An Infatuation (7 page)

Barbara spit out her bubble gum and replaced it with a new supply. “The band sounded good, Harold.”

Feeling obligated, I responded, “Nice cheers out there too, Barbara.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Clearly Mario was expected to respond to this. When he didn’t, Barbara turned to stone, like Lot’s wife in Sodom.

Mario finally took the hint. “Barb, the cheers were great. You stole the half-time show, as usual.”

“Thanks… I guess.” In an effort to pout, Barbara raised her berry-glossed lower lip toward her surgically altered nose. When Mario didn’t get the message, Barbara bit her cheek and a tear formed in her eye.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Mario asked, finally catching the hint.

Barbara rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t like to complain, honey.”

“Barbara’s got a lot on her plate right now,” Mario explained to me.

Yeah, you.

Hearing her cue, Barbara said, “More than a lot. I have to teach all the cheers, keep our advisor away from practice, ensure the uniforms are sweat-mark-free, share makeup and hair tips with the other girls, and check out other school’s squads to make sure their girls aren’t better than we are.”

“I know, honey,” Mario responded, trying to sound concerned.

In an attempt to end my agony, I said, “Well, I better go. I got a job at the fruit market after school.”

“That’s appropriate,” said Barbara, stifling a laugh.

Ignoring her, I asked Mario hopefully, “Are you coming over to study tonight? We have a government test tomorrow.”

Barbara cuddled up to Mario like a snake released from its basket. “Mario, do you want to give Harold the good news… or should
I
?”

Yippee. More good news.

Mario shuffled his feet back and forth. “Ah, yeah, Harold, Barbara’s tutoring me now. So I’m okay.”

You are definitely not okay.

Barbara turned her attention to me… briefly. “Marci from the squad has an aunt who works in the office at school, and she gave Marci a copy of the upcoming tests. Of course Marci shared them with the rest of the girls. It pays to have friends in high places.” Barbara’s laugh sounded like a goose caught in a blender. “So Mario won’t be needing your help anymore, Harold. Isn’t that good news?”

Thrilling.

“Now you can have more time to play the tuba, be with Hannah, and do… whatever else you do.”

Do I see a slight look of guilt on her made-up face?

“And of course you can always visit
us
if you get lonely.”

I’d rather be in solitary confinement.

Having done her civic duty, Barbara focused her attention back on Mario. “Come on, hon, let’s go to my house and relax in the whirlpool.”

“What about the government test, babe?”

“We can look at the test later. Who cares about the UN and the Middle East anyway? What could possibly happen way over
there
that could affect us in any way
here
?”

As Barbara pulled him away, Mario called over his shoulder with a sad tinge in his voice, “Catch up with you later, Harold.”

“Bye, High,” Barbara sang as she waved Mario’s senior ring on a chain around her neck then walked away with her tongue down his throat.

Hope Mario’s allergic to bubble gum.

I walked away in disappointment with my chin practically hitting the ground, and I accidentally bumped into Hannah.

“Hi, Harold.” Hannah’s fire engine red hair, silver braces, and oily skin sent the reflection of the sun straight into my squinting eyes.

“Hi, Hannah.”

At first I thought it was her flute case, but I realized Hannah was carrying a pink book bag.

She followed my gaze. “It’s Barbara’s. I’m carrying it for her.”

“How come?”

“In exchange for a tryout as a cheerleader,” she responded with embarrassment flooding her round face.

“Good luck, Hannah.”

“Thanks.”

I started to leave but Hannah grasped my arm.

“Are you coming to the YA meeting tomorrow?”

“I can’t. I have to work.”

“Okay. But if you want to know what you missed, or if you want to practice, give me a call.”

“Thanks, Hannah.”

Again I started to leave, and again Hannah grasped my arm.

“Harold, you know that I’m here if you need a friend.”

“Yeah, friends. I had more than one once.”

Sensing my pity party, Hannah took me by the arm. “Come here.”

We sat on a bench under an evergreen tree. With our red hair against the leaves, we looked like a Christmas decoration.

She pulled a leaf from the tree and smelled it. “I always liked this smell. Don’t you?”

She gave me a whiff.

“Sure.”

She threw the leaf onto the ground. “Harold, just like that leaf is smaller than this branch, and this branch is smaller than this tree, there’s a pecking order in high school too.” Hannah fluffed her curly red hair. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“Not really.”

She cleared her throat and spoke like a kindergarten teacher instructing her pupils on the color chart. “Mario and Barbara are like the sun. They are the popular kids who sit mightily on top of the world, deciding if the days will be sunny or cloudy, while the rest of us bask in their glorious light, or sit in darkness and think about them. Then there are the other kids. Some are like the sky. They’re attractive, always around, and nice to gaze at now and then. Other kids are like this tree: functional, solid, but easy to forget. The rest of the kids are like the branches and the leaves. Nobody really notices them. And the teachers are like the water that keeps it all growing, and keeps the hierarchy in place.”

I shrugged. “I guess that makes me the dirt under the tree.”

After a laugh, Hannah answered, “But only for
now
. You see, Harold, these, our high school years, are
their
glory days.” She pointed to Barbara’s pink bag sitting next to her on the bench. “Their best days.
Ever.
Life will never be as good for them.” She grinned from ear to ear. “But for
us
. These are our hell years. We just need to survive them, so we can get the hell out of high school and move on to doing amazing things in the real world.”

I rested my arm on the back of the bench. “But the sun, the sky, the trees, the water, and the soil are all connected. When a leaf falls, it eventually merges with the water and the soil, and they nourish the trees, and the trees take in the sunlight, and are matted against the blue sky.”

Hannah had an answer for everything. “And what happens to everything on a dark, snowy day?”

I thought about it. “Everything disappears, except for the white snow and the grey sky.”

She pointed her finger at me as if I’d answered a question correctly in class. “Right. With each season, the landscape totally
changes
.”

I scratched my head. “I don’t understand.”

Hannah pressed her glasses against her nose and ran her tongue against her braces. “One day soon, when we graduate, the seasons will
change
. Then people like Mario and Barbara will be as insignificant as dead leaves for the compost. High school is
their
time. After high school, it will be
ours
.”

“How do you know that?”

She nodded as if moving on to the next chapter in the lesson. “Their good looks will fade. Their self-centeredness will turn people off. And their ignorance will make them unemployable. They’ll be working at the mall, if they’re lucky, talking about
the good old days
in high school while we run corporations, create great art, and patent new inventions.”

I laughed. “It’s amazing how you have everything figured out.”

“Trust me, Harold, I’m right. You’ll see.” She rested back against my arm. “I’m sorry you and Mario aren’t good friends any longer.”

Me too.

“But you’ll come out better in the end. As my mother always says, ‘It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish.’”

I looked up at the blue sky, and thought of one of Mario’s T-shirts. “Well, Mario seems to have moved on with Barbara.”

“Yes, like all A-listers, now that they have each other, they no longer need their friends. So you, and I, need to move on too.” She looked at me and batted the short eyelashes over her small green eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Hannah took my hand in hers. “I think we make a great team, Harold. Don’t you?”

“Sure. We play well together, and I like our club.”

“That’s not what I mean, Harold.” She giggled naughtily.

“What do you mean?”

“Wouldn’t it be a riot, I mean, wouldn’t we just show
everybody
, if you and I went to the senior prom
together
?”

I wiggled in my seat. “I don’t know, Hannah. I didn’t go to the junior prom. Things like that freak me out.”

“Me too. That’s why I think it would be a total hoot if we went… together.”

“You mean… as friends… just to go?”

She squeezed my hand. “Of course we’re friends, Harold. And the prom will be
fun
.”

“I don’t think so, Hannah.”

“Harold, do you want to be an old man sitting and wondering why you missed out on your own prom?”

“Hannah, you’re my only friend right now, and I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life.”

She smacked her lips and one of her rubber bands flew out of her mouth. “Then it’s settled. I’ll make the reservation for the limousine, buy my dress, my corsage, your lapel flower, and make the reservation for the prom tickets. Can you rent your tux, or do you need me to do that too?”

My head was spinning. “Hannah, whoa, slow down.”

“The prom will be here before we know it, Harold.”

I released her hand and sat up straight. “Hannah, I like you, a lot. You’re a great girl. But I don’t think this is a very good idea.”

“Why not?” She scratched at the training bra underneath her white blouse, then adjusted her cranberry skirt.

I deliberated until it suddenly came to me. “Two reasons, Hannah. First, you’re too good for me. You’re like the sun, and I’m like the soil.”

“Well, that’s very flattering, Harold, but as I said, things—”

“And second, I like someone else.”

Hannah seemed genuinely surprised. “You do?”

Can she really not know?
I nodded.

She digested that as we both digested a tuna sandwich she’d taken out of her purse. “Is it someone I know, Harold?” Another rubber band flew through the air.

“I’d rather not talk about it, Hannah.”

“Okay, be mysterious if you like.”

“So do you understand now why I can’t go to the prom with you, Hannah?”

After we split her grapes, she responded, “I guess so.”

I smiled. “Good. No hard feelings, Hannah?”

She returned the smile. “No hard feelings.”

“Can we still be friends?”

She nodded. “Friends it is.”

As we rose to walk back to school, Hannah said, “I’ll tell you one thing, Harold. Whoever she is, she’s a lucky girl.”

Taking a play from Mario’s book, I kissed her on the cheek. As I walked away, I noticed Hannah touch her cheek and grin from ear to ear.

I felt as if I had moved from the romantic lead opposite Mario to a supporting player opposite Hannah. Barbara waved Mario’s class ring and I instantly became the gay best friend. Hurricane Barbara turned my sunny skies to gray, as every time I talked to Mario at school, Barbara ran interference. So after I got home each day, I stared at a picture of Mario that I’d secretly taken when he fell asleep one night while we were studying together. I also sulked, cried, and threw books at the wall. Until one night during winter break.

Mario walked into my bedroom as if in a time warp. “Your dad let me in.”

I hid his picture under my mattress. “Mario, what are you doing here?”

“I was driving around… and I ended up here.” His eyes looked glazed over.

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, and Mario sat next to me with his knee pressed against mine.
Just like old times… except for the smell of liquor on your breath.

“Were you and Barbara at a party?”

He let out a pitiful laugh. “Right, some
party
.”

“Tell me what’s wrong?”
Besides you dating Barbara.

Mario looked at the book next to me. “What are you studying?”

“About Amelia Earhart, for history.”

“I know. She was secretly gay, but it’s not in the textbook, and it won’t be on the test.”

I taught you well.
“Did you study?”

“What’s the point?” He looked at the far wall of my bedroom as if he was watching a sad movie.

“The point is that you graduate and go to your Ivy League college on a football scholarship.”

“Who gives a shit?”

“I do.”

“Then you’re the only one.”

Probably true.
“How come you’re not with Barbara?”

He laughed. “She and the other girls are having a
face masque night
at Cindi’s. No boys allowed. Ironic huh? ’Cause nobody wears a mask better than me.”

“Mario, what’s going on?”

He lay back gently on my bed and looked up at the ceiling. “What’s going on, Harold, is that I don’t live in a happy home like you do.”

I lay on my side next to him. “Mario, will you please stop talking in riddles and tell me why you’re so upset?”

“Why am I upset? Let’s see. Maybe it’s because my father got piss drunk tonight. Not that that’s unusual though. Maybe it’s because he called me screwed up. Come to think of it. That’s not unusual either.”

I noticed a tear flow from the corner of his eye. I took a chance and rested my arm on his shoulder. He winced in pain.

Mario began to laugh, a guttural, pained gyration. “You’ll love this one, Harold. My father told me tonight that his brother was gay, or as my father said, his brother was
a piece of shit faggot
. He told me they were close friends growing up. My father always looked out for him. But when they were young guys, before I was born, my father caught his brother with another guy… in the back of my dad’s car. So my father disowned him. His own brother. And my uncle locked himself in the car and turned on the engine. My father said it was
for the best
.”