Chapter 4: Propositions

Colin waited for the wave of grief to pass, and it did, slowly. He prepared to ask Jennifer out again. He felt a squirm of guilt in his stomach for thinking about such a normal thing as dating after such a tragic event—the dead were still dead: Jonas would never ask anyone out again; Ahmet would never have to worry about how he looked before approaching a pretty girl. But because of his faith, Colin truly believed that they were in a better place. That helped.

One day, he felt up to it and waited for Jennifer in the hall. She was walking next to Needy, but they weren't talking. Needy looked slightly confused, and Jennifer stared straight ahead listlessly. The silence between them was palpable. Colin thought something must be up, but decided to go ahead anyway.

Jennifer didn't look like herself. Her hair had lost some of its bounce and shine, and hung dully around her pale face, which seemed drained of color. She wore a long-sleeved "Devil's Kettle High School" shirt, an ugly sort of faded blue that didn't suit her at all. She had a zit on her skin, even; a small one, but you wouldn't expect it from Jennifer. You'd think if Jennifer ever got a pimple, which seemed impossible in itself, she'd call in sick from school till it went away. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping enough, or eating right. She looked ill.

Colin didn't really care. He never cared much about looks, anyway. This was the girl who had saved him that first day of Freshman Year; who listened to the Dwarves; who had strange insights on William Golding; who didn't treat him like a bug, despite how he dressed. He grasped his rosary in the palm of his hand for courage, and walked up to them.

"Hello, Needy," he greeted his friend.

She smiled a little. "Hi."

Then he turned to Jennifer, diving right in. "Jennifer."

Jennifer smiled at him, a clearly forced smile. She kept walking, and he walked backward in front of her to keep in her line of sight, gnawing his nails nervously.

"Hi, Colin." He opened his mouth to speak, but she went on. "Can I borrow your English homework again? I forgot to read Hamlet. Is he gonna fuck his mom?" She looked slyly at him out of the corner of her eye, as if they were discussing a juicy bit of gossip, not Shakespeare's great work.

Colin was silent for a moment as that registered. He had to try hard not to roll his eyes. It was a common theory, actually, that Hamlet had incestuous thoughts toward his mother, but he had always thought it was a stupid one. He looked to Needy for help, but she was giggling and let him suffer. He composed himself and tried to chase away sudden thoughts of abandoning this whole idea. It suddenly seemed really, really stupid. "No—I don't—I don't—I don't think so," he stuttered, grinning helplessly at Needy, then turned back to Jennifer. "Um, I actually wanted to, ah, to ask you something."

"You want to know if I'll go out with you." It was a statement, not a question. She smiled at him, like he was a mangy puppy she felt bad for, but also like she was just exhausted, tired of everyone asking her this.

"No! Yeah. What? I—" he stammered, grinning awkwardly out of pure shock and embarrassment. She kept walking, and he nearly stumbled backwards into a locker trying to keep ahead of her. "I don't g—" He didn't get it, was what he wanted to say. Was he really that obvious? He just abandoned that sentence mid-word. "How'd you know?"

"Just go ahead with the pitch." She stopped walking and looked at him steadily, like she was already composing her negative answer in her head, but was giving him a chance to ask for the sake of form.

It was disconcerting and disheartening, that look, those beautiful blue eyes staring piercingly at him. He swallowed. "Okay. Um…" She tilted her head and waited. He decided to just take her advice and go ahead with the pitch. It was a pitch; he'd practiced it over and over in his mirror the night before. He grasped his red-and-black striped scarf to pull himself together, took a deep breath, and began. "Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I thought that maybe you'd like to go see a movie or something." She just stared at him, but he refused to back down. "There's a, uh, a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend." Colin loved Rocky Horror; maybe Jennifer did too. He looked at her, daring to hope just a little.

She shook her head, her eyes narrowed in distaste. "I don't like boxing movies."

When that sunk in, he hoped it was a joke, just Jennifer being sarcastic, but there wasn't a trace of a smile on her face. He felt his own face fall. Needy looked away, embarrassed, during the small awkward silence.

"Yeah, but it's not—" He looked at her, hoping to see light dawn in her eyes, but she just looked confused. He closed his eyes, speaking as if to a very small child, "It's not a..." he heaved a deep sigh and gave up, "...fucking boxing movie." He turned to walk away. He'd done his best. She was a moron, and so was he for trying it. "Um, fuck it. Okay. Forget it."

He retreated as fast as he could, his face burning, feeling Needy's pity at his back. He fled from that pity, from Jennifer's derision. He tried to shut out the looks and comments that surrounded him from students who had watched that little exchange. Get some popcorn, why don't you? he thought hatefully at them all. I just turned my life into a soap opera. He knew that he'd go down in school history as the lame kid who thought he was cool enough for Jennifer Check, just because she'd been nice to him in class. They were nothing alike; he saw that now. It was only out of pity that she'd been kind to him... he was a different species.

He was halfway down the crowded hallway when he heard Jennifer's voice, raised above the chatter: "Wait. Colin."

He spun around slowly, arms raised in surrender, wondering what she could possibly say to make it worse, to make it more embarrassing than it already was.

But she smiled at him. "Why don't you just come by my place tonight?" She walked towards him. He could only stare. "I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something."

He was struck by how the roles were reversed now: she looked at him, waiting for his answer, while Needy watched from a distance, leaning against a locker. Colin didn't know what to think. Aquamarine? A preteen movie about a mermaid? What did she think he was, five? But what could he say? He couldn't turn down the most beautiful, popular girl in school because she had shitty taste in movies.

So he smiled, a bit uneasily, and took the only path he felt he could. "Okay," he said. He chuckled nervously. "Great, yeah."

"Okay. I'll text you my address." He didn't like her smile: it seemed almost predatory. He wondered if she was pranking him. He waited a moment: waiting for the punchline, the mocking laughter that was sure to follow.

But it didn't come. Colin felt there was nothing more to say, and it was fast becoming awkward, so he just said "Cool," and walked away.

But he couldn't help looking back at her, once. She was still looking after him. Maybe she did like him. Maybe she just couldn't let on because she was so popular and he was so, well, not. It seemed unlikely, but he let himself revel in the moment. He punched his palm with his fist in triumph, and grinned as he walked away.