Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel (8 page)

Mr. Harris didn’t let me make up the test. He is now giving me a D as my midsemester grade. Ms. Taylor’s been out of school for two days. She hardly ever uses her sick days, so I assume it has to do with Mr. Harris, and is possibly contributing to his bad mood. I haven’t told my parents about the grade, since I’m already walking on eggshells around my mom, and my dad’s always griping about Armstead tuition. I can’t let him think that I’m wasting his money. Now I have to get a B on the next few tests, or I’m toast. But I really doubt it’s going to happen.

The play is taking up a lot of time. It’s been fun so far, when I’m not mooning over Saskia, and I’m learning a lot about the technical aspects of production from Taryn and her crew. Despite their icy exteriors they’ve been pretty welcoming, doing things like offering to lend me graphic novels they think I’d like. We spend a lot of time in the booth overlooking the stage, and it’s surprisingly fun.

“Check this out,” Taryn says one afternoon as she plays Pink Floyd’s “Money” on the auditorium speakers. She’s set up lighting cues to create a psychedelic show onstage in time with the music.

“That’s awesome!” I say, and I really truly mean it. When the spectacle is over, Taryn drinks from her flask and I work on the lighting cues for the play. Christina sleeps on the couch until it’s time to leave, as usual. Simone is working on knitting a purse, but I don’t quite see it yet. She’s in charge of costumes and props, so she has a lot downtime. She’s even teaching me to crochet.

The most surprising thing about the production is how good an actress Tess is. When she’s in character, she commits herself fully to it. It’s just the way she is with her schoolwork. Sometimes when she’s not onstage, she helps me with my science homework. And by that I mean she does it for me while I pretend that I understand what she’s doing.

Tomas is still Tomas, relentlessly flirting with a senior who’s playing Orsino, but I don’t think the senior understands that Tomas is flirting with him. In any case it’s kept Tomas out of my hair. Saskia has been brilliant, of course, and sometimes I think she must be bored with being so perfect at everything. She and I have been hanging out a lot lately. We walk to class and rehearsal together with our arms joined at the elbow and have inside jokes, though sometimes they are at our classmates’ expense. I imagine this is how Europeans behave, very touchy-feely without it really meaning anything. Still, I like to pretend it’s also what having a girlfriend might be like. Not that my imagination always stops there.

“Christina! Wake up!” Taryn shouts while building a platform.

Christina’s head rises, and she looks disoriented. “Where’d you put the hacksaw? I can’t find it anywhere.” Christina points to a shelf up high and lays her head back down, going to sleep.

“Worst tech crew ever,” Taryn mutters.

“She’s just nervous about the show coming up so soon,” Simone says, coils of yarn piled at her feet. “I was thinking we could get some dry ice for a fog effect.”

“Yeah, let’s add another stupid errand to the ever-growing list,” Taryn says while she measures wood with a ruler.

“You know, Taryn, you’ve been such a bitch since the PETA petition,” Simone snaps back. “So we didn’t get enough signatures. We will next time.”

They argue some more. I leave them to it while I watch the stage. Saskia circles Tess with a kind of predatory look. Is that part of her character?

“Stop drooling over her,” Taryn says, coming over to me. I glare at her, but mostly I’m embarrassed.

“It’s all right, Leila,” Simone says, smiling at me as she joins us. “We don’t judge here.” I’m totally blushing now and glance at the floor.

“Am I that obvious?” I say meekly. Christina has miraculously woken up and appeared like the vampire she pretends to be. She pats my shoulder.

“We’ve all seen this play forty times. Yet you always pay attention to Saskia’s scenes. Every. Time. It’s kind of hard not to notice,” Christina says.

“No, I mean, do I look . . . do I look gay?” They all laugh at me. “Well, you guys have the look down,” I mumble. They all stare at one another. Then Taryn shakes her head, Simone looks at me like I am speaking a new language for the first time, and Christina yawns.

“Sorry, did I—I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Wow. Um, you’ve got a lot to learn,” says Taryn, sawing into some wood.

“We’re not gay,” Simone says. I look at the three of them, my gaze landing on Taryn’s shaved head.

“Wait? What?” I say, flabbergasted. “You’re kidding, right?”

“We’re not gay,” Taryn repeats, matter-of-factly. “My boyfriend goes to public school, Simone just has the hobbies of her grandma, and Christina’s into the undead, so that kind of limits her dating options.” I start to sweat.

“Oh my God.” I cover my face with my hands. It was one thing when I thought I was confiding to “my people,” but I’m left with the scary realization that I’m alone—and exposed.

“Hey, it’s okay. There’s no reason to be ashamed!” Simone says, coming to my side. “I’ve got two moms and I love them both. I know tons of gay people and they have well-adjusted lives. Well, except for Uncle Bill. He has those larceny charges . . . But otherwise there’s nothing to worry about.”

My hands are still over my face. I’m not ready to look at any of them yet.

“We won’t tell anyone. Right, girls?” says Simone.

“Christ, since when did tech crew turn into the Oprah show?” says Taryn. “Look, Leila, high school sucks for everybody. We know what that’s like, so we’re not going to say anything.” I uncover my face and look at the group.

“There are a lot of gay vampires,” Christina says with a shrug. I suppose that’s her idea of comforting.

“Thanks. I just haven’t figured it all out yet. Maybe it’s just a phase,” I say timidly.

“Sure,” Taryn says, rolling her eyes. “A phase.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” I beseech them.

“Well, whatever you’re going through, it’s cool with us,” Christina says. The girls nod and we go back to work. I like keeping busy and focusing on the task at hand. I feel like I have people I can talk to, and that’s more than I ever thought I would get out of stage-managing.

“Do you know this music?” Saskia asks as I sit on her sofa, listening to the odd singing with a smooth background. She invited me over to her house after rehearsal. Her parents are out to dinner with friends. I had to call and beg my mom after the whole skipping school fiasco, but she acquiesced when I told her Tess would be there and we would study. Tess isn’t here, of course. Yes, I lied. “It’s the Ethiopiques. Afro jazz from a while ago. Who knows what they’re saying, but it sounds great, doesn’t it?”

I nod and keep sipping the wine Saskia has poured for us. We’re sitting a few feet apart.

“I’m so nervous for the play,” Saskia goes on. “Everyone seems fairly well-prepared. It’s just that something about Tess playing Cesario puts me off.”

“Oh?” I say, sipping my wine, trying to look sophisticated, though I can feel that my cheeks are as red as a bag of Twizzlers.

“I don’t know what it is. She just has no personality and tries so hard. I’d encourage her to take private acting lessons, but she probably couldn’t afford it.” It’s quiet for a moment while I pretend she didn’t say what she did.

“I think you would have made a great Cesario, Leila. Too bad Tess didn’t get sick or anything,” Saskia says.

“I think she’s doing a pretty good job.”

“But it’s so hard to pretend to fall in love with her. If
you
were in the part I’d have no trouble at all.”

I look at Saskia wide-eyed and she radiates. She’s probably just being friendly.

“More wine?” she asks. I nod and she pours me another glass.

“Is Tomas coming?” I ask, kind of hoping he is so I can stop feeling so nervous.

“No. I thought we’d just have a girls’ night this time.”

What is happening?

“You’ve been such a good friend lately. I want to hear about what’s going on in your life,” she says.

“I’m, um . . . I’m failing science.”

“You’ll be fine. I’m sure we can find test answers for you. Or we can blackmail Mr. Harris. Or seduce him. He is cute. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult.”

I stare at her in disbelief.

“Oh, I’m kidding. You should see your face. You take everything so literally.” Saskia turns on the TV and flips through the channels. “Do you want to order an adult movie?”

No, really, what is happening? “No, I’m good, thanks,” I say before sipping some more wine.

“You don’t like sex?”

I laugh nervously. She’s so blunt. I’m not sure if that’s a European thing or the wine. “You know Greg likes you. I can tell,” she says.

“We’re just friends,” I say, staring at the carpet.

“He just doesn’t do it for you. I understand.” Saskia turns off the TV. “It’s so boring up here. Do you want food or anything?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“So you’re definitely not interested in Greg?” she asks.

“No. I’m not.”

Saskia leans in closer as she puts her glass on the table. Her breath smells of wine. “Then who are you interested in?” she asks calmly, scanning my face. I stare at her in shock, clutching my glass. Is she suggesting what I think she is? She smiles and says, “Well, go on and kiss me. I don’t mind.”

I let out a nervous squeak and Saskia laughs. She takes the glass from my hand and puts it on the table. “We’ll keep it between us, yeah?” she says, and I nod, dazed. She leans in and kisses me, tentatively at first, and I tremble a little before I respond. I close my eyes and try to lose myself in the kiss. Saskia makes me forget almost everything as she claims my mouth.

Wow.

I back away and she smiles sweetly. “Should we try again?” I don’t really know how to answer her, so I nod once more and she takes the lead again, slowing her pace. Just as I am hoping we can do this for hours, she breaks away. Laughing, she holds her hand up for a high five. “We are awesome!”

Um. Okay.

“Was I your first girl kiss?” she asks slyly.

I almost want to lie to her so she doesn’t feel disappointed. “No. There was someone over the summer,” I say. I can’t stop staring at her lips.

She bites her bottom lip. “Was she prettier than me?” Seriously?

“No. There’s no one prettier than you,” I admit. Anastasia was adorable, but no one I’ve met before has Saskia’s supermodel good looks.

“Was she better at kissing than I was?” I don’t know why she’s asking, but I’m willing to risk a bold answer. I lean in to kiss her this time and she moans. I nearly die.

“No,” I answer at last. That isn’t exactly true, because nothing can really compete with the feeling of a first kiss . . . but I’m pretty sure an entire garden of Georgia O’Keeffe flowers has bloomed to life in my chest.

When Ms. Taylor comes back to school I’m glad, because I thought I would finally have someone to talk to about my lurid encounter with Saskia. Only I was right, she and Mr. Harris have broken up. She doesn’t say so explicitly, but in all her classes she’s really upset and gets weepy about totally mundane things. We started reading
The Scarlet Letter
.

“So Hester has to wear a scarlet
A
because she commits the sin of adultery. But there aren’t any men wearing something to show their sins. I mean, let’s say a man said he was ready to take the next step in a relationship and then backed out because he felt ‘overwhelmed.’ That man should then wear a scarlet
C
for cowardice, don’t you think?” No one can look away from Ms. Taylor as she rants.

Ashley mouths the word
crazy
to Robert, and Ms. Taylor must see her. Ms. Taylor’s eye twitches and she walks over to Ashley. Ashley shrinks in her seat a little.

“Ashley, with all of your gifts of perception, I’m surprised you weren’t able to find all the grammatical errors in your paper.” Lisa and I look at each other. Maybe the Mr. Harris/Ashley affair is more than just a rumor after all.

Ms. Taylor walks back to her desk. “No homework tonight. You guys can go.” The class files out. Robert doesn’t even wait for the door to close before he starts laughing hysterically. I linger behind and approach Ms. Taylor’s desk.

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

“Oh, no Leila, thank you. You’re very sweet. I guess I made a fool of myself today.”

“I don’t think anyone noticed,” I lie, giving her shoulder a light pat. Ms. Taylor begins to cry, and I really don’t know what to do. She wipes her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Leila, this is completely unprofessional. God, you’re so lucky you’re a lesbian.”

I panic, looking around just to double-check that, yes, we’re still the only two left in the classroom. Ms. Taylor takes a deep breath and blinks a few times.

“I think I’m dating a girl,” I whisper. She blinks and smiles.

“Oh, that’s nice! Good for you! I’m happy to hear it.”

“Thanks. And hey, you can do way better than Mr. Harris. He’s lame.” She shakes her head and puts her hands up.

“No, Leila, that’s sweet but you don’t have to take sides. He’s your teacher, too, and a respected member of the community, even though he’s confused about some things. Like what he looks for in a woman. Or whether he wants to have kids one day. But he’s a good man.

I nod.

“Are you still doing poorly in his class?”

I nod again.

“Well, study harder. Put your best foot forward and all that,” she says.

I smile and we both enter an awkward silence.

“I think I’m going to go to the nurse’s office,” Ms. Taylor finally says.

I head out the door.

There’s still time left in the class period and almost everyone from my English class is hanging around the hallway, gossiping about our once-mighty but now-fallen teacher. Lisa sits on a bench by herself and I sit down next to her.

“Is Ms. Taylor okay?” Lisa asks.

“I think so.”

“I guess she broke up with someone.”

“What tipped you off, Katz?” We both smile and she kicks my shoe with hers.

“How’s the play?”

“Almost over. You coming to the show?”

She shrugs.

“I’ll take that as a maybe.”