Starry Night (19 page)

Anyone can imagine they will do a good job before the job starts. Anyone can hold the hope that maybe this time they will wail on it and get a big fat A that will raise their grade point average so high they have endless opportunities to
succeed.
But sitting in your room with the task at hand, alone, without the encouragement of your teacher or the determined faces of your classmates providing peer pressure, the bleak and scary reality that you may not be able to accomplish what you want—that shining A, that insightful, fascinating paper—is real and like a cement wall two inches from your face. And you
have to
bust through and just do it, there's no getting out of it, if you don't you fail, you might fail anyway, even if you try. You have to be
brilliant.
You have to be better than you have ever been before.

And if all of that wasn't enough, I
had
to draw myself. I had to, I had to,
I had to.
Within the next month. I had to reproduce who I was on paper and pray it was enough to get me into that school. If I could get in, if I could go to Saint-Rémy and feel what van Gogh felt, if I could see the colors, smell the air, look into that night sky, I might be able to reach the stars. They felt too far away in New York City. In fact, you can't even see stars in New York City. I felt like if I could just go to France, I would be able to move myself forward and do something important. But here's a secret—you can't find anything worthwhile by simply looking in the mirror. You have to look
beyond
what you see in the mirror. I didn't know that then though; if I had, maybe everything would have been different.

So, I was going straight home and nothing and no one was going to stop me. I had a plan and I was determined. I was going to go directly to my house, be good, put my head down and make my parents happy—make myself happy. Doing the right thing definitely makes everyone very happy. At lunch, Vati and I had decided we would walk home together across the park. A brisk walk would be useful before a long afternoon and night of work and kicking ass. Maybe I would even stop at the deli and get a Diet Coke. There is something about a can of Diet Coke that makes me feel like I can study all night. It's not the caffeine, it's the look of the can. Not a bottle, not a glass with ice, a can. School ended and Vati and I met at sign-out. I definitely signed out that day. I pushed open the heavy brass doors and who-the-freak was standing right outside, leaning on a car, just like the day before—Nolan. But this time
Oliver
was standing right beside him.

Whoosh.
That is the sound of all of my determination and every single one of my well-intended-head-in-the-right-place plans blowing away with the mid-November wind.

He found me just like he said he would in the note, the very next day. And not only did he find me, he brought Oliver to Vati.

*   *   *

“No, no,” protested Nolan. He was wearing his guitar on his back again. In all the time we spent together, I'm not sure I ever saw that guy without his guitar. “It won't take much longer …
Don't go, don't go
…” he begged, like he knew I wasn't going anywhere. “He's almost done, look.” He pointed through the glass windows at Oliver, who was paying for two orders of hot french fries from Le Cafe, a coffee shop on Madison where seniors who are allowed to leave Hatcher for lunch go for chef salads and Diet Cokes. Vati was standing at the cash register looking up at Oliver, talking to him. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but the way Oliver was looking at Vati, it was like he was seeing her for the first time.

“What did you
say
to him?” I asked Nolan.

“I said he had the wrong girl.”

“And he changed his mind? He just switched? Like that?” I pulled the sleeves of my sweater down and over my hands, which felt like they were starting to freeze off.

“I don't know—look at them.” We watched Vati explode into head-thrown-back laughter at something Oliver said. Sure looked like he dug her.

“Sometimes, guys don't know what's right in front of them. And anyway, your friend told him that night she wasn't into him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Oliver said he tried to kiss her, and she let him, but she bailed on him pretty soon. I guess she's sort of direct?”

“Yeah, Reagan doesn't mess around. But if she didn't like him, why would she even kiss him at all?”

“Who knows. People are always kissing.”

“What? That is insane.” I laughed. He turned to me and held the sides of my thin black Patagonia parka that I was wearing over a long almondy-brown sweater—it's probably my nicest sweater and I wonder now in retrospect if I didn't wear it hoping, or knowing, he would show up.

“It's not nuts, I'm right. There are probably hundreds, no, thousands of people kissing in this city right now.” I got that sex feeling again. (I'm embarrassed to write about it, but I think the sex feeling you get when you just
kiss
a boy leads to someplace big. It just does.)

“And you think that Vati will just forget that Reagan did that, or Oliver for that matter?”

He shrugged. “I don't know Vati. Or Reagan.”

“I have to go home. I can't be late, or bad. I'm not free. My wings are clipped, and it's because of
you.
” I pointed at him.

“But—but here's the thing.” His big smile made me ask myself,
What is there to lose?
What is more important than this cold, Wednesday afternoon corner in New York City, with Nolan, french fries, Vati, and an afternoon in Central Park? My brother was even there. And couldn't I fly away to somewhere new, with Nolan? Wasn't that what kids are supposed to do? Wouldn't my parents want me to have this brand-new happiness?

“Here. Is. The. Thing,” he said right in my face. So close. “How else am I going to see you?” I laughed.

“Yeah, you think it's funny?”

I laughed again.

“I can't stop thinking about you.”

“I … I…” I didn't have any of the words he had, so I copied him. “I can't stop thinking about you either.” I held my breath.

“Righteous,” he said, to my delight.

“But I'm late,” I said almost inaudibly, because I was sick of repeating something that clearly had no meaning for me anymore.

“What
you
are, is beautiful.” Nobody, but nobody, has ever called me beautiful the way Nolan did. He said it like it was a fact. Not in some cheesy “Ohhh, you are so beautiful” way. He said it like how you would say a sandwich was good. “Now
that
is a good grilled ham and cheese.” He put his arms around me and kissed me like there was nothing else in the world but him and me and the sidewalk under our sneakers, and like that was the way it would always be. It surprised me like you can't believe to be kissed like that, but part of me thought,
Well
,
my time has come.

“Hi, guys!” Vati stood in front of us holding bags, ketchup packs, and sodas in paper cups with straws sticking out of them. Oliver came up next to her, tucking his wallet in his back pocket, and took all the french fry stuff from her like a gentleman.

“Let's go to Belvedere Castle and eat those, then you guys can go home. I have rehearsal later downtown,” Nolan said, putting his arm around me as he headed in the direction of the park. The light was getting dim, the sky was chalky white. I thought it might snow. I thought I might die.

“Oh, I
love
Belvedere Castle. When I was little my dad used to tell me a princess lived in there, which enraged my mom because she hates the Disney princesses so much, and Dad always let me watch all those movies at his house,” Vati said.

“What's up with your mom? She didn't even like Snow White? I don't think she was a princess,” Oliver said.

“She was a princess!” Vati skipped in front of Oliver and turned so she was walking backward, facing him. She looked radiant. “But she only wakes up because the prince kisses her. It's one example in many of the
man
coming to save the day and the girl having no part in it. She was asleep,” Vati said, sounding flirtatious and not like a feminist.

“Yeah, but she never would have been asleep if that bitch queen hadn't poisoned her. It's not like the prince got paid more for the same job; he just did her a favor and woke her from the dead so she could keep
rocking on
,” Nolan said, cracking Oliver up.

“Bitch queen,” Oliver repeated, laughing.

“Oh my lord, that queen was such a bitch and she had no hair!” Nolan laughed.

“She was kind of hot though,” Oliver said.

“Ol-i-ver—she was hateful and
vain
!” I punched his arm.

“
What? You
spend a ton of time looking in the mirror.”

“Shut
up.
I'm drawing myself because I have to.” I glared at him.

Vati turned back around, falling in line with the rest of us. “That is another reason my mother couldn't stand all those movies. The mean women who were jealous and ruinous were either gorgeous, with cleavage, or totally bizarre-looking with green skin, or enormously fat. None of them looked real.”

“Right, it's totally
not
real. It's Disney,” Nolan said.

“Yeah, but real people can be mean. People you know. You don't have to have two-toned hair like Cruella to be a villain,” Vati said a little sadly.

Silent walking. I pictured Reagan animated like a Disney character for a minute. She had gigantic purple boobs, thin sexy eyebrows, and a black cape.

“You look like Princess Jasmine,” Oliver said to Vati, who actually does look like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. “And she's strong. I don't think the prince saves her.”

“No,” Padmavati said as she looked up sweetly. “I think she saves the prince, who wasn't even a prince. He was like a street urchin or a rapscallion.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, and I saw him take Vati's hand.

“So, you guys can't come to my gig Thursday, huh?” Nolan asked.

“I can't,” I said, and gave Nolan a sad face.

“I can,” said Oliver. “Wanna come with me, Vati?”

“Sure, yeah! I mean, I think my mother will let me go.”

“How will your mother let you go? It's a school night.” I said. Vati is never allowed to go out on a school night.

“I don't know, I think she just will.” She looked at Oliver, who was looking down at the ground smiling. It was hard not to be jealous of the plans being made but, (A) I was grounded, (B) I had to be super happy for Vati, and (C) you can't feel that happy and jealous at the same time. Emotions have to take turns.

Once we got to the castle the four of us perched on the huge rocks around the moatlike Turtle Pond that surrounds the fairy-tale castle.

“There are so many turtles in here, sleeping now of course,” Nolan said, ripping into the tinfoil over the french fries. Steam came out as he grabbed a fry and folded it into his mouth. He sucked in cold air to try to cool it before it scorched his tongue.

“It's snowing,” said Vati, standing up on her rock and looking into the sky.

“I thought it would snow!” I put my hand up in the air. Crazy little white flakes were zooming though the sky in no particular direction, not even down. It was the first snow of the winter, and I guessed it hadn't gotten the hang of falling right onto the ground to make a blanket.

“I wonder if it's going to be a really snowy year.” Oliver put his face up into the whirling flurries. “Last year it only snowed four inches total.”

“Yeah, but the year before, we had three snow days. Remember the one we all spent at your house?” Vati said hopefully, looking at Oliver.

“No, I don't remember that.” He looked at her. “You were there that day?” He reached out and touched a long loop of hair falling down her back.

“Yeah,” Vati said sweetly. “I'm there a lot.”

“You want to go up and look at the view?” Oliver pointed up to the tower from which you can see the whole park. “Maybe we can catch a snowflake on our tongues.” Vati stood up, gave me an over-the-moon look, and started climbing after Oliver and his dreads.

“Bring the fries!” he called. She scampered back and took a tinfoiled bundle, flashed me the biggest shit-eating grin ever, and ran after him without looking back.

“Hi,” Nolan said to me as he set his guitar down on the ground.

“Hi,” I said back. “I still don't get how that happened.”

“I don't think he knew she liked him,” Nolan said, and sat down on the rocks.

“How could that
be
?” I sat down too.

“People don't assume beautiful girls are in love with them.” He took a sip of a soda that Oliver and Vati had left with the other order of fries.

“I guess, but she was seriously obvious! He's so smart so I assumed that he was just, well, ignoring her.”

“Just because you are smart at math doesn't mean you are smart about girls. Has he ever had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, he went out with this girl Samara last year.”

“Samara Levin?” He handed me the soda.

“Yeah!” I took a sip. (I totally took note of the fact that we were sharing a straw.)

“She's in my class,” he said.

“She is?”

“Bronx Science is huge. I don't know her that well, but Oliver once mentioned her in passing so that must be her.”

“They went out for a long time, like months. He was quiet about it though. She didn't come over much. I don't even know why they broke up.”

“She's quiet. Maybe she was too quiet. Maybe he's more into a girl who skips, like Vati,” he said, in a way like he just got people.

“I'm going to get in a lot of trouble. Again.” My hands were getting cold on the wet paper cup, so I balanced it on the rock and tucked my fingers into my jacket.