Aftermath
Luke had never broken a single school rule in his life, but today, he knew quite enough about detention. It took place in Portable 16, it lasted 90 minutes, and Grace Polk would allegedly be spending it writing a 500-word essay on the critical importance of keeping one's mouth shut during school- sponsored debates.
Though in some ways it would have been ideal for him to have also been at detention, Luke realized that this scenario posed far more questions than it answered. Instead, he eventually came up with a plausible alternative reason to be on that side of school at 4:30 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. If she asked, he could say he was fixing a bug in the history teacher's computer--he could even go into detail about the specific sort of bug. It should definitely mess with the history teacher's grading system, he decided. Except, he realized, at 4:25, that Grace didn't really care about grades. So maybe it would have to do something else, instead. He was still working that out when he saw her.
"Hey, Grace."
Grace looked puzzled to see him, and vaguely annoyed. But then, she almost always looked puzzled and vaguely annoyed. It was, when he thought about it, one of the things he liked about her: a smile from Grace was something to work for.
"Hey," she replied, without enthusiasm.
"Can we talk?"
"This is talking."
"No, I mean, can we talk about. . . about. . .?"
Grace raised one eyebrow. "Spit it out or leave, Girardi."
"Um, you saw me before the debate. Me and. . . Glynnis."
"I see a lot of things."
"Well, yes, but. . . that one. . . I didn't mean for you to see, er, that one." He had thought he felt flustered before he even started talking. He had obviously been wrong.
"Look, if you want to suck face with Glynnis, more power to you. It's not like I'm your jealous girlfriend or anything."
"Well, yeah, that's. . .what I want to talk to you about. Cuz I don't really know what you are."
Grace switched eyebrows on him, but the look was the same. Luke continued. "I mean, look, I know I'm a geek, and I'm a sophomore and you're a junior, and. . .you're my sister's friend and maybe there are. . . other people you might, um. . . like better, but. . ."
"But. . . "
"Um. . . I can't. . . I don't want to. . . "
"Again, Girardi, spit it out or leave." She wasn't speaking unkindly, he realized. It was just that she didn't know what else to do.
"I don't want to date Glynnis when I, well, when I'd rather date you." Both eyebrows went up. If Grace had been drinking milk at that moment, he fully expected it would come out her nose. A moment passed, entirely too awkward and long.
"That is, if you'd even consider . . . if it might be possible for. . . you and I to. . . um. . . " He heard himself say this, and he admitted that he did, in fact, sound pretty much like the Queen of England whenever he spoke to Grace. He tried to downshift. "Snowball's chance in hell?"
Grace smiled, then, but even with his lack of experience, Luke knew that this particular sort of smile rarely led to anything good. She felt sorry for him. He was a stupid kid with a crush on his big sister's friend. He hadn't even thought she could smile like that. He hadn't really taken that into account.
"Right. I get it. I'm sorry." He looked away when he said it.
"Don't be sorry. It's. . . cool. But, you know, it's, well, it's not gonna happen. Okay?"
"Okay. I mean, obviously. Totally. I was just. . . it was stupid of me to even bring it up. I didn't really mean it. I was just wondering. . . ." She wasn't buying it: he knew that, even as he added level on level of denial. Saving face was impossible: he might as well go for broke. " It's just that. . . well. . . When you kissed me at the semiformal, how did it feel?"
"It felt. . . you sure you want to know?"
"I asked."
"Well, it. . . look, it's not your fault or anything. You're kind of good at that, I think. At that stuff." They were both blushing--another thing he hadn't expected Grace to be able to do. She continued. "So, yeah, it didn't suck. But, while I was doing it. . . it felt . . . it felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I was using you."
"Using me how?"
"You're the first person. . . the first male person. . . I know who hasn't thought I was, you know, completely repulsive. You're the first, um, male person who's been able to. . . see me in that way." She thought for a moment, then continued, her voice a little softer. "Except that thing with Adam back in junior high, but that didn't count."
"Wait--you and Adam were...?"
"No! Not really! I mean, it didn't go anywhere. Look, it might have gone somewhere but that was right before, well, Adam's mother died and he kind of, er. . . went feral."
"Oh."
"And that was ages ago, anyway, and even if it could happen again, I don't want it to. So, I guess when you got all stupid around me, I guess it felt kind of. . . well, nice."
"You said "nice". You don't usually say "nice.""
" I don't do any of this, damn it! Anyway, I'm trying to tell you that, if I like you, I think it's for the wrong reasons. And that sucks for you, and it sucks for me and. . . look, you should just forget this whole thing happened and go make out with Glynnis again. She likes you, dog. She gets you. You guys make sense together. Dammit, Luke--if you'd have built that rail gun with her, it would have. . . " --she was laughing as she said it-- "it would have worked fine, you know?"
"Ours worked. Technically, ours worked."
"Ours practically blew up the school. Maybe there's a lesson in that."
Luke was silent.
"Look, I'm no good at shit like this, but here goes. You're a nice person. You're one of the good ones. Any, um, any girl in this school would be lucky to have you feel things for them. I know that. And that's . . . why you shouldn't be with me. I break things, Luke. I make things blow up. I'm rude, and I'm irrational and. . . I call you names and I. . . just shouldn't do this with you, okay? Go be with Glynnis. Leave me alone." She turned away then, definitively, and he knew the conversation was over. Still, at what felt like the risk of great physical harm, Luke refused to let it end exactly like that.
"You're not just the person that you think you are, Grace."
"Who the hell else am I?"
"You're. . . you're one of the good ones, too. You just can't let yourself see it. I wish I knew why." He phrased it like that deliberately, knowing as he did that he couldn't ask the questions. Knowing that even hearing them said aloud would be too much for her.
"Well, we've all got secrets, Girardi, now don't we?"
In the movies, he realized, something else would have happened. There would have been some kind of cathartic event. The secret would unravel: a hug would be exchanged. All scars would be healed before the credits rolled. As it was, though, he found himself rooted to the ground, able to do nothing, simply watching her walk away. When she was gone completely, he had two main thoughts in his head. The first, that someone, at some time, must have hurt Grace in ways beyond what he could imagine. The second was that her saying "if I like you" left some room for hope.
Luke had never broken a single school rule in his life, but today, he knew quite enough about detention. It took place in Portable 16, it lasted 90 minutes, and Grace Polk would allegedly be spending it writing a 500-word essay on the critical importance of keeping one's mouth shut during school- sponsored debates.
Though in some ways it would have been ideal for him to have also been at detention, Luke realized that this scenario posed far more questions than it answered. Instead, he eventually came up with a plausible alternative reason to be on that side of school at 4:30 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. If she asked, he could say he was fixing a bug in the history teacher's computer--he could even go into detail about the specific sort of bug. It should definitely mess with the history teacher's grading system, he decided. Except, he realized, at 4:25, that Grace didn't really care about grades. So maybe it would have to do something else, instead. He was still working that out when he saw her.
"Hey, Grace."
Grace looked puzzled to see him, and vaguely annoyed. But then, she almost always looked puzzled and vaguely annoyed. It was, when he thought about it, one of the things he liked about her: a smile from Grace was something to work for.
"Hey," she replied, without enthusiasm.
"Can we talk?"
"This is talking."
"No, I mean, can we talk about. . . about. . .?"
Grace raised one eyebrow. "Spit it out or leave, Girardi."
"Um, you saw me before the debate. Me and. . . Glynnis."
"I see a lot of things."
"Well, yes, but. . . that one. . . I didn't mean for you to see, er, that one." He had thought he felt flustered before he even started talking. He had obviously been wrong.
"Look, if you want to suck face with Glynnis, more power to you. It's not like I'm your jealous girlfriend or anything."
"Well, yeah, that's. . .what I want to talk to you about. Cuz I don't really know what you are."
Grace switched eyebrows on him, but the look was the same. Luke continued. "I mean, look, I know I'm a geek, and I'm a sophomore and you're a junior, and. . .you're my sister's friend and maybe there are. . . other people you might, um. . . like better, but. . ."
"But. . . "
"Um. . . I can't. . . I don't want to. . . "
"Again, Girardi, spit it out or leave." She wasn't speaking unkindly, he realized. It was just that she didn't know what else to do.
"I don't want to date Glynnis when I, well, when I'd rather date you." Both eyebrows went up. If Grace had been drinking milk at that moment, he fully expected it would come out her nose. A moment passed, entirely too awkward and long.
"That is, if you'd even consider . . . if it might be possible for. . . you and I to. . . um. . . " He heard himself say this, and he admitted that he did, in fact, sound pretty much like the Queen of England whenever he spoke to Grace. He tried to downshift. "Snowball's chance in hell?"
Grace smiled, then, but even with his lack of experience, Luke knew that this particular sort of smile rarely led to anything good. She felt sorry for him. He was a stupid kid with a crush on his big sister's friend. He hadn't even thought she could smile like that. He hadn't really taken that into account.
"Right. I get it. I'm sorry." He looked away when he said it.
"Don't be sorry. It's. . . cool. But, you know, it's, well, it's not gonna happen. Okay?"
"Okay. I mean, obviously. Totally. I was just. . . it was stupid of me to even bring it up. I didn't really mean it. I was just wondering. . . ." She wasn't buying it: he knew that, even as he added level on level of denial. Saving face was impossible: he might as well go for broke. " It's just that. . . well. . . When you kissed me at the semiformal, how did it feel?"
"It felt. . . you sure you want to know?"
"I asked."
"Well, it. . . look, it's not your fault or anything. You're kind of good at that, I think. At that stuff." They were both blushing--another thing he hadn't expected Grace to be able to do. She continued. "So, yeah, it didn't suck. But, while I was doing it. . . it felt . . . it felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I was using you."
"Using me how?"
"You're the first person. . . the first male person. . . I know who hasn't thought I was, you know, completely repulsive. You're the first, um, male person who's been able to. . . see me in that way." She thought for a moment, then continued, her voice a little softer. "Except that thing with Adam back in junior high, but that didn't count."
"Wait--you and Adam were...?"
"No! Not really! I mean, it didn't go anywhere. Look, it might have gone somewhere but that was right before, well, Adam's mother died and he kind of, er. . . went feral."
"Oh."
"And that was ages ago, anyway, and even if it could happen again, I don't want it to. So, I guess when you got all stupid around me, I guess it felt kind of. . . well, nice."
"You said "nice". You don't usually say "nice.""
" I don't do any of this, damn it! Anyway, I'm trying to tell you that, if I like you, I think it's for the wrong reasons. And that sucks for you, and it sucks for me and. . . look, you should just forget this whole thing happened and go make out with Glynnis again. She likes you, dog. She gets you. You guys make sense together. Dammit, Luke--if you'd have built that rail gun with her, it would have. . . " --she was laughing as she said it-- "it would have worked fine, you know?"
"Ours worked. Technically, ours worked."
"Ours practically blew up the school. Maybe there's a lesson in that."
Luke was silent.
"Look, I'm no good at shit like this, but here goes. You're a nice person. You're one of the good ones. Any, um, any girl in this school would be lucky to have you feel things for them. I know that. And that's . . . why you shouldn't be with me. I break things, Luke. I make things blow up. I'm rude, and I'm irrational and. . . I call you names and I. . . just shouldn't do this with you, okay? Go be with Glynnis. Leave me alone." She turned away then, definitively, and he knew the conversation was over. Still, at what felt like the risk of great physical harm, Luke refused to let it end exactly like that.
"You're not just the person that you think you are, Grace."
"Who the hell else am I?"
"You're. . . you're one of the good ones, too. You just can't let yourself see it. I wish I knew why." He phrased it like that deliberately, knowing as he did that he couldn't ask the questions. Knowing that even hearing them said aloud would be too much for her.
"Well, we've all got secrets, Girardi, now don't we?"
In the movies, he realized, something else would have happened. There would have been some kind of cathartic event. The secret would unravel: a hug would be exchanged. All scars would be healed before the credits rolled. As it was, though, he found himself rooted to the ground, able to do nothing, simply watching her walk away. When she was gone completely, he had two main thoughts in his head. The first, that someone, at some time, must have hurt Grace in ways beyond what he could imagine. The second was that her saying "if I like you" left some room for hope.