And over there, by the group leaderas Teva sandal, plain as day, was the Eiffel Tower with Madeline and Miss Clavel and the row of girls in two straight lines. In two straight lines they ate their bread, brushed their teeth, and went to bed. An ideal life for someone with Aspergeras. Ava had always wanted to be Madeline, an orphan who lived in a cool old house with a solid unvarying routine, some built-in friends, and a nice old lady who was not your mother, like Nance.
Ava wouldave given anything to see a row of girls about then, because the guys in the support group were the most peculiar bunch of guys ever a.s.sembled in one room. They were mostly old and scary, not one potential boyfriend in the bunch. This week, though, there was a new guy there, baby faced, about her age, who said his name was Travis and that he didnat have Aspergeras but that his mom had wanted him to come check out the group. Interesting! A non-Aspie, not bad looking, who wanted to check them out! She wanted him to say more, but the other guys wouldnat let him get another word in. Their voices droned on.
aThose Aspies are so repulsive,a shead complained to her mother once, who told her that it wasnat very nice to say things like that, and that she should give them a chance, and that every man wasnat going to look like Elvis, so shead better face reality. Shead insisted that Ava join this group to improve her social skillsa"what a laugh. This group was the blind leading the blind.
So here she was, facing reality, and right now reality was the tall, hawk-faced Christian dude talking about his CD collection. His gla.s.ses hung unevenly on his face, one side lower than the other. Shead pointed this fact out to him once, and head told her that one of his ears was higher than the other. aThereas a real disparity in terms of how many recorded minutes there are on different kinds of alb.u.ms,a he told the group. aThere are twenty-two minutes on average for secular sound tracks and only fifteen for Christian music.a He made this statement in the same flat voice he made every statement.
The rest of the guys in the groupa"there were six of thema"didnat really listen to one another, but waited for a pause in the speeches to give their own. They were supposed to be learning conversational skills, but what they were doing wasnat having conversations. They were taking turns holding forth.
The man with the beard complained that Christian bookstores didnat carry any Christian computer games.
Then the group leader, the Teva sandals guy with the kooky namea"Sumptera"started in about how Northern milk is better than Southern milk because Northern cows have different digestive systems.
What Ava wanted, more than anything, was to find true love.
So far she hadnat had any luck on this front. Sometimes she went out on a date or two or even three with some atypicala guy, and shead get all panicked and excited and ask her mother, and even Suzi, for advice about what to wear. But after a few dates the boy would start backing away, and her mother told her that it was probably because of her Aspergeras. According to her mother, who grilled her after every date, Ava did everything wrong. She smiled too much. Either stared too intensely or wouldnat make eye contact. Began pacing and twiddling her fingers. Stiffened up when she shouldave been cuddly or made awkward, sloppy physical overtures out of nowhere. Talked about mundane, unrelated subjects in an overpersistent waya"the alb.u.ms of Elvis Presley or the health benefits of eating walnuts, for examplea"and failed to ask questions of her dates or interrupted them when they were talking.
Her mother had it all figured out; and she always emphasized that it wasnat Avaas fault. The typical young men just didnat understand, her mother explained to her, that Ava didnat have the inner resources to think much about other people when she was nervous, not because she didnat care, but because she was focusing very hard about how she was supposed to behave, which caused her to come across as either strange and wooden or as strange and random. Like her motheras explanation would make her feel better. Her mother always seemed relieved that things hadnat gone well. She didnat really want a boy to fall in love with Ava. Avaas mother had married young, when she and Avaas father were still in college, but she didnat want that for Ava. She wanted Ava to live at home for the rest of her life.
It looked like her mother might get her wish, because any normal boy who showed interest in Ava would soon drift away, never giving her any satisfactory explanation as to why, but leaving her feeling that shead failed yet again, that she would always fail because she was defective. Even though she was pretty! Everyone said so.
aIam going to be on Americaas Next Top Model,a Ava announced, interrupting the guy who was mumbling about movie popcorn and how bad it was for you. There was silence. The coffeepot in the corner hissed and sputtered and stank. All the men, with their hairy nostrils and asymmetrical eyes, were looking at her, not into her eyes but at parts of hera"her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her bare toes, her haira"and not saying anything. The new guy, Travis, the tall guy with fat cheeks, was staring at her mostly bare legs. Probably none of them cared about what she was saying, but they were making a s.p.a.ce for her, which, for them, was something.
aI made a new friend,a she explained. She didnat need to tell them that her new friend was seventy-seven. aSheas going to get me on that show. Iam going to win the contest and get a contract to be, like, a cover girl.a aThere arenat enough healthy food options at movie theaters,a said hawk beak.
aYouare pretty enough to be a model,a Travis said to her right knee. His side bangs hid one of his big brown eyes. aYou could win that contest.a aThose reality shows are all scripted,a said Sumpter, their self-appointed group leader, gazing sternly above her head. aItas not a real contest.a Ava felt she was being a.s.saulted. Put on the spot. Their words felt like needles p.r.i.c.kling her skin. She hoped they would shut up before she had to tell them to shut up.
aDo you want to go to the movies sometime?a Travis asked her now, in front of everyone.
aI donat know.a Ava pulled her sweatshirt hood up over her head. It was always freezing cold in the bas.e.m.e.nt, and the folding chair seats felt like blocks of ice.
aThatas not appropriate, Travis,a said Sumpter, as if he knew the meaning of the word appropriate. He thought he was more well-adjusted than the rest of them because he had a real joba"even though it was a crummy job, doing something with computers, the kind of job Ava would never want in a million years. Sumpter was afraid of anyone in authority. Any parent, teacher, and especially G.o.d himself, had to be consulted and obeyed. These guys were all big on G.o.d. aDoes your mother know that youare applying to be on Americaas Next Top Model?a Sumpter asked Ava.
aI told you, I have a friend whoas helping me,a Ava said. aNance. Sheas like my grandmother. Itas just between me and her.a aAva is old enough to do what she wants,a Travis said, and gave Ava a sweet little smile.
aHow do you get to be on that show?a the guy with watery eyes asked her.
aYou have to apply, send in pictures, all that. I donat have pictures. Nanceas going to help me get them.a aPictures like that are really expensive,a Sumpter said. aMy mother used to be on TV commercials. She was on one for Lemon Pledge. You have to get like a whole book of pictures in different poses.a aNance is going to pay for them,a Ava said. She felt elated. They were actually having a conversation for once, a conversation that included her. True, they were asking her challenging questions, putting her on the spot, which she usually hated, but at least they were paying attention to her.
Hawk face said, aYou have to be careful of people offering to do things for you. I learned that the hard way. There was this history teacher at my high school who offered to tutor me, and one day he asks me if I want to see his p.e.n.i.s.a aDid you see it?a said the man with the chapped lips who always wore a Sonnyas Bar-B-Q T-shirt, the guy who usually never said anything.
Hawk face twisted up his mouth in that painful way he had. aI did want to see it, just out of curiosity, but even I knew that he wanted more than me to just look at it. So I said no.a aYou missed your chance,a said Sonnyas Bar-B-Q. aI would have said yes.a aGross!a Ava saida"yelled, probably. Her voice always came out louder than she meant it to. aKeep it down!a people were always telling her. She flopped over double. Thatas it, she told herself. I canat sit here anymore. And Iam not coming back here, not for anything.
She just didnat like her own kind. She could understand why typical people avoided people with Aspergeras. They were obnoxious know-it-alls. Just like her brother, Otis. Mean, but true. Maybe girls wouldnat be so bad, but shead never been around any Asperger girls. It was depressing to realize that she didnat fit in here, and she sure didnat fit in with the so-called typical people. So what was left? Living with her mother for the rest of her life? Shead rather kill herself.
Her mother thought she was going to get into some fancy private college full of sn.o.bs and that somehow, miraculously, she was going to fit in and get straight Aas and become a famous scientist. Her mother just couldnat face facts. She was never going to understand math in a million years. Shead pa.s.sed her final algebra exam with a C, but no thanks to Nance, who hadnat actually tutored her at all. No, Nance had advised her to just forget about college and be a full-time model. Models didnat need a college degree, especially top models.
She was staring down at the floor so hard she saw it, saw a new scuff picture shead never noticed before, right there between her feet. Maybe shead even made the picture herself, with her very own flip-flops. It was a picture of hera"Ava Eleanor Witherspoona"one arm c.o.c.ked up behind her head, the other one on her hip. The scuff girl even had long hair like hers. She was posing, the scuff girl, and that was a sign.
The next Sat.u.r.day Nance had volunteered to take Ava to the support group, but once they got in the car she said she had a surprise for Avaa"they were going to get Avaas pictures taken instead! Nance had arranged it all.
She agreed with Ava that the support group was a waste of time. aYouave got more important fish to fry,a Nance told her. aYour mama doesnat need to know about the pictures, not yet.a Nance drove like a maniac, weaving in and out of lanes, speeding up quickly and then stepping on the brakes. Even Ava, whoad been too afraid to take driveras ed, knew that you werenat supposed to drive this way. aWhen you get famous, sheall be glad you did what you did!a aWell,a Ava said, thinking that her mother wouldnat really be pleased at all if Ava got famous, especially for something as shallow and superficial as modeling, but she wasnat doing this for her mother, she was doing it for herself. Ava rolled down the pa.s.senger side window of Nanceas Ford Taurus and stared at her face in the sideview mirror, at her long dark hair whipping around, her pale skin, her big blue eyes, her full pink lips. Ava felt a sickish kind of excitement bubble up inside her, the kind of excitement she felt when a new obsession was taking her over. Not that shead totally leave the old ones behinda"never Elvisa"but a new one always took her over like coming down with a virus and pushed the other ones aside. The virus didnat hurt, but it created an ache, a need, that might be soothed but never satisfied. It always seemed to start with a picturea"a picture shead seen of an earnest-looking girl on a horse jumping a fence, a n.o.ble rescue dog in a field guide, a young Elvis on a train in 1956. This time it was an image of herself.
Ever since shead decided to try and be Americaas next top model, she couldnat stop staring at herself in any mirror she found herself next to. She spent her time in her room, posing in front of her full-length mirror the way they did, hand on her hip, tilting her head this way and that. Sometimes she thought she looked better than any woman they had on that show, and sometimes all she could see were her flawsa"her fat nose, her long neck, her big ears, her flat b.o.o.bs. Then shead run out and find her mother somewhere in the house and cry to her mother that she was ugly, hideous, fat; and sometimes shead hit herself to drive the point home. Her mother did her best to ignore this behavior, but, Ava could tell, it took everything her mother had not to argue with her or try to soothe her or to keep from telling her to shut up and go away, because if she did any of these things Ava just latched onto her motheras words and incorporated them into her rant. It was all about trying to draw her mother into her circle of h.e.l.l. Shead rather there were two miserable people dealing with all her faults than just one person, herself, because she felt so overwhelmed by these feelings she had to push them off onto someone else.
Now though, because Nance thought she was pretty enough to be doing this and had offered to pay for fancy photographs, when she looked at herself she saw a gorgeous model. aI wonat have to take my clothes off, will I?a Ava said to Nance but looking at herself in the mirror. aFor the pictures?a On the application form for Americaas Next Top Model there was a bulleted item that said you had to agree to pose naked. There was no way Ava was going to do that, no matter what they said.
aOh, good Lord, no, honey,a Nance said. They were downtown now, with real traffic, or what pa.s.sed for traffic in Tallaha.s.see, and Nance was watching for a certain street. aThis is a reputable photographer weare going to. I asked around at church and got recommendations.a She saw the street she wanted, slammed on her brakes and then, without turning on her blinkers, surged around the corner. Riding with Nance was like being at Wild Adventures. The Crazy Woman Driver ride.
aWhat does your grandfather like to eat?a Nance asked Ava out of the blue.
Ava couldnat think, for a while, how to answer this question. aHe eats everything we eat,a she finally said.
aI mean, is there anything special he likes? For a treat?a aPineapple upside-down cake,a Ava said, because it was her favorite kind of cake.
The photographer was a man named Danny Boyle, or Danny Boy, something like that. He mostly looked at her through the lens of his camera. He had a nice, freckle-faced a.s.sistant girl, Marcy. For the first pose Marcy put lots of makeup on Ava, and Ava had to change into a black shirt with an elastic neckline; when they came out of the dressing room, Mr. Boy pulled the neck of the shirt and her bra straps down off her shoulders. Marcy turned a fan on her so that her hair whipped around and Mr. Boy took a hundred million pictures. Popular music blared from speakers, the same songs that played over and over again on Star 98. Big hot lights shone down on her, but it was okay, because the rest of the room was dark.
aNice. Nice,a Danny Boy kept saying.
When he said, little to the left, or little to the right, Ava froze up because she always had trouble remembering left from right, but Mr. Boy caught on and just told her to tilt her head toward Nance, who was sitting on one side of the room, or tilt her head toward the exit sign. aYouare a natural,a said Mr. Boy.
Marcy took her back into the dressing room, where there was a lighted mirror like in the dressing rooms you see on TV, and helped Ava change her black shirt for a striped b.u.t.ton-down shirt and smoothed her hair into a bun and put fake gla.s.ses and pink lipstick on her and took her back out under the lights and sat her at a desk.
Mr. Boy unb.u.t.toned a few of her shirt b.u.t.tons before he started taking pictures. aThe s.e.xy secretary,a he crowed.
Nance clapped when they finished doing the secretary.
Then Marcy made her into a tennis player wearing a visor and swingy skirt, then helped her get into a sundress, curled her hair with a curling thing, and gave her a basket of daisies to swing. Then she gelled Avaas hair and teased it up and put tons of eye liner on and a ripped T-shirt with chains hanging on it and tight leathery pants. For that pose she got to make angry, fierce faces.
The whole process seemed like it was taking hours. Much longer than support group was supposed to last, but Nance, no doubt, would give her mother some believable lie, and her mother would buy it. Why would Nance be willing to lie about such a thing?
A good question, one she didnat have an answer to, one that made her uneasy. But she found that she enjoyed posing, pretending she was in front of her mirror in her room, and also enjoyed just sitting there pa.s.sively in the dressing room while somebody else made her up and fixed her hair and dressed her. It was sort of being like a kid again, all burden of responsibility for how you look removed from your shoulders. Ava kept smiling at herself in the dressing room mirror, and Marcy joked with her about it. Marcy had crooked teeth, but Avaas were white and straight.
The last pose was supposed to be in a bathing suit, one of hers from home. Marcy took off nearly all of Avaas makeup and wet down her hair with a spray bottle. But when Ava came out in her one-piece suit and the high-heeled sandals theyad given her, the beach towel draped around her shoulders, Mr. Boy, for the first time that day, took his camera away from his face and frowned.
aIs that the only suit you brought?a aItas the only one I have,a Ava said, which wasnat true, but it was the only suit shead allow herself to be photographed in.
Mr. Boy bit his fleshy, wormlike lip and studied her with judging eyes. He motioned for Marcy to turn down the music, thank G.o.d, that annoying song about the black horse and the cherry tree. Mr. Boy studied her some more, and she felt, for the first time that afternoon, horribly self-conscious.
aYouall have to take it off. Take the suit off.a aRight now?a was the only thing Ava could say.
He shook his head, a swath of blondish red hair swinging. aNo, dear, go into the back, take off your suit, wrap a towel around you and come back out. Weall do some nude shots. That suit doesnat work.a Her heart started thumping like something just woken up. No. She didnat want to do this. Did she have to? Of course, she didnat have to. Her mother had always told her that she didnat have to do anything involving s.e.x that made her uncomfortable. Taking off her clothes for Mr. Boy had to do with s.e.x, but it was also just playacting at s.e.x, and it had to do with fame and fortune. She didnat want to do it, not because she had anything against s.e.x and fame and fortune, but because she was ashamed of her naked body, that she was sure wouldnat measure up.
Ava glanced at Nance for help. aCan I talk to you?a Nance came over and walked uncertainly out under the big lights, blinking and squinting like a mole rat, her face a hypnotizing surface of crosshatched fine lines. It was all Ava could do not to touch them.
aShould I take off my clothes?a Ava asked her, her face flushing. She towered over Nance in the high heels.
aAbsolutely not,a said Nance in a low voice. She pulled on Avaas arm, trying to get Ava to lean close, but Ava couldnat help shrinking away. aJust put your clothes back on and letas get out of here.a aOkay.a Ava let out a huge breath she didnat know she was holding.
aYou didnat really want to get on that show anyway,a Nance muttered.
Behind them, Marcy and Mr. Boy were laughing about something. Probably about her.
aWhat? I do too want to go on it.a aWell, you have to be willing to pose naked.a Nance shrugged. aAnd youare not.a aWould you do it?a Nance laughed that barkish laugh. aIf I looked like you, Iad do it in a heartbeat.a aWho would see them? The pictures?a aJust the judges. Thatas all.a an.o.body else?a Nance grasped her arm again. aNot unless you want them to.a She winked at Ava. Did she really wink?
There was something wrong with Nance. Ava might have a syndrome, but she could tell that there was something off about Nance. The way shead used reverse psychology on Ava was creepy. Ava had learned about reverse psychology in school. aI donat trust you,a Ava blurted out.
aWhy not?a Nance backed up, with an inscrutable little smile, and Ava knew then that Nance was no Miss Clavel from the Madeline books. Nance, unlike Miss Clavel, didnat care about something being not right.
aAre we ready?a called Mr. Boy. aChop-chop.a Lounging naked in a beach chair and letting Mr. Boy take pictures of her turned out to be the easiest thing shead done that day. It was easy as soon as she decided to act the same way shead acted when shead had s.e.x with that boy from her writing cla.s.s. Head taken her to a motel room on Monroe Street, the Prince Murat, and asked her to pose for him on the bed, and she did, and then she let him do things to her that, when added up together, amounted to s.e.x. Most of what he did either hurt her slightly or felt annoying, but it was all over quickly. She didnat really like the guy, Cesare was his name, but she just wanted to check alose virginitya off her to-do list, and he just wanted s.e.x, too, so there was a low-stress businesslike feeling to the whole encounter. Plus, her parents would lose it if they knew, which was an added bonus.
aBeautiful, beautiful,a Mr. Boy was crooning, leaning over her and snapping away.
Yes, she was beautiful. aToo bad you arenat Elvis,a she said to Mr. Boy.
aBut I am Elvis,a he said without missing a beat. He curled up his wormy lip, and it didnat look so bad. aIam the King, baby.a Mr. Boy was cool. Ava loosened up even more. She felt her v.a.g.i.n.a getting slickery and the hot lights felt good and she knew she was enjoying herself, maybe more than she was supposed to.
aTurn toward your friend,a said Mr. Boy.
So she did, and she caught sight of Nance scribbling something in a little notebook. What was she writing? Ava felt herself getting tense again.
aThatas a wrap,a said Mr. Boy.
On the way home, Ava felt calmer than she had in a long time. She sat back in her seat, not feeling compelled, for the time being, to check herself in the mirror, because she was beautiful, Mr. Boy had seen her naked and confirmed it.
aThat thing we just did cost a lot of money,a Nance said, her eyes darting over at Ava.
aThank you very much,a Ava said.
aItall be worth it. This is just the beginning for you, my dear. Youare going to get on that show and get rich and famous and show everybody!a aShow them what?a aYouall be a star!a Nance leaned forward like she was pushing the car with her upper body. an.o.body will mistreat you ever again.a aReally?a Ava didnat believe this for a minute. People were always mistreating people.
aWeall show them,a Nance muttered, pounding her little fist on the steering wheel.
Ava didnat really want to show people anything. aIf my mom finds out about this,a she said, aIall tell her it was your idea. It was your idea.a Nance tightened her grip on the leatherette wheel, her mouth in a tight line. She looked like Miss Clavelas evil twin.
aBut thanks so much,a Ava said, afor taking me and paying for the pictures. It was so nice of you and I really appreciate it.a aDoes your grandfather ever go for walks by himself?a Nance said, not seeming to hear the thanks. aIs there any place he goes on a regular basis?a aHe likes the Cracker Barrel,a Ava said, because she couldnat think of what to say to Nanceas nosy questions, and she herself liked the Cracker Barrel. aHe doesnat get to go there much,a she added, and Nance smiled.
Head drawn their locations on a grid for maximum efficiency, and since a lot of the shops were on South Monroe, he decided, on his first Sat.u.r.day off from McDonaldas in three weeks, to work his way south on Monroe. Actually, he didnat get the day offa"he was taking it off. It was Memorial Day weekend so theyad be swamped at McDonaldas, but head called in anyway and left a message for his boss, Oinker, saying he was sick, which might mean head get fired the next time he went in. Head worry about that later.
All the antique stores in town had wimpish names: Remembered Treasures, Grandmaas Attic, the Ding a Ling, Miss Sandyas, Old Glory, Sisters, Something Nice, Southern Chicks. Antique stores were for old ladies. If you didnat already know that, the names of the places would be a big hint. He felt conspicuous and clumsy going in, but his Geiger counter helped. As soon as he opened the trunk of the Pontiac and took out his Geiger countera"a blue metal machine about the size of his forearm that looked like a cross between a car window sc.r.a.per and huge d.i.l.d.oa"he always felt better. He had a purpose. He was a man with a machine, a man on a mission. The women in the stores watched him curiously as he waved his machine over the merchandise, but they watched him with respect. Or, maybe they were just scared of him, which was okay, too.
He ticked the stores on South Monroe off his list, one by one. At the next to last store, Grandmaas Attic, his was the only car parked in front of the shop. With his trusty Geiger counter in hand he opened the door, setting off the usual electronic bell sound, and stepped inside the tepid air-conditioning. The room smelled both dusty and moldy, like all the shops head been in. This one, though, had a stinky cinnamon-scented candle burning somewhere.
He took in his surroundings. Long room with no windows except the dirty plate gla.s.s ones in the front. No other customersa"no visible people, period. Typical stuff. Lots of old dishes, toys, random furniture, shelves of paperbacks, cases of costume jewelry. He didnat see any clocks, but there had to be some, maybe hidden, even buried. He would cast a wide net.
He switched on his Geiger counter, turning it to signal with a blinking light rather than sound, and started up the aisle, swinging his machine slowly over the shelves of junk. On the little Geiger counter screen the dial occasionally jumped around and the light flashed on and off, picking up random bits of radioactivity here and there, but nothing substantial.
aHey, hon.a A womanas voice. She was planted on a chair behind a counter, reading a magazine. She sat there so motionless that his eyes had swept right over her, detecting no life in that vicinity. aWhatacha got there?a she asked him. Dark helmet hair and fat. Jabba the Hutt, wearing red plastic jewelry. Sucking on a lollipop.
Otis told her that he was trying to find radioactive things for a school science project. He could have just asked her if she had any old clocks, but he didnat want her help, because that would mean more conversation and interference on her part.
aNothing radioactive in here, hon,a she said. She pulled the red lollipop from her mouth and shook it at him. aBetter not be.a aMind if I look?a aJust be careful with that thing. Donat go breaking any of my valuable merchandise.a The lollipop went back into her mouth.
aI wonat break anything,a he said. She mightave been kidding about the valuable merchandise, but he had a hard time telling if people were kidding. He just hoped she wasnat going to keep asking him questions, because if she did, head have to move on to his final locationa"Sister Sandyas. Or was it Miss Sandyas?
He swept his Geiger counter over a box of dolls with china heads, then over a shelf of Happy Meal toysa"might be a clock or watch hidden anywherea"moving steadily toward the back of the room and away from Jabba the Hutt.
aThereas an article about the Red Hills Horse Trials in here,a Jabba announced. aYou go to that?a Otis told her that he didnat go, not volunteering that Ava went every year. He didnat want to give Jabba any information she might use as a net to trap him into talking to her.
aWhoad want to gallop a horse over these gigantic fences?a she asked. aSheesh. Even after Christopher Reeve they do it. You could break your fool neck.a Otis hated it when people made p.r.o.nouncements like this, because he never knew if they expected a reply or not. He opted for not speaking. The light on his Geiger counter was just flipping on occasionally. So far no clocks at all. He kept moving, like a shark. Sharks probably had radioactive stuff in their stomachs, because theyad eat anything. Funny how he was terrified of sharks but not of radioactivity.
By this time he was at the back of the room and he noticed another room to his left, a whole room next to this one, a room where there wouldnat be any Jabbas watching over him.
He moved into the other room, waving his wand over dressers, coffee tables, souvenir ashtrays, raggedy couch pillows, and stacked flowered tablecloths. He bent down and stuck the wand back into a corner where there were some iron piggy banks.
aWell, if it ainat the s.p.a.ceman.a Otis, startled, backed into a bra.s.s floor lamp and steadied it before it fell.
Rusty, the goth girl who lived in his neighborhood, the ministeras daughter, was sitting in an old yellow lounge chair with a stack of comic books in her lap, a can of c.o.ke resting on the arm of the chair.
Otis hoped she wouldnat spill the c.o.ke. He worried about things like drinks spilling. aWhat are you doing here?a Otis said. Rusty was the last person in the world head thought would hang out at Grandmaas Attic.
Rusty took a big swallow of her c.o.ke and belched. aThis is my grandmaas shop.a aYour grandma is the Grandma?a aSo they say.a She took another sip of c.o.ke and then flung the empty can into the room behind her. It hit something and rolled a ways.
aPick up whatever that was!a Jabba yelled from the next room, but Rusty didnat budge.
aIam perusing these comic books while I wait for Royce,a Rusty told Otis. aYou know Royce, right?a Otis did know Royce. Royce and Rusty were a scary couple, pale, skinny, dyed black hair, permanent smirks on their faces. They walked the streets of Canterbury Hills and the halls of Sunny Side High School like two ghouls risen from the graveyard. Why did Rusty have to be sitting here in Grandmaas Attic? Weekends were when he was supposed to have a rest from people like Rusty.
Otis felt anxiety bubble up in his stomach, the way it did every morning when he went into Sunny Side High School, a horrible feeling he was used to and had learned to hide. He gravitated toward the teachers because most of them were patient with him and didnat openly laugh at him or whisper about him or ignore him. Except his English teacher, Mr. Lennon, who seemed to find everything Otis said side-splittingly funny. The teachers were getting paid to put up with him, it was true, but for Otis the knowledge of this fact was only a small humiliation compared to the myriad other humiliations visited upon him, either on purpose or not, by his fellow cla.s.smates. Fresh in his memory was yesterdayas history cla.s.s, when, toward the end of the hour, head opened his mouth and began to speaka"offering up tidbits about World War II bombersa"information head read somewherea"and as he was talking about P-51 Mustangs, and P-47 Thunderbolts and B-29 Flying Fortresses he saw the teacher, Mr. Fusek, shaking his head at someone, so Otis looked around. Half of the cla.s.s was rolling their eyes or covering their ears, and the other half was snickering. This was bad enough, but even worse was the realization head had later, on the bus going home, that theyad probably been doing this all year long and he just hadnat noticed.
There was just one more week of his junior year to endure until they got out for the summer. And this would be a great summer. This summer would be his summer! The summer of his triumph! Surely he could handle Rusty for a few minutes, since she wasnat attached to Royce and they were in a totally different place than usual.
He switched off his Geiger counter and glanced around the big rooma"a huge walnut bed, a red dinette set, a gla.s.sed-in bookcase, racks of what looked like old prom dresses, but no clocks. aWhat kind of comic books are you reading?a he asked Rusty, just to stall.
aRadioactive Man. From The Simpsons. Ever seen him?a Rusty held up a comic book with a Bart Simpsonisha"looking character on it, dressed in a superhero suit.
Otis had never heard of Radioactive Man. Was this just a coincidence? Or was Rusty mocking him? Was this a planned prank? But Rusty hadnat known head be coming in here. Like usual, Otis was taking too long to reply to someone, which made him seem even more gooney. He needed to say something quick, something safe. aThere was a big earthquake in Indonesia. Six thousand people were killed.a Rusty tossed her dyed black hair. Even from here, Otis could smell cigarettes. She mimicked Otis. aI heard about the earthquake in Indonesia.a Then back to her own voice. aIs that an alien detector you got there? The only alien in here is my grandma. Did she give you a hard time? She doesnat like men, only horses. Hey, isnat unguent a great word? Itas my new favorite.a aIam looking for clocks. The old kind, with glow-in-the-dark dials. The bigger the better.a Rusty did her smirk. aYouare so twisted. Hey. Want to come to a party with us tonight? Me and Royce. FSU party. Free beer and other stuff, if you get my drift.a Instead of lowering her voice, shead raised it. Her grandma would hear!
aCanat, I got plans,a Otis said. Head learned that most invitations he received werenat sincere, so it was best to say no straightaway just to be safe. And he really did have plans. When he was done building his model breeder reactora"the youngest person ever to build one, the only civilian to ever build onea"then he could take time out to go to parties. People would be having parties in his honor!
aWhat plans? Jerking off to Internet sites about aliens?a aI donat believe in aliens,a Otis told Rusty. aThereas no definitive proof, from any reliable source, that any so-called alien beings or their crafts have ever visited Earth.a aWhatever.a Rusty slouched back in the chair. aYou look normal, but youare like totally abnormal. Are you going to pull a Columbine one of these days? Just let me know when so I can sleep in that day.a Rusty smiled at him again, a nice smile this time, and Otis saw that she was still as pretty as she used to be in elementary school, even under all that black eyeliner and dark lipstick. Rusty had been a born-again Christian in elementary school. Back then, she went around telling everyone that her father was a minister, and she was always inviting other kids to her church. What had happened to her? She used to be a cheerleader in middle school, but now she skulked around the edges of everything, making fun.
Desire came over Otis with surprising force. He really, really, really wanted to tell Rusty what he was doing in the shed, exactly what he was making, how much work it had been, how difficult it was to do it, and how much acclaim he was going to get for making it. The closer he got to being finished, the harder it was, head discovered, to keep his mouth shut. And the fact that she was reading Radioactive Mana"that had to be a sign! aIam building a model breeder reactor in my shed,a he blurted out.