and there’s a few seconds
when no one says anything.
Finally, Eve blurts out,
“Can you believe how gigantic that guy was?”
And when everyone bursts out laughing,
I can’t help noticing
that Honk and Richard
look almost as relieved
as I am.
At Café Paradiso
We squeeze into a tiny booth and order our desserts.
Then Tessa tosses out another one of her pop quizzes:
“Okay,” she says. “What famous rock and roller said,
’I don’t know anything about music.
In my line of business, you don’t have to’?”
“Elvis,” I say instantly. “Next question?”
Tessa groans and tries to strangle me,
but Richard restrains her.
“Use your words, Tessa, use your words …”
She growls at him, then fires off another one:
“Who said, ’Instead of getting married again,
I’m just going to find a woman I don’t like
and give her a house’?”
“Beats me,” Honk says. “Me too,” Richard says.
“I believe that would be Rod Stewart,” I say,
ducking behind Eve for protection.
Tessa slaps her forehead.
“Damn! You are positively unstumpable!”
“Bro,” Honk says, “if we ever play Trivial Pursuit,
I want you on my team.”
“Seriously,” Eve says.
And as I look around the table at everyone,
I think to myself,
“So this is how it feels
to hang with a whole table full of people
who don’t even know
what a Murphy is.”
Unlike, Say, All the People at Cambridge High
Who know full well what a Murphy is.
And make it a point not to let me forget it.
So school sucked today.
For all the usual reasons:
Rachel and Grace ignored Sophie.
Again.
Dylan swiped my hat.
Again.
And all day long,
wherever Sophie and I went,
random people
committed random acts
of unkindness.
Bowling with a Vengeance
Here’s the way
Sophie and I play:
we take aim,
think of a name,
imagine those pins
are teeth or shins,
pull back our arm
for maximum harm,
then let the ball fly—
an eye for an eye.
You get the gist?
That ball’s a fist.
We bowl
with one goal:
hurl that sucker
down the lane
and inflict
pain.
The Door to Studio B Swings Open
And Richard enters,
talking to a real tall girl
who’s wearing this little tiger-striped jacket
and these thigh-high spike-heeled boots and—
Whoa!
It’s that girl who flirted with me!
That sexy refugee from MTV.
The one who called me “babe.”
As she struts toward me,
sizzling like a lit fuse,
my mind struggles to invent an explanation
for what she could possibly be doing here:
She must be a friend of Richard’s.
No—she must be his sister; they’re both so tall.
No—she’s probably a transfer student,
joining the class a week late.
When she sees me,
a smile oozes onto her face like spilled honey.
And when she blinks at me, in sultry slow motion,
it’s like an invitation to a very private party.
Then, in a voice as deep as a French kiss,
she says, “Hello again.”
And I almost fall over—
she remembers me?
So, with what I hope will pass
as a rakish grin,
I say, “Are you stalking me?”
She laughs and says, “Absolutely, babe.”
Wow!
She did it again—
she called me “babe”!
She must think I’m really hot …
And Then Without Any Warning
Before I even have a chance
to grasp what’s happening,
before I even have a chance
to gasp,
she steps up onto the platform,
right in front of me,
unzips
her thigh-high boots,
and five seconds later—
she’s stark raving naked!
Honk’s Elbow Snaps Me Out of My Daze
“You know her?” he whispers,
with this real “omigod” sort of gleam in his eyes.
“When you gonna introduce me to her?”
But Felix beats me to it.
“People,” he says, “allow me to present Berry.
Isn’t she incredible?”
Yeah, I think to myself.
Berry incredible.
And so is this situation …
Felix gazes at her thoughtfully, then says,
“Would you please take a horizontal pose
and hold it for five minutes?”
And that’s when Berry
blinks at Felix in sultry slow motion,
like she’s inviting him to a very private party,
and says, “Sure thing … babe.”
I Loiter After Class
And time it so that I end up in the elevator
with Honk, Tessa, Eve, and Richard,
hoping maybe they’ll get the bright idea
to invite me out to eat with them again.
As soon as the doors slide shut,
they start debating where to dine—
the girls arguing for Cafe Algiers,
the guys for the Greenhouse.
No one even thinks of asking me if I want to come.
I guess four’s company, five’s a crowd.
So I just stand here staring at my sneakers,
with my heart falling faster than the elevator.
But then Eve slips her arm through mine
and says, “Which one do you want to go to, Robin?”
“Yeah, bro,” Honk says,
tossing his arm over my shoulder.
“We’re counting on you to settle the tie.”
At Café Algiers
Tessa tears into her lamb kebab.
“Mmm …” she says.
“I’d almost forgotten how good real food tastes.”
“Me, too,” Honk says, scarfing down his falafel.
“I’m so fed up with that inedible crap
they serve in the freshman dining hall.”
“Seriously,” Richard says.
“What was that disgusting concoction
they tried to palm off on us tonight?”
“The sign said ‘beef fajita fettuccini,’” Eve says.
“Whatsa matter you, señorita?” I say.
“You got something against Mexican Italians?”
Which cracks everyone up,
and helps to distract them from wondering
why they’ve never seen me in the dining hall.
And a minute later, when they all start talking
about what classes they’re taking,
I excuse myself nonchalantly
and head off to the bathroom.
I Tell Sophie
That I don’t exactly know
if things at school have been much worse lately,
or if it only seems that way in comparison
to when I’m hanging with the people at Harvard.
B
ecause when I’m with them,
it’s like I’m living in an alternate universe—
a universe where Murphy is just
my last name.
I tell Sophie that when I’m at Harvard
I feel like a completely different person,
because I’m not the butt of the jokes;
I’m the one telling them.
And Sophie tells me
how happy she is for me.
How I’m just getting
what I’ve deserved all along.
So I don’t tell her that the best part of all
is that when I’m at Harvard,
I get to take a little break
from feeling like a total scumbag
for wrecking her life.
Don’t Get Me Wrong
I mean, Sophie never tries
to make me feel guilty or anything.
In fact, she tries real hard
not to make me feel guilty.
But when we’re at school
and I see how everyone’s treating her,
it pretty much makes me want to throw myself
under the wheels of a Hummer.
Like today, in the cafeteria,
when we walked by Rachel and Grace’s table.
Sophie said hey, but they just acted as if
she wasn’t even a blip on their radar screen.
Which really got to me.
Because even though Sophie tried to pretend
like she couldn’t care less,
I saw the lights in her eyes flicker
and go out.
T.G.I.F.
I’m heading to English class,
in a kind of near-dream state,
thinking about how there’s only
ninety-seven minutes left till the final bell rings,
thinking that if Sophie and I can just manage
to survive till the end of this endless week,
we’ll finally be able to escape from this Alcatraz
and spend some time alone together.
Because on Saturday
my parents are heading up to Vermont
to this weird preschool convention
that they go to every February.
Which means Sophie and I will have
the house to ourselves all day long!
So I’m practically floating down the corridor,
thinking about how we’re gonna be
alone in my kitchen, alone in my living room,
alone in my bedroom, alone in my bed …
when I happen to turn the corner
just in time to see Grace trip over
her own Converse high-tops and go flying.
Just in time to see her crash to the floor.
Just in time to hear everyone within earshot
start snickering when Dylan shouts out,
“Whoa … Grace …
You are such a Stein.”
Such a What?!
I stagger back,
feeling like a rifle blast
has just torn my chest to shreds.
He couldn’t have said
what I think he said,
could he?
But the answer slaps me hard
across the face:
He said it, all right.
And he didn’t even see me
when I came around the corner.
So he couldn’t have only been saying it
to get to me.
He was just saying it.
Like it was the most natural thing
in the world to say.
Like it was something
people say all the time.
Which means—
Oh, God!
They probably do say it
all the time!
No …
No …
No …
No …
No …
No …
No …
No !!!
I’ve Got to Get Away from Here
Got to be alone …
but where?
I stumble down the hall,
find the bathroom door,
shove it open quick,
rush into a stall,
lock the door behind me,
lean against the wall,
and let the tears
fall.
I’m Waiting for Sophie After School
Right here by the goalpost, like I always do.
But now that I’ve caught sight of her,
hurrying across the field to me
like a dream come true,
with such a big smile on her face
that I can even make it out from here,
now that I’ve seen
how carefree she looks,
how unsuspecting,
how totally clueless she is
about what I’m getting ready to do—
I suddenly realize
that there’s just no way
that I’ll be able
to do it.
And Before I Even Know What’s Happening
I’m running—
running as far away
and as fast away
from Sophie as I can get.
Sprinting past the bleachers,
cutting through the bushes,
racing down the sidewalk,
not looking back.
I’m running
from having to face her,
running from having to tell her,
running from having to say it out loud:
we’re going to have to break up.
But Just Thinking About Having to Do That
Makes me feel like a nuclear bomb
is whizzing straight toward me.
We have to break up, though.
We have to.
Because people have started treating Sophie
like they’ve always treated me.
And I wouldn’t wish that
on my worst enemy.
Well, actually, maybe I would wish that
on my worst enemy.
on Sophie.
When I Get Home
Mom takes one look at me,
then hurries over
and gives me a quick, fierce hug.
She tries to brush the hair off my forehead,
but I duck out of reach.
“Want me to make you some hot cocoa?” she says.
“No, thanks,” I say, running up the stairs.
“And if Sophie comes to see me or calls,
tell her I’m not home, okay?”
“Well…
if that’s what you
really want me to do …”
“Just do it!” I scream,
suddenly gripped by an overwhelming urge
to put my fist right through the wall.
Then I rage into my bedroom,
slam the door behind me,
fling myself onto the bed,
and smash my pillow down over my face.
A Few Minutes Later, the Doorbell Rings
I hear the sound
of the front door opening.
I hear the murmur of Sophie’s voice
mingled with Mom’s.
I hear the sound
of the door closing.
I go to the window
and watch Sophie walking away.
Even her back
looks sad …
I Fling Myself Back onto My Bed
And just then, my cell phone rings,
jolting me like a zap from a Taser.
It’s got to be Sophie!
(No one else even has the number
except for my parents.)
I rush over to my backpack
and start digging for it,
like I’m this half-starved dog
and there’s a nice meaty bone buried in there.
But when I finally find it,
I don’t answer it.
I just stand here staring at it,
beeping away in the palm of my hand.
And then—
I switch it off.
At Dinnertime
My parents
don’t even ask me
if I want to come down.
They just show up at my bedroom door
with a steaming bow!
of chicken noodle soup
on a tray.
Man …
my favorite food
from when I was little …
I almost lose it.
“Thanks,” I manage to croak.
“No problem,” Dad says,
giving me a thumbs-up.
Then he cocks his head to the side,
the way he always does
when he’s worried about me,
like I’m this message
written in a secret code
that he’s trying real hard
to crack.
Mom reaches
to brush the hair off my forehead,
and this time,
I let her.
“You want to talk about it?” she says.
I shake my head no,
trying hard not to choke
on the enormous lump in my throat.
I Have Got to Get My Mind Off Sophie
I guess I’ll try doing my math homework …
Problem:
If
a guy
wants to
avoid talking
to his girlfriend,
so he switches off
his cell phone at 4:30
p.m., but then his girlfriend
starts calling him on the land
line every ten minutes, only his
parents don’t want to have to lie
and tell her he isn’t home, so they
let the answering machine pick up
all the calls, but the answering machine
refuses to answer each call till the
phone’s rung at least 100 times, how many
times will the phone have to ring before
the guy TOTALLY LOSES IT????????
Around Ten O’Clock
My parents slip back into my room
and sit down on the edge of my bed.
A second later, the phone starts ringing,