“Please,” Janis said. “I’ve dated three guys from Sunday School and every single one tried to feel me up. God’s not your problem, Lisa.”
“Well, what is it then? And don’t say it’s me. It’s not.”
“Lisa . . . he’s on the water polo team and he has three older brothers,” Janis said.
“What? Not again, Janis. He’s not gay.”
“Scientifically and superficially, these facts do not help his case for heterosexuality.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“They say the more older brothers you have, the more likely you are to be homosexual. For males, at least. And do I even have to explain to you why water polo is gay?”
“Boys in Speedos playing around in a pool,” Lisa said. “I get it. But he’s not gay.”
“Whatever you want to tell yourself, Lisa. But don’t count this out. I have an instinct for these things. Best gaydar in town.”
“The thing is, I don’t really care that much right now.”
“Lisa . . . I think you should probably care about something like this.”
“Maybe everyone else should just care less about it. I’ve got too much to do anyway. Sex should be the last thing on my mind.”
“See, you’d make a great Christian. Maybe just start going to church and he’ll be all over you.”
“I’m afraid I’d catch on fire as soon as I walked in.”
“I’d be afraid of that too,” Janis snapped.
“I love him. I’m pretty sure he loves me. So, for now, what’s it matter?”
“This conversation started because of your sexual frustration.”
“Even so. Like I said: sex is distracting. I need to focus on school and on getting out of here.”
“Will you tell me about the dentist now?” Janis asked.
“She was nice. And I was right. He hasn’t left the house in years.”
“Fascinating,” Janis said. “I wouldn’t leave the house either if I’d done what he did.”
“He couldn’t help it,” Lisa defended.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you care so much about a kid you never met.”
Lisa’s plan had been taking shape for some time before she actually met Solomon’s mother, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell Janis about it. Sometimes when you’re doing something you maybe shouldn’t be doing in the first place, the last thing you need is someone like Janis to tell you why you shouldn’t be doing it. Lisa was smart enough to know the risks, and she’d already made up her mind.
Later that evening, at Clark’s house, Lisa tried bringing up college to see if she could get some idea of what was going on in that head of his.
“Given any more thought to schools on the East Coast?” she asked.
“I was researching the other day,” Clark replied. “Then I felt way too grown up and played video games instead.”
“Well, I finally decided for sure. So, maybe you can plan around where I go.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Woodlawn University. They have the second highest ranked psychology program in the country.”
“Why not go for the first?”
“Because I know I can be top of my class at one and I’m slightly unsure I could be at the other.”
“You’re like Lady Macbeth without the murder.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how much of a compliment that is to me.”
“So, I should be looking at schools close by? Where is that, Oregon?”
“Maryland,” she corrected. “Baltimore.”
“I always wanted to see Poe’s grave.”
“Ridiculous,” she said. “I have never understood this universal fascination with gravesites. It’s morbid and just . . . sad.”
“I go to my granddad’s grave sometimes. It’s nice.”
“Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “I like what I like, you like what you like.”
“What do you do there? Just look at it and be sad?”
“No. Usually I just pray or talk to my granddad like he’s still here. It honestly makes me happier than it does sad.”
“People are strange, aren’t they?”
“Is that why you’re so dead set on fixing us all?” Clark asked.
“Not you,” she said quickly. “You’re good like you are.”
“Thanks. So . . . Woodlaw . . .”
“Woodlawn,” she corrected.
“Yeah, that. Can you get in?”
“With my eyes closed.”
“What do you have to do? An essay or something?”
“Yeah. My personal experience with mental illness.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” he laughed. “You can just write about your mom. Or maybe my mom. She’s legitimately insane.”
“No. It has to be unique. It has to be the best one they read. Maybe the best one they’ve ever read. They give one scholarship a year. Full ride.”