Watch Me Disappear (15 page)

“I’m not interested in him,” she says. “But just because I’m with Wes doesn’t mean I can’t recognize a cute guy when I see one.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“You should go for him,” she says.

“He likes you.”

“Whatever. He doesn’t even know me.”

“Physics, please?” I say, glancing at the clock. Only five minutes before the bell rings.

*          *          *

Since then, Paul has been making regular appearances at our lunch table. He generally comes over near the end of the period to interrupt us at our work. At first I was annoyed, but it didn’t take long before I was glad for the interruption. Besides offering a respite from work, other people have started taking notice of Paul’s habit of visiting us, making us the subject of much chatter in the senior class. We went from being some random new girls to being mysterious and interesting new girls. It’s sort of fun—a little attention mostly directed at Missy, and I just get to bask in the radiance of her star.

Most days after school I don’t get a ride home with Maura. She races out of school the minute the bell rings. I usually stick around to do homework in the library or to get extra help if there’s a test coming up. I’ve never had AP teachers offer so many study sessions before, but I’m grateful because this is by far the hardest school I’ve attended. Since I’m usually not ready to go home until after four o’clock anyway, a lot of days I wait for Missy to get out of cross country practice and then go to her house. My dad likes it when I go to Missy’s because then I walk to Gram’s house and he picks me up there, which gives him an excuse to see how Gram is doing.

Gram’s state of health has become both of my parents’ obsession. She does look tired a lot, but she’s eighty-three years old. I don’t really understand why they are so convinced that her health is declining. She seems the same as ever to me—cranky and demanding with my mother (who probably deserves it), sweet and loving with my father and me. I like visiting her a couple of times a week, and I like doing things that make my dad happy, so getting a ride with Missy is a win all around.

Chapter 11

I do not understand how it’s October already. Between studying and completing a million-and-a-half forms for college applications, I am so busy I can barely keep track of time. Now we have the long weekend for Columbus Day ahead of us. I have never been so happy for a weekend in my life. And tomorrow, thanks to Paul, I’m going to another party at John’s.

Missy and I haven’t been going to parties since cross country started. She won’t even consider drinking during an athletic season, which means all year because she runs cross country, indoor track, and outdoor track. I haven’t had much interest in trying to go to parties without her. Usually on weekends, I tag along with Missy and Wes to the football games and then to Denny’s, and then they drop me off at home. I have too much homework to try to have much of a social life.

But Paul practically insisted I come this time, with or without Missy. I tried to object, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I can’t imagine why he wants me to go to this party. I flatter myself with the thought that maybe he’s flirting with me, but I know it’s Missy he’s interested in. Still, I gave in. I’m going to the party, mostly because Missy thinks I should go.

“Get out there and have fun!” she said when I asked her opinion. “Just you showing up with Paul should turn Hunter’s head, right?”

Maybe she’s onto something.

*          *          *

Paul picks me up promptly at seven, as promised. Instead of just beeping the horn and waiting for me to come out, he comes up and rings the bell. My mother gets to the door before me. I hurry to toss a few things into a purse and run down the stairs.

“So nice to have met you, Paul,” my mother says as I steer him back out the door.

“What was that about?” I ask, once safely in the car.

“I wanted to meet your parents,” he says.

“What the hell for?”

“I wanted to meet the people responsible for creating such a charming and well-spoken girl,” he says, grinning.

“You do not want to meet my parents, I assure you,” I say, crossing my arms and wondering why I have agreed to go to this stupid party.

“Parents love me,” he says. “Did you eat dinner?”

This question confuses me. I thought we were going straight to the party. Nonetheless I haven’t really eaten dinner, and I say so.

“Perfect. Let’s stop at Mel’s.” He takes a left and turns us back toward the center of town instead of out toward John’s house.

Mel’s is a diner a block off Main Street that’s open 24-hours and serves breakfast all day. We take a booth and Paul orders a coffee and a water when the waitress hands us menus. He can’t believe I’ve never been there before and he assures me I am going to love it. I just nod and look at the menu.

I have no idea what to order. I have never been out to a restaurant with a guy (other than my brother) before. Is this a date? I have no idea. If I were out with Missy, I’d probably order a hamburger with fries, or waffles with ice cream on top, or a bowl of chowder and garlic bread or something else that girls who want to stay thin aren’t supposed to eat. But if this is supposed to be a date, that changes everything. I can’t eat that kind of greasy, sloppy food in front of Paul. As I read through the menu, I realize there is nothing but greasy, sloppy food, unless I order oatmeal for dinner.

“They have the best Reubens ever,” Paul says. “And all the breakfast food is great.”

I sigh and study the menu some more. Finally I look up. “What are you getting?”

“A bowl of chili and a turkey club with French fries. It’s my standard order.”

“Everything sounds so—”

“I didn’t peg you for one of those girls,” Paul says.

“What?”

“You know, the kind who order a side salad with dressing on the side and only eat half of it.”

“I’m not, I just don’t know what to pick.” I am starting to feel panicked. I have no clue how I am supposed to be acting.

“Well,” he says. “Just get whatever you want. Everything here is good.”

“Fish and chips?” I ask.

“Are you sure you want to walk around with fish breath all night?” Paul asks.

I feel like a complete moron. “I guess I’ll just get eggs and toast,” I say, my face turning red.

Paul laughs. “I was just teasing. Seriously, you should get whatever you want.”

When the waitress comes back, I order a waffle sundae and a cup of coffee. Paul places his order and grins at me from across the table. “’Atta girl. You’ve got to respect a girl who gets what she wants.”

I can’t tell if he is teasing me or not, so I don’t say anything.

“So Missy’s pretty serious about running, huh?” he asks.

“So you invited me out to talk about her all night?” I ask in reply.

“Kidding!” he says, blushing a little. We both know he wasn’t kidding.

“Well, if you didn’t invite me to talk about her, why did you?” I say, unable to resist.

“You’re intriguing,” he says, looking me in the eye. “I like our witty exchanges in art class and your sarcastic sense of humor.”

He seems sincere and I have nothing to say in reply. I look down at my place mat.

“I wanted to hang out with you,” he says. “That’s all.”

I wonder if he thinks I have a crush on him or something. “Thanks,” I say.

“I also thought that as long as I have to go to this party, it might be nice to have someone else sober to commiserate with.”

“Yeah, you know, you never really explained that. I mean, why are you ‘obligated’ to attend?”

“It comes with the territory,” he says, a response that doesn’t clarify anything for me. He goes on, explaining that he’s been friends with these kids since kindergarten and if he wants to stay friends with them, which apparently he does, then he has to show up at their parties. Besides, he reasons, it’s good to have someone sober to keep an eye on things.

“Yeah, but why don’t you drink?” I ask.

“Why don’t you?” he answers.

We eat our dinners and then head to the party. A few miles from John’s house it starts to rain. We both agree that the party is going to suck.

When we arrive, John is tending the fire, which is big enough to outlast a few raindrops. There are less people than last time, and they are divided into two groups: One group sits around the fire, and the other group is in a tent someone thought to set up, playing strip poker. The girls seem to be trashed, although the guys don’t seem terribly drunk. One of the girls is down to her bra and panties. Everyone else is still mostly clothed.

“You just missed Maura and Tina,” John says, when Paul and I walk up to the fire.

“Not like them to leave a party early,” Paul says.

“I dunno. They were going to some other party, some kids from East I guess.”

I remember hearing Maura mention some kid named Jason from East Vo-tech one morning on the way to school.

We plant ourselves on one of the logs near the fire. Paul, being Paul, talks to everyone. Wherever he goes, he’s always holding court, telling jokes and silly stories. I just sit there, feeling my cotton sweater getting heavier in the rain, feeling my hair clinging to the sides of my face and neck, and wishing I had brought a rain jacket or at least a hair tie.

“You cold?” Paul asks when we’ve been sitting there a while.

“A little.”

He puts an arm around me and hugs me in close to him. “We can go soon,” he says. He turns to John. “Everybody staying here?”

“I think so.”

Paul looks around the circle. “Anybody need a ride?”

A few people shake their heads.

“Nobody’s driving, right?”

More head shaking. I think Paul’s protective father act makes him even cuter.

“Satisfied, old man?” John asks.

“What do you say?” Paul says to me, squeezing me closer.

I nod and we head back down the hill. Halfway to the car it starts to pour and we break into a run.

“I must look like a drowned rat,” I say, back in the car.

“Yeah, you have a little eye situation going on.” Paul hands me a napkin from the console and I try to dab at the makeup. “Sorry if that was lame,” he says as he carefully drives down the dark, winding driveway.

“It was fine,” I say. “A little wet.”

“So I was thinking,” Paul says. “What do you say you go to homecoming with me next week?”

That one catches me completely off-guard. I have listened to Maura babble on about homecoming the past couple of weeks on our drives to school. She is in a panic about who she should go with. She went with Paul the past three years, and she was wondering if they’d go together again, even though they aren’t dating now. It was through her morning rants that I learned why she and Paul had broken up last year. She said that Paul and his friends all decided that they weren’t going to let girls get in the way of their senior year, so after junior prom they all broke up with their girlfriends. Some kind of “band of brothers” pact they had made. That answered a question that had been on my mind for months: how Maura, Tina, and Jessica—three attractive and popular girls—could be without boyfriends. Only Katherine had a boyfriend, which surprised me since she is by far the bitchiest of the group.

“We could go with Missy and Wes,” he says.

I realize I was an idiot to think even for a moment he wanted to go with me. He wants to go with me to be near Missy.

“Also, I think I can manage to get Hunter to go with us, too. I’m not sure who his date is, but I’m sure they’d go with us,” he says.

“I don’t know.”

“You can think about it.”

“It’s just, I think Maura would be pissed,” I say.

“So what?” he says. “I mean, it’s not like you’re such great pals anyway.”

“What if Missy and Wes don’t want to go with us?”

“Then we’ll go without them.”

I have never been to a homecoming dance before, and Paul insists that’s all the more reason to go. I shouldn’t miss out on such an iconic American high school tradition my senior year. I let him convince me, and when he drops me off, I practically float through the door and up to my room. I am going to homecoming with one of the cutest guys I’ve ever met.

*          *          *

Homecoming isn’t exactly a big deal as far as dances go. It isn’t formal or semi-formal, and there isn’t a dinner involved. It’s the sort of dance you can attend without even having a date. Missy thinks that all of us going as a group is a great idea. Paul is going to borrow his mom’s van, and the six of us—because as Paul promised, Hunter and his date agreed to join us—will travel to the dance together.

Paul picks me up first. He comes to the door with a small bouquet of flowers, a gesture I love but also think is pretty over-the-top considering the fact that, although we are attending the dance together, we both know this is not a date. My mother practically swoons at the sight of him at the door in his neatly pressed khakis and light blue button-down shirt, the flowers extended before him. She takes them for me to put in water, and Paul and I are off to get the others.

We pick up Wes second, and he’s polite enough, but I can tell he isn’t thrilled that we are all going to the dance together. When we get to Missy’s house, he runs up and rings the bell. We look on as he waits, his back to us, giving us a grand view of his silly haircut and flat butt.

“Seriously,” Paul says to me. “What does she see in him?”

I shrug. “He’s nice to her, I guess.”

From Missy’s house to Hunter’s and lastly to fetch Hunter’s date. Her name is Alison, a junior. I’ve never met her before, but Paul explained to me that all the senior boys have been drooling over her since school started. Apparently she blossomed over the summer, because no one had ever noticed her before. She is teeny-tiny, just barely five feet tall and so thin she might disappear if she turns sideways. She has the look of a baby doll with her enormous blue eyes and soft blonde curls. She seems shy, unable to open up even to Missy’s questions and friendly chatter. I wonder if she’s ever even spoken to Hunter. My experience with Hunter at school is that he is extremely quiet. He participates just enough in class to avoid being called on randomly, and he never comes to study groups. It is hard to picture the two of them carrying on a conversation. Who would start it? Who would keep it going?