The Instructions (127 page)

June said she’d do it and we entered the school. The Sentinel halted us just past his booth. No surprise there—we’d both ditched detention. “Two of you: Office,” the Sentinal said.

June said, “You office.”

Jerry didn’t hear. He asked me, “How’s your mom?”

I flashed him the Look of The End.

He pretended confusion, and we followed him through Main Hall.

Boystar flyers were all over the place, taped to anything flat and stationary. Support pillars were plastered with red and white construction paper. Matching streamers hung in clusters from the ceiling like curtains. Jerry before us, we tore as we went.

Helium balloons nodded and swayed, the taut lengths of ribbon that anchored them to locker-vents angling sharp in our wake.

June freed a balloon and pulled out its plug. She aimed at my face, let fly, and I ducked it. It spiraled six feet and fizzled on an Ashley. She glowered at June, and June flicked the plug at her.

The Ashley’s INDIANS went crumply.

Just outside the Office, sitting on a dolly, was the spotlight I’d seen in the parking lot. Inside, Brodsky’s door was closed. Empty ISS desks crowded the floor, and Pinge was smiling at a notepad.

She wrote something down for a big, blushing roadie, who was 1197

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

leaning one-handed on the border of her blotter.

We sat in the waiting chairs we’d fallen in love in. June put my hand on the weapon in her pocket. She narrowed her eyes and bit on her lip, digging her nails in my wrist.

Miss Pinge slid the notepad across her desk.

The roadie pushed his bangs back and asked of her softly, “This your home or your celly, ladyfriend?”

“Shh,” she said, seeing us.

The roadie said, “What?”

Pinge chinned air in her own direction and the roadie leaned way over the desk. This blocked Pinge’s sightline, I saw my moment, and I kissed June’s neck and the kiss made her gasp.

I’d started by her ear and was going toward her shoulder, about to, with my free hand, squeeze her thigh so she’d gasp more, but a guy with a soulpatch was standing in the doorway.

He lifted one lip-corner and gave me the cockeye = “I can see what you’re doing, there, but I won’t tell.”

I liked him.

“The hell, Raymond,” he said to the one who loved Pinge called Raymond. “We’re chewed we don’t get a move on already.”

“Just a minute,” said Raymond.

“Are you the lighting guys?” June asked the soulpatch.

“We’re the lighting
grunts
, cutiepie.”

“Installation experts,” said Raymond.

“We push the lights on dollies, hoist the lights on guywires, secure the lights to their end-locales, and finally we plug them 1198

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

in. After that we go smoke in the truck.”

“We also gotta calibrate—”

“We don’t gotta calibrate nothing. The only other thing we do is what I already told you, but backward to the truck. That’s why you stay in school there, cutie. So’s when you meet someone you want to date with, you don’t feel pressured to prevaricate about calibrating when in fact there’s no calibrating you do.”

“Jeez, Tony,” said Raymond.

“Hey,” said the soulpatched Tony, chinning the air at Miss Pinge. “She cares about you don’t calibrate? Then pretty or no, she’s the wrong girl for you. Let me tell you, Miss: Raymond here is a progressive rock and roll musician of the temporarily defunct funk-metal genre. His talent is genius-par. World was fair, he’d be rich and famous already. We both would cause he’s my cousin and we got a band together, Blaine the Minority, and I’m not so bad at bass he’d ditch me once he made it, but even if I was that bad at bass, he wouldn’t ditch me, because he’s a good friend, and if you think that’s common in this world, you live a truly blessed life, but also you got another think coming, and you should think that think twice or even three times first.”

“Excuse me, sir,” said someone behind him. Tony moved and I saw it was Shpritzy.

Miss Pinge sent Raymond away with a hand-pat. Tony followed at his heels and made wet kissing sounds.

The Five had entered the Office with Berman.

The Levinson told me, “A friend of ours: Berman.”

1199

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

Berman chinned air at June and gave her a wink. June chinned air back and did not give a wink, and that might have reassured me, but for all I knew June couldn’t wink—I knew
I
couldn’t wink—

so for all I knew, she’d have winked were she able. It happened, however, that she was holding my hand, and she certainly could’ve given it a reassuring squeeze, but no squeeze came, and I wasn’t reassured. Reassured of what, though? That she didn’t still like him? Well… yes. Except why should I want reassurance of that?

They’d broken up. They’d never kissed. They didn’t speak. Above all, June and I were in love. I wanted reassurance because she’d gotten winked at, but it wasn’t her fault that she’d gotten winked at. It was Berman’s fault. He shouldn’t have winked. He shouldn’t have gotten me wanting reassurance. Especially because there could be no reassurance. That’s what was chomsky. To think that a hand-squeeze would reassure was chomsky. Had June squeezed my hand, I wouldn’t feel reassured; I’d only wonder why she thought I wanted reassurance. I’d worry that she thought I wanted reassurance because Berman’s wink was, in fact, worth worrying about.

= If June had squeezed my hand, I’d want
more
reassurance. And I saw it was good that she hadn’t squeezed my hand. Which isn’t to say I stopped wanting reassurance, but that all at once I saw what needed doing, not to me or for me, but by me: I had to tell Berman not to wink at my girlfriend. Had he not been an Israelite, I’d’ve thought of that sooner, gone straight to confrontation. Instead of burning sweaty seconds lamely sorting useless feelings, I’d have risen to my feet and said, Don’t you fucken wink at her.

1200

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

And that is exactly what I was just about to do. I’d let go of June’s hand and planted mine on my chair-arms, but no sooner had I started leaning forward to rise than Josh Berman chinned air and winked
at me
, undermining my resolve, my whole sense of what was called for.

I leaned back, puzzled.

Berman opened his coat like a stranger-danger flasher to show me the pennygun riding at his flank—it was held to his fleece by a strip of velcro.

The unspoken subject at hand shifted quickly.

I shrugged and made my lips fat = Glad you have a weapon, but why not hide it in your pocket?

He clicked his tongue against his teeth = “Clever, my holster, I know.”

Then he closed up the coat and said, “Finally we meet.” He was acting as if we’d never laid eyes on each other. It didn’t seem possible that he wouldn’t remember—we were in the same place where we’d met the first time—but maybe he hadn’t noticed me there. Or maybe he was embarrassed for how he’d acted toward Ruth. He deserved to be embarrassed, and that was punishment itself, so I didn’t say anything; I channeled Ally Kravitz, attempted to give Berman the benefit of the doubt. My face must have, despite that, betrayed what I remembered.

“Wait a second!” said Berman. “I think I saw you right here on Tuesday. Crazy. Wow. No idea. I had no idea.”

That’s something, I said.

1201

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

I didn’t like being so casual about it. Benefit of the doubt, I thought, benefit of the doubt… But he should have either said something, or he should have said nothing. He shouldn’t have said nothing
and then
said something, much less with fake surprise… Or maybe he should have? Maybe he was being just as human as anyone? Maybe I wanted to think he did something he shouldn’t have done because that would make it easier for me to believe I disliked him for being, in some objective way, a dickhead, rather than because he used to date June and I was petty and jealous? What worried me more? Not liking an Israelite for my own petty reasons, or liking a dislikable Israelite because he was an Israelite? I couldn’t tell. Meow meow, meow meow. I squeezed my own hand.

That’s something, I said.

He said, “
Something
is right. I got set
straight
. You saw it yourself.”

Yeah? I said.

“About the blankspot, I mean. That really got to me.”

Right, I said. I said, Ruth’s smart.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s pretty smart.”

No, I said. Ruth’s
really
smart.

“I guess, you know, I don’t know. I guess I must not have come off so—you know, she and my brother had a really ugly break-up.”

Was he being sincere? Was he truly apologetic? What did that even mean,
truly apologetic
? He was saying all the right things, things I didn’t want to hear. “I’m real tight with my brother and—”

1202

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

I said, None of my business.

“I’m just saying,” Berman said.

Yeah, it’s none of anyone’s business, really, right? Not even your friends’.

“I totally agree. Believe you me. I got seriously burned for bringing it up, didn’t I?”

Scorched, I said. I said, I wouldn’t mess with Ruth.

“Believe you me,” he said.

Berman had been shaking my hand since “No idea.” Here he finally let go. Then he clicked, and flashed the gun again. “So wuddup, June Dub?” he said. “Long time no—”

“Joshua Berman, get to class,” Miss Pinge interrupted. “The rest of you. ISS starts in about ninety seconds
.
I suggest you choose a desk.”

They all did as they were told, Berman chopping air near his temple as he left.

“What a dentist,” June said.

Yeah? I said. Yeah, I said.

June squeezed my hand.

You guys know June? I said to the Five.

“Nice to meet you, June!” said The Levinson. “I’m Mr.

Goldblum,” said Mr. Goldblum. “You can call me Shpritzy,” said Shpritzy. “This boy right here is Glassman,” said Pinker. “And this young soul who so kindly just introduced me is a fellow known affectionately as Pinker,” said Glassman.

By the time they got to Shpritzy, June was laughing her face 1203

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

off, and I loved her so much. Everything was fine.

They’re best buddies, I told her.

She balled fists around her hair and pulled toward her shoulders, her freckles all fading in the flush of her face as she began to squeak and hyperventilate.

“June’s laughing.” “At us or with us?” “Who cares? She’s pretty.” “Still, I hope it’s with us.” “Ask her.” “She can’t talk right now.” “Is it with us, Gurion?”

She likes you guys, I said.

“Who is she, anyway?” they said.

We’re getting married, I said.

“Mazel tov!” they shouted in unison. Then they started to clap. The sound was slightly muted by their batting-gloves, but their celebration brought me joy nonetheless.

Soon the clapping gave way to high-fives, and a roll of pennies fell from Pinker’s pants pocket. Mr. Goldblum kicked it to Shpritzy. Shpritzy rolled it with his hand to The Levinson, and The Levinson swooped the roll up and over, onto the lap of Glassman.

Glassman stuck it in the pocket of Pinker’s that was opposite the one it had fallen from.

Miss Pinge cleared her throat, looking dizzy.

She said, “You’re cute, but the clowning stops after the tone, under-stood?”

“You’re really nice, Miss Pinge. Isn’t Miss Pinge really nice?”

“She’s so nice.” “She’s so nice, she should be the spokeswoman for an important charity because she’d raise millions.” “Probably 1204

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

even billions.” “She should go on Oprah.”

Brodsky’s door opened.

Maholtz, the Co-Captain, and a mangled Shlomo Cohen exited. Eyes on their shoes, they adjusted their ties, but none took a seat at the open ISS desk.

I said, Tattle and asskiss your way outta trouble?

“I can’t waint til Bam seends what you did,” said Maholtz.

And what’s that? I said.

I really didn’t know.

Maholtz said, “Tch.” Shlomo Cohen and the Co-Captain echoed it.

Then Pinker honked his dickhorn at them, and soon the other four honked their dickhorns at them, too. I thought honking my dickhorn might ick June, but I wanted to back the Five, so I just said, Honk, and kept both my hands far away from my wang.

Out came the gym teacher, stiff in his suit. As soon as he saw me, he glared.

“Don’t vibe at boo,” said June.

“Don’t
what
at
who
?”

Don’t rhyme with wifey, I told him.

“You don’t even speak correct English,” said Desormie, “and that is a testament.”

“A testament?” said The Levinson. “Testament’s like testicles,” said Mr. Goldblum. “Patriarchs grab the ones on their sons when they’re making a promise,” said Pinker. “Patriarchs grab thighs,” submitted Shpritzy. “Thigh’s a euphemism,” retorted 1205

ADAM LEVIN

THE INSTRUCTIONS

Glassman. “How do you know?” “Cause it’s called a testimony, not a thighamony.” “Their dads touch their shvontzes?” “Their bol-locks.” “Their yarbles.” “Still, that’s pervasive.” “
Pervy
.” “Right.

Pervy.” “Except it didn’t used to be in the old days.” “These days, though, to touch your son on the nutbag—” “These days it’s total pervasion.” “Perversion.”

Desormiation, I said.

“What?” said Desormie.

I showed him my palm and pointed at it.

Delivered, I said.

That was the last word that I would ever say to him.

“Come on,” he told his basketballers.

They followed him into Main Hall, away from ISS.

The Five got up in arms.

“They just get to leave? Where’s the justice?” said Pinker.

“This is a testament.” “Balls!” “Why do they get to leave, Miss Pinge?”

Miss Pinge said, “Look around. Do you see any room in here for three more desks?”

“But yesterday Mr. Brodsky said—”