Real Live Boyfriends (23 page)

He swallowed. “Booth died,” he said. “My friend Booth was riding ahead of me down Seventh Avenue.

We were crossing Twenty-third Street and this car was making a left and I saw it coming, this blue car, and it was like slow motion, Booth crossing the path of the car and it swerving and then the bike hurtling through the air with Booth still clinging to it.” Noel wiped his eyes and went on. “I threw my bike on the sidewalk and ran over. People were standing around and I suddenly realized maybe no one had called the ambulance, so I called, and I had to tell them what happened, and then it took so long for them to come.” I put my arms around him.

“He was riding ahead of me,” choked Noel.

“Because I asked him to. The traffic there is crazy. I just felt better with him up front, leading. But then—”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I had to call Claude,” Noel went on. “I had to tell him what happened. He kept saying ‘What?’ as if he hadn’t understood me. So I had to say it again and again. ‘There was an accident. Booth didn’t make it.

There was an accident. Booth didn’t make it.’

“Finally I told him he had to leave work and come home. Like giving him an order. He couldn’t think clearly and it was up to me to tell him what to do. My brother walked out of the restaurant without telling anyone, still wearing his apron. Leaving his tables without their food.

“For a couple days,” Noel went on, “everything was black and choked and we didn’t sleep and people kept coming by. Claude kept saying, ‘Where’s Booth?’ as if he really didn’t know. I couldn’t answer him. I mean, what do you say when someone asks you that?”

I shook my head.

“My mom flew out and even my dad came, our biological dad, and they tried to make me and Claude come home to Seattle, but Claude wouldn’t go, so I stayed too. I mean, he’s my brother and I wanted to be there for him. But once I was alone with him and all the parents left, I just shut down. It was like Claude was feeling everything and I was feeling nothing. I
wanted
to feel nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I kept feeling nothing and kept feeling nothing,” said Noel.

“You can’t feel nothing,” I said. “People can’t. Not really.”

He leaned his head on my shoulder and wiped his face on the hem of his T-shirt. He wasn’t crying any longer.

I squeezed his hand.

Then he kissed my eyelids. Kind of licked them.

And if you’ve never had someone lick your eyelids, you should know that it’s not exactly romantic and it’s even a tiny bit gross, but it feels like the other person really likes you and accepts you somehow.

Like he wants your updates. Even your boring ones.

Even your mental ones.

“I don’t feel nothing anymore,” he said.

We sat there together for a long while. Holding hands. Thinking about Booth and Claude and everything that had happened.

“Let’s go inside,” I told him finally.

“Yes,” said Noel. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.” We crawled in the window. I went first and scraped my arm.

Noel went second and said, “Why are there—what are these? Are there antacids on my windowsill? Why would there be antacids on my windowsill?” And I laughed so hard I couldn’t explain properly.

Then we shut the screen.

Then we closed Noel’s door.

And the rest of what happened is nobody’s business but ours.

A Final List!

Wel, not realy a final list. I can’t imagine I’ll ever stop making lists. But a final list in this long chronicle of my therapy process, romantic debacles and friendship dramas. A list of Stuff That Happened After.

1. Mom’s latest performance-art monologue

—
Elaine Oliver: Meat to the Beat!
—had a three-night workshop production at the Empty Space Theatre in January.

2. Even after it opened, she continued to explore charcuterie—in other words, she continued to perpetrate creative horrors on the bodies of dead animals and then eat them—until I lost five pounds from lack of edible deliciousness at breakfast and dinner and she got reworried I was anorexic; meanwhile, Dad gained ten pounds and she new-worried he would have a coronary.

3. At this point she agreed we could have pasta or burritos or something else normal for dinner.

4. My five pounds came back, but Dad’s ten stayed on.

5. Varsha and Spencer became regulars at the B&O Espresso. We’d go and meet Nora and Meghan there after swim practice. Yes, they were Future Doctors of America, but they were also seriously nice people. It was good to have also seriously nice people. It was good to have a group to eat cake and try to figure out the Calc homework with.

6. It was nice to have Nora there, especially. After everything. Despite everything.

7. Robespierre got Imelda the pygmy goat pregnant. In the spring, if all goes well, two little Robespierres will be cavorting around the Family Farm. He seems exceedingly proud of his accomplishment and walks with quite a jaunty step.

8. First lacrosse team meeting: I rejoined the team. I’ll be playing varsity goalie this spring.

9. Hutch returned from Paris with DVD recordings of himself fronting a retro metal cover band called Les Hommes Métall ique (Metal Men).

The other guys were all French high school students he hung around with.

10. It turns out that Hutch can sing—if by “sing” you mean wail and thrash around and occasionally switch into a high falsetto that makes him sound like an angry girlie opera star.

11. It is good to have him back.

12. Though now he considers himself an expert on French film and insists he is going to take
my
cinematic education in hand with a festival of his own devising entitled Les Sous-entendus des Sous-titres (The Implications of Subtitles).

13. I sent off the last of my college applications January 4. The movie, the essays, the exam scores, the transcripts, the lists of activities—it was all done.

14. Which means that next year, I will be living in some other city, learning how to make movies.

15. Though I will miss Polka-dot (a lot), 16. And I will miss my parents (a little), 17. I won’t have to deal with the wenchery of Cricket and Kim.

18. And my roly-poly-slut reputation will be left behind, along with most of my self-loathing.

19. I won’t have to be in the Tate Universe. Ever again.

20. And I won’t be in therapy anymore either. Doctor Z says I can stop when I feel ready.

21. I asked her: What if all the panic badness comes back when I go to college? If it does, can I call you? Can we have phone therapy if I go completely mental?

22. And she said, “Of course. You can call me even if you’re not having any particular challenges.” 23. But she also said: “I am not worried about you, Ruby. You have come a long way.”

24. And I thought: She’s right.

25. As for Noel and me, part of me would like to tell you it was ride-off-into-the-sunset easy—but that wouldn’t be true. He is jealous, I am needy. He is silent, I am talky. But we see each other for who we really are, I think. He picks up the phone when I call, and never checks his messages while I’m talking to him. We sit together in the refectory, no worries, no second-guessing. And we kiss. All the time. A lot.

26. Oh, and we make each other laugh.

27. And write each other silly notes.

28. And go on adventures planned by the Mutual Admiration Society.

29. And make each other laugh some more.

30. And that is saying a lot.

acknowledgments

The story about the gay penguins stealing eggs
is true. It happened in Polar Land in Harbin in
northern China. I combined it with a story about
some German gay penguins who were given a
rejected egg to raise at the Bremerhaven zoo.

The panda porn is real too. I couldn’t make this
stuff up
.

Elizabeth Kaplan represents me. Beverly
Horowitz edits me. I would be lost without both
of them. Melissa Sarver handles everything. The
people

at

Random

House

have

been

spectacular, in particular but not limited to Kathy
Dunn, Jessica Shoffel, Rebecca Gudelis, Chip
Gibson, Tracy Lerner, Lisa McClatchy, Meg
O’Brien, Wendy Louie, Lisa Nadel and Adrienne
Waintraub. Diana Finch does foreign rights.

Thank you!

Sarah Mlynowski offered invaluable plot
advice and made me cut out the boring bits. My
mom gave me ideas for Doctor Z’s therapy.

Libba Bray, Maureen Johnson, Scott Westerfeld,
Robin Wasserman and Cassandra Clare kept me
company. Heather Weston solved a major plot
problem. Bob did nothing but support, support,
support
.

Melissa James Gibson and Zoe Jenkin helped
me sort through the college application process.

Melissa Clark was Seattle consultant. Mrs. Friday
Next gave me the idea for the melodramatic
chapter
headings. My blog readers, Facebook
friends and Twitter followers helped me with
Roo’s movie lists, swim team lingo and books
for Mr. Wallace to assign. Dennis O’Brian
dreamed up a meatloafery and let me steal his
idea. Most of all, my family bore with me and
encouraged me. Thank you
.

about the author

Like Roo, e. lockhart spends her free time
searching for excellent cake and making home
movies. She is the author of three other books
about Ruby Oliver:
The Boyfriend List, The Boy

Book
,
and
The Treasure Map of Boys
.
She also
wrote
Fly on the Wall, Dramarama
,
and
How to

Be Bad
(the last with Sarah Mlynowski and
Lauren Myracle). Her novel
The Disreputable

History of Frankie Landau-Banks
was a National
Book Award finalist and a Michael ll. Printz
Honor Book and received a Cybils Award for
Best Young Adult Fiction. Visit her at
EmilyLockhart.com or check out her blog at
TheBoyfriendList.com
.

Table of Contents

Cover

Other Books by This Author

Title Page

Copyright

Real Live Boyfriends!

The Insanity of My Parents! And Romance!

Panic Attacks and Rabbit Fever!

The Revelation About Gay Chinese Penguins!

Agony and Love Poems!

Distraction Caused by a Bare Chest!

Humiliation at Snappy Dragon!

Surprise Kissing!

The Waketastic Adventure!

An Agonizing Public Scene! With Violence!

The Wenchery of Cricket and Kim!

Secrets of the Panda Bear!

The Mysterious Disappearance of Kevin!

Shocking Disclosure in the Zoological Gardens!

Emotional Breakdown in the Parking Lot!

A Nighttime Escapade!

A Final List!

Acknowledgments

About the Author