One Week (10 page)

“Yeah, and I’m sure their parents will be delighted,” I scoff. “More likely they’ll call the train police to arrest you for attempting to poison their children.”

“It’s a cold and suspicious world,” Jess agrees.

There’s a knock at the door of the roomette. I get up carefully so as not to send the Skittles rolling all over the place, and open the door to find a porter standing there.

“Would you like some assistance setting up the beds?” he inquires.

I turn and look at Jess, who looks at his watch. “Wow, it’s eleven o’clock already,” he says. “The trip is going by pretty fast.” He stands up and stretches. “Well, I’d best be getting back to my seat. Do you want to meet at the dining car for breakfast?”

I glance at the porter, who is waiting patiently, and clear my throat. “Um, there are two beds,” I say. “Do you want to just stay here? I’m sure it will be more comfortable than your seat.” The porter nods agreement, smiling slightly. I try really hard not to blush.

Jess looks around and sticks his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “Um, okay. You sure?”

“Absolutely.” I step aside to allow the porter into the room, and then quickly realize there isn’t space for the three of us to be in there. I go stand in the hallway, and Jess follows me out.

“Do you want the top bunk or the bottom bunk?” I ask, mostly for something to say.

“Whichever. Your roomette, you should get first pick.”

“Right,” I say. Jess puts his hand against the small of my back to move me out of the way of a woman trying to get past us. “The bathroom is down that way,” I say. “You know, if you want to brush your teeth or something.”

“Why, do I need to?” Jess laughs softly.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” I smile at him. “But all the dentists in the world say you should.”

The porter comes out of the room, and I jump. “All set,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say, and run quickly to my bag to fish out a tip.

“Have a good
night,” the porter says, and closes the door behind him.

Jess and I stand together awkwardly. There really isn’t space to be in the room with the beds down.

“Looks like the game is over,” Jess says, and nods at the Skittles. They’ve all been grouped into one pile.

“It’s all right,” I say. “I would’ve won them all eventually anyway.”

“Probably,” Jess agrees. He scoops them into his hand. “Are you planning on eating these?”

I shake my head. “Not very hygienic.”

“Right.” Jess looks around for a place to put them,
and ends up dumping them into his empty bag of
peanuts. “Do you want to go brush first?”

“Sure,” I say. I pull my toothbrush and toothpaste out of my bag—yes, I’m one of those obsessive people that brush three times a day. Or I usually am, anyway. It’s been kind of hard to manage these past few days. “I’ll be right back.”

After waiting several minutes, it’s finally my turn to use the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t exactly look my best. I haven’t blow-dried my hair, I’m not wearing any makeup, and my clothes are…never mind. Their impromptu laundering in The Golden Cicada’s shower didn’t improve things as much as I’d have liked. At least I can make sure my breath is fresh.

As I sit on the bottom bunk waiting for Jess to come back from his turn in the bathroom, I twist my fingers in the sheets nervously. Which is ridiculous, because it’s not like this is the first time Jess and I have shared a room. We have essentially spent the last fifty-six hours in each other’s company, so if we’re not comfortable with each other at this point…well. And really, what do I have to be nervous about?

Oh, who am I kidding? Our…friendship, I guess, has taken a different turn. There’s this new vibe, and of course it’s making me nervous. And now we’re going to be sleeping in the same room…and I’m not even sure what I mean by that. Are we going to be
sleeping
together, or sleeping
together?

I twist my fingers deeper into the sheets. My
inexperience with guys is pretty… extensive. We’re talking
inexperience the size of Alaska. There was that time I made out with the son of some business associate of my father’s. That was pretty fun. But the time before that was with the paperboy I dragged upstairs for reasons I now can’t quite remember (I think I was pissed off about something, though I’m not sure why I thought rolling around in bed with the pimply paperboy was a clever form of revenge). That wasn’t that much fun.

And that about sums it up. Only Julia knows how very wide and deep my inexperience runs. The other girls at school (including Julia, come to think of it) have
managed to get around whatever restrictions their
parents may or may not have placed on them. I’m sure I could have too, I just never wanted to. But after the thing with Thom Derrek, I kind of feel like…like maybe I’d like to kind of take back control of that part of myself.

Jess comes back in, and I jump. “So you’re taking the bottom bunk, then?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” I say. How does one get this kind of thing started? “Are you…sleepy?”

Jess shrugs. “Not really. But it’s tough to do anything with these down,” he says, gripping the overhead bunk. He sits down next to me and begins taking off his shoes.

“Right,” I say. “Not a lot of options left. With what to do with our time.” I have no idea what I’m saying.

Jess reaches down to shove his sneakers under my bunk, and I kick off my sandals.

“Jess?” I say.

“Hmm?” He looks up at me, and I lean down and kiss him. Just like that. I feel him jump in surprise, and then he’s relaxing a little, moving closer to me, his arm reaching around my waist.

And then he’s gone. I open my eyes as he stands up quickly, banging his head on the top bunk in the process.

“Ow,” he says, and rubs his forehead.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and reach for his arm. He snatches it away, and I pull back, hurt. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing
,” Jess says, not looking at me. “I just…” he sighs. “Bee, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

The pit of my stomach sinks and feels cold. I don’t want
to ask, but I can’t help myself. “Why not?”

“Because…”Jess rubs his hands in his hair, frustrated. “Because you’re just a kid.”

Excuse me? “I’m seventeen, if you’re worried about the
legalities of the situation,” I say. I don’t mean for it to sound harsh and defensive, but it does. Did I imagine that moment
last night as I was falling asleep?

“That’s not really what I meant,” Jess says awkwardly. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I really do, but…Look, I like you a lot, okay? But… as a friend. You’re kind of lost right now, you know?  I don’t want to take advantage of that. And you’re sort of going wherever you feel like, doing whatever you feel like, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later, and I’ll be left…I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he finishes.

I take a deep breath. I can’t look at him. The roomette feels smaller than ever. What was I thinking? I want to
crawl in a corner and die. I’m so humiliated. He still thinks I’m an irresponsible, flaky kid. Fine. But no guy I’ve ever met or heard of would turn down an offer in this situation because the girl in question is
irresponsible.
He’s just trying to
be nice, let me down easy. Which is so much worse.

“Bee, I really—”

“It’s cool,” I interrupt. “I get it. We’ll just pretend it never happened.”

“Okay,” Jess says, relieved. I hope he’ll go back to his seat and leave me alone, but he doesn’t. Instead he vaults himself up to the top bunk and moves around settling himself in. “Good night
, then,” he says.

“Good night,” I echo hollowly, and switch off the light.

I wake up as the light comes in the window and pull the pillow over my face. The last thing I need is for this day to start. Although I have to say that the night being over is a definite plus. I don’t think I’ve ever been more uncomfortable in my life. And I’m not talking about the hard “mattress” that was my bunk (but my neck might want to talk about it later).

It was just so unbearably awful trying to sleep with Jess not two feet above me. The roomette is definitely
not
intended to be shared by two people when one of them has just come on to the other one and been resoundingly rejected. I don’t think any room is really big enough under those circumstances, but a five-by-six-foot prison cell like this one is worse than anything. I couldn’t move for fear Jess would hear me and know I couldn’t get to sleep. And every time
he
moved I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I don’t even like the guy. Yeah, I know I was having all these positive thoughts about him, but that was just… proximity. I haven’t spoken to a single other person in… I check my watch. God, it’s been sixty-three hours and eighteen minutes. That’s longer than I’ve spent with anybody. It’s like those movies, where you’re the last two people on earth, and surprise, surprise, you’re attracted to each other. It isn’t real, it’s just the way our bodies are hardwired. And apparently my body thinks—
thought—
there was an apocalypse.

What do I do now? We’ve got another day and a half on this train before we get to Chicago. And Jess certainly shows no signs of wanting to go sit someplace else, and I can’t exactly kick him out without seeming like my feelings are all hurt or anything—which they
aren’t.
I’m embarrassed, and pissed off at myself, but I’m not at all wounded. I’d have to give a damn, and I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I want him around. I can’t sit in this tiny little room with him for the next thirty-five hours and forty-nine minutes. That is a form of torture even the CIA wouldn’t condone.

The bunk above me squeaks and shifts as Jess wakes up. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep he’ll be a gentleman and just…go away. The bunk creaks and shifts violently, and I see his face hanging upside down. He has a couple of eyelashes stuck together from sleep.

“Hey,” he says. “How’d you sleep?”

I pull the covers up under my chin. “Fine.”

“Wow, not me.” Jess rubs his eyes with his fist. “I just couldn’t get there. I was afraid to move—I thought I’d wake you up.”

I force a smile. “Nope. Slept like a baby.” Which isn’t, you know, a lie, since babies don’t sleep much and the expression makes no sense at all.

“Lucky you.” Jess’s head disappears back up onto his bunk and the squeaking and shifting continues until he jumps down. He looks terrible. His clothes are all wrinkled from having been slept in, and his hair is…tall. Like an Irish ’fro.

Of course, I probably look about the same. I
surreptitiously rub the corners of my eyes clear and smooth out my eyebrows. Jess digs around in his duffel bag and pulls out a fresh T-shirt, and I eye it jealously. Sure, it’s a fake, faded CBGB shirt straight out of Urban Outfitters, but it’s clean.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom and change,” Jess says unnecessarily. “When I get back, do you want to go get some breakfast?”

Here would be a prime opportunity to instigate some separation between Jess and me. No thanks, I could say. I’m not much of a breakfast person. I’ll see you later. And then I could, you know, lock him out of the roomette or something.

My stomach growls before I get the words out.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jess says, grinning. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

He closes the door behind, and I groan in disgust. Why? Why must we spend another moment in each other’s presence? Jess made it perfectly clear last night that company is not something he particularly desires, so why won’t he just go away?

I root around in my bag for a hairband and pull my tangled hair into a ponytail. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances. I stand up and look down at myself and grimace. After all this poor cashmere top has been through, it seems cruel to say, but I think once I finally get a change of clothes, I’m going to burn it. It deserves to be put to rest.

I’ve just finished strapping on my sandals when Jess comes back.

“Ready?” he says.

No. Not hungry. Too tired. I’ve developed
agoraphobia and couldn’t possibly leave the roomette. You go ahead.

“Yep,” I say. “Let’s go.”

I follow Jess into the dining car, and lo and behold! A miracle! There isn’t a free table with two seats.

“Guess we’ll have to sit separately,” I say brightly, and plop down uninvited next to an elderly couple halfway through their granola and scrambled eggs.

“Hi,” I say. “Do you mind if I sit with you? All the tables are full.”

“Of course not, dear,” the woman says, her mouth full of granola. I watch Jess take a seat on the other end of the car and breathe a sigh of relief.

“How are the scrambled eggs?” I ask.

“Well, they’re rubbery, but that isn’t surprising given the equipment the poor cooks have to work with under these circumstances. But they are disastrously oversalted, and I really shouldn’t be eating salt because of my blood pressure. Would you like mine?” the man asks, and pushes his plate toward me.

“Um, no thanks,” I say. The scrambled eggs are gray. He failed to mention that. “I think I’m sticking with cereal.”

“A wise choice,” the woman says. “I told Herbert to have cereal, but would he listen? Oh no.”

“Martha, I hate cereal! She knows I hate cereal,” Herbert tells me.

“I’m not a huge fan either,” I reply. “But sometimes…”

“Sometimes it’s the best option there is,” Martha finishes for me. “That’s smart. You see, Herbert? This is a
smart girl. She knows the sensible thing to do. How have
you never learned that in the seventy long years of your life?”