Youth in Revolt: The Journals of Nick Twisp (40 page)

“Nick, how do you explain all these dogs showing up?” asked Fuzzy. “I mean, isn’t it kind of weird?”

“Frank, how do you explain the late Elvis Presley shopping for underwear in all those Kmarts?” I replied.

“Some matters will always remain beyond the explication of human reason,” observed Vijay. “Speaking of which, Nick, my sister wants you to meet her at the library after you get off work.”

“Did she tell you about our plan?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Vijay. “She has enlisted me as your life insurance policy. I am to act as chaperon on your passionate dates. That way, if Father should happen to hear of your activities, he will assume that you were with me.”

“Chaperon?” asked François. “Is that really necessary?”

“Well, what is the point of contriving Sheeni’s return,” asked Vijay, “if you won’t be around to see her?”

He had a point there.

Since Dad theoretically has regained the use of both hands, Mr. Preston sent him home to pack his suitcase. Tomorrow
Progressive Plywood’s
star assistant editor leaves on assignment to inspect the waferboard mills of Oregon. Dad is to review the health of the industry and report on new processes and developments. I’ll be amazed if he can even find the Oregon border. Best of all, Dad’s extensive itinerary will require his absence from home for one entire, glorious week. Except for assorted dogs and Mr. Ferguson, the eager François will be alone with Lacey for six sensuous nights. He can hardly wait.

After work François found the beautiful Apurva just packing up to leave the library. Since the reading room was crowded with spectators, he greeted his love with a kiss. His boldness took her by surprise, but she recovered in time to respond with no small degree of feigned passion. To François’s lips, the ersatz variety tasted just as sweet.

“Shall I carry your books, darling?” he asked.

“What a gentleman,” she said, handing him the weighty pile.

Not entirely motivated by chivalry, François shifted his burden low in the front to conceal a monstrous T.E.

“Would you like to walk to the bus station with me?” I asked.

“Are you expecting visitors?” she asked.

“It’s a visitor all right. But I wasn’t expecting him.”

As we strolled slowly toward the bus station, I explained the sudden and curious multiplicity of canines.

“Have you dug up Albert’s grave?” she asked.

“No, and I’m not sure I want to.”

“Oh, but, Nick, you must. We’ll dig it up one week from today.”

“Why in one week?” I asked.

“It’s Halloween,” she replied. “We must have something terrifying planned for Halloween.”

“We could make love without a condom,” suggested François.

Apurva laughed. “Nick, you are so amusing. Why doesn’t Trent make me laugh like you do?

“Trent is a serious fellow,” I replied. “For him, maneuvering you into bed is an earnest business of intellectual titillation, progressing to strategic fondling, leading to tactical disrobing, culminating in successful organ targeting. Wit has no role in his mission.”

“Alas, Nick, your curious theory is belied by the facts,” she said. “But perhaps I should hold my tongue.”

“Why?” I asked. “There’s no one here except the great love of your life.”

“Well, Nick, my love, how do you explain that on the two occasions when Trent and I were alone together, it was he who resisted my advances?”

“Easy,” I replied, “the guy’s brain-damaged.”

“Not to imply that my behavior was brazen. But, Nick, am I that unattractive?”

“Apurva, you’re beautiful!” replied François. “So, you and Trent haven’t, haven’t …”

“No. Just a few chaste kisses. Then he transferred to Santa Cruz. You can imagine my despair. I suppose you and Sheeni have been extraordinarily intimate.”

“Not as intimate I’d like,” I confessed.

“Frankly, Nick, that surprises me—given the reputation of the parties involved. Vijay led me to believe you were quite an experienced man of the world.”

“I’m working on it,” replied François defensively.

“Nick, I think it’s very charming. I like you even more now that we’ve had this chat.”

François leered seductively.

“Yes,” Apurva went on, “I feel a warm, sisterly affection towards you.”

When we reached the dingy bus station, Albert III was tethered to a cigarette vending machine in a corner. He curled his ugly lips into a sneer when he saw me, but permitted Apurva to scratch his ears.

“What a delightful dog!” she exclaimed.

“Why not adopt him?” I suggested. “I’ve got lots.”

“My parents don’t like pets. They think they’re a lower-caste, I mean lower-class affectation. Of course, if I were to demonstrate a passionate enthusiasm for a dog, Father might assume I’d lost interest in boys. Under that circumstance, he might let me keep him.”

“It’s worth a try,” I said.

We agreed that Apurva would take Albert III home with her for a trial run.

“Shall we have a date Friday night?” she suggested. “The drama class is doing that Noel Coward play.”

“Great idea!” I said. “We can sit in front of Trent’s swim team buddies and neck.”

“One of them is certain to call Trent with the news,” agreed Apurva. “And he’ll tell Sheeni,” I said.

Apurva frowned. “You don’t suppose they’ll just drop us and get back together again themselves?”

“Not a chance. They love us too much.”

“How can you be so sure, Nick?”

“Pure logic: you’re fabulously beautiful and I’m terribly amusing. We’re irresistible.”

“Well,” said Apurva coyly, “you certainly are.”

For that, François gave her a goodbye kiss. Eschewing brotherliness, he employed his tongue. She didn’t seem to mind.

8:10
P.M
. Dwayne just barged into my room without knocking. Hastily, I fastened my pants.

“I brung the dogs back, Nick. We had a nice walk. Oh, whatcha doin’?”

“I was changing my trousers. Please knock before you enter.”

“How come you was changin’ ‘em at this time o’ night?”

“That’s my business. Where’s my 50 cents?”

“I’ll have to pay you when I get my ‘lowance,” he said, flopping down on my bed. “They’re gettin’ a little friendlier, Nick. They only had three fights on this walk. I think I like the new dog best. What’s his name anyways?”

“I suppose it must be Camus.”

“Wow. That’s a great name. Kamu the Wonder Dog! If my mom says it’s OK, could I ‘dopt him?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s an extremely valuable dog. How much money do you have?”

“I got $26 in my college ed’cation fund. Mom might let me take some of that. And God still owes me $2.”

“Well, that’s a start. And please stay off my bed.”

Dwayne reluctantly rolled his flab off the rumpled chenille. “Nick, if you was doin’ what I think you was doin’, that’s OK by me. We could do it together sometime.”

“Excuse me, Dwayne,” I said, escorting him out the door, “I have homework to do.”

“Think about it, Nick,” he said. “It’s more fun with two.”

From the mouths of fools come truisms. Yes, it would be more fun with two. Sheeni and Apurva—singly or jointly—I’m open to proposals.

THURSDAY, October 25
— Albert III is back. The Joshis came downstairs this morning and were shocked to find him in their kitchen lapping up the
nevidya
(food offering) in their
deoghar
(god house). I had neglected to warn Apurva this particular breed has a penchant for defiling religious symbols.

Mr. Joshi brought Albert III back early this morning just as Dad was leaving on his great Expedition to the North. Dew glistened on the trees and all was still except for the sounds of violent oaths being hurled. When I came running out in my bathrobe, negotiations had broken down completely and Dad and Mr. Joshi were circling each other with raised briefcases.

“Nick, tell this maniac that’s not our dog!” screamed Dad.

“Nick, explain to this madman you loaned the dog to my daughter!” shouted his adversary.

“Don’t you want to keep him, Mr. Joshi?” I pleaded. “He’s a great dog.”

“He is an ungodly cur! I never wish to cross paths with him again!”

“Just whose fucking dog is this?” demanded Dad, now threatening me with the upraised briefcase.

I only pretended to cower. In my experience Mom is the parent with the proclivity toward violence. Dad is mostly bluster. Besides, I knew the battered attaché contained nothing weightier than a peanut butter sandwich and a road map of Oregon.

“Dad, Mom sent him!” I explained. “Her new husband hates dogs. I’ve been trying to give him away.”

Dad reluctantly lowered his briefcase. “You’ll give him away all right,
pal. When I get back, all I want to see around here is one fucking dog. Preferably dead!”

“OK, Dad. No problem. Would you like to meet Mr. Joshi?”

Dad eyed Apurva’s father suspiciously. “Is he the nut case who wears women’s clothes?”

Mr. Joshi bristled. “I do not wish to be insulted any further. Good morning to you all!” Handing me the dog leash, he got into his car and roared off. I didn’t know a Plymouth Reliant could peel rubber.

Albert III looked up at me and growled.

“Have a nice trip, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile. “Bring me back something nice.”

Dad mumbled a reply. I shall not repeat it here. It is not something a son expects to hear from his loving father.

Sheeni called collect just as I was about to leave for school.

“Nickie, did Albert arrive safely?”

“Yes, they all did,” I replied.

“What?”

“Everyone on the bus arrived safely, including Albert.”

“Are you being extra nice to him?”

“I’m doing my best. I was about to give him a gold-plated steak bone when you called.”

“Nickie, your check hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Well of course it hasn’t. I don’t get paid until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said darkly. “That puts me in a bit of bind for the weekend.”

“Do you have some expensive activities planned?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing special,” she replied.

“Well then you’ll get along fine,” I said cheerfully. “How’s dear Taggarty?”

“She’s feeling a bit fatigued.”

“Overwork?” I asked. “Too many hours of fact cramming?”

“I don’t know. She slept most of yesterday. She felt fairly alert at breakfast, but now she’s gone back to bed. I think she should see the nurse. It could be incipient encephalitis.”

“Anyone else exhibiting the symptoms?” I asked.

“No, just Taggarty. Nickie, do you suppose you could wire the money to me? That way I could get it Friday afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, Sheeni. I don’t think that will be possible. Well, darling, I don’t want to be late for school.”

“How about Express Mail?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, darling. Goodbye. Thanks for calling.”
Click
.

If Sheeni imagines I am going to finance her cultural outings with the Iowan Pretender, she can just think again. My check will be taking the slow route to Santa Cruz—overland by way of Tibet.

Bruno Modjaleski’s long epoch of sanding finally came to a close in wood shop today. He actually applied shellac to his dry sink. Perhaps he is winding up his affairs before departing to take up residence as a guest of the state. His court hearing is set for Monday, Fuzzy informed me at lunch. Miss Wompveldt’s sophomore civics class is expected to attend.

This may be Bruno’s last weekend as a free jock. I hope he is planning some intense conjugal visitations with Candy Pringle. Yes, Redwood High’s Cutest Couple has been reunited. Happily for Bruno, Candy’s interlude with Stinky Limbert proved short-lived. She has promised to wait for her man, provided the judge gives him no more than eight months.

At lunch, Vijay handed me this scented note from his lovely sister:

What powers of persuasion! I could no more refuse Apurva than I could French-kiss Albert (any of them). Of course, Dad will be livid if he finds out. I must contrive somehow to keep the Alberts apart. If Dad sees them singly, perhaps he will be deluded into thinking he lives in a single-dog household.

Since the late Albert Camus inconveniently achieved existential fame without a middle name, I was obliged to move on to another Frog. I told Vijay to tell Apurva her dog was named Jean-Paul.

Vijay made an interesting proposal as we were sharing his vegetarian
samosas at the Nerds’ table in the cafeteria. (He currently enjoys a nearly insurmountable lead in the race for “Student with the Most Exotic Bagged Lunches.”)

“Nick, how would you like to study as an exchange student in my old school in Pune?” he asked. “You could live with my uncle’s family.”

“Your hard disk has crashed, Vijay,” I replied. “You are out of your mind.”

“No, listen to what I say. Sheeni’s parents want her to stay in Santa Cruz because you are here in Ukiah. Is that not correct?”

“Unfortunately, it is.”

“Therefore, if you leave, that impediment to her return will be removed. They will insist she come back.”

“Accomplishing precisely what?” I asked. “Sheeni and I are 200 miles apart now. If I went to India, we’d be 20,000 miles apart.”

“It’s not that far,” said Vijay. “More like 12,000 miles.”

“Well, it’s still a long drive for a weekend,” I said. “Besides, I hear India is hot and has a terrible problem with flies.”

“It’s quite pleasant most of the time,” he replied, offended. “Anyway you wouldn’t actually go there, you would just give that impression.”

“I don’t get it.”