I started to go stir crazy hanging around the
house. There was absolutely nothing to do. I sat on the
couch and fipped through the channels while Maureen sat in the dining
room with her technical drawings and schematics. Every now and
then she’d look up and make some remark about whatever celebrity was on
Entertainment Tonight, or
comment on the medical inaccuracies of M*A*S*H. The kicker was when
she looked up for a split second and solved a Wheel of Fortune puzzle that I had
been racking my brains over for at least twelve letters. Then she
had the nerve to insult Vanna White.
“Can you turn the volume down? I’m having a
hard time concentrating.”
I grabbed the channel changer an turned the TV off
instead. Maureen noticed the abruptness of my action and decided
to comment on that, too.
“Look, if you’re really bored, you don’t have to
stay. I’m perfectly capable of staying here by myself.”
“I’ll get in trouble.”
“I’ll explain it to your mother. I’m sure
she’ll understand.”
“I don’t have a ride.”
“Do you have a bike?”
“I’m not allowed to ride at night.”
“It isn’t dark yet.”
“It’s getting there.” I got up and walked down
the hallway to my room, closing the door once I was inside. I
turned my radio on, hoping that A. J. would be on the air, but it was
someone else. I heard the phone ring in the other room, and a
while later I heard Maureen get into an argument with whoever it was
that called. I sat at the foot of my bed and glanced around at
all the space posters and model kits I had hanging by strings from the
ceiling. For some reason, I had the urge to take them all
down. I kept thinking how cool it would be to have a Def Leppard
poster where my Star Wars
poster was. Two weeks ago, that would have been unthinkable.
I looked at my closet. There must have been a
ton of sci-fi junk in there. I had games, comics, magazines,
paperbacks, and action figures of just about every character in the Star Wars trilogy. It seemed
silly that I ever bought them in the first place, but they did mean a
lot to me then. I used to play with them for hours on end.
I even had all the spaceships. In a few years, they might become
collector’s items worth hundreds of dollars, like the old Star Trek dolls, but right now they
just looked stupid and childish.
I began to put everything in boxes and took them to
the storage room in the basement. I didn’t have the nerve to
throw them away just yet. My closet looked strange without
them. Now I actually had room for clothes.
Maureen was still arguing on the phone when I took
the last load to the basement. “That can’t be right,” she
said. “That information just doesn’t check out. There’s got
to be some kind of mistake in your calculation. Check it again.”
There was a pause.
“I don’t care if it’s time for your coffee
break. Check that readout again.”
Maureen noticed me watching from the stairs.
“That still doesn’t check out. Are you sure
you have the right transmission? Let me talk to your
supervisor. You are the supervisor? How does someone as
incompetent as you get to be in a position of authority? Is your
father the president of the company or something? He is? It
figures!”
I shook my head and went back to my room.
“Okay, okay. Have somebody bring that new data
over to Mr. Larson’s house as soon as you have it printed out.”
The phone rang again.
“Oh, it’s you again. How many times do I have
to tell you she’s not here?”
She slammed the phone down just as I peeked my head
back out of my door. “Who was that?”
“He didn’t say. He wanted that Sylvia girl.”
“Casey…” I murmured. “Next time, let me
talk to him!”
“Next time, you answer the phone!”
“Okay, then!”
Maureen started to reply, but I shut my door and
turned up the volume on my radio to drown out her voice. A heavy
metal song came on next. As it was playing I could hear a
motorcycle engine revving in the background. At first I thought
it was a special effect to go along with the music, but then I
remembered that Casey was out on his motorcycle that night. I
jumped up to look out the window and saw Casey sitting on his
motorcycle in our front yard. Maureen was yelling at him from the
front door. I grabbed my hooded sweatshirt and ran down the
hallway, making sure to bump into her as I ran passed her in the
doorway.
“Casey! Wait!”
He was already headed for the driveway when he heard
me call his name. He looked back and stopped his motorcycle.
“The Ice Queen says Sylvia went to the dance with
your bro. Say it ain’t so, Joe.”
“She did.”
“Crap…”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, like, I’m not really doing anything myself,
and…”
“And what?”
“And…well, I was thinking maybe I could…well…”
“Well what?”
“I don’t want to be pushy or anything, but I
wouldn’t mind going for a ride with you on your motorcycle…that is, if
it’s okay with you.”
Casey handed me the extra helmet. “Put this on
then.” I slid it over my head and climbed on behind him.
“Ready.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to check out the dance first. I
want to see if you’re really there.” He grabbed my arms and
pulled them tighter around himself. “You’re going to have to hang on
tighter than that, Sweetcheeks. I don’t want you falling off and
splattering your cute little brains all over the road.”
He hit the accelerator and we roared off toward the
high school. I was amazed that we didn’t get killed just leaving
my driveway. When we got to the dance, I was shivering from the
wind.
“That’s his car,” he said. “They’re here.”
“Are we going in?”
He shut the bike off and put the kickstand down. “No
way. Let’s just look in the window. I don’t want to be seen in a
preppie dork festival like this. I have a reputation to uphold.”
We took off our helmets and walked to the
gymnasium. The people inside were dancing to the Talking Heads.
“See them anywhere?”
“No. Not yet.”
The song came to an end and a slow one by Journey
came on next. “There they are. Slow dancing. She told
me she hates this song.”
I didn’t know what to say. Casey let out a
sigh and gave me a tired look.
“So this is how it ends. This sucks.
This really sucks! Curt Larson, of all people. What’s her
problem?”
“Beats me.”
“I can’t believe this. Let’s get out of here.”
I followed him back to the motorcycle. He
looked at me and noticed I was shivering. “You look cold.
Here, put on my jacket until I find you something warmer to wear.”
I slid his black leather jacket on and climbed back
on the bike. “Thanks.”
“Let’s go to my house. I’ve got a leather
jacket you’ll probably fit. It was my first leather.”
“Okay.”
He looked back at the dance for a moment. “The
hell with them.” Then he started up the engine and we tore out of
the parking lot like a bat out of hell…or at least the Meatloaf album
cover of the same name.
