Read I Am Charlotte Simmons Online
Authors: Tom Wolfe
I Am Charlotte Simmons (41 page)
Wearily, contemptuously: “What the fuck are you doing, Beverly?”
Beverly shrank into a little-girl voice. “You said you'd call me.”
Exasperated sigh. “I said if I
could
.”
could
.”
“The fuck you said
if I could
!
”
if I could
!
”
Male controlled rage: “Goddamn it, Beverly, I'm trying to sleep, and you're fucking blitzed outta your mind.
Go home
.”
Go home
.”
“Go ⦠home,” said Beverly, breaking into a mournful sob and sinking, obviously on purpose, to her knees and then to all fours. “Go ⦠home ⦔
Charlotte stepped forward to try to put an end to the spectacle.
The all but naked lacrosse player noticed her for the first time. “You with her?” He said it rather crossly.
“Yes.” Quickly adding, “I'm trying to get her to come back to the room.”
Still stern: “Good.” Then he took a second look at Charlotte, who at a glance appeared to be wearing nothing but a pajama top.
Beverly was on all fours, whimpering.
“You're her roommate?” He beckoned Charlotte closer and said in a very low voice, “Your roommate's got an issue. You think you can get her outta here?”
“I think so.”
The athlete crossed his arms over his bare chest and tightened his abdominals, causing the boxer shorts to drop still lower. He gave Charlotte a second look. “You know, I could swear you and I've met someplace.”
“Maybe,” said Charlotte with a slight smile. “But I don't think so.”
“Well, you and me, we got to figure it outâwe got to get her someâyou knowâhelp in the long term.”
Beverly was still on her hands and knees, her head lowered, beginning to hit the high notes of a sob.
“We?” said Charlotte.
Same low voice: “Yeah ⦠you're her roommate. I'm her friend. I tell you what. You doing anything Saturday afternoon?”
“No ⦔
“You can come see me at the tailgate.”
Charlotte stared at him for a moment. He had an ever so slight smile. He wasn't even looking at Beverly. “I don't think so,” said Charlotte. She wondered what a tailgate was.
The athlete shrugged. “Aw ⦠come on ⦔ He gave her a blip of a wink, and grinned. “I couldn't stand it if
both
roommates mean-mugged me. That's where I'll be, anyhow.” He gave her a certain smile, the smile of the coconspirator. Then he went back inside his room and shut the door.
both
roommates mean-mugged me. That's where I'll be, anyhow.” He gave her a certain smile, the smile of the coconspirator. Then he went back inside his room and shut the door.
Beverly remained on the floor on all fours. She had settled into the forlorn mode and didn't want to be moved. It took Charlotte a good five minutes to roust her up and onto her feet again and maneuver her back to the car.
When they returned to their room in Edgerton, Beverly was on another crying jag, with lyrics such as, “Why did he think he had to
lie
to me?”
lie
to me?”
Charlotte put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. With a wail,
Beverly broke free, teetered precariously on her high heels, and pitched face forward onto her bed. In no time her muffled sobs gave way to a low snore. She still had all her clothes on. Charlotte started to remove the high-heeled shoes, then decided not to do anything that might wake her up.
Beverly broke free, teetered precariously on her high heels, and pitched face forward onto her bed. In no time her muffled sobs gave way to a low snore. She still had all her clothes on. Charlotte started to remove the high-heeled shoes, then decided not to do anything that might wake her up.
She turned off the lights, put her pajama pants back on, and slipped into bed. She lay there thinking about the lacrosse player, Harrison ⦠He was very good-looking, very well built ⦠What exactly was he saying to her? ⦠But pretty soon she fell asleep.
She woke up in the dark in a stupefied haze.
Click click
, high heels. She was vaguely aware that Beverly had gotten up off the bed and was heading for the door, but she no longer cared. Even after she heard the jingle of car keys, she rationalized that Beverly was just going across the hall to the bathroom.
Click click
, high heels. She was vaguely aware that Beverly had gotten up off the bed and was heading for the door, but she no longer cared. Even after she heard the jingle of car keys, she rationalized that Beverly was just going across the hall to the bathroom.
Well, she had tried, she had tried. She had done all she could â¦
When she next woke up, the first thing she noticed was the light coming in between the bottoms of the shades and the windowsills. It was alarmingly bright.
My French class
!
My French class
!
The little windup clock by the bed: 10:35! Forgot to set it! The class was already over!
Couldn't
happen! A scalding feeling at the base of her skull ⦠The long night wasted babysitting Beverly ⦠Beverlyânot in her bedâhadn't touched it since she last staggered out. Must have finally sobbed, whined, wheedled her way back into the bed of her lacrosse player. Slut! Her crawling, drooling, sobbing, slobbering slut of a roommate had done this to her. And into the adrenal panic over heedlessly, pointlessly cutting a class came an ashy resentment.
Couldn't
happen! A scalding feeling at the base of her skull ⦠The long night wasted babysitting Beverly ⦠Beverlyânot in her bedâhadn't touched it since she last staggered out. Must have finally sobbed, whined, wheedled her way back into the bed of her lacrosse player. Slut! Her crawling, drooling, sobbing, slobbering slut of a roommate had done this to her. And into the adrenal panic over heedlessly, pointlessly cutting a class came an ashy resentment.
Charlotte got out of bed and walked toward the windows. She was so groggy. She got down on her knees before she raised the shade about a foot. Brilliant sunlight. Gothic Dupont rose up almighty.
On a walkway out in the middle of the courtyard, near the statue of Charles Dupont, a girl was teetering along on high heels. From up here, five floors above, Charlotte was looking down at a disheveled rick of straight, flat streaked-blond hair on a head hung over toward the ground ⦠the bony processes of her breastbone were showing from the way she had left her cerise shirt unbuttoned
way
down ⦠a pair of tight black pantsâthen the sway and staccato of the gait,
click teeter click teeter click teeter
. Oh God ⦠Her heart misfiredâa premature ventricular contractionâBeverly. It couldn't have been more obvious that she was wearing clothes from last night and was just now returning home, still intoxicated.
way
down ⦠a pair of tight black pantsâthen the sway and staccato of the gait,
click teeter click teeter click teeter
. Oh God ⦠Her heart misfiredâa premature ventricular contractionâBeverly. It couldn't have been more obvious that she was wearing clothes from last night and was just now returning home, still intoxicated.
From a window across the way a boy yelled out, “You're money, baby, and you don't even know it!”
Laughter from another window somewhere.
Beverly started walking fasterâ
clickteeterclickteeterclickteeterclickteeterclickteeterclickteeter
âand broke into a run for the entryway to Edgerton, sprinting on the pointed toes of her shoes. She had gone no more than a few yards when one of her high heels struck the walkway. She pitched forward, fell, rolled over the walkway's border of green-and-white liriope and onto the lawn, where she wound up on her back. She put a forearm up in front of her face to shield her eyes from the sun. Not a sound from the windows now. She rolled over onto her abdomen and struggled up into a crawling position. Her pumps were still on. One high heel had almost completely torn away from the sole and hung at a crippled angle. On all fours now, she lifted one leg and tried to kick the pump off. No luck. A couple of students down in the courtyard just stood there, absorbed in the spectacle. After a clumsy struggle Beverly managed to stand upright. She looked about in an abstract, unseeing way and began limping the rest of the way to Edgerton, one heel high, one heel dragging lengthwise on the walkway.
clickteeterclickteeterclickteeterclickteeterclickteeterclickteeter
âand broke into a run for the entryway to Edgerton, sprinting on the pointed toes of her shoes. She had gone no more than a few yards when one of her high heels struck the walkway. She pitched forward, fell, rolled over the walkway's border of green-and-white liriope and onto the lawn, where she wound up on her back. She put a forearm up in front of her face to shield her eyes from the sun. Not a sound from the windows now. She rolled over onto her abdomen and struggled up into a crawling position. Her pumps were still on. One high heel had almost completely torn away from the sole and hung at a crippled angle. On all fours now, she lifted one leg and tried to kick the pump off. No luck. A couple of students down in the courtyard just stood there, absorbed in the spectacle. After a clumsy struggle Beverly managed to stand upright. She looked about in an abstract, unseeing way and began limping the rest of the way to Edgerton, one heel high, one heel dragging lengthwise on the walkway.
Charlotte pulled the shade down and stood up. She was torn by competing emotions: sympathy for the weary and heavy-laden, revulsion at what was revolting, guilt over feeling more revolted than sympathetic at the sight of a drunken slut on her Walk of Shame. She had heard the term. Now she was witnessing it. A twinge of sympathy ⦠a twinge of guilt ⦠a surge of revulsion. She caught the wave and rode it for all it was worth. She got dressed even faster than she had before her mission of mercy in the middle of the night. She had babysat this ⦠bitch ⦠enough for one day. Her roommate was on her own now, the Sodom-bottom rotten Groton ⦠whatever â¦
Charlotte gathered up some books and notes and hurried down the five flights of fire stairs to avoid having to deal with her. Halfway down, she began to relax. But the French class! She panicked all over again. Never before in her whole life had she ever just plain-long missed a class.
Â
Â
“
Why
is it your fault? I'll
show
you why the fuck
why,”
said Jojo. He could feel the muscles in the front of his neck contracting tight as wires, he hit the
why
so hard. He was genuinely angry, but he wanted to look insanely angry, just to see Adam cower and squirm with fear, see him surrender his very ass in submission.
Why
is it your fault? I'll
show
you why the fuck
why,”
said Jojo. He could feel the muscles in the front of his neck contracting tight as wires, he hit the
why
so hard. He was genuinely angry, but he wanted to look insanely angry, just to see Adam cower and squirm with fear, see him surrender his very ass in submission.
He stabbed the offending word on the offending page with his forefinger. “See that? Mally-
dro
-it. I mean
shit
, Adam, first he gets sarcastic because I can't pronounce it, and then he's straight-out making me because I don't know exactly what it means. I
know
what it means, but when some asshole's got a gun at your head saying â
define
the motherfucker'âwhattaya trying to do to me? I'd never use a fucking word like that! Mally
-dro-
it ⦠I can't even pronounce it. Shit! He made me
pronounce
the fucker. How do
I
know how to pronounce the fucking word!”
dro
-it. I mean
shit
, Adam, first he gets sarcastic because I can't pronounce it, and then he's straight-out making me because I don't know exactly what it means. I
know
what it means, but when some asshole's got a gun at your head saying â
define
the motherfucker'âwhattaya trying to do to me? I'd never use a fucking word like that! Mally
-dro-
it ⦠I can't even pronounce it. Shit! He made me
pronounce
the fucker. How do
I
know how to pronounce the fucking word!”
“Maladroit,” said Adam. “It's not that unusual a word.”
Jojo eyed him with loathing. The little nerd had a way of sounding mousy and know-it-all at the same time. “Okay, what's it mean? Lemme hear
you
define it. The bastard was always telling me to
'define
it.'”
you
define it. The bastard was always telling me to
'define
it.'”
“It means like âclumsy' or âawkward.'”
“Then why the fuck didn't you write âclumsy'? I mean,
shit
, Adam.”
shit
, Adam.”
The mouse said in its little voice, “I thought it went well with
meddling
. âMaladroit meddling.'”
meddling
. âMaladroit meddling.'”
“Yeah,
you
think. But you know damned well that fancy shit's not
me.
I don't think that way.” Sardonically: “Subtle strategy and malâthat's another thing. He'd take a word I
know
, a word I know how to use, like
subtle
, and then he'd like put a gun at my head and say, âDefine it!' I
know
the fucking word, but if somebody tells you like point-blank
define
itâwhat would
you
say? Lemme hear you just straight-out
define
it.”
you
think. But you know damned well that fancy shit's not
me.
I don't think that way.” Sardonically: “Subtle strategy and malâthat's another thing. He'd take a word I
know
, a word I know how to use, like
subtle
, and then he'd like put a gun at my head and say, âDefine it!' I
know
the fucking word, but if somebody tells you like point-blank
define
itâwhat would
you
say? Lemme hear you just straight-out
define
it.”
“It means like âcunning' or âcrafty' or âwith a nice touch.'” Amousy voice and then an infuriating shrug, as if to say you have to be pretty stupid not to know that. Jojo could have strangled him.
“Well, I don't care. You fucked me over, Adam, you fucked me over big time. Did you get some sick satisfaction out of getting me in trouble? This guy's a prick! If I'm lucky, I just get an F and fail the course, and I can't play next semester, which means the whole season, and if I'm unlucky, the prick tries to get me thrown out of school. Great fucking options. You ⦠totally screwed me, dipshit!”
PleadingâJojo took a morbid, useless satisfaction in the plea in his little tutor's voiceâAdam said, “Jojo, come onâyou gotta back up. I mean, do you remember what time it was when you called me to write that paper? It was almost
midnight
! And you had a ten-page paper to hand in at ten o'clock! And that wasn't a paper where you could just go to a textbook or go online or get some Cliffs Notes!” He went onâpleading, pleading, to describe his grueling all-nighter in Jojo's behalf. “I was lucky to get the words
down at all, Jojo! There was no way I could go back andâyou know”âthe little bastard was obviously ransacking his brain for a euphemismâ“go back over it and translate it into like another ⦠idiom.”
midnight
! And you had a ten-page paper to hand in at ten o'clock! And that wasn't a paper where you could just go to a textbook or go online or get some Cliffs Notes!” He went onâpleading, pleading, to describe his grueling all-nighter in Jojo's behalf. “I was lucky to get the words
down at all, Jojo! There was no way I could go back andâyou know”âthe little bastard was obviously ransacking his brain for a euphemismâ“go back over it and translate it into like another ⦠idiom.”
For an instant Jojo wondered if “idiom” had anything to do with “idiot,” but he had to admit, although he didn't feel like doing so out loud, that Adam had a point. That had been pretty bad ⦠He'd been embarrassed to even call the poor sonofabitch so late. His anger began to diminish.
More pleading, whining: “You didn't even come over to the
library
with me, Jojo. You stayed here with Mike and played
video
games.”
library
with me, Jojo. You stayed here with Mike and played
video
games.”
The anger spiked back up. “What the fuck did it matter
what
I did!”
what
I did!”
“I don't know why you're so angry, Jojo. I mean, come on, didn't you at least read it over before you handed it in?”
“Who had the fucking time to do that?”
“Jojo, I slipped it under your door about
eight-thirty
. How could you not have time?”
eight-thirty
. How could you not have time?”
Jojo felt his whole frame go slack. He clasped his hands in front of him and lowered his head. He looked away from Adam. “Aw, shit ⦔ Then he turned back toward him. “Okay, I'm sorry, Adam. It wasn't your fault ⦠But I'm still fucked. Quat is one of those pricks who's so anti-athleteâI don't know how the fuck I even got steered into that fucking course. Nothing would give him more pleasure than kicking my student-athlete ass out of the fucking school.” Jojo looked away again and now, feeling a bit guilty about how he had been yelling at his tutor, suddenly realized something. “You know, this guy's vicious. He's the kind that would come looking for you, too.”
Adam practically flinched with shock. The blood drained out of his face.
“Me?”
“He's the type, that's all I can tell you. He knows I didn't write it. So he's gonna say âWho?' you know? Don't worry, I'm not admitting
any
body did. But if he decides to get really shitty and start asking around and all that shit ⦔
any
body did. But if he decides to get really shitty and start asking around and all that shit ⦔
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