Inside the Mind of Gideon Rayburn (7 page)

"I'm coming too," Gid says.

"Nah, nah," Cullen says, ushering Nicholas and Erica and Madison out the door. "You stay here and keep Mija
company." With a wink, Cullen disappears.

Mija smiles shyly at Gid. The room, empty and quiet now, smells overpoweringly of girls, of scents both
complex and strong and completely beyond Gid's power of description. In fact, what he's smelling is wine, Chanel 19,
and Tide. Gid sits next to Mija on the bed.

"So, where are you from?" he asks.

"Where am I from, where are my parents from, or what do I consider my home?"

Gideon's going to be hearing that a lot from now on. At this point, he doesn't know enough to find it annoying.

"Where were you born?"

"Kuala Lumpur," she says. "It's in Malay
—"

"I know where it is," Gid says. "I used to read atlases as a kid."

"But my parents are Dutch," she says, unimpressed with Gid's hint that he was a gifted child. "Well, my father
is Dutch, and my mother is sort of Dutch. It's a long story."

Gid moves a few inches away from her. He's unsure what information to offer next. Should he tell her he has a
girlfriend? He decides at this point that he's never, ever going to say more than he has to, and to always remember
that the more other people talk and the less you tell them, the better.

I think he has a lot better chance of not eating chicken until he gets laid than he does of sticking to this rule.
He's just a born confider.

"Is this your second year?"

"Oh no," says Mija, "it's my fifth. Another long story."

"I see," Gideon says, wondering why one of these long stories doesn't get told so he can stop trying to think of
what to say.

"What was the deal with that thing with Nicholas and Erica? Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, that." Mija waves her little hand dismissively, and one of her eyelids flutters. "That wasn't your fault. I
mean, you would have no way of knowing, and I am sure they didn't tell you, because it's a giant secret, but Erica is in love with Nicholas. And apparently, they've had sex. But the thing is, Nicholas gets all close to her, and then she
thinks he actually likes her, but once he's had sex with her, he's mean. But I'm not supposed to tell anyone." She frowns. "Last year, Erica didn't live with me and Madison. She lived with Marcy Proctor and Edie Bell, but then she
became friends with Madison...so...she mostly just hangs out with her now. Erica is one of those people who was
sort of popular. But when Madison started to like her, she became really popular." She blushes a little. She has huge
green eyes, and her blonde bangs are so neat it looks like they were cut with a ruler. Gideon stares back but very
pointedly does not stare at the waistband of her blue thong underwear, which protrudes rather aggressively from the
top of her pajama shorts. "They left us together because they want us to hook up, you know," Mija says. "And we
can, if you want." She moves toward him, almost imperceptibly. A symbolic gesture.

God, Gid thinks, I could win the bet right now. Or start winning. So why doesn't he feel victorious?

"Do you think we should try kissing?" she asks. "As long as we're here?"

"Sure," Gid says, glad to have a focus. They tilt their heads, and as they lean in toward each other, Gid
realizes he's thinking not about the kiss but about what he's going to eat tomorrow now that he's sort of a vegetarian. His lips are on hers, and her mouth is opening slightly. He opens his eyes. Mija's looking right at him.

"I have a girlfriend," he says.

"Oh!" She jumps up, putting her little hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry!"

"No, no," Gid says, his mind still catching up to what he just said. "I...Don't be sorry."

He's freaked out by how relieved he is that they're not making out. Don't guys constantly want to make out with
everyone? But Gid doesn't. He isn't sure about that concept, although he does find Mija attractive. He just thought
that if a pretty girl was around, then you must want her. He thinks it's strange that he doesn't.

I think this is cute. Mind-blowingly cute. A teenage boy with real taste. I mean, not that Mija's gross. But she's
not for him. And he's not trying to just hit it because he can. My heart is beating really, really fast.

Mija sits back down on the bed, pulling some of her blanket up over her feet. She seems totally over Gid's
rejection. "Do you miss her?" she asks.

The phrase "not really" pops into his head so quickly that it's a wonder he manages to say, "Oh, yes. A lot."
Mija nods sympathetically, her blonde pageboy swings next to her head in a smooth sheet. Gid realizes that he isn't attracted to girls who are too neat. But telling her he has a girlfriend
—now other girls are going to think he's off-limits.
And shouldn't he have just tried to have sex with her? And win? But he couldn't. He thinks back to that moment,
where he was trying to move his lips against hers and physically couldn't will himself to do it, because he just didn't
feel anything for her.

Wait a minute. That's a pretty unusual feeling for a guy to have. Does Gid
—dare I say this about him, about
any sixteen-year-old sex-crazed boy—have a soul?

He's wondering that himself right now, but the words in his head take a different form; Why didn't I just jump
her? What is my problem? Do I have a problem?

"This has been a really weird day," he says.

"Tell me about it," Mija ten Eyck replies. "This morning, I was in Amsterdam."

She doesn't seem at all upset that they didn't hook up. Gid wonders, fleetingly, if she feels as indifferent to him
as he is to her. He does think she's a nice girl, though. She reaches into her nightstand and takes out some acne medicine. She puts a little on her chin, then dabs a little on Gid's chin. "You need to take better care of your skin,"
she says. "I have a lot of products that would help you."

They share a sincere moment of looking into the mirror, considering each other's faces. Gid has made a

friend.

The grass is wet, and the sky is just starting to turn pink over the hills as the boys walk home. Gid confesses to
Cullen and Nicholas that he told Mija he had a girlfriend. "It just popped out," he says. "So now all the girls are going
to think I'm already taken."

Cullen slaps him on the back. "You are the man," he says. "That's the best thing you could have said. Also, it's

very good to reject girls. It makes you much more desirable. Wow, saying you had a girlfriend. What a stroke of
genius."

Gid wants to say that it was just an accident, but I'm glad he doesn't. He should take credit for it, and besides,
strokes of genius are almost always accidents.

Like this one. End up in some pretty weird kid's head and the more you see his weird thoughts, the more
you...well... After tonight, I am mostdefinitely somewhere very close to being in love. Now definitely no one can know
who I am. Whatever kind of confidence I might project to the outside world, my heart is very tender. Strange
considering just a little while ago, I was afraid he could read my mind. Now that I know he can't, I almost wish that he
could.

skinny fat

For the second time in eight hours, Gideon Rayburn is awakened. This time, the agent of rudeness is Nicholas, and
he has actually reached under the covers, scooped his hands beneath Gideon's underarms, and is now, causing not
inconsiderable pain, pulling him out of bed-Gideon moans. "I think you're digging into one of my glands."

Nicholas, strong despite his wiry frame, is dressed in a pair of navy nylon shorts and a T-shirt tight enough to
say,
I have a nice body,
but loose enough to pretend that's not its goal. "We're going running," Nicholas says. "Come
on."

"Running?" Gid has barely ever thought of the concept of running and certainly never in relationship to himself. He clearly remembers that whole working-out conversation but thought it was just theoretical. I knew it wasn't. Guys
with posture like Nicholas don't usually bullshit. "Why?"

"Because you're skinny fat." Nicholas pinches a bit of flesh hanging from Gid's arm.

"Ow." It hurts more than it should.

"That hurts because it's skin, not muscle. You're not overweight, but you have no muscle whatsoever. Skinny
fat," he repeats.

Gid falls back onto his bed. Nicholas goes to his bureau and removes a pair of shorts and a faded yellow
T-shirt advertising a corporate 5k race in Central Park. He throws them onto Gid's (sunken, skinny-fat) chest.

"Get up," he says, "or I will pull you up again."

"No, no," Gid protests, suddenly all obedient. "That hurt."

"It hurt because you're sk
—"

"I know, I'm skinny fat. I heard you."

Five minutes later, they're running around the track. Or rather Nicholas is running and Gideon's propelling
himself forward on desperate exhalations and sheer force of will.

Passing the reflective windows of a spanking-new field house, he gets a glimpse of himself. Sure enough, a
pale lip of flesh dangles from his arm, like turkey wattle. He
is
skinny fat!

"I know I'm not supposed to talk, but I gotta know," he says. "Do girls really care if you're out of shape?"

"Girls," Nicholas says, "are even worse than guys about that stuff."

I'm not sure that's true. I feel like a guy would go out with a girl with no brain and, like, a totally ugly face if she
had a nice body. Or even a nice body part. But Gid would do well to believe him. Because the whole skinny-fat
thing
—it's real.

Gid's lungs feel like two charred steaks. "It's incredible how much legs weigh," he says. A commuter train
whistles from somewhere off beyond a wall of trees. He wonders if he could sneak off and get on it and find his way back home. Or maybe he could just fall down in a heap of girlish tears and simply refuse to go on.

"Your fight-or-flight mechanism is probably kicking in about now," says Nicholas, not even panting. "I'd bet
you've chosen to fixate on escape."

Gideon wants to say that he's doing fine, but he can't breathe well enough to speak. He stifles the urge to
vomit. He tries to turn off his mind. It doesn't work. So he tries to imagine that he's watching himself from outer
space, that he weighs nothing, and finally, that he is in a movie about someone who has to run two miles. He finally
concludes that there's no substitute for willpower. Each step of the last four laps is a distinct and memorable slice of
hell. But he makes it. The moment he's done, he collapses into the grass.

"You're in horrible shape," Nicholas says casually. "I have you running to build confidence. In three weeks, it's going to be a whole different feeling. You'll have less fat, more muscle. You'll have a lot more respect for yourself."

I don't think that's fair. Just because Gideon is scared sometimes, or unsure, or even ashamed of himself
doesn't mean he doesn't respect himself. But I guess it just depends on what kind of beast you're trying to build.

And, more important, what kind of beast does Gid want to become? As miserable as running was, Gid knows
he will do it every day. Yesterday, he looked at Nicholas and Cullen and felt nothing but hopeless envy. He still feels
envy, but it is a distinctly hopeful envy. He is not powerless over his own hotness. He has a destiny. One of those
girls on the quad will be a part of it. Skinny fat will not.

Per Nicholas's instructions, Gideon is to do fifty push-ups
—he can manage twenty, done naked on the cold
tile—then shower for approximately seven minutes in a hot, hard spray and two minutes in a cold, soft one. During
the hot part, he thinks about Madison and her perverted belt buckle and wide upper lip, like Julia Roberts. Gid
imagines his body with large lats and biceps, and Madison lacing her fingers around them admiringly.

I don't like Gid thinking of her. Because no matter how pretty I am, I could never be pretty exactly like her. And it
makes me a little sad that he thinks she is the apex of what he could achieve in life. I don't think he even noticed how she had so much base on, and that the iPod on her dresser was pink. Any girl who buys a pink iPod is, well, the kind
of girl who probably gets a lot of attention and doesn't care how gay she is.

Afterward Gideon wraps his towel around his waist and stands in the window, letting the fresh air dry him
off
—he read (so did I!) that P. Diddy air-dries. Perhaps it invites success. He takes in the world below: backpacks carried on young, sturdy bodies, slow-moving shiny German imports, the tops of pretty trees. He feels his heart soaring out above it all. His mind-set is positive, defiant. Why not Madison? Why not any of them? Not only is he
going to get laid before Halloween, he's going to get laid well before Halloween.

When he opens the door to the room, he's surprised to see Cullen and Nicholas seated in their desk chairs,
waiting for him. Nicholas is already showered and dressed in khakis, a white shirt, and a red tie; Cullen's still in the
ripped hockey shirt he slept in and a pair of plaid boxers. Their expressions are grave. Cullen flips his cell phone
over and over in his hand. He's clearly just gotten some information.

"Madison," Cullen begins, in a tone mixing sarcasm and affection, "wants to have sex with you."

"Madison? Madison likes me?" Gid sits down on the bed, exhaustion forgotten, adrenaline flowing. "It's so
weird. I was just thinking about her in the shower." Nicholas wrinkles his nose in distaste at this image. Gid's too
excited to care. "She wants to go out with me?" he says.

"No, dumbass. She wants to sleep with you. She goes out with Hal Plimcoat."

"Very funny," Gideon says. Hal Plimcoat is the lead singer of the Rutts, a British rock band.

Cullen gets up and goes to the closet, pulling off his underwear. "I'm not joking, dude."

Gideon averts his eyes. "Afraid of facing the giant monster, huh?" Cullen says. "I dig it. Hey, it scares me
sometimes." Gideon doesn't say anything. He isn't afraid of seeing Cullen's, as he calls it, "giant monster," but he
definitely doesn't need any more proof of Cullen's superior being. But who cares about that? Madison's boyfriend is
famous! Rich! And she wants Gid instead!

"So," Nicholas says, "what this presents is a problem."

"A problem!" Gid has visions of Hal Plimcoat collapsing onstage in grief. And would this make the papers? He
opens the drawer to take out his brand-new khakis and in the back sees the little paper bag. Three days ago, he was
lying on Danielle's canopy bed, surrounded by her "wipes clean!" flowered vinyl wallpaper, and now he's being
pursued by a leggy brunette who dates rock stars and dresses like a rich hooker. "I don't see a problem."

Nicholas and Cullen have this shorthand when they don't know what to say where they make their lips
disappear into their mouths and raise their eyebrows. In Gid's case, I think it means, What the fuck are we going to
do with this country bumpkin? I feel bad for him. There's nothing worse than being around two people who don't even
have to speak to understand each other, especially when you don't understand them when they're actually speaking.

Gid repeats, "I don't see a problem."

Nicholas puts his hands together and bows to Cullen. Tm sure you will put it best," he says, meaning, I guess,
that he might put it unkindly.

Gid is quick to detect Cullen's smile as a member of the blow-softening variety. "Nicholas and I agree we made
a mistake in not making the bet specific enough," Cullen says, half-dressed now, his red tie in his hand. "You can
always get girls to sleep with you. You can always fall in with this one or that one. What's difficult is getting a specific
girl, setting your sights on someone, and getting her to sleep with you. Especially girls out of your league," Cullen
says.

"But Madison is specific and out of my league," Gideon says. "Why can't I just sleep with Madison?"

Nicholas ignores the question and continues. "We need to find a girl tailored to you. A girl who really might
sleep with you, who isn't below your level, but who isn't above it. A good challenge, but not an absurd one."

Hapless Gid still believes he just hasn't made himself clear. "I don't understand," Gid says, "why I can't
—"

"If you say 'sleep with Madison,' I promise you, you will be killed," Nicholas says, now casting a dark eye on
Cullen and a look that says, "Sometimes, no matter how painful it is, you have to spell it out."

"This campus is crawling with freaky girls who will sleep with you once just for the weirdo factor," Nicholas
says.

"Wait a minute," Gid says. "I'm a weirdo?"

Nicholas waves his hands in front of his face. "No, no. I wouldn't fixate on that."

Everything Nicholas tells Gid not to fixate on is exactly what any sane person would fixate on.

"Anyway," Nicholas goes on, "when we made the bet, we forgot about all these freaky girls, so now we're
changing it to accommodate this fact. It has to be one girl. And, until her, absolutely no other girl."

Cullen presents Gideon with a large maroon leather book. "Open this to page 132."

The large maroon book is
Timepiece,
the Midvale yearbook. Page 132 is a dorm photograph, with thirty or forty girls standing on a lawn, squinting into the sun, some hugging each other like sorority sisters, some aloof and angling
for the glamour shot. One photograph is circled, a slim girl with dark hair and a perfunctory smile. He's seen this
face before...was it at dinner? No. "Wait," he says. "I know her...that's the girl we stopped to ask for directions...Molly something."

"McGarry," Nicholas says. He runs his finger along the bottom of the photograph, where the names are listed.
McGarry, Molly E. Second from left, row three. It's her.

"Her?" Gid says. "There are four hundred girls going to school here, and I have to have sex with a girl that
curtseyed to my dad?" Why did they even dangle Madison in front of him, to what frustrating end? So he sleeps with

her and becomes her funny story. He's totally up for it.

Cullen pulls his tie through his collar, grinning. "She curtseyed at your dad? Why?"

"It's a long story," says Gideon, miserable. "I only met her for, like, forty seconds, but she seems like she
has...an attitude problem."

"That is such a totally excellent call," Cullen says, clapping him on the back. "I have never quite figured out what
it is about her, and hey, you got it."

I can't tell whether Cullen's being sarcastic or not. Neither can Gideon. He's also trying to take a step back
from Madison's hotness. Maybe they're really protecting him from her. She did drink that wine a little fast. Not that
he'd have to marry her, but still.

"Look," Gideon says, "I can maybe understand the whole Madison thing, and I understand, she's off-limits.
Fine. But can't we just have it the way it was?"

Both Cullen and Nicholas are fully dressed now, and back in their chairs, and emanating an imperious, tribunal
quality. "Molly McGarry is the logical subject for this bet," Cullen says. "She's pretty enough that you wouldn't be
grossed out to have sex with her..."

Gideon wants to laugh here, kind of. Because Molly McGarry, well, she
is
pretty. These guys, being around so
much of it, have just gotten so warped about pretty. And being so pretty themselves.

Okay, that again. An extremely cute thought. Shit. I've had crushes before. But you know, I could, like, go for
walks in the woods, drink schnapps, and get away from them. Ha. Not this time.

Cullen continues, "But not
so
pretty that it's ridiculous. That attitude makes her a little hard to get, but she's also
available. She's our girl, no question. Of course, we don't have to do the bet at all, right, Nicholas?"