The Boy Book (11 page)

“A whole collection, you moron,” I spat back.

“She doesn’t have mine,” said Darcy, trying to laugh it off. “It’s too big to fit in a photo.”

“It takes a certain kind of girl to take dick pictures,” Josh said. “Ruby, you want to photograph
this
?” He grabbed his crotch on the outside of his pants.

“Please. I couldn’t find it if I tried.”

“Oh, you’d find it, all right,” said Josh. “I know you know where to look.”

“How ’bout I send a team of explorers down there with infrared goggles and pickaxes, and give them a decade or two to hunt. See if they come up with anything,” I said.

A murmur went up around me. “Harsh,” I heard someone whisper.

I knew I had gone too far. Given what I’d said, there was no way anyone would ever forget what a famous slut I supposedly was. My life would never go back to normal now.

“God, Ruby,” said Josh. “Why do you always have to be such a bitch to everyone?”

“Yeah,” added Darcy. “Why do you have such a stick up your ass?”

“Leave her alone.” It was Varsha Lakshman. She’d been sitting near the back with a couple of other girls from swim team, seemingly not even paying attention to the conversation. “She was standing up for her friend.” Now she got up and walked over, tall and broad-shouldered.

“She’s ripping up other people’s private property, is what she’s doing,” said Darcy, collecting the pictures I’d dropped from the floor beneath his desk.

“You shouldn’t have those pictures anyway,” snapped Varsha.

Just then, the teacher bustled in, plunking her books down on the desk at the front of the room with a heavy plop. I mouthed “thank you” to Varsha as I went to my seat, but she didn’t say anything back.

The guys all took their seats, and two seconds later, Nora ran in late and slid into a place near the back. A ripple of laughs went up as she did so.

“We’re doing graphs today,” the teacher announced, thumbing through her textbook. “Page forty-seven.”

Darcy Andrews tossed me a note.

I didn’t want to pick it up, but curiosity got the better of me.

Slut.

Nora laid low after class. She left as soon as Precal was over, and she wasn’t in the refectory at lunch. I wondered if she cut for the day when she found out about the photos.

There’s no Chemistry on Thursdays, so I didn’t see Noel except from afar, but after sixth period there was a note in my cubby.

Hooter Rescue Squad, Official Memo

Dear SHAR,

It has come to our attention that despite your supposed abandonment of Mission Van Deusen, and also despite your neglect of your role as Mission Director, you have nevertheless acted heroically on behalf of the hooters.

In recognition of your efforts, we hereby grant you the official Rescue Squad medal of honor, which comes in the form of a large slice of pizza with the topping of your choice, to be consumed after swim practice today—or on the day of your choosing.

It’s true, once you eat the pizza, you will have nothing to display on your mantelpiece, but hey—we are a low-rent organization. It’s the best we can do.

Vehicular transport will await you outside the pool at 4:30 p.m.
(
Pacific time
),
unless you inform us otherwise.

Sincerely, and with my utmost congratulations,
SHAN

I had an appointment with Doctor Z after school. I was supposed to get a ride home with a girl from the team who lives kind of near me, then get the Honda and drive myself.

But Noel was waiting when I came out. He was sitting on a lime green Vespa, holding an extra helmet. “I went home to pick it up,” he said, handing the helmet to me.

I put it over my wet hair and got on the scooter. I wrapped my arms around Noel’s waist. His coat was open, and I could feel the muscles of his abdomen through his T-shirt.

Noel swung the Vespa out of the school parking lot and onto the street.

I felt like there should be a sound track.

We went to Pagliacci’s, this pizza place on the Ave in the U District. I got a slice with peppers and olives. Noel got plain. We put hot sprinkles and parmesan and oregano and garlic on our slices and took a booth.

“Darcy Andrews called me a slut this morning when I ripped up the picture,” I told Noel.

“What did you call
him
?”

“A pig. Oh, and I might have said his dick was too small to locate even with infrared goggles.”

Noel barked with laughter. “That part of the story is
not
circulating. Good for you.”

“I wish I’d responded to the slut thing, though.”

“What is there to say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ‘I prefer
tart’
?”

“Tart is nice. It’s a pastry.”

“Maybe I could reclaim the word
slut,
” I said. “Like gay people have reclaimed the word
queer,
so it’s not a whatever.”

“Epithet.”

“Yeah. I could run around with signs. ‘Slutty and Proud!’”

“Sluts of America Unite!”

“Exactly.” I took a sip of my pop.

“Your mom could wear a T-shirt: ‘I’m proud of my slutty kid.’” Noel fished around in his backpack for a pen. “Here, I’ll design you a slut logo.” He found a ballpoint and started to draw on a piece of notebook paper. A sketch of a woman wearing a superhero cape, glasses like mine and a strange pointy bra.

“I don’t think I ever told you that none of the stuff people say about me is true,” I blurted out.

“About the boyfriend list?”

“I was never with all those guys.”

Noel shook his head. “I wouldn’t care if you were.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“Okay.” He shoved some pizza in his mouth.

“Really, I wasn’t.”

He was being nice, but I couldn’t tell if he believed me.

“There’s stuff about Nora up in the boys’ bathroom in Main,” Noel said, when he finished chewing.

“Like what?”

“How hot she is, and how no one noticed before. Explicit statements pertaining to jugs. And messages to her, not that she’d ever read them.”

“Such as?”

“‘Let the puppies out to play, Van Deusen!’ ‘Share the wealth.’ ‘More than a handful is the way to go.’”

“Oh God. Poor Nora.”

“Cabbie’s still got his first set of copies.”

“I know. But I don’t think she wants us to interfere.”

“You didn’t talk to her about ripping them up?”

“No.”

“We should call her.” He pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket.
¹
“Do you know the number?”

I did, but I didn’t want to call it. What if she was mad at me for making a scene? “What am I gonna say? We’ve been e-mailing about your hooters?”

“No. Just have her come meet us for pizza.”

The thought of doing that was scary.

“Come on,” continued Noel. “She’s gonna be completely freaked about today. She needs some cheesy goodness in her life.”

“She’s probably at Cricket’s.” Cricket’s parents were never home.

“So if she is, she won’t come. But maybe she’s alone with her hooters.” He laughed.

“I didn’t even think you
liked
Nora that much,” I said, stalling.

“I like anyone who doesn’t play by the rules of the Tate Universe.”

“And you don’t think she does?”

He thought. “Maybe she used to. We all used to. But I see her alone a lot, is all.”

I took the phone and punched in Nora’s cell number. She answered on the second ring. “It’s Roo,” I said.

“Where are you?” she asked. “Whose phone are you using?”

“Noel’s,” I said, taking a deep breath. “We’re at Pagliacci’s. You want to come down?”

She was actually in the University Book Store, a couple of blocks away. Wasting time, looking at photography books. She came in and ordered a slice, then sat down with us.

We didn’t talk about the hooters, or the pictures, or any of the Rescue Squad activities. There was no way we could get the photos back from Cabbie anyhow.

“What are you doing for November Week?” Nora asked Noel.

“I don’t know. I did Be the Ball last year with some cross-country people. Coach pressured us into it. It was complete murder.”

“I don’t know, either,” Nora said. “Cricket and Katarina and those guys are doing Mount Saint Helens, but so are Cabbie and Darcy. So I’m not that into it, after today.”

“Enough said.”

“I’m doing Canoe Island,” I offered.

“Are you?” said Noel, sounding cranked. “With who?”

“No one. With myself.”

“She loves Mr. Wallace with a mad passion,” laughed Nora, sounding a bit like her old self.

“That’s not it,” I complained. “Well, maybe a little. But it sounds good, too.”

“All right, then, I’m in.” Noel put his hands on the table in a gesture of finality.

“You mean you’re doing Canoe Island?”

“Yeah, sure. If you’re going.”

“I’ll do it, too,” said Nora, ripping the crust off her pizza. “If you guys are.”

And that was it.

We were going to Canoe Island.

We were a “we.”

For the first time in months, I didn’t feel like a leper.

Neanderthals on the Telephone: Or, How to Converse

It has come to our attention here at
The Boy Book
that telephone conversations with members of the opposite sex are largely painful and awkward. Samples of this kind of crap can be found on page 14, “Traumatic Phone Calls, E-mails and Instant Messages,” but the problem is so widespread that we have decided to write a new entry in hopes of not just complaining but actually remedying the situation.

We know what you are thinking. It is not girls who need lessons in how to talk on the telephone.

We are experts at it.

Some of us could even medal in it.

The problem is the boys. And they need to shape up.

True, true, true.

However.

The boys are not going to shape up. They are not going to read magazines or informational textbooks such as this one that tell them how to talk to girls on the telephone. And they are not going to magically figure out how to converse either. It is a demonstrated fact that even bona fide boyfriends such as Finn and Jackson and Kaleb are hit with paralyzing stupidity and boringness on the telephone, and
you,
my girlfriends, you are the only ones who can do anything about it.

Some tried-and-true tips:

1. No feelings. Not if you can possibly avoid it. Feelings in person only.

2. No long silences. The male of the species hates long silences. If he is silent, say, “I gotta go, I’ll see you later.” And hang up. This is mysterious and alluring. And if it is not, at least you don’t have any more awkwardness.

3. Some people will tell you that you shouldn’t call guys, you should wait for them to call you. Hello? This is the twenty-first century. We can call them.

4. But have a reason. Don’t call “just to talk,” because they have nothing to talk about. Have a story to tell them, or ask if they watched some TV show just now, or ask about homework, or make a plan for the weekend.