My Most Excellent Year (16 page)

Now that I had the home field advantage, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do—so he climbed up onto his bed and left an open spot next to him for me to sit down too. I pretended not to notice.
Don’t like the ’tude, dude.
Finally, he banged on the night table to get me to turn around, which I did eventually—but not before Mateo and I wrapped up our last round of Penguin Pat.
Take your time, kid. This is working.
So I got up to stretch like I had nothing better to do and wound up plopping down on the bed next to Hucky. By then he was so pissed, his arms were folded, his scowl went up past his nose, and his ears looked like they were going to blow off. But he
still
wouldn’t connect eyes with me. Instead, he pulled open his night table drawer, took out a videotape, and popped it into the VCR.
Mary Poppins.
We watched it twice and his attention stayed
glued to the screen. Even during Rewind. (Mateo lasted twenty minutes and then went to swing on the tire in the backyard. I got the feeling he’s seen this movie a lot more than he’s wanted to.) Shut-the-Door was in Hucky’s lap, his head was almost-but-not-quite resting on my arm, and he was tugging on his favorite piece of hair—but nothing could have pulled him away from those two English kids and their nanny. So halfway through the second run-through of “A Spoonful of Sugar,” I pointed to Julie Andrews and said “You like her, huh?” When Hucky answered back with more hand signals I didn’t understand, I knew I was going to have to copy them down and run them by Mr. Landey again.

Mama, I may need some help here.

Dear Betty,

Leave it to the uninitiated to think that “Lauren” is your real name.

The bad news is that my brother is forcing me to take sign language with him after school in case I ever need to have a conversation with Hucky Harper, who didn’t turn out to be a delusion after all. This is the price I pay for making Tick listen to
Cabaret
with me
in 1999. When he said, “You owe me big time” after the sixteenth replay of “Don’t Tell Mama,” I knew he wasn’t kidding. The good news is that even though Mr. Landey never saw
All About Eve
, he still taught me how to sign: “Fasten your seat belt—it’s going to be a bumpy night.” I might as well get the kid started in the right direction. He’s six years old, he looks exactly like Tick did when we first met, and he probably doesn’t know who Bette Davis is either. If you can imagine.

What was it like when you and Bogey first set eyes on each other? Did you know right away? Because I think that’s what’s happening to me and Andy. I mean, as long as he was calling me Spidey and Wonderboy, how could I not call him Bright Eyes and Lightning Lad? (I think I’m going to switch to Aquaman once he joins the swim team.)

So far, these are the facts:

1.    When we went to the movies together, I waited in line for our popcorn and Slurpees so he could go inside to find seats. Then he called me on my cell phone from the tenth row center and said, “Hurry up. It’s
lonely
in here.”

2.    When he came over for dinner, he paid as much attention to my parents as he did to me. He helped Mom make the chin-chiang salad, he asked Dad to show him a couple of t’ai chi moves, and then they watched the first inning of the Pats game together. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was auditioning for the role of their son’s fiancé and they were ready to cast him.

3.    I can’t stop staring at the dimple in his chin and if I think about touching it one more time, I’m going to buy a bag of hammers and break all ten of my fingers.

4.    We both agree that if there’s really a Hell, all they feed you there is cilantro and calves’ liver.

5.    I’ve gotten into the habit of watching him across the class-room during third-period American history, when he’s least likely to get bored and catch me staring. I love the way his eyebrows squish together whenever he doesn’t understand something and how he runs his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck if his hands get fidgety. I also love the way his ears blend into his cheeks without any kind of a dividing line (how come I never noticed ears before?) and how wide his eyes open just before he sneezes. I guess there are plenty of handsome guys walking around if you just take the time to look, but if any of them are more handsome than Andy, they sure don’t live in Brookline. I really need to be more careful, though. Once when he was wearing a baby blue sweater, I left the real world so far behind that when Ms. Reed asked me a history question, I gave her an algebra answer. These days, Tick allows me five minutes of Andy-gazing before he shoots a spitball at my neck to snap me out of it.

6.    He’s sometimes afraid to sit too close to me, and I love that. And when he gets flustered, he makes every part of me light up. Yesterday at The Word Shop Café, Kathy Fine was having trouble remembering all of the words to her
Kiss Me, Kate
audition song, “I Enjoy Being a Girl.” So I routined it for her right there and even taught her the second verse just for the hell of it. And when I sang, “I turn and I glower and I bristle, but I’m happy to know the whistle’s meant for me” right to Andy, he blushed.

7.    Ever since Lee Meyerhoff snaked us into dancing together the night of the talent show, we haven’t been able to stop talking
to each other: on our cell phones, online—everything but face-to-face. No topic is too out there. It can be cornbread in the cafeteria, the potholes on Longwood Avenue, or whether farts float in zero gravity. But no matter what we’re discussing, every night before we hang up or log off, the last thing he says to me is “Sleep well.” Which only keeps me awake until 4:00 in the morning while I play those two words over and over in my head. Nobody ever told me to sleep well before.

8.    The only thing we never talk about is us.

Okay, I’ll admit that the greatest romances of all time probably started like this. But lifelong friendships start that way too, and I’m not about to make a wrong move and scare him off. I love Andy with my whole heart (oh, my God, I actually
said
that??), and if I have to settle for having him in my life as just a buddy, I’ll take it.

Remember what Judy Garland said at the end of
In the Good Old Summertime
? “Psychologically, I’m very confused—but personally, I feel just wonderful.”

Here’s looking at you, kid,

Augie