The Bermudez Triangle (16 page)

“What the hell are you going to do without a drummer?”

“Freelance,” Hareth said knowingly.

Avery didn’t even pretend she knew what this meant. Hareth had his own language.

“I found this keyboard in my garage,” Gaz said. “I think it was Phil’s. He played with us last year, and then he moved. Want to play it?”

Avery thought this over. It probably wouldn’t hurt to join a group—even a really bad group like Angry Maxwell. Then again, she would probably end up beating Gaz and Hareth over the head with the keyboard. They were nice guys, but they weren’t very technically proficient. “I’m getting a Kit Kat,” she said, wanting to buy herself a few minutes to think this over.

She got up and walked to the back of the cafeteria, where the machines were. The school had blocked the use of the soda machines during the day in an attempt to make it look like they were part of the fight against obesity, but the candy and chips were, thankfully, still available. Avery dug around in her pocket for a few coins and dropped them into the machine.

And then she heard it. It was soft and indistinct, but she heard it.

“Dyke.”

Avery froze. If she turned to see who’d spoken, she would implicate herself. Better not to associate herself with the term. Pretend like she didn’t even know that it could be her that this person
was talking about. She steadied her hand and hit the code for the Kit Kat. B2. The coil that held the Kit Kat started to rotate back to free the package.

“… such a dyke.”

Still just a little over a whisper. It was coming from behind her, from the direction of the soda machine.

The Kit Kat landed with a thud. As she bent down to reach for it, she turned her head just slightly to see who was talking. Two girls were leaning against the wall on the other side of the soda machine, deep in conversation about something. Avery only knew one of them. Her name was Alicia. She sat in front of Avery in geometry when they were sophomores. She had long, straw-colored hair that always reeked of really expensive-smelling hair care products.

As she passed them on her way back to her table, their conversation got just a tiny bit quieter, and there was a sliver of a pause during which Avery knew that they were both examining her reaction. She kept her gaze forward, as if she hadn’t heard anything at all, and made sure not to increase her pace. She was instantly paranoid, sure that eyes were following her as she wove between the tables.
Everyone
knew.

Hareth was beating out a rhythm on the table when she returned.

“Mixing with this, mixing with that, Avery got a Kit … Kat.” He stopped and turned to Gaz. “See?”

“Right,” Gaz said. “You have to break there or else it makes no sense.”

“Ex
act
ly.”

Alicia and the other girl silently passed the table, never once turning back to glance at Avery. Once they got to their table, though, they bent their heads together again, and Alicia threw a quick look over her shoulder.

Now Avery’s brain was moving quickly, filling with unformed thoughts. She looked down at herself. Jeans, a grungy vintage T-shirt for some plumbing company, heavy shoes, and a leather cuff bracelet. She could feel her cropped hair brushing against the back of her neck. The only makeup she had on was some dark liner around her eyes. Why didn’t she just put on an I’m Not Gay, But My Girlfriend Is shirt and get it over with?

No one would call Mel a dyke. Mel wore pink shirts and cute little necklaces, and she had all of that long, orangey hair that was always whipped into some adorable arrangement. She hated Mel’s cuteness at that moment. Hated that Mel had been so stubborn in the bookstore. Mel had nothing to worry about. Only Avery would be seen as the rough dyke who lusted after the cheerleaders and couldn’t be trusted in the locker room after gym. Other girls would put their books up over their boobs when they passed her in the hall, and they’d stop fixing their makeup when she walked into the bathroom. They would see her as a predator trying to sneak a peek or cop a feel, even if she just bumped into them in the doorway or as she squeezed in between rows of desks.

“What do you think?” Gaz said, interrupting Avery’s psychological meltdown.

“Oh … yeah.”

She couldn’t recall exactly what it was that Gaz had requested. Something about a keyboard. It didn’t matter. Now she just wanted to be seen with some guys. She would need to stick close to these two.

“Right …” Gaz said, smiling.

Alicia and her friend turned away, but Avery knew she was going to be under observation from now on, like some kind of mutant organism trapped on a slide.

October 29

TO: Steve

FROM: Nina

So, tomorrow night is one of the big events at AHH—the annual hayroll, which is run by the council, which basically means me. It’s a hayride at one of the local farms. You know, get in the truck, ride around the woods, people in costumes go “boo.”

Here’s a little background so that you can feel totally in the know about My Life and the Stuff I Have to Do:

1. It’s called the hayroll because people are supposed to try to lose their virginity on it, like it’s supposed to be a hot farm sex fest. This is a total lie, because everyone’s squished into the trucks together and there is no privacy at all. (Also, hay? Ouch.) This is an extra-big deal because if you leave our school a virgin, the bust of Alexander Hamilton in the front lobby is supposed to speak your name on graduation day.

2. The school actually seems to believe in this hayroll crap, because the teachers always make sure the reproductive system lessons come up in health class right beforehand.

3. Someone always throws up on one of the trucks—usually the one I’m on. Since I’m not taking the ride this year, it probably won’t happen. Plus it’s always crazy cold and I can’t even wear two pairs of gloves this year because I have to count money and rip tickets.

Sorry. I usually sound a lot more enthusiastic. I think this is just one of those times when you feel extra far away because everyone’s going to be talking hot farm sex all night. Also, if you’re a couple at AHH, you have to go to the hayroll as a date, which means that Mel and Avery will be there together, probably talking h.f.s. too.

Okay. Here’s something really weird. The more I try to just get used to the Mel and Avery thing, the more I keep … picturing them. It’s not on purpose. I’m just trying to force the idea into my brain that they’re
a couple and it’s all fine, then suddenly I’ve got an episode of “The L Word” going on in my head and I have to run downstairs and watch decorating shows until it washes away.

I may not live through this weekend. Remember, if I die, I love you, and you can have my Apple notebook and my label maker.

October 29

TO: Nina

FROM: Steve

This is one of those times I wish I was there (okay, which is always). I can handle hay. I am rugged and outdoorsy.

At my school it’s Samhain time. Beltane is supposed to be the big sex holiday, but here every holiday is an excuse for sweet pagan love. I don’t usually have to picture it because it all happens right in front of me. I’m that guy everyone feels comfortable around. It’s like, “Steve won’t mind if we have sex here on the coffee table. He’s totally down with the Goddess.” And it’s not that I care, it’s just that you’re really far away, so I have to concentrate on things like how to get more people to reuse their plastic shopping bags and not my INCREDIBLY GORGEOUS AND AMAZING GIRLFRIEND ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY.

See? All caps. That’s how much this stresses me out sometimes.

Okay. Speaking of, I have a thing to go to tonight that my friend River is having, and it will totally be like what I just described. Great, huh?

I love you.

Plastic bags, plastic bags, plastic bags …

On the morning
of the hayroll the
S
thief was definitely in the spirit. The sign in front of the school mysteriously changed from
GET
YOUR
TICKETS
TO
ANNUAL
HAYRIDE
ON
FRIDAY
to the much simpler
AL
SES
GET
LAID
. (Thus using his spare
S
but gaining a lot of new letters.)

Avery noticed this, not just because she liked to follow the exploits of the
S
thief, but also because she wasn’t really in the mood for the hayroll at all. The last few weeks had been hard. Nothing had really happened except a few lingering looks now and then. Only a couple were unfriendly. Most were just curious or even kind of approving. Still, Avery didn’t want to be observed, and the hayroll was all about public displays of coupledom, which was only going to make her feel more conspicuous about herself. Also, she knew that Mel was going to be on high alert for signs of romance, something Avery was feeling increasingly less comfortable supplying.

Fortunately, Mel had to work most of the night, but she was going to be getting off in just enough time for them to make the hayroll if she hurried. That would mean a talk about whether or not
they should make it clear that they were going together. Avery just wasn’t up for it.

When Avery went to Mel’s locker after Spanish, a tiny, triangle-shaped note fell out. It read:
Hayroll 2nite, yes
? —
M.
Avery shoved it deep in her pocket. Then she went to lunch and asked Gaz to schedule a rehearsal for that night. Gaz never minded doing this because all rehearsal really meant was having Hareth and Avery come sit in his basement.

Even though Avery tried to keep a low profile for the rest of the day, Mel caught up with her in the hall between sixth and seventh. Mel was in a giddy mood. Her hair was loose and flowing, and she was almost walking on the tips of her toes.

“Do you want to pick me up right after work?” Mel asked.

“I have rehearsal,” Avery said.

“Tonight?” Mel seemed to collapse a bit.

“Yeah. It just came up.”

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m supposed to,” Avery said. “I can’t just skip.”

Avery knew she should be feeling bad about this. She was basically lying. It was almost worse that she’d gone to the trouble of staging a cover story. Now Mel looked guilty for asking her to skip rehearsal because Mel was always supportive of Avery’s music. If it was about music, Mel wouldn’t argue.

Besides, what else was she supposed to do? Mel had hardly been taking the hint. Like now. Here she was giving Avery the sad eyes right in the middle of the hall.

“We can meet up after,” Avery said quickly. “Okay?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Mel wanted to say more. Avery could almost see her tiny muscles straining to keep herself in check, but she pretended not to notice this. She turned and went to class.

Frost was late, which was a first.

Most AP types normally sat and waited when teachers were running late because they were AP types, but the AP history students had the additional element of fear keeping them in their seats. They all seemed to understand that if anyone left the room for any reason, Frost would find them and head-butt them right in the middle of the hallway.

Nina took out her notebook and had started listing her current thirty SAT words when she noticed that Susan Yee was inching closer to her.

“Can I ask you something?” Susan said. She kept her voice very low.

“Sure.”

“Are your friends gay?”

Nina glanced at Devon. He was deeply engrossed in cleaning off the viewfinder of his camera with his tie. As far as Nina knew, Devon and Susan weren’t friends, so the chances were low that Susan had heard this from him.

Frost made her appearance just then. She stormed into the room with her usual subtlety.

“Books closed, my geniuses,” she said. “Oral quiz.”

Nina spent the rest of the period cultivating a slow-growing panic. If
Susan Yee knew, things had gotten out of hand. The news had to be everywhere.

As Frost began to drill them, a strange line of thought entered Nina’s head: Maybe people would assume she was gay as well. Not that there was anything wrong with it—there was definitely nothing wrong with it—but she
wasn’t
. The fact that she didn’t have a boyfriend whom she could bring in for show-and-tell didn’t help matters. She was like those guys who always claim to have a girlfriend in Canada. Except she had a boyfriend in Oregon—she really really did.

None of this was helped by the fact that Frost was throwing around questions like, “What was the outcome of
Marbury v. Madison
?” and, “What was the Nonintercourse Act a response to?” Nina got that second question, and, as suggestive as it sounded, she knew the answer was “public outcry over the Embargo Act of 1807.” Except she was so jangled that when Frost turned to her Nina accidentally came out with “the Sedition and Alien Laws,” because for some reason that phrase had been running through her head since she’d first heard of it two weeks before. It was so grievously wrong that Frost actually laughed out loud and marked off something next to Nina’s name before she could correct herself.

When she got to the council office after class, the only person there was Jeff, sitting at a computer, his eyes glued to a countdown on his auction page.

“Eleven minutes,” he explained to Nina as she came into the office. He repeatedly refreshed the screen. “Everything happens at the end.”

Devon came in, sat down, and stared intently into the LCD screen of his camera and flipped through pictures.

Don’t say anything
, Nina told herself.
It’ll only make it worse.

“Thanks,” she said, ignoring her own advice.

“For what?” he asked.

“You know what.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

Jeff appeared to be engaged in his auction still, but Nina sensed that he was keeping one ear on the conversation that was taking place next to him.