Behind the Falls Page 8

  “Do you need a ride?” Max asks totally off subject. I shrug. Mom won’t even be leaving the other school for another fifteen minutes at the earliest and then she has to drive here.

  “Sure, that would be great,” I accept. I fumble my phone out of my pocket and text Mom to let her know I have a ride. Of course she has twenty questions. I ignore them and ask again if it’s okay for me to just go home now rather than wait for her and she agrees.

  “Where do you live?” Max asks. I notice that Tabitha doesn’t give him a hard time about offering me a ride this time.

  “Cumberland? It’s a few blocks from the theater.” Max nods.

  “It’s only two streets from mine, not even out of our way.” We meet Tabitha’s brother Terry at his car and he has no problem taking me along.

  “Shotgun!” cries Tabitha as she jumps in the front seat. Max and I climb in the back. It’s an older car, some kind of muscle car. I don’t really know cars. I think it’s an old GTO or something. I do know there are no seatbelts in the back seat and that doesn’t make me feel very good. Tabitha and her brother bicker in the front seat. The radio is loud so they don’t really expect Max and I to join in or anything.

  “They fight like crazy but they’re completely loyal and dedicated to each other,” he says leaning in to talk quietly, discreetly. “They had some family trouble before I moved here. Terry should have graduated last year but he missed so much school when all the shit was going on that he got held back and so now he’s doing senior year with us. I don’t know how Tabitha kept her grades at a passing level.” He doesn’t offer any other information and I understand that whatever happened to them is a big deal and none of my business. I’m fine with that. It’s not like I don’t have secrets of my own.

  When we get to my house, Max leans into the front seat and kisses Tabitha then Terry on the cheeks and exits the car with me. “I’ll walk from here,” he tells them and they’re off in a cloud of exhaust. Terry’s car is probably single handedly responsible for global warming. “We can pick you up tomorrow if you want,” Max offers. “Terry’s pretty cool about these things. We can be your ride every day. I know his car is a deathtrap but so is the school bus.”

  “Sounds good,” I say.

  “Okay, be ready to go at seven thirty. We have to make a stop on the way. Tabitha without coffee is worse than regular Tabitha. See you tomorrow.” It’s only after I’m in my room unpacking my homework that I think maybe I should have invited Max in for a bit.

  ****

  The next morning I’m ready at seven thirty and Terry’s car pulls up more or less on time. Tabitha can barely be bothered to lift the seat front so I can climb into the back next to Max. “Good morning!” Max says way too loudly. Tabitha groans.

  “Seriously, take it down a notch until I’ve had my coffee, Maxwell. I have killed for less,” she grumbles. He just laughs and leans forward to ruffle her hair. We stop at the bakery where Mom got the incredible donuts right after we moved here and everyone gets coffee except me. I get a chocolate milk (the only way I can stand milk is chocolate and yeah, there’s caffeine in chocolate but the amount is negligible) and one of those amazing donuts hot from the fryer.

  Today’ Max’s prediction comes true and four girls ask me to the dance. I really don’t want to go in the first place and Tabitha told me not to accept any invites so I just make the excuse that I have to check and make sure I’m allowed. Of course I’m allowed though. My parents would be thrilled to find out I’m doing something as social as going to a school dance.

  At lunch I run down the list of girls who have asked me and Tabitha and Max consider them. The girl with the purple hair now combed out and not in pigtails interjects her opinion once or twice. I’m losing track of who is who and what they’re talking about. I let my mind wander as they choose my potential date. I don’t want to do this and I don’t know any of these girls so what do I care who they choose?

  “Our winner is…”Tabitha says making a bad drum roll on the table.

  “Holly McDermott,” proclaims Max. She’s in my history class. If I actually go through with this I can tell her tomorrow morning.

  “She’s perfect, not a total slut or anything but I know she likes to make out and she’s not shy about starting it,” Tabitha says. I shake my head.

  “Uh, no. I’ve decided I’m not doing this,” I say. They both look at me with wounded expressions. Even the purple haired girl gives me a look of disbelief.

  “Come on, we’ve spent almost the entire lunch hour weighing the pros and cons of each of these lovely ladies. You have to take someone,” Tabitha pouts

  “No, actually if I went she’d be taking me, right? But no, uh, I just don’t think I want to go,” I stammer.

  “You can come in a group with us if it makes it any easier,” Max offers.

  “No, uh that doesn’t help actually,” I say. How did I let this get this far?

  “Your parents sure named you right,” Max teases. When I look at him blankly he explains. “All you can say is no and uh. You know, you don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to. Don’t let Tabitha bully you. You have plenty of time to have that first kiss. There’s no reason to force it…”

  “No! I won’t take no for an answer,” Tabitha says, “Noah, you’re accepting her invite.” We spend the rest of the lunch period talking about some television show I’ve never seen so I just kind of sit there and wait for the bell.

  On Wednesday I get a ride with my new friends but I tell them I have something to do after school and won’t need a ride home. I’m not looking forward to seeing Dr. Cooper again. I wish I could just forgo therapy altogether. It’s not like I need it every week. It’s not like I need it at all usually. I’ve been handling school okay and I hope I can convince the doctor and my parents that I don’t need this.

  Second period comes all too quickly and wishing that Holly McDermott could be home ill has not done a thing because she’s in class. Before the late bell rings she’s at my desk. She twirls a blonde curl around her finger and leans against my desk. Her shirt is low cut and I can’t help noticing that she has some of the largest breasts of any of the girls I’ve seen at this school and that list includes students and teachers. I swallow nervously and make myself look in her eyes when she speaks to me.

  “Did you find out if you can go to the dance on Friday?” she asks batting her eyes at me. I guess the hair twirling and eye batting is flirting but I’m not sure and I wouldn’t know what to do with flirting even if I was sure. I’m going to kill Max and Tabitha…mostly Tabitha.

  “Uh, yeah, I can go.” WHY did I say that? I should have pretended my parents are super crazy religious and don’t believe in dating until a pre-arranged marriage. “But, uh, I don’t actually drive,” I tell her in the hopes that this will be my escape route.

  “That’s okay. I can pick you up. Say around eight? What’s your address?” I give Holly my phone number and address and then class starts and I’m saved from any further conversation.

  In chemistry class I tell Max the news. “Thank God that’s settled,” he says. “Maybe we can get Tabitha on another topic now. Seriously, why she cares so much about getting you kissed is beyond me. She usually doesn’t show this much interest in anything.”

  At lunch we tell Tabitha and she’s not quite ready to let the topic go. She takes it upon herself to give me all sorts of advice, from how to move in for the kiss to how exactly to do it, soft lips, not too much tongue.

  “Geeze, Tabitha, who’s to say she’s even going to kiss me?” I laugh.

  “If she doesn’t kiss you then you kiss her. We’re popping the cherry on this kiss thing on Friday.” Judging by the heat in my cheeks my face goes bright red. Sometimes Tabitha cracks me up, other times she scares the hell out of me. Most of the time she’s a complete mystery to me.

  The rest of the day is uneventful. Mom is right on time and we go straight from school to Dr. Cooper’s office. His office is in a professional bu
ilding that is home to a few dentists and general practitioners and other medical specialists. There’s also an urgent care center in town but the closest hospital is in Lancaster.

  Dr. Cooper wants to talk about my anxiety level and I try to convince him that I HAVE no anxiety. Honestly, I think I’ve adjusted to public school rather well. I even tell him about the dance just so I can prove I’m being a social creature. Of course I don’t mention this kiss plan of Tabitha’s. He questions me about the school bus and if I’ve ridden it yet. Why can’t he just congratulate me on what I’ve done the last week or so instead of picking on the one thing I haven’t conquered? I’m in a bad mood when we leave.

  When Mom and I get home we’re surprised to find Dad in the kitchen. He’s struggling with the early stages of the book and decided to take a break from it. My dad doesn’t cook often but when he does it’s usually pretty good. He’s actually made homemade lasagna and garlic bread. Mom throws together a quick salad and we sit down to eat.

  “So tell us about school,” Dad says. I shrug.

  “It’s been going well. I probably should have done this a long time ago,” I say. My parents are kind enough to not remind me that I was in no shape to go to public school a long time ago. Instead they make congratulatory comments and give me a few we knew you could do its.

  “There’s actually a dance on Friday night,” I tell them. It’s the first time I’ve mentioned it. “I know I should have asked before but, is it okay if I go? I sort of have a date already…” of course Mom jumps all over this.

  “You asked a girl to a dance?!” she enthuses. I shake my head.

  “Actually, it’s a Sadie Hawkins dance. She asked me,” I admit.

  “I thought Sadie Hawkins day was in November?” Dad muses which makes me think of Tabitha’s ire about the whole lack of tradition and I can’t help but smile.

  “Apparently they just call it a Sadie Hawkins dance so the girls can ask the guys to the dance. They do these a few times each year,” I explain. Dad and I just eat our lasagna while Mom gushes about what to wear and asks about the girl and makes a big deal out of the fun of high school. Whatever, Mom, I just want to get through the next year.

  “How was Dr. Cooper?” asks Dad and I think he really wants to talk about my session but he also really wants to change the subject. I give him my go to answer and shrug.

  “I don’t think I need to see him every week,” I begin.

  “I think if the doctor wants to see you every week then that’s what we should do. This is new, school is new and he is new. You’re dealing with a lot of changes, Noah. It’s not a bad idea to see your therapist weekly until we see how this all shakes out, don’t you agree?” I don’t agree. I don’t agree with the way my parents always say “we” in these situations when it’s really ME.

  “How long until WE can agree that I don’t need weekly sessions?” I ask what I think is a fair question. My parents look at each other across the table. It still feels weird to me to eat dinner at the kitchen table. When Gran was alive we always ate dinner in the dining room. I’m overwhelmed with a sudden sense of sadness that Gran isn’t here. How long will it be before I stop expecting her to come around every corner in this house?

  “It’s been two sessions, Noah. Let’s see how everything is in a couple of months,” Mom says. A couple of months? I sigh and pick at my lasagna. My appetite has left me. When am I ever going to have their trust? When are they going to stop worrying about me? It’s not like I have schizophrenia or one of those mental illnesses that are always going to be there no matter what. I’m fine now, right?

  Dad actually made apple crisp for dessert and even remembered the vanilla ice cream to top it. It kind of turns the meal around. Who can be bummed out when there’s apple crisp? By the time I leave the table I’m so stuffed I feel like I’ll fall asleep before I even finish my homework.

  On Thursday when Terry drops me at my house Max gets out of the car with me. “We’re going to decide what you’re wearing tomorrow,” he informs me. Oh, that’s okay, Max, just invite yourself into my world. Somehow it doesn’t bother me that Max has done this whereas it would have really pissed me off if Tabitha had been so presumptuous.

  Mom is moving through the room as we enter the house so I have to make introductions. I see her look at Max, take in the earrings and multiple facial piercings, the black hair that obscures one eye and the odd clothes and I can see the Mom wheels turning. She’s judging the book by the cover, pretty much the same way I had.

  “Uh, Mom, this is Max and Max, this is my mom,” I manage. Max doesn’t just smile he beams. It’s not a suck up kind of smile either. It’s genuine and Mom can tell.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Blakely,” he says as he shakes her hand. She smiles back at him. I’m surprised she’s gotten over the facial piercings already.

  “So are you the friend that has been kind enough to drive Noah to school these days?” she questions him.

  “No, that would be my friend Terry.” Max is so casual and relaxed around my mom that it’s like she automatically sees him as a peer rather than some high school kid. He definitely has a unique charisma.

  “Well I certainly appreciate it,” Mom smiles.

  “We’ll just be in my room,” I say and lead the way. I wish my room was more impressive. I have added absolutely no personal touches since we moved. My bedroom could be a hotel room it’s got that much personality. I have my bed, my dresser, a couple of bedside tables and my desk. My desk is actually a drafting table which when flat holds my laptop and is good for homework but when I want to draw I can tilt it.

  “Alright, what do we have to work with?” Max asks. I indicate the dresser and closet.

  “Have at it,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, why don’t you start chemistry homework while I get to work,” he chuckles. Max digs through drawers and riffles through my closet commenting now and then while I start on homework. “Geeze, who does your shopping, No, you or your mom?” he asks.

  “Uh, usually my mom,” I admit. “I don’t really care for shopping.”

  “Well we need to update your wardrobe, my friend,” he informs me.

  “No, that’s okay. I think I’ll just stick with what I have,” I disagree.

  “Seriously, you will not continue to wear these clothes for the rest of the year.”

  “So are you judging me on my attire?” I laugh because you’d think Max would understand not wanting to be judged by how you dress.

  “Not you, No, the clothes. These clothes are not a good representation of you, that’s all. You’re more interesting than your wardrobe.” Me, interesting? What does Max see that makes him believe I’m interesting?

  He must look at every piece of clothing I own before Max shows me what he’s chosen. The pants are simple dark jeans, the straightest pair I own. He pairs them with a white button down dress shirt that I rarely wear and he adds a gray vest. I didn’t even know I owned a vest. Gran used to call them waistcoats. He even chooses my shoes, a pair of black ankle boots that I most recently wore to Gran’s funeral.

  “Try this on, let’s see how it works,” he says.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” I say. Max disagrees.

  “This is your first school dance, possibly your first kiss. We can’t leave this to chance, No. Go put it on.” He shoves the clothes at me and steers me towards the bathroom. I change quickly then open the door.

  “No, no no,” Max starts shaking his head as soon as he sees me. “Don’t tuck the shirt in. You really aren’t good at this are you?” He laughs as he pulls the shirt out of my jeans then he unbuttons the top two buttons on the shirt and does the buttons on the vest. He studies me for a moment before mussing up my hair. “That is how you go to the dance,” he says and turns me towards the mirror.

  He’s right, it’s better. Actually, I like this. I like this a lot. It’s not that I look older really, just more mature. I certainly don’t look like my mom picks my clothes. Even the mussed up ha
ir looks better.

  “I really should get my hair cut,” I muse. I’ve been putting it off for too long. Max disagrees.

  “Not before the dance,” he says. “It will look like you’re trying too hard. Before you do anything with it talk to Tabitha. She’ll give you a good cut if you really want one.”

  “Tabitha? She can be trusted with scissors?” I ask laughing. Max joins in my laughter.

  “She’s actually quite good with scissors. She’s not bad with color either. She wants to be a hairdresser or some such nonsense. I’m trying to convince her to give college a shot but she doesn’t have the confidence in herself to believe it’s something she can do. Change out of those clothes so they don’t get wrinkled,” he commands.

  After I’ve changed and hung the outfit Max picked on the inside door of my closet we spend some time doing homework. While we work we chat, something I’ve never been good at but since Max guides the conversation it’s not that bad. I know that I haven’t known Max for long at all and the argument could be made that I don’t really know him yet because it’s been barely a week since we met but I feel comfortable with him. I’m even more comfortable with him in my own house without any other people around than I am at school. It’s almost as comfortable as hanging out with Kimber.

  Mom knocks and asks if Max would like to stay for dinner and he checks the time. “Shit, is it that late?” he asks. Mom doesn’t bat an eye at the curse. “Thanks, Mrs. Blakely but dinner is kind of a big deal at my house. Maybe some other time when I can let them know in advance.” He gathers his books.

  “You really don’t want to stay anyway,” I laugh. “She’s probably tried some macrobiotic gluten free recipe she found in a magazine. It’s funny, she tries to cook all health conscious but most of the time we just end up with pizza or Asian carryout. You don’t want to stay for dinner unless it’s one of those nights or if Dad cooks. Dad can really cook.” I walk him to the door.