The Bermudez Triangle (13 page)

The rest was just some vines and squiggly lines she had drawn up and down the margins.

Busted. Two minutes out of her entire academic career. Busted.

“Better yet,” Frost said, “why don’t you do something for me this weekend? I’d like a rundown of all the biographies of Benjamin Franklin published since 1900. Just a list and a few comments on any that have come out since 1990. I’d like that on Monday.”

It was so unfair—but there was no way she was going to show Frost that. Her recommendation requests would be going out within the week.

“Okay,” Nina said, as if this was completely normal. “No problem.”

She wrote it down, even as her hand shook a bit. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Devon was watching her reaction closely. She held it steady. She didn’t smile or look defiant. She wrote, and then she looked Frost right in the eye with complete composure.

To Nina’s amazement, Devon smiled, just a bit.

Later that night Nina was staring at the wrinkled, half-smiling face of Benjamin Franklin. He looked back at her from a Web site called Our Ben. He seemed to be gently chastising her for the fact that all she’d really done all night was clamp a bunch of multicolored binder clips into her hair and then amuse herself with the noise they made when she shook her head.

She just wanted to talk to Steve. She knew by now that he never got home until six since he tutored after school and then took an hour-long bike ride. So the earliest she could call him was nine, and even then she usually had to try several times because his line was always busy. (Not only did Steve not have a cell phone, his family didn’t even have call waiting. Because it wasn’t enough that Steve had to live on the
other side of the continent.
)

She got lucky on the first try tonight. He sounded a little winded, as if he had just come through the door.

“I can’t talk for long,” he said apologetically. “I’m supposed to be somewhere in half an hour.”

“Where are you going?”

“We’re having this dance thing,” he said. “It’s a fund-raiser.”

“Oh.” She heard her voice lift just a bit.

She would never join the race of bad, clingy, evil girlfriends who didn’t want their boyfriends to go places without them, especially places like dances. She was the trusting, mature kind of girlfriend who didn’t mind at all if her boyfriend went to a dance. It was
fine
, because they were both active, committed people who had to go to all kinds of events.

“I have to go to it,” he said, as if he had heard her thoughts.

“Oh, I know! I’m going out too.” A lie, but necessary to make herself sound a little less dependent and pathetic. A lie that would
help their relationship.
“Mel and Avery and I are going out.”

“How’s that going?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Nina rolled onto her back and sighed. “I’ve only gone out with them twice since then, and we didn’t talk about it. At all.”

Nina heard a loud noise in the background at Steve’s house—the sound of many people arriving and talking all at once.

“Uh, hold on….” Steve must have put his hand over the phone. Everything was muffled. She heard him saying that he’d be ready in a minute. It was hard to listen to. She would have given anything to be one of those people—to be in Steve’s house. To be able to come in anytime she wanted and see the mold and the jam and the crazy hippies and in the middle of it all, Steve. Steve—who was responsible, who cleaned and took care of people and had zillions of friends and who understood everything.

“They’re here,” he said apologetically. “I kind of have to—”

“I know.”

“Olive juice? Oh, wait. I can say it now. I love you.”

Nina sat up so quickly that the binder clips in her hair clanked loudly against the phone, and she let out a little “yah!” sound in surprise.

“Okay …” he said.

“I love you too.”

She could have happily spent the rest of the night saying that back and forth, but Steve took it as a goodbye. When he hung up the phone, Nina felt herself stop breathing for a minute and consciously had to tell herself to start up again. She stared at her bamboo blinds and the dark outside. She heard the quiet whir of her computer.

Benjamin Franklin or no Benjamin Franklin, she had to get out of here.

When Nina arrived at P. J. Mortimer’s, Mel was standing near the front with Parker. He appeared to be doing some kind of puppet play for her, making little bunny gestures. Mel was laughing hysterically. Nina watched the two of them for a minute from the safety of the takeout order station. Her theory was holding up—at least on Parker’s end. He was working hard. It was almost a shame. He clearly had no idea that this was going nowhere. It would be merciful if she interrupted them. And while she was at it, she should probably try to show Mel how comfortable she was around her.

Nina walked up quickly, startling both Mel and Parker. She put her keys down on the stand, then looped her arm through Mel’s and pulled her off to the side.

“I had to get out,” she said. “I was going nuts. Want to do a movie at my house tonight? I can run and get it now.”

Mel threw a helpless glance at an antique print of a horse jumping over a fence.

“It can be Disney,” Nina said. “We can beat Avery down.”

“It’s not that …” Mel said.

“What is it?”

“It’s just, we were going to … spend time. You know.”

Nina felt a huge pressure drop in her stomach. This was not a “we” that included her—this was a private “we.” They needed time.
That
kind of time.

“How about tomorrow night?” Mel asked.

Nina had to talk herself through this one as well. It made perfect sense that they would need some time alone. Every couple needed that. It was fair, and Nina was going to be fair. She had promised them that much.

“Are you sure?” she heard herself asking.

Or not.

Suddenly having her friends with her tonight was the most important thing in the world to Nina. Tomorrow night, next weekend, the rest of her life—none of it mattered. Survival meant the next few hours with Mel and Avery.

“I guess,” Mel said. Her face was twisting into all kinds of agonized spasms. “But tomorrow, you know, we could have the whole night. We could grab dinner and then get movies….”

Mel was clearly trying to balance out some delicate equation that Nina wasn’t even aware of. Someone called Mel’s name from the direction of the dining room, and Mel signaled for Nina to stay put.

Nina was not going to cry here in the foyer of a family restaurant. She was
not
.

“I’ll be right back,” Mel said. “I just have to grab this check.”

Mel went back into the restaurant. Parker looked down and
started playing with Nina’s bright disco ball key ring on the stand.

“My inner raccoon likes the shiny thing,” he said while looking apologetic, as if he hadn’t meant to witness this awkward conversation—not that he could have understood its real meaning.

“I guess Mel’s going out with her boyfriend?” he asked, nonchalantly passing the keys back to Nina.

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

He couldn’t quite disguise his relief or the fact that he clearly pitied Nina. After all, she had just been abandoned by her best friends on a Friday night.

“I was thinking about going to The Grind after work,” he said. “Getting all wound up on caffeine. Playing me some board games. It makes everybody sad when I sit there and play Candyland by myself. Want to come?”

“I think I might just go home.”

“They have Jenga! Everyone loves Jenga. Jenga, Jenga, Jenga.”

Parker’s friendliness only made Nina feel weirder. Now she just wanted to go home, put on her pajamas, and curl up in her bed. Cocoon. Watch TV. Block everything out. Besides, he probably just wanted to pump her for information about Mel—information she couldn’t give.

“No,” she said. “That’s okay.”

He was staring at her strangely now. She felt a burning in her eyes. They were probably getting red. She didn’t feel like having part
two of this conversation with Mel. The outcome was going to be the same: She wasn’t invited tonight.

“Can you just tell them I had to go?” she asked.

“No problem.”

Nina smiled at him and turned away quickly. She just managed to get out of Mortimer’s before she lost the battle to the tears.

October 3

TO: Steve

FROM: Nina

Steve,

I wish I could say that things are improving and I’m taking this well and I’m learning and growing, because I’m not. That’s crap. I hate this. I hate feeling like I’m always intruding on my friends. This is MEL AND AVERY! I am SUPPOSED to be with them. But they kind of shift around and look at each other with love eyes and I end up saying I have to go home, which I always do anyway since I have NO LIFE and NO TIME and my AP history teacher HATES ME and I’m not done with my applications and I have to raise my SAT verbal by at LEAST 30 more points.

This whole early decision thing is a lot more evil than I thought it would be.

I want my friends to be happy, but I also want my old life back.

I feel like some big homophobe for complaining about Mel and Avery. That makes it even worse. And I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am.

You’re the only person I can even tell about this.

Help,

Neen

October 4

TO: Nina

FROM: Steve

Neen,

I went to this thing at my friend’s house after I got your note. It was just people sitting around smoking a lot of weed, and I don’t smoke, so I just watched people get stoned and changed the CDs.

Anyway, a few lesbians that I know were there, so I went over and explained your situation. Most of them were pretty mad on your behalf because they thought Mel and Avery should have told you instead of making
out at the mall. The girls here thought they were trying to get caught, which in their opinion was really lame. So, the lesbians of Portland are totally with you.

And, of course, I am with you. I talk about you all the time. It’s kind of good to talk to the stoned people because they let me go on forever and they never notice that I’ve been talking for an hour. They just smile and say, “Awesome.” The girls thought you sounded really hot, which you are. They all seemed jealous of me.

You should come out here. You have fans.

On another note, this may not be the time to tell you I am thinking about working with this program to save the tree kangaroo in Papua New Guinea.

October 5

TO: Steve

FROM: Nina

S,

OMFG! What are you talking about? Kangaroos in trees? Going where? For how long? V.v. freaked out …

I don’t want to be the reason these kangaroos die off or anything, but life without Steve unthinkable. UNTHINKABLE. CERTAIN DEATH. V.v.v.v.v.v.v.v.v.v. bad for Nina.

October 5

TO: Nina

FROM: Steve

Nina,

Just something I was thinking about. I’d miss you too much, though. Don’t worry.

Love from here to there.

There was a
fenced-off area behind the cafeteria where delivery trucks came to unload food (or whatever it was that they made lunch out of). It was called the pen. It wasn’t a very pretty spot—just an offshoot of the parking lot butting up against a concrete wall with a single door and vent. This was where Avery and Mel met every day after school. There were about a hundred better places to meet, but Avery liked the pen the best. Even though they weren’t doing anything there that required privacy, Avery still liked the fact that it was their place.

The pen was also where the grounds crew piled the mountains of leaves they blew out of the administrators’ parking spaces and the path. These piles were like the Alps of Saratoga. They were supported by the cyclone fence and completely obscured the view of the road. These were the perfect leaves—the ones that hadn’t gotten wet or started to decay. Some were still fresh and soft, in gold and orange and red. There were enough dry ones to make the right crunching noise.

Mel was there, gazing up in awe at the trees. She almost blended into the pile, with her orange hair and brown hoodie.

As Avery approached, Mel tossed herself backward into the leaves.

“Congratulations,” Avery said with a smirk. “You’re eight years old.”

Mel reached forward and grabbed Avery by the front of her jeans and tossed her lightly into the spot next to her, where she landed face-first and coughed unappreciatively.

“Smells nice, huh?” Mel grinned, grabbing a handful and throwing it at Avery.

“You are
so
going down.”

Avery managed to get up and cover Mel with a blanket of leaves within about two seconds. Unable to shake them all free, Mel did the more appealing thing—she just grabbed Avery again and pulled her down on top of her. She felt Avery resist for just a second—they were outside the school, after all. For a minute Avery really didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was sinking deeper into the pile with Mel under her.