the competition Better Homes and Lifestyles of mezzanines to Super frames dinner (She made mini-meat loaves with honey and mustard glazed ham and corn cakes with chili honey butter. Number of times I ate for dinner: about sixty. It was good: the first forty times. The last twenty were hard, but my mother likes to meet their recipes inside and out). I look at Ryan and Brianna, I did see them, myself and my heart stopped fluttering because that is how things are. This is the reality. But why are you here? “Hi, Sarah Bear,” said my father, getting up and hugging me as if I had six and not seventeen. Sigh but I return the hug, happy that he is fearful for his bad hip. - Why are you on the porch? I ask, and then looked at Brianna. And how did you get there before me? Brianna gets her eyes.

“You drive like an old man, Sarah, she looks at my father. No offense, Mr. E. “No way,” he says, his hair tousled. I hate when I do it to me because it reminds me that my hair is not as bright and it looks so good, but it seems as if someone had ruffled all the time. Brianna likes, but it always has, and cut it with a shy smile before he turned to Ryan and curl an arm around her shoulders. “Anyway,” she says. We’re here to kidnap you. It’s Friday night and my best friend can not sit home alone. That is, you do it all the time! I try not to flinch on this but I do. Brianna is right, but still hurts … and after that my father added: “Sarah Bear, you have to stay home until one, you know, and also no need to waste time at home tonight - he smiles at me. Not unless you want to hear my lecture on jurisprudence. Or remind me of my pills for arthritis, your mother has already done twice before you even tell that I took. My father is great for a father was fifty when I was born, and retired from practicing law for seven years and now teaches part time at the University of Crestwood. I like a lot, but I know he misses being a lawyer. Have rheumatoid arthritis, which means your immune system attacks your joints, or, as it always reminds me, the joint tissues. (I do not see the distinction. All I know is that it is very bad and it hurts). It ended up being so bad he could not work more than full time, and he had to leave. I know what I mean my mother is asking for their pills and look at it. - How is your hip? “It’s still attached to my body,” he says with a smile, and looked down at the shoes I’m wearing because I know they are suffering and wish there anything I can do. For him. But I can not. The shoes I’m wearing is one of my favorite pairs: bright pink, with the lining and tongue with an impression of a white skull and black seams and black soles and laces bright pink. Seeing them made me feel no better.

The thing about my father leaving the firm for years meant that his arthritis became a matter of occasionally-sometimes had terrible attacks, and then went and it felt good, in pain quite often. Its actually dislocated hip last year, and although it was fixed, the bone of his hip still is eroded. I like to think too much. It is frightening to think that your bones are being eroded by your own body. It is frightening to think about how sick your father … and how much worse can get. I do not want that to happen. I like having my father and my mother at home all the time. Around all the time. It has actually been home since I can remember my mother … She has a doctorate in medieval history, but left trying to find a job after post-doctoral positions that were not anywhere, and found the kitchen and after competitions. Basically they spend much time with my parents, but the fact is … I like it. I like them. My parents would not change anything, so I’m worried about my father, whose arthritis is not improving, or staying the same, despite their pills. He went from walking five miles a day to three or less. And in the very bad days, do not walk at all. “Then,” Brianna said, waving a hand before my eyes. As I said, we’re kidnapping. Ryan, quick, grab and go! I move, getting up and Ryan did not feel like you have to touch me. I try not to watch it as I do, but I can not help see that he’s watching me. Drink and my father laughs, says, “Sarah Bear, I do not think Ryan will get hurt. In fact, I’m not sure he can get up. “Thanks, Dad” I said and he shook his head and said, “Oh, no, no, no I meant … well, you’re thin. Sarah Bear. You know. I mean, Ryan is very big … not that you are able, I am sure Ryan. But do not look like the guy who runs to catch up, cleared his throat. Well why not go in and see if your mother needs help? “Dad said, half embarrassed, half worried about him, but when I open the door, I shook my head and said:

“Go, go, have fun.

-Be sure to take the pills, “said Brianna, and my father smiled and said,” Yes, really take my medicine, and ruffled his hair before entering. “He’s cute,” said Brianna, and took my hand. Come now, Sarah Bear, bring your little behind the game. “I’m not small,” I said, looking at Brianna when I drove to Ryan’s car. I have … small bones. What I meant was that he had no chest, had no back, and usually the body of a girl of twelve, to the fact that my foot was small. What would be nice if I had twelve years. But it’s not good when you have seventeen and your best friend is the kind of body that makes men do things like stop or even see if it is with another girl. “You’re tiny,” said Ryan after me, and Brianna said, “Wherefore should get a new car. I mean, Sarah still does not fill the room, I smiled as I got into the backseat. Look, she almost lost back there. A new, smaller car could be more comfortable for her. “Yes, Captain Tiny is drifting to return,” I said as I put the seat belt. - What, no more girl on board? Ryan said, his smile disappeared before getting into the front seat, and I know he was thinking about the class trip we took last year, when the two get dizzy and went and came back-to-lane shared misery. I blushed with satisfaction and fear. “You two are rare,” said Brianna, “but I still like. “Thanks,” said Ryan and I at the same time, and Brianna laughed and started kissing Ryan’s neck. I rested my hands on my knees and watched, and saw the little lights that appear when you drive. “Okay, well, me breakaway Brianna said after a moment. “I do not … I’m driving, “said Ryan. - Can not you take a second and kiss me? “No, I mean, I … I’m driving and this car is, you know.