Yearbook (10 page)

Amy peered down, trying to look offended, but also stifling a grin. He looked up at her cross-eyed, and that did it. She burst into an honest giggle and then a full laugh.

Along with this wide-angle smile came her overwhelming display of hardware. Guy now understood why she spoke most of the time through tight lips.

Dancing couples continued to stare and sneer.

Glancing up at his lanky partner, Guy asked, “Does it bother you people are laughing?”

“No,” Amy replied, flat and fast.

“How come?”

“They don’t matter.”

“No?”

“No. People who find joy in cruelty to others are themselves insecure. I get the impression they laugh mainly because they’re grateful not to be the object of ridicule.”

“You’re a pretty sophisticated person, “ Guy told her.

“True,” Amy agreed.

With a flourish, the band concluded its strange rendition of “Earth Angel.”

Amy and Guy walked to the bleachers to retrieve his camera and her pad.

Rose, a vision in pink fluff and baby-orchid wristlet corsage, descended upon him with great urgency.

“Oh Guy, may I see you a moment?”

“Hi, Rose. Do you know Amy?”

“I don’t think so,” Rose insisted, never taking her eyes off her brother.

“We had English together last year,” Amy told Rose.

“Did we?” Rose said, giving Amy the benefit of eye contact for half a second.

“Yes,” Amy went on, undaunted. “Mr. Einlach, the penguin. Remember?”

“Of course!” Rose responded frostily, looking only at Guy. “Can we talk? Need your advice about something. “

Before Guy could answer, Rose walked off.

“Of course!” he called after her before turning to Amy. “Will you watch my camera?”

“Maybe you should take it with you,” Amy suggested, mouth clenched once again. “You may not choose to return.”

“I’ll be back!” he said, turning to catch up with his sister.

Rose waited impatiently in the nearly empty hallway outside the gymnasium. Pink fingernails tapped nervously against her folded arms.

“What is it?” asked Guy.

“ ‘What is it? ! What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

“I don’t unders—”

“Anything, just anything for a laugh, huh? Are you that desperate?”

“What are you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know!”

“Amy?”

“You’re goddamn right, Amy.”

“What’s the problem?”

“The problem, Guy, is I’ll be the laughingstock of the entire school.”

“How?”

“Trust me, okay. You’re new here. Chalk it up to bad judgment. Just take my word for it. Stay away from her.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? Look at her. She’s a giant!”

“So what?”

“So that’s the point, brat. She’s about a mile high. You know how ridiculous you look together?”

Rose’s lashing tongue stung. “Why?” Guy managed to ask.

“Why?
Why the hell do you think? She towers over you like an Amazon!”

“So? Jonathan Leeds is a lot taller than you!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Guy … Jonathan just happens to be a
boy!”

“So?”

“So …
boys
are supposed to be taller than
girls!”

“Says who?”

“Says everybody/”

“Oh, really? Well, just where is that rule written?”

“It doesn’t have to be written anywhere, dumbbell! It’s a rule of life!”

“Well, maybe it’s a stupid rule!”

“Do me a favor, Guy. If you want to change the world, don’t do it on my time, okay?”

“Rose … all I did was dance with her.”

“If you must dance, Guy … pick on someone your own size. Amy is one of the school freaks. I will not suffer indignities because of your rebellious shenanigans. Didn’t you see everyone laughing?”

“Of course.”

“Wellr

Trying hard to remember Amy’s words, Guy paraphrased, “Insecure people need someone else to laugh at.”

“I don’t know what that means, Guy Fowler, but I will not stand for any of your psychological horse manure!”

A loud fanfare inside interrupted their family get-together. The few people in the hall filed into the gym.

“They’re probably going to bring Ro-Anne in. I’ve got to get some pictures. Can we fight about this later?”

“Please, Guy. Please.” Rose switched gears. “Don’t embarrass me. I don’t want them laughing at you.”

Guy looked straight into his sister’s cherubic face. “Jesus Christ, Rose. Neither do I. Don’t you know that? Neither do I.”

Straightening his tie, he hurried back into the gymnasium.

FIFTEEN
 

THE PENTAX
was there. Amy wasn’t.

“Ladies and gentlemen …” the drummer announced into the microphone, “will you please welcome this year’s Queen of the Hawaiian Moon Ball, Ro-Anne Sommers … her royal court… and her escort, our favorite quarterback, Corky Henderson!”

Through a crepe-papered canopy ready to topple at the slightest touch, Ro-Anne, lovely in blue, made her entrance. In one hand she held a bouquet of flowers, in the other, Corky. He looked terrific in dark suit and snappy tie.

Three attractive attendants-to-the-queen followed.

The entourage arrived at the lagoon. Ken Crawley, student body prexy, told six humorless jokes in a row.

Guy snapped pictures as Ro-Anne got crowned, caped, throned, catered to and adored.

The ceremony completed, all eyes upon them, Corky led Miss Moon to the dance floor.

The band played “Love Me Tender.” Lights were lowered. Corky and Ro-Anne circled in the glow of a follow spot.

A spinning mirrored ball splintered the light, creating a dreamlike effect. Ten thousand stars whirled around the room.

In their minds, the others floated with them. No longer smirking at Guy and Amy, the least likely couple, they now concentrated on Ro-Anne and Corky, their most ideal.

Focusing on the model pair, Guy clicked off a roll offilm.

Immersed within each other, Corky and Ro-Anne hardly reacted to the distractingflashes.

Other couples soon joined the Queen and her handsome escort.

Guy was still feeling guilty about his dumb halftime suggestion to Corky, so rather than get in the way again, he slipped out of the gymnasium. His departure went unnoticed.

On Monday, after classes, Guy went directly to the
Eagler
office.

Leonard Hauser was mid-tantrum. “Wait ‘til I’m running the
New York Times”
he yelled across the room. “I’ll hire and fire so fast, no one’s going to walk over me! Now …”He turned to Guy. “What’s your problem?”

Guy waved the contact sheets of the Sewanhaka game and the Hawaiian Moon Ball before his editor.

“Oh, right. Brownie snapshots of Waterfield royalty. Hold still.” Leonard took them from him.

“Did Amy turn in her story on the dance yet?”

“ ‘Course not,” Leonard huffed. “What do you think I’m running here, a newspaper? … These are pretty good, Fowler. “

“Thanks. How would it be if Amy and I picked out an appropriate picture to go with whatever angle she’s using?”

“Sounds good. Come up with something our comic book readers might understand.” Leonard looked up from the photos. “Why couldn’t I have been born rich as well as brilliant? Don’t answer that. I should be in some expensive prep school, paving my way to Harvard and the Pulitzer prize. Families move from Brooklyn to Queens and finally to Waterfield, thinking they’ve made it. At last, an all-white neighborhood—the American dream! Christ! I’m drowning in a sea of mediocrity.”

“A pearl before swine, huh?”

“Thank you. “ Leonard placed an affectionate hand on Guy s shoulder. “At last someone understands me.”

Looking around, Guy spotted Amy seated behind a typewriter. As he walked over she stated, “No damn E! What kind of a story can I write with noE on the lousy typewriter?”

“Avoid words like cemetery.”

“Good advice.”

“What happened to you Saturday night?”

“When?” Amy erased part of her story on the typewriter.

“I came back and you were gone.”

“What can I say? I’ll lie. Had a splitting headache.”

“You missed the crowning of the prom queen.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do.”

“Quick!” cried Amy, attracting everyone’s attention. “Find me a razor! I’m going to slash my wrists!”

“How ‘bout a letter opener instead?” Leonard hollered from across the room.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Leonard? Blood all over the office. Anything for a headline! Well, forget it. I’ve decided to live and make your life miserable!”

Leonard raised a fist in the air. “I’m not taking you with me to the Times, Amy!”

Horrified, Amy pretended a faint over her typewriter.

Leonard was pleased with himself and went back to work.

Guy looked around. “Are all of you always so bright and brittle?”

“Always.” Amy sat up straight.

“That’s too bad.”

“Too bad?! Please! What else keeps us going? The day this viper’s tongue dulls, I turn in my typewriter ribbon!”

“But it all seems so nasty,” Guy protested.

“That’s just on the surface,” Amy explained, batting little girl eyelashes. “Beneath these hardened exteriors there lies unabashed, open hostility.”

“Doesn’t make you sound like happy people.”

“Happiness is for others!” Amy stated, pounding the desk for emphasis.

“That a quote or something?”

“Something. Listen. It’s still new to you. Hang around a few weeks. Youll grow as neurotic as the rest of us.”

“God, 1 hope so!” Guy was enthusiastic. “Now. Can we discuss business?”

“Only if it has sexual overtones!” Amy answered with a toss of her shoulder.

“Okay. Leonard wants us to pick out a photo that best suits your story.”

“Fine. Got any shots of Ro-Anne doing the hula with Jungle Jim?”

“See for yourself.” Guy handed over his work.

Amy skimmed the columns. “What can I say? Each picture is worth a thousand words. You’ve done my job for me. Tell Leonard I’ve quit.”

“Come on.”

“You snap a wicked photo.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m just being honest.” Amy almost smiled. “Let’s use this one.” She pointed to a candid of Ro-Anne and Corky dancing. “That’ll quicken heartbeats, punch up circulation.”

“That’s one of my favorites too.” Guy peered over Amy’s shoulder and observed, “They look good together, no?”

Amy sighed. “Like white bread and processed cheese!”

“Huh?”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It means sentiment is dead. Conventional beauty comes easy. To be a true aesthete, one must appreciate the offbeat.”

“Like you?” Guy asked sheepishly.

Imitating Leonard, Amy sang out, “At last someone understands me!”

“Nothing around here makes sense.” Guy started to leave. “You’re all crazy.”

“Now you’re learning!” Amy called after him.

Leaving the office, Guy hurried down the corridor, turned the corner, and ran smack into Corky coming the other way.

“Watch it!” warned the quarterback, placing his cleats behind him.

“Sorry,” Guy squeaked. “Didn’t see you coming. “

“You always seem to be bumping into me.”

“At least this time I wasn’t on my bike.”

“I’ll count my blessings.” Corky continued down the hall.

“We were just talking about you.” Guy caught up with him. Corky stopped walking. “We who?”

“Me and the news staff,” Guy boasted. “Just gave them your latest. I hope you’ll be pleased.”

“Me too.”

“Off to practice?”

“No, kid, I always roam the halls with my cleats.”

“And why not?” Guy grinned. “If I were you, not only would I take them everyplace, I’d have em dipped in bronze.”

Corky allowed a smile. “Listen, smart aleck. Don’t cheer me up before scrimmage.”

“Why not?”

“I play better grumpy. Brings out El Animal.”

“Sorry, Tiger.” Guy saluted. “What can I say between here and the locker to get you vicious again?”

“Nothing. You can just walk me there.”

“Gladly.” Guy joined the quarterback in long strides down the corridor, fighting to come up with something of interest. “Hey! How ‘bout us beating Sewanhaka on Saturday?”

Corky quickened his pace.

Owning up, Guy decided it was time to apologize, adding, “And how ‘bout my clever interference at halftime?”

“That really upset me, kid.”

“Listen, Corky, don’t you think it upset me too?”

“I’m sure. And I didn’t mean to take all the credit afterwards. It just sort of happened.”

Guy was confused. “Huh?”

“I’m talking about the bit with the lips.”

“Wait a second. You mean I was right about that?” Guy’s mouth dropped open.

Corky reached forward and closed it.

Dazed, Guy shook his head. “I had no idea. I was apologizing to you!”

“Me? You mean you didn’t know?”

“ ‘Course not.”

Corky looked around. “Hey… you told anyone about this?”

“How could I?” Guy squeaked. “I didn’t find out til just now.”

Corky pointed an admonishing finger. “Okay, then. It’s private information between you and me, understand?”

“Fine. I’d never tell.” Guy was emphatic. “They could torture me, pull out my nails, break my arm and still I’d say nothing. Swear to God!”

“Don’t overdo it, kid. Just don’t blab, okay?”

“Absolutely!”

“I’ve got a reputation, you know. It’s a lot of fucking pressure, believe me.”

“I can imagine,” Guy assured him.

“Last thing I need is some new soph cutting through my field.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’d never trade places with anyone for all the happiness in the world!”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Well”—Guy lowered his voice—”happiness is for others.”

Corky thought about it. “What the hell’s that mean?”

“Who knows?” Guy shrugged. “It didn’t make much sense when someone else said it a few minutes ago, either. “

“Do me a favor, kid. Leave the brain waves at home.”

“Will do.”

“I gotta get to practice. You be sure about this now. I don’t want what we talked about getting back to me. There’ll be hell to pay.”