Learning to Swear in America (20 page)

“Um, no.”

“Uh-huh. And do we allow students to come to prom if they don’t attend Edmund Andros High School?”

“Um, I know there’s a form to fill out …”

“Did you do it? Because I don’t have a form from you.”

“I guess I didn’t.” Her voice was soft, defeated. Kyle Davidson pointed at them from his perch by the punch bowl, and the girls around him whispered.

“I’m sorry, was it Yuri? You’ll have to leave.”

“Why?”

“Miss Collum didn’t file the necessary paperwork,” the principal said, tilting her head slightly as she spoke. Yuri got the feeling she could spin it all the way around if she wanted, using her nose as a fulcrum.

“I’m sure she’ll know for next time,” he said. “I’m working with NEO Program at JPL.” Maybe James didn’t need to know that, but this principal did. “We only met recently.”

The gym rustled with interest. He took Dovie’s hand and started to move away.

Jen, her black curls skimming a sequined peach dress, threw her arms in the air and shouted, “Dovie bagged a Meteor Man! Whoo-hoo!”

Laughter bounced through the gym.

“You don’t work at JPL,” Mrs. Cronick said, stepping in front of them. “You’re a teenager. But I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing. She didn’t follow my rules.”

“I asked her to come to dance rather late. Was my fault,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a charming smile.

“Irrelevant,” Mrs. Cronick said. “Out.”

He stared at her.

“Come on,” Dovie whispered.

No, he would not come on. There was supposed to be more freedom in America, but guards trailed him at work and now this petty administrator was ruining Dovie’s night. He thought of her painting, of the girl trapped in the rectangles. This woman was starting to piss him off.

“Do you run high school this way? Arbitrary bureaucratism?”

The principal’s mouth tightened, her red lipstick slowly rolling under like a submerging submarine.

“Out.”

Dovie tugged at his hand.

“You lock hundreds of teenagers together in building, treat them like criminals, and can’t figure out why your education system doesn’t work?” The gym was silent. “What do you people hope to get from this experience? Seriously?”

“What high school do you go to?” Mrs. Cronick said.

“I don’t go to high school. I graduated already.”

The principal’s tight mouth curled up.

“You’re over eighteen? That’s another infraction, Dovie Collum.”

“I’m seventeen. But I graduated high school when I had twelve years.”

“Sure you did,” Mrs. Cronick said. “You little jackass.”

“Whooo!” Kyle Davidson yelled appreciatively.

“That’s Doctor Jackass to you,” Yuri said, then turned his back on her. “Dovie, do you want to dance more?”

“No, thank you,” she squeaked.

“Let’s get some punch before we leave, then.”

He took her hand and walked past Mrs. Cronick, shielding Dovie. Their shoes clicked on the golden boards of the gym floor. Yuri poured a cup of the blue punch, and in the silent gym the gurgle reverberated past the iron basketball rims. When he handed it to Dovie, she took the drink with both hands. As Yuri reached for another cup, Kyle Davidson stepped sideways, blocking him.

“Think you’re hot stuff, don’t you?”

Yuri glanced at Dovie, unsure of the idiom.

“I can hit a receiver in the hands from seventy yards. What do you think about that?”

Yuri shrugged. “That’s good.”

“Damn straight that’s good.”

“Move, please. I want to get another cup.”

“I’m not moving for you.”

“Why?”

Kyle hesitated for a moment.

“I don’t have to.”

“No, but would be courteous.”

Kyle glanced at the girls around him, shifted, then set his jaw.

“Yeah, well, I’m not moving.”

Yuri shrugged.

“I think that punch is poison, anyway.” He took Dovie’s empty cup and tossed it in the trash can. “How do you say, it’s your funeral?” He locked his fingers with Dovie’s and moved toward the exit, his-and-hers heel clicks on the lacquered floorboards. He stopped in the doorway.

“Hey, Kyle. You know what I can hit?”

“What?”

“Asteroid traveling at seventy-one kilometers per second. And if I can’t, you’re dead.”

And then he let Dovie lead him back up the stairs and into the parking lot.

“So here’s the thing,” Dovie said, guiding the steering wheel with her inner wrist. “My parents want to get a picture of us, which is totally lame, but they wanted us to stop by the house after the dance. If you have time.”

“Sure, but that guy took picture at school.”

“I don’t know if I can get that, since we got kicked out.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Dovie accelerated through a yellow light.

“Hey, Yuri?”

“Yes?”

“If the asteroid hits Earth, will it be bad? I mean, really bad?”

“Yeah. It’ll devastate California.”

She turned to stare at him. He glanced from her bulging eyes to the road ahead.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Oh my God.” She was silent for a moment. “What do you think it will be like?”

“Um … I don’t think human vertebrae can withstand concussion, so I think it will be whole lot like being dead.”

Dovie’s eyes glistened.

“Will it knock the planet apart?”

“No, that’s impossible …”

“I wonder if water will flow from the ocean, right off the edge of the world.”

“The atmospheric …”

“Shut up, Science Boy. And pirate gold will spill out, doubloons clinking, and
T. rex
bones will tumble into space and float there. Oh! They may get caught by the gravity of some planet. That could happen, right?”

“Well, yes, but …”

“And there would be skeletal
T. rex
es marching around a planet, deathless sentries from a dead world. And some day it’ll freak out aliens flying by. They’ll press their little green faces to the windshield and say, ‘What the hell, Zork! Look at that!’”

“You know, you don’t have to try so hard to be different. You
are
different.”

“Um, thank you?”

He grimaced slightly. He’d always assumed he would be smooth with women. Experimentation was proving that hypothesis wrong.

“I mean, you’re artist. Life is your canvas.”

“Wow. That’s actually very nice.”

She turned onto her street.

“I’m very nice guy. But don’t worry about planet breaking apart, okay? Wouldn’t happen with biggest asteroid you could find.” He didn’t add,
It wouldn’t have to break apart for us to die
.

Dovie parked with three wheels on the driveway, and they walked to the front stoop with hooked pinkie fingers. The door was unlocked and as Dovie opened it, warmth and light and the smell of burnt cinnamon spilled out.

“Hey, it’s the Spockovskii!” Lennon called, splitting his fingers in a Vulcan salute. He’d taken the wings off his chair, but had left the bat-signal flashlight underneath it.

Yuri nodded to Dovie’s parents, who were washing dishes together. “‘Skii’ is ending for adjectives,” he said. “I’m noun.”

“Knowing that is proof you’re the Spockovskii.”

Mr. Collum dried his hands and tossed the dish towel over his shoulder. He grabbed a camera from the kitchen table and motioned Dovie and Yuri in closer together. Yuri put his hand lightly on her back, awkward now—her house, her father. Mr. Collum clicked the picture, then turned the camera on end, his elbow jutting out as he shot again.

“Got it!” He put the camera down. “You’re home early.”

“Mrs. Cronick kicked us out,” Dovie said.

“Did you visibly enjoy yourself or something?” Lennon asked, without looking up from the television.

“Something like that,” Dovie said. “Yuri told her off.”

“God bless you,” Mr. Collum said. “Any chance you could get the asteroid to land just on her?”

“Um, probably not.”

“Yeah. That’s a shame.” Dovie’s father grabbed a newspaper and disappeared down the hall.

Yuri waved a hand to Lennon and Mrs. Collum, and then stepped out on the stoop with Dovie. The night air was soft and warm, and they could still smell cinnamon, wafting out through the open windows. He put a hand on Dovie’s back, where the soft silk gave way to softer skin. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so happy.

“Is it okay to kiss you?”

“Totally.”

“Would you be willing to remove your tongue stud first?”

Dovie stared at him. “
What?
” She narrowed her eyes.

“It might scratch me. I could get infection.”

“What do you care if you get an infection?” Lennon shouted from the living room. “You’re suicidal.”

“I am not. But it could be painful. There could be unpleasant discharge.”

Dovie snorted.

“You’d be embarrassed for the undertaker to see it?” she said.

“He’d see your skinny ass, too,” Lennon shouted. “That ass is a good reason not to kill yourself. Seriously, dude, you need to work out before you do yourself in.”

“I’m not suicidal. I
slipped
.”

“You could get implants,” Delinda Collum called.

Yuri put his hands on his backside and shut his eyes to kiss Dovie. Her lips seemed firmer, less yielding, and when he tried to nuzzle them apart they pursed tight. He opened one eye to find her glowering at him from an inch away. He felt like a grass-eater on the savannah.

“This is where I apologize?”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry I’m afraid of your tongue stud. May I kiss you anyway?”

She appraised him for a moment.

“Okay.”

He leaned in and kissed her, and she threw her arms around his neck. He brushed the sides of her breasts with his palms as he encircled her. Figured he could claim it was an accident if she protested, but she was busy gnawing on his lip, and he tasted the blue punch. Then she brought her tongue stud up and tapped the back of his front teeth.

“Gotcha.”

He smiled at her, and they held hands as they walked to her car.

“Dovie? Is your door different color because it was inexpensive used part?”

“No. I was experimenting with people’s perceptions of color appropriateness. Whether analogous colors with the same saturation and finish nevertheless produce an anxiety response when found in unexpected visual environments.”

He swung in and fastened his seat belt.

“Really?”

“No. It was just the cheapest door that fit.”

“Oh.”

She pulled out of the driveway and the back wheels bumped up over the neighbor’s curb, her headlights pointing down to illuminate cracks in the street. Then they bounced off and swung back to the feeder street that would T with an artery that would merge with the highway that would take them back to his hotel.

They rode a few minutes, Yuri lost in thought, unconsciously tapping his fingers on his knee in rhythm with the rattling of the car.

“You thinking about those guys at work?”

“Hmm? No. Maybe.”

“You’re very grave.”

“I’m always grave about gravity.” He grabbed the door handle as Dovie noticed a stop sign and slammed on the brakes. “Is that funny in English?”

“No, it’s really not. Are you funny in Russian?”

“No.”

She laughed.

“That’s funny?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Yuri sighed. The windows were down and the air was still warm and it washed over his face, bringing with it the smell of exhaust. They drove by a row of gas stations and convenience stores and a secondhand clothing store, glare from the streetlights bouncing off Dovie’s green hood.

Yuri thought of full pink skirts and the geometry of high schools and the clink of a tongue stud behind his tooth, and my god, how could that be so sexy? Dovie accelerated through a yellow light. Yuri fingered his seat belt strap.

“I think I just discovered something that moves faster than speed of light.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You know, light might be common ground for us.”

“I try to capture it in oils, while you regale me with stories of the little photon that could?”

“Something like that.”

They could see red and blue wash over the front of the hotel as they approached, coming from two cruisers parked, noses pointed out.

“That doesn’t look good,” Dovie muttered.

“Maybe was murder,” Yuri said, trying not to sound hopeful. Then he noticed the dark NASA car service vehicle parked between the police cars.

Dovie stopped in the restaurant lot and Yuri kissed her hand as he left, but he was already thinking about the flashers. Something had happened. He caught her eye and smiled tightly, then closed the door, slipped through the trees between lots, and walked toward the front entrance, trying to look confident, and innocent.

“Dr. Strelnikov?”

It was the driver. Same guy who’d driven him in that morning and back to the hotel four hours ago.

“Yes?”

“I have orders to get you to JPL immediately, sir.”

The driver held the door open. Yuri ducked in and the man punched the accelerator, following one cruiser, leading the other, their lights still rotating.