He felt good.
Then she spoke. She wouldn't meet his eyes. “I'll just read. Paulina and I hang out and read a lot. It's a good way to keep company when you don't want to talk.”
They hung out together and
read
?
Harry watched, incredulous, as Alison put the potato chips down on the desk, the bag's open end toward her. He noticed that her hand was shaking a little, but she leaned right back in the chair, crossed her legs, and opened her book somewhere near the middle.
Of course she wasn't really going to read. It was just her way of trying to outface him. She was a little tougher than he'd thought.
And a lot weirder.
Alison turned a page of her book.
The Caine Mutiny
. She was definitely faking it, though.
A minute passed. Two.
Alison turned another page. Slumped back a bit more. Then she reached into the potato chip bag with her left hand and extracted a large chip. She put it in her mouth whole. More crumbs dribbled down on her chest, but this time she ignored them.
She turned another page, paused, and then went back, eyes scanning the previous page. Then she nodded and flipped ahead again.
She ate some more chips. She turned another page.
And then another.
She'd forgotten Harry was there.
He reached over and grabbed the book, pulling at it. She looked up, startled, but held on. “Hey! Let go!” She looked right into his eyes this time, furious. “Get your own book!”
It was the last thing he'd expected her to say. Harry was so surprised, he let go. Alison glared at him. “I brought you some books last week,” she said. “This one's mine.”
She was
insane
. What did she think this was, Book-of-the-Month Club? Unexpectedly, Harry wanted to laugh.
She had settled back in the chair, clutching her precious book to her chest. “You can't read it like that,” Harry said, before he remembered that he wasn't going to talk.
“I'm not stupid,” said Alison.
Oh, well. He might as well talk; his strategy hadn't worked anyway. “I don't want your books,” Harry said. “I hate to read. You can just take them home and shove them.”
Alison blinked. “You hate to read?”
“Yes.”
“But you have books. Over there. You have
The Hobbit
. That's why I brought you the other Tolkien books. Didn't you read it?” Her voice was curious, nothing more.
“No,” said Harry again. “Why should I?”
She looked bewildered. “You don't like to read?” she repeated, as if she thought he had to be lying.
“No! Why should I? You act like reading is fucking breathing or something.”
“I never thought about it like that.” She frowned. “I guess I never thought about it at all. I just assumed . . . no, not even that. It just didn't cross my mind. Breathing. Well, maybe. For me.” What the hell was she talking about? She was looking at him. “You really don't read even for fun?”
He wasn't going to tell her what he'd been reading about the last few months. It hadn't been fun, that was for sure.
“Only nerds read. You read all the time; that makes you Queen Nerd.”
“Queen Nerd,” said Alison thoughtfully. She grinned. “I know I'm supposed to be insulted, but it sounds kind of Egyptian. King Tut. Queen Nerd. Kind of nice. But I thought I was a nerd because I'm lousy at sports?”
“Doesn't help.” Queen Nerd sounded
kind of nice
?
“Oh,” said Alison. “I get it. A fatal combination of things.” She nodded.
Harry was curious. He couldn't help himself. “Don't you mind being a nerd?”
“Yes,” said Alison, honestly. “But you know, I don't think I'll mind now that I can think of it as being Queen Nerd. And I couldn't give up reading, not even to be as popular as Felicia Goren. It wouldn't be worth it.” She took a handful of potato chips and held out the bag to Harry. “Are you sure you don't want any? They're good.”
Harry stared at her. He took a handful. He spent the next ten minutes listening to Alison tell him what had happened so far in
The Caine Mutiny
, and then his father knocked. Adam's lesson was over, and Mrs. Shandling was here to get them.
“Well, 'bye,” said Alison. She picked up her book. “Do you want the chips?”
“No,” said Harry, moving his chair out of her way.
“Okay, I'll take them. See you next week.”
He recovered himself. “Don't bother, Queen Nerd,” he said.
She had laughed. Really laughed. “See ya.”
She had meant it, Harry thought, remembering. She'd liked being called Queen Nerd.
What an odd girl she was.
ALISON
March
A
lison was up by eight the next Sunday, which wasn't unusual, but she was also showered and dressed. Alison never got dressed before she had to. But she was supposed to go and see Paulina before she and Adam went to the Roths' at eleven.
Paulina had called the night before, late, after Adam had gone to bed and literally seconds after Rabbi Roth had called. Alison had had trouble listening to Paulina because she'd been wondering what Rabbi Roth's phone call had been about. What if Rabbi Roth had said something to her parents about Alison talking to Harry? They'd be horrified. They thought Alison just kept out of Harry's way. But she hadn't been able to hear what her mother was saying because Paulina was jabbering on, something about the mall and Felicia Goren.
She had finally interrupted Paulina. “Look,” she had said. “I can't talk now. What if I come over tomorrow morning?” They had agreed on eight-thirty, and hung up. Then Alison had wandered down the hall and lingered outside the den, where her parents were talking.
“Well, do you think a bar mitzvah would be possible for Adam?” her mother was saying.
A bar mitzvah for Adam? Alison was amazed. She listened even more intently.
“Roth really thinks Adam can do it?” her father asked.
“That's what he said. Jake, he really sounded excited. I've never heard him sound so enthusiastic.”
“Adam's fourteen,” her father said. “But that really doesn't matter....Well.” His voice strengthened. “Why not? If Adam's willing. I did it, after all.”
“Do you think Alison will mind?” her mother asked. “Rabbi Roth didn't mention her. But she could have a bat mitzvah. I can ask her.”
No, thought Alison, alarmed. Thank you, but no. She'd been to bar and bat mitzvahs. She didn't want to stand up in synagogue and go through the whole, lengthy performance, chanting in Hebrew, being formally initiated into adulthood. She didn't even like
going
to synagogue.
And she wasn't at all sure about God.
“Well, if she wants to,” her father was saying. “Of course. But it might be nice to have Adam do this all by himself.” He paused. “Betsy?”
“Yes?”
“Have you noticed, Harry Roth doesn't come to Sabbath services anymore? It's no wonder Roth's enthused about Adam. I almost feel sorry for him. Roth, I mean.”
“Me too,” Alison's mother had said. “And, Jake...”
Alison had slipped away, feeling strange. Once in bed, it had taken her ages to fall asleep. There was so much to think about: her parents, Adam and this bar mitzvah thing, Rabbi Roth.
Harry. Her parents didn't understand at all, did they? Why would Harry want to be a good son to Rabbi Roth? Rabbi Roth couldn't even let Harry's accident be about Harry. It had to be about Rabbi Roth and his relationship with God.
By contrast, it was a relief to wonder what Paulina wanted to talk about. It wouldn't be anything heavy. Probably just some gossip. Paulina was a terrible gossip.
Adam was in the kitchen eating Raisin Bran. Alison hesitated, but she didn't really feel hungry. “Adam,” she said, “I'm going to bike over to Paulina's, just for an hour or so. Will you tell Mom and Dad?”
Adam regarded her stolidly.
“Well?” said Alison.
“Alison Shandling, you're dressed,” said Adam, in his unmodulated, slightly too loud voice. He looked upset. Adam didn't like it when things were different from usual.
“Yes,” she said. “I needed to be dressed to go visit Paulina. I can't go in a nightgown, can I?” She kept her voice calm.
Adam giggled. Alison breathed a sigh of relief. “You can't go in a nightgown!” he said.
Alison nodded. “Inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate,” agreed Adam. Alison knew it was a word he'd heard as often as his own name. He was still giggling softly, but he nodded when she reminded him to tell their parents where she was, and when she'd be back.
Alison put on her jacket and gloves and headed out. She got her bike from the shed and began pedaling down the mostly empty streets. It was cold, and she biked fast, to stay warm. It was funny, she thought. Adam had calmed down so quickly. Maybe he really could have a bar mitzvah. He was in so much better control now.
But Adam was still autistic, still himself. Alison knew that would never change.
Arriving at Paulina's, she parked her bike in the driveway and approached the back door cautiously. It was very early. But Paulina had remembered, though she was still in her nightgown, and she was waiting to let Alison in. Together, they went through the kitchen and down the hall toward Paulina's room.
Mrs. de Silva was standing in the doorway of the baby's room, cradling him in her arms, and humming. She was wearing a robe, and looked sleepy. “Hi, Alison,” she said. “Paulina, I don't suppose you girls could watch Marc for an hour or so, so your father and I could sleep in?”
Paulina looked rebellious. “Mom,” she started.
Alison interrupted. “Sure,” she said. She took the baby from Mrs. de Silva before Paulina could stop her. He'd gotten so big. “We can still talk, Paulina. He's not crying or anything. We'll put him on the bed. Or I'll hold him.”
“Oh, all right. But if he was your brotherâ”
“Thank you, Alison,” said Mrs. de Silva. Paulina shut up. Alison thought that she would love a brother like Marc, a soft, cuddly, curious little bundle that grabbed and pulled at your fingers and nose and settled right into your arms as if he belonged there. She rubbed her cheek against his head.
“You should see him throw up,” said Paulina cynically. They had entered her room. She threw herself onto her bed and then sat up and moved over into the corner, leaning against the bedpost, to make room for Alison. “Or change his diapers. Disgusting.”
“He's so sweet right now, though.” Alison put Marc on the bed and climbed into the other corner against the wall before picking him back up.
Paulina snorted. “Let's see how long it lasts. But listen, I didn't want to talk to you about babies. Something amazing happened. You'll die.”
“What?” Alison freed her hair from Marc's fist. She should have put it in a ponytail.
“It's just incredible.”
“What?”
“Well, I was at the mall yesterday, you know, just looking, and guess what? I ran into Felicia Goren.” Paulina leaned forward, her words tumbling out in a stream of excitement. “First of all, she talked to me. I mean, she was really nice, it was amazing. And guess what? She says Jason Shepherd
likes
you.” Paulina paused for dramatic effect. “Well? Could you die? I can't stand it, I'm so jealous.”
“Felicia's making it up,” Alison said automatically. What? Jason Shepherd was a friend of Harry's. Or he used to be. Or they were on some team together, she forgot. But Jason was really popular. Not like Harry. Jason had curly black hair and thick eyebrows that nearly met over his blue eyes, and he played sports but he wasn't entirely dumb. He sat behind Alison in math. Sometimes he would talk to her about the homework. But he had never had anything else to say to her. “I thought he was going out with Cindy Pasquale.”
“They broke up two weeks ago. Don't you know anything? And Felicia says he wants to ask you out. He asked George Montesano to ask her to ask me to ask you if you'd go. She says she couldn't believe it either. But it's
true
. Swear to God.” Paulina delivered all of this in one breath.
“But I've never gone out with anyone.” Alison searched her memory. No. Jason Shepherd hadn't said anything much to her lately. And she was a nerd; Harry had just told her about how that worked. This couldn't be true.
“I know that! Neither have I. But we have to start sometime, right? And Jason
Shepherd
.”
Alison listened to Paulina burble on about how popular Jason was, and how maybe they would be popular now too, because, look, Felicia never even used to talk to Paulina, and she'd been so friendly yesterday, and wasn't it exciting? “But we're nerds, Paulina,” she finally broke in. And I'm Queen Nerd, she thought. “I just don't get it. Those kids don't like us. Jason Shepherd barely speaks to me. Listen, maybe Felicia is playing some horrible joke, and they're all going to be laughing at us. Felicia's mean, you know she is.”
“So what? She's popular.”
Alison tightened her arms around Marc, who let out a squawk in protest. “I can't believe you just said that.” She loosened her grip. “Sorry, baby,” she murmured. She looked up and met Paulina's eyes. After a minute Paulina's fell.
“I know,” she said. “But I get really tired of being a nerd.”
“Me too. But we won't always be. My mother says that in collegeâ”
“That's years away!” Paulina wailed. “I want a boyfriend now!”