Honestly Ben Page 14

  I sighed dramatically and brought the computer back to my face so she could see my look of mock annoyance. “Fine. There’s my bed. It’s a standard dorm mattress, probably made of whatever it is they make mattresses with, or whatever they made mattresses with in nineteen sixty-five. The bedding includes a red wool blanket, which my mother knitted for me. It’s very warm and a little scratchy.”

  “Stuffed animals?” she asked.

  “Seriously? You think I’m harboring stuffed animals in here? You haven’t spent much time at an all-boys school, have you?”

  “I didn’t know you were so concerned about what the other boys thought of you.”

  “There’s a difference between being concerned about what others think of you, and having a flock of plush teddy bears,” I said.

  She giggled. “Fair enough. Do you want to see my stuffed animals?”

  “I would like nothing better in the entire world.”

  She moved her computer to face her bed. I hadn’t taken her for a girl who would have a flowery comforter and three stuffed animals perched on it, but there they were: a pink bear, a light blue elephant, and a yellow bird of some sort.

  “This is Teddy,” she said, in a cute voice I hadn’t heard her use before.

  “No. You haven’t named your teddy bear Teddy.”

  She focused the camera on her face and turned down her lower lip. “I know you’re not making fun of Teddy.”

  “No. Far be it from me to do something like that,” I said. “I love Teddy.”

  “Good. Teddy loves you too, though Ellie is not yet sold on you.”

  “And Ellie is, I am guessing, the elephant?”

  “I got her when I was six from my dad. I was crying because I wanted a stuffed animal, and he promised to go get me one, and instead of going to Walmart or Target or something normal like that, he went to Pottery Barn. I’m serious. He got me this extremely scratchy brown giraffe that wasn’t soft or cuddly at all. I started screaming, apparently, and my mom went out to Walmart at like ten at night and got me Ellie. She and I have been inseparable ever since.”

  “That’s really sweet,” I said. “How do I get on Ellie’s good side?”

  “You’ll have to meet her,” she said.

  I felt my face heating up. “Tell Ellie I’m excited to make her acquaintance.”

  We were quiet for a while, just staring into each other’s eyes on the computer screen. I finally shook my head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I can’t wait to dance with you,” I said. “I can’t wait.”

  “You’re the only boy in the world who could convince me to go to a formal at Natick. I hope you know that!”

  I blew her a kiss. “I’ll make it worth your while,” I said.

  An hour later, Rafe and I were studying in my room. I was working on calculus with a side of SAT words, because that was coming up too. I had just taken a math test and had no idea how I’d done, even after I’d re-studied the entire textbook two nights earlier. There was another test coming up the next week, and I figured with another all-nighter the night before, I’d be in reasonably good shape. I could do this. I was also still thinking about “meeting Ellie,” as it were.

  “Well, you’re in a good mood,” Rafe said, watching me, and I smiled and put my book away.

  “I am, I am,” I said. “You too, huh?”

  He gave me this shit-eating grin, and I gave him one back, and I started to laugh.

  “Okay, are we gonna talk about the obvious elephant in the room?” he asked.

  I immediately thought of Ellie, and then remembered Rafe had no idea who Ellie was. I closed my textbook and put it down on the bed next to me. “And what elephant, pray tell, would that be?”

  “You know how I said I couldn’t handle it if you were hanging out with Hannah and I didn’t want to hear about it? I think I’m changing my mind. Because, I mean, look at you! You’re all happy and everything.”

  I couldn’t avoid smiling. “Guilty.”

  “It’s Hannah, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He stared at me, and under the weight of his scrutiny, I rolled my eyes. He smiled in a way that I wasn’t sure was happy or not. “I kinda thought so.”

  “Is that okay to say?”

  He flopped down on the bed. “You know what? Sure. If you and I can’t—you know—be like that. Sure. I mean, Jeff isn’t you, and he’ll never be you, and he’s shallow and he’s afraid of his own gay shadow and all that. But we have fun. And I guess you’re—having fun too?”

  I nodded and nodded and nodded and nodded, and Rafe broke out in giggles. “It’s funny because it’s awkward,” he said.

  “I know. I’m sorry. Can we just get past the awkward?”

  He came over and sat next to me, and I froze up a little. He put his hand on my shoulder, and then he put his chin on his other hand. “I’ll always love you, Ben. Magenta. But, yeah. I can deal. I’ll be, like, the best man at your wedding.”

  I couldn’t quite look at him with his face so close. “And I’ll officiate your wedding. You and Jeff. Yay.”

  “Oh, please. No wedding is forthcoming, I promise. We do not talk well.”

  I kept staring straight ahead, my heart pulsing, and Rafe seemed to get the message and stood up, stretching. Then he lunged back toward the other bed and grabbed his Norton Anthology. “Yay, Beowulf ! It’s great that the teachers here are finding work that really resonates with the youth of today.”

  “Truly,” I said. “Truly.”

  “I’m proud of you,” Ms. Dyson said as I gathered up my books after calculus class the next day. “You obviously took what I said to heart. Look what you can do when you put your mind to it!”

  “It was only an eighty-six,” I said.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Did you study hard?”

  “I studied all night.”

  “Well, then. Looks like you’re a B student in calculus. There are worse things to be. I’m really proud of you. You’re putting in the effort and you’re getting good results.”

  I’m a B student?

  I wasn’t used to working that hard and getting a B. Was that acceptable? I wondered what my dad would say if I told him. Would he tell me to study harder? Was that possible? I was juggling so many things, and I wasn’t sure what else I could do. At least a B was good enough for me to keep the award and scholarship. That was worth something, I guess.

  “I’m very proud of you,” she repeated.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  She laughed. “Ben Carver, you’re the only student in all of Natick who calls me ma’am. It’s partially insulting, and partially wonderful.”

  I shrugged and laughed a little. “I guess I was raised to call people ma’am and sir,” I said.

  “Well, you’re a throwback. You work hard, you’re polite, you’re an athlete and a scholar. No wonder they gave you the award. You really deserve it, Ben.”

  “Thanks, ma’am,” I said. But I was thinking about limits. In basic calculus, we learned to find the limit of a particular function. I’d never thought that it had meaning out in the real world. Had I found my own limit? And what if your limit is unacceptable to you?

  In baseball practice later on Friday, I took aside some of the freshmen while Coach Donnelly was doing base-running drills. I wanted to try something I’d never seen a captain do before, but I’d always thought would have been good when I was a younger player.

  “So I wanted to give you a chance to ask questions,” I said to the group. “When I was in my first year playing, nobody told us anything, and I think we were supposed to just stay quiet and not worry about the things we didn’t know. I hated that. Anything I can do to make you feel more confident out there, I want to do. Any questions?”

  The guys looked at one another, almost like they thought this was a trap. I couldn’t blame them. Just a month ago, they were being asked to crawl around a cold and wet locker room floor. This was … different.<
br />
  “Um,” said Peterson. “When do we find out what team we made?”

  I laughed. “Sorry. I’m laughing because I remember having the same question and wondering why no one let us know the answer. Coach Donnelly usually creates the freshman and JV rosters right after spring break.”

  Peterson nodded, relieved that I hadn’t barked at him for asking a question, I guess.

  “What if we want to try out for a position that he didn’t put us at?” Clement asked.

  “Let me know,” I said. “Coach is pretty rigid once he puts you somewhere, but if you really want to switch things up, maybe I can put in a word.”

  This kid Martin raised his hand meekly. “Any chance a freshman can make varsity?”

  “It’s happened, but it’s really rare. I made it sophomore year, but not freshman.”

  They all were just standing there, so I said, “Anything else?”

  They shook their heads no, so I motioned for everyone to go back to base-running drills.

  “Thanks,” Clement said to me, quietly, as we broke up. “That helped.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, feeling warm inside. “Not a problem.”

  I showed up at the dance five minutes early, in case Hannah got there early too. The gym was nearly empty still, so I lingered at the door for as long as I could before it felt even more awkward to be standing there than to be inside. So I wandered over to the punch bowl and ladled myself a glass. It was pure colored sugar water, not even fruit flavored.

  “Carver! Wassup?” Steve yelled over to me as the baseball guys arrived in a pack. They skulked to the back, which was generally how things went at parties. The guys talked a big game with girls, but at parties and dances they’d start out shy and aloof, and then, at some point, someone would break the ice and they’d act like it hadn’t been awkward ten minutes earlier.

  “Hey,” I said, tossing my punch and walking over to them. I high-fived a few guys. Everyone was wearing a jacket and tie, and the girls were beginning to arrive in dresses. I felt kind of embarrassed about my suit, though Rafe had helped me out by lending me a sharp black-and-white tie.

  “I didn’t think you’d be coming,” Mendenhall said, looking at my suit jacket like you might look at a pile of horse manure. I still couldn’t quite look him in the eye after the pillow incident.

  “Never one to miss a part—” I paused, because I’d been about to say “partay,” the irony of which only Rafe would get, since it was an inside joke. “Party,” I said.

  The guys from the team milled around, establishing their dominance by putting each other in headlocks. It was obvious they were showboating for the girls on the other side of the auditorium, and the girls pretended they were oblivious to this fact.

  I felt a hand tap me on my back. I turned and it was Rafe.

  “Yo, what up, Blood?” he said, and I stifled a laugh. He was parodying the way my teammates talked to one another.

  “Hey,” I said. Under his dapper black jacket, he had eschewed a shirt and tie and was instead wearing a form-fitting turquoise T-shirt that I’d never seen before. I knew Rafe wasn’t exactly a fashion magnate, so I figured this was his friend Claire Olivia’s work, via FaceTime, probably.

  “Well, this is exciting,” I said, referring to the dance.

  “Yup.” Behind him, Jeff approached us. His wavy blond hair was just perfect, like a Ken doll’s.

  “Hey,” I said, making sure to sound friendly. I stuck out my hand. We knew each other only tangentially.

  “Hey,” he said, and I could swear he lowered his voice. I looked at Rafe, wondering what he’d told Jeff about me, if anything.

  Rafe clapped his hands together as if to break the awkwardness of the moment. “Well,” he said. “As soon as those girls get wind of who the gay guys are, my dance card is gonna be filled for a million years.”

  I had no idea what that meant, but I laughed anyway.

  “Girls love to dance with gay guys,” Rafe said, translating.

  “Ah.”

  Jeff shook his head like he was embarrassed, and he walked away. Rafe looked at me and shrugged. I shrugged back.

  “Is the famous Hannah here yet?” he asked.

  “The famous Hannah is not here yet, no.” I worried that maybe she’d changed her mind.

  Toby and Albie appeared. Toby was wearing a powder-blue jacket with a sequined rose brooch. His pink hair was spiked taller and slicker than usual, and again he was wearing eyeliner. Albie was wearing a black T-shirt under a black blazer. He looked like a bouncer at a comics convention.

  “And then there are gay guys who girls don’t particularly want to dance with,” Rafe said, hugging Toby.

  Toby made a big show of checking out Rafe. “Is that a roll of quarters in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

  I looked around, hoping no one was hearing this.

  “Neither,” Rafe said, deadpan.

  Toby said, “Ha” really loud, and then made a big show of pretending to see someone across the room, waving ecstatically and then walking away. Albie skulked after him.

  “Anyway, gonna see what’s up with Jeff,” Rafe said, and I told him I’d catch him later and watched him walk away.

  As I scanned the crowd for Hannah, Mendenhall approached me.

  “What’s up with you and the gay kids?” he said.

  “Two gay kids and one straight kid,” I corrected him. “Rafe is my best friend.”

  “He doesn’t hit on you?”

  “Nah. I’m not his type,” I said.

  “What is?”

  I looked at Mendenhall and took a calculated risk.

  “Sort of the antithesis of you,” I said. “Handsome. Smart.”

  “Cool. I give you a lot of shit, but I think it’s cool you’re so open-minded. Junior year there was this gay college football player—”

  “I was here,” I interrupted. “I was a sophomore.”

  “Right. Well, that was—different. I mean, he definitely wasn’t like a stereotypical fag or something.” My eyes got big, but Mendenhall was oblivious. “I guess nowadays all kinds of dudes are that way. I mean, I wouldn’t. But whatever, I mean.”

  “Sure.”

  “Anyways, I think it’s cool, but I probably wouldn’t be friends with a kid like that.”

  “Sure,” I said. “You have a reputation to uphold with the ladies.”

  “Check that,” he said. “You grew up on a farm, right?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  He shook his head. “Lucky.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head harder and laughed. His gaze was distant. “You have no idea. The pressure. My dad expects me to follow in his footsteps. I don’t give a shit about finance. If I could, I’d just work on cars. Not good enough for my dad.”

  “That’s rough,” I said, and I meant it. Maybe our families were from different worlds, but our dads certainly had some things in common. Mine thought I was interested in a lot of foolishness too.

  Mendenhall nodded and nodded, and I glanced around again for Hannah, and thankfully, there she was.

  “Excuse me,” I said, and I hurried over to her.

  She was wearing a pale green, low-cut dress that showed off her beautiful legs. Her hair was done up in a bun, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” I said.

  “Sorry. Took me a second to get up the courage to come in,” she said.

  “Really?”

  She was acting weird, standing really still. “Are they looking at us?”

  I glanced around. A couple tall, skinny girls were, in fact, sizing me up.

  “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  She sighed. “It shouldn’t, I know. I just get nervous, is all.”

  “You look so beautiful,” I said. I took her hand in mine, and I leaned in and kissed her.

  That seemed to do the trick. Hannah smiled and looked at the ground, only a little flustered. Her face
was red.

  “Come on,” I said. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had a sip of red-colored sugar water, and you really haven’t lived until you’ve seen me dance.” I pantomimed a little arm dance to the beat of the music.

  “Look who’s coming out of his shell!” she said.

  “What can I say? I’m happy.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  We danced to a bunch of songs I didn’t know, and Hannah was about as bad at dancing as I was, from the looks of it. She kept her feet in the same place and just sort of bopped and swayed. It was adorable, and I didn’t give a shit if people thought we were the world’s worst dancing couple.

  Hannah excused herself to go to the bathroom, and of course Steve and Zack ran up to me as soon as she was gone.

  “Carver!” they said. “Score!”

  “She’s nice,” I said.

  “Yeah? You been hanging out? How come you didn’t tell us?”

  I shrugged. “I’m a private person.”

  “I get that, dude. Good stuff. She’s kinda hot,” Steve said.

  They walked off, and then one of the blond girls who had been sizing me up walked over.

  “You’re dating Hannah Stroud?”

  “Yup.” I didn’t look at her.

  “You can do better.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, and the girl shook her vapid head and walked away.

  Hannah came back from the bathroom and I resisted the urge to tell her about her blond friend, who may or may not have been Rhonda Peterson. I pulled her to me just as a slow song began.

  “C’mon,” I said, and she tentatively walked out to the dance floor with me.

  I put my arms around her and held her close. We rocked side to side to the music.

  “I don’t know any of the steps, so this will have to suffice,” I said.

  She put her cheek on my chest. “It so much more than suffices,” she said.

  As we danced, I knew everyone was watching us, and I felt an odd sense of—pride? I had spent my life afraid to do the wrong thing, and suddenly, these past few days, that part of me was disappearing, and I was feeling confident.