Things I Shouldn't Think Read online

  7

  Dani and Shelley warm up for their match with Monsignor Deagle High School.

  “Oh my God, is she cute,” Shelley says when they collect the balls.

  “She is cute,” Dani agrees. Since the coming-out, the word she with no antecedent always means Meghan Dimmock. Dani is giving Shelley a free pass on talking about Meghan. A lifetime of crushes has backed up inside her, after all. It will take weeks of talking before she catches up with the straight people.

  Dani hopes more of her fellow Schooners arrive early so she and Shelley can practice on the same side of the net. Lately she’s been missing a lot of shots that come down the center line. Their coach hinted at making Dani and Shelley co-captains next year, but that chance could evaporate. Wouldn’t it be weird if Shelley was captain by herself? Or worse, if she co-captained with another player? Dani would be jealous.

  “You don’t think she’s dumb, do you?” Shelley asks. “Because I can’t honestly like a dumb person. I can think they’re hot, sure, but they can’t be my first real girlfriend. I can only admire them from a distance.”

  “I don’t know, Shell. Are you reading her correctly? Is it that she’s dumb? Or does she just not pay attention to other people?”

  “That’s because she’s concentrating. She’s so into her music that she blocks everything else out.”

  “Maybe. And, you know, there are different forms of intelligence. Musical intelligence, for one.” Dani never lies outright, so she doesn’t say Meghan has musical intelligence, only that it is a form.

  “Have you heard of kinesthetic intelligence?” Shelley asks. “It’s like coordination. It’s the intelligence that makes you not hit into the net just because Gordon Abt walked by.”

  “I’m not looking at him.” She isn’t. But every day she remembers what color shirt he’s wearing so her eyes can scan for that color. And sometimes she likes thinking about him without talking about him. Not talking makes her feelings compress and intensify, like the grain of sand that forms a pearl in an oyster, or the piece of coal that gets pressed into a diamond, and every precious and semiprecious cliché ever written. She sees a plum-colored shirt hesitate by the fence, but she stares down the center line at Shelley until the color moves on. He’ll probably admire her dedication to improving her game.

  Another reason not to talk about Gordy is to spare him the insult of being parallel to Meghan. Gordon is super competent. In addition to singing in the Hawtones he plays French horn in the band. He’s been captain of the All-State band and even played on the lawn of the White House. He hasn’t told a lot of people, but Malia Obama smiled at him. Malia has a great smile, Gordon said. When Dani heard that, it was like a knife going through her; that was how she first knew she liked him.

  “I think her favorite fruit is raspberries,” Shelley is saying. Dani watches the Deagle bus pull up and their coach greet the Hawthorne coach. Malcolm Pinto slouches on the handball court, hiding his cigarette, watching the girls hop off the bus. The Deagle captain, Zoe Brightman, already has a great tan, and her legs glow with lotion. Dani knows which girls are attractive, but it’s hard to imagine liking girls more than boys.

  Look, here’s the lesbo! I’m playing tennis with a lesbo! These words ring in Dani’s head, a nasty taunt in a nasty voice like the one in the music store. No! Dani protests inside. No! Trying to push the words away before she says them. That’s awful. That’s cruel. That’s disgusting. She has never thought anything so wrong.

  What is this? Am I going crazy? How hideous it would be if Dani outed Shelley—not just by whispering her secret to one Hawthorne kid, but by shouting the crudest thing she could think of before a major tennis match in front of her teammates, the Deagle varsity and junior varsity teams, both coaches, Malcolm Pinto and some of his nic-addicted friends, five members of the student council leaving a meeting, and three parents walking to their cars? The fear that she’s going to yell “Lesbo!” builds inside her. Dani has searched her soul and is pretty sure she’s not homophobic, but would that stop her from yelling something? Why has Shelley placed this lavender egg in Dani’s hand? Shelley winds up for her serve, shaking the bangs out of her eyes. Has Dani yelled “Lesbo”? She touches her mouth to make sure her lips aren’t moving. Then she focuses on the ball’s thwop, as regular as a metronome. She touches her mouth a few more times, but by mid-match, thank God, she’s forgotten about outing Shelley.

  8

  A Deagle player leaps in the air to deflect a ball that would have dropped behind her. Malcolm shares the joy she must feel. Inwardly he knows he’s athletic, even though he’s never developed that facet of himself. I know what they think of me, he acknowledges, while the players switch sides on the court. I know I seem like a skinny fringey guy who doesn’t have much going on. But when I enroll in the academy they’ll see who I really am.

  Malcolm’s dad, uncle, and grandfather have all been cops. Like boot camp, the police academy takes raw material and molds it into steel. But although he knows he can handle the physical part of training, his true talent lies in the psychological and forensic side of the job. He will become a detective and bust up narcotics networks, fencing schemes, and child-pornography rings.

  His dad, Michael, was lucky to work on some cases that went beyond the normal run of small-town crime. Some drug dealers from Boston once rented a beachfront motel and attempted to whet the local appetite for crack cocaine. They brought a sixteen-year-old girl, the relative of one of the dealers if you can believe it, to offer as a prostitute. While the feds went after the drug evidence, Michael carried the girl out in her shortie nightgown.

  That night the bust appeared on all the Boston TV stations. Michael and Malcolm watched while Mrs. Pinto sat beside her husband on the arm of the couch. The perps, in handcuffs, had pulled their shirts and jackets over their faces so they couldn’t be seen. Naïve summer tourists witnessed this walk of shame.

  Michael pointed to the astonished tourists and the blurred-out face of the girl.

  “You see them?” he said. “Those innocent people? They’re like sheep.”

  He pointed to the perps in handcuffs. “They’re the wolves who go after the sheep.”

  He turned to Malcolm. “People like you and me, we’re the sheepdogs. We keep the wolves away from the sheep.”

  9

  Dani studies “Old Cape Cod.” Her mind fast-forwards to the concert, where she sings the lead perfectly while smiling a better smile than Malia Obama’s. During the final bow Gordy sneaks backstage. He returns with an armload of flowers for Dani. Everyone cheers.

  Dani’s mom, Beth Solomon, knocks on the bedroom door. Beth has short hair the same color as Dani’s, nearly invisible red eyelashes that she defines with three coats of black mascara, and freckles she hides with foundation.

  “How’s Alex?” she asks.

  “He has an ear infection. And he’s poignant.”

  “Who would he have if he didn’t have you?”

  “His mom?”

  “His mom. Well.”

  Beth used to feel sorry for Mrs. Alex, but she lost sympathy when Mrs. Alex lied to Dani. Mrs. Alex claimed to be working extra hours at the hospital but instead went dancing with one of the EMTs at a bar outside town. “Might as well make a night of it,” Mrs. Alex said when she and her date got home at three a.m. “Call Beth and say you’re sleeping on our couch.” Beth was livid and insisted Dani come home.

  Another time, Mrs. Alex returned so late from a hair appointment that Dani arrived onstage partway through a Hawtones performance. Beth had invited her friends and was embarrassed. Mr. Gabler read Dani the riot act afterward.

  “I know you can’t leave a little kid alone,” he said, “but you have to be resourceful and make other arrangements.” He would give her another chance, he said, but if she missed part of a performance again she would be dropped from the group.

  Dani began babysitting when her teammate Justine Lamont needed someone to take over for her one night. The next time, Ju
stine simply didn’t show up at the house, and Mrs. Alex called Dani. Justine told Dani she didn’t want to sit for Alex anymore because the hours were so long and the house was so chaotic. This was just as well for Dani, because she had already fallen in love with Alex. Dani doesn’t mind Mrs. Alex screwing up sometimes. She has a stressful job, and it can’t be easy raising a kid by yourself.

  “Why don’t you bring him something next time you go over?” Beth asks Dani.

  “What kind of something?”

  “A present. A video game. I’ll give you the money.”

  “Mrs. Alex makes good money, Mom. And I already got him a racket.”

  “Get him something from me. To cheer him up. It must be tough having a mother like that.”

  “Mom, I know you mean well, but it seems like your motivation for giving him a present is just to insult Mrs. Alex. If you want to give him something, do it because you like him, not as . . . as a consolation prize for having a crappy mom.”

  “I’m trying to help,” Beth says. “I feel sorry for the little guy.”

  “I do too. But I like Mrs. Alex. She has an exciting life. She’s kind of a free spirit. She’s constantly going on dates.” Not like you, you dried-up twat!

  Oh no, Dani thinks.

  Oh no. I was feeling good about having managed the lesbo thing during the match, and now this new one pops up. Dani’s so tired of pushing thoughts away that she feels like crying. She can’t go through this with Beth. She has to get Beth out of her room. She turns her chair away from the door.

  “Mom, can I please have some time to myself? I want to learn this piece of music.”

  “All right. I’m going to do a little more cleaning. Sean is coming for dinner Thursday—will you be home?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Sean is Beth’s boyfriend, who has a successful house-building company. Dani believes Beth is doing everything she can to get Sean to marry her, even though Sean has already been married three times and shows no sign of wanting to get married again. It’s hard to know what’s attractive about Sean, other than that he and Beth both have their own companies and can talk about work and buildings.

  Every time Sean comes to dinner, Beth spends an hour cleaning in addition to what the cleaning service does. One night Beth lit candles all over the house, and Dani felt certain Beth was going to go for broke and propose to Sean herself. Dani told Beth she wasn’t staying; she would sleep at Shelley’s. After she left she realized she was embarrassed for her mother. When Dani came home the next morning, Sean was gone and Beth didn’t let on that anything unusual had happened. She sat there listening to the news and eating a waffle. Dani toasted one too, although she had already had a bagel at Shelley’s. She tried not to look at Beth. She felt terrible. She concentrated on squirting an equal amount of syrup into every square in the waffle, making a whole neighborhood of identical swimming pools.

  “What will you wear if you stay home?” Beth lingers in the doorway with a Swiffer mop.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be here.”

  “But if you do stay home, what do you think you’ll wear?”

  Who would want your dried-up old twat?

  “Dani?”

  You’re all dried up, you old twat. No one would want to marry you!

  Waiting for Dani’s answer, Beth looks so hopeful and wistful and weak, she’s trying so hard, that she seems like Alex. What if Dani yelled something that nasty, while her mother waits, blinking and vulnerable? In all their talks they have never discussed her mother’s vagina. It seems excruciatingly personal. And Beth would be devastated about the Sean part. It might be the last nail in the coffin of her mother ever being happy. Dani tries to remember the last three things they said in this conversation. Did she really say twat or just think it? She touches her mouth to see if her lips are moving. Please, Mom, please, get out of my room. Get out before I say something you don’t want to hear.

  “Dani? What’s wrong? Are you listening to me?”

  “I’d wear this,” Dani says, pointing to her ripped jeans and pink hoodie.

  “You don’t want to borrow something of mine?”

  “I probably won’t be home.”

  “Suit yourself,” Beth says, going off to fine-tune the ambiance for Sean. Dani shuts the door. Finally, she’s gone. Thank God.

  Beth calls back from the hallway, “I like that song, Dani. Leave your door open so I can hear you practice.”

  10

  “You were right about something,” Malcolm Pinto tells his father during a break from yard work after school. They relax on lounge chairs on the back patio.

  “What?”

  “The jockette. You know, the tennis-playing one.”

  “Strawberry Shortcake’s friend?”

  “Yup. She is definitely a baby dyke.”

  Michael smiles. “How do you know for sure?”

  “I heard them talking about it.”

  Michael peers at Malcolm over his sunglasses. “A lesbian in training.” He takes a gulp from his soda. “Your old man knows the score.”

  “I guess so,” Malcolm says. He folds one arm behind his head.

  Malcolm’s mom peeks out the door. “The lawn looks perfect,” she says. “You’re as good as the professionals.”

  Each week Malcolm and his father follow the same routine. They mow, then they trim the hedges and weed along the fence. Then Malcolm rakes while Michael uses the leaf blower. Mrs. Pinto talks on the phone while they work. She likes to brag to her friends about what a good crew she has. Afterward, father and son drive along the coast. Michael points at the girls running or Rollerblading along the beaches and breakwaters. “There’s one for ya,” he tells Malcolm, once he’s checked out a girl from both behind and the front. They stop at the beach shack for a burger and shake before heading home.

  The work is done. Malcolm and Michael shower quickly and head to the Jeep for their drive. They pass the center of town. The coastline opens up before them. Malcolm imagines girls like Dani Solomon, Zoe Brightman, and Meghan Dimmock doing a double-take when he enrolls in the academy and starts running every day along the back shore.

  “I wonder if Strawberry Shortcake’s hair is natural,” Malcolm muses.

  “There’s one way to be sure,” his father says, grinning behind his shades.

  “Look at her roots?” Malcolm guesses.

  Michael smiles, taking his eyes off the road. Malcolm sees his reflection in his father’s dark lenses, with wet, comb-marked hair and sunglasses of his own.

  “Oh.” Malcolm laughs, at the joke and at his own slowness. He feels he may never catch up.

  11

  On Wednesday, Dani hesitates at Alex’s front steps. Why is she getting these pictures and words in her mind? Is she crazy? She’s never been crazy before. She picks brown leaves off Mrs. Alex’s geraniums. Under the welcome mat is a magazine subscription card that fell out of the mail. She picks it up. She dreads going inside. Now that she’s started worrying about insulting Shelley and her mother, she’s worried the thoughts about hurting Alex will come back.

  Mrs. Alex rushes downstairs in scrubs and reptile-print heels. She grabs her lab coat and waves good-bye to Dani. Dani drops her backpack in the living room. She has three precalculus worksheets to complete.

  “Give me a kiss,” Alex says to Dani. “Do you know you’re my favorite person?”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is.”

  “I bet your mom is your favorite.”

  “You’re nicer than Mom.” He pinches one knee of her cargo pants.

  “Maybe today I’m your favorite. Maybe right now. But I bet Mrs. Alex is your favorite most of the time.”

  “You’re nicer than her. She gets mad sometimes. You never get mad.”

  “Sometimes I do get mad. At my friends or people like that. But I wouldn’t get mad in front of you. At least, I would try not to. For you I put on my special Alex face. I act my best, best, best. But I don’t see yo
u that much. Your mom sees you all the time, so she can’t always have her best face on.”

  “Sometimes you do things that make me mad. But I put my good face on and don’t tell you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like when you talk on your phone while you’re here.”

  “To Shelley?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I do that when you’re asleep.”

  “I only pretend. I can still hear you.”

  “It bothers you when I talk to Shelley?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have other friends, you know. You’re not my only friend, Alex.”

  “Okay.” He looks at the floor.

  “You know how you have friends at school? I have friends at school too. Friends my own age. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. The more friends you have, the better off you are.”

  “Do you want to play with Louie?”

  “I’m not sure I have time. Oh, all right. For a minute.”

  Dani sits at the computer with Alex on her knee. His rib cage feels as small around as a football. They play a game of picking blueberries and putting them in a bucket. Alex twists around.

  “You’re not watching Louie,” he says.

  Dani’s staring at Mrs. Alex’s Venus de Milo mousepad. The pictures are in her mind again, of Alex lying on the floor, of her standing above him with a knife. She wonders if she could ever hurt a child, and what she can do to make sure that never happens.

  “Sorry,” she says. Alex hands her the mouse. The timer starts and Louie goes berry picking. She pictures herself standing over Alex’s bed with a knife, waking him up and saying, “I’m going to kill you.” She feels like there are two worlds, the one with Louie and the berries, and the one with Alex and Dani, in which everything has gone horribly wrong.

  “Keep picking,” Alex says. “You still have ten seconds.”