But there is something even bigger than all that, something more unexpected and magical and earth shattering, something she is happy to spend her weeklong suspension replaying in her head over and over and over again: She had a date. With a boy. A cute, awesome, wonderful boy.
Elise should maybe feel guilty that she skipped a Nowhere Girls meeting to hang out with Benjamin Chu, that she kept it secret. She should feel guilty about her priorities being skewed, about caring more about a boy than solidarity with her friends and the cause, how instead of joining everyone at that creepy old house on Saturday, she played video games with Benjamin in his den, how it was kind of hot and he kept apologizing for the thermostat being busted, how their glasses of lemonade were sweaty, how his upper lip was sweaty, how Elise was so distracted by wanting to taste the sweat on his lip that she kept dying in the video game in embarrassingly lame ways, how he teased her for it in a way that made her feel magnificent, how he looked in her eyes for so long he died too, how she barely registered the tiny voice in her head crying, “What about the strike?” as she leaned over and pressed her lips to his, how when they finally separated, he could barely open his eyes, how he mumbled through his dopey grin, “The strike is over?” and she said, “Don’t tell anyone,” and he said, “I can wait,” and she said, “No way,” and he said, “Are you sure?” and as she kissed him again, her body said I’m sure I’m sure I’m sure I’m sure.
Elise lies on her bed, remembering the salty-sweet lemonade taste of Benjamin Chu’s lips. She thinks maybe she should be a little sorry, but mostly she thinks not. Because maybe the Nowhere Girls would be happy for her. Because maybe sometimes saying yes is just as important as saying no.
ERIN.
Erin doesn’t know exactly what happened last night at the police station while she was at home with Otis, but clearly it was bad, and clearly the news spread to people who had no business knowing it. The three girls who came forward as being on Spencer’s list all had their lockers vandalized by the time they got to school. Someone stuck a bumper sticker on Lisa Sutter’s locker that said DUCT TAPE: TURNING “NO NO NO” INTO “MMM MMM MMM” SINCE 1942.
Principal Slatterly is on a rampage. Four new rent-a-cops have been hired to patrol the halls and lunchroom. Rumor is at least eight girls have received detentions or gotten suspended today so far, and it’s only fourth period. Because of some list Slattery got from Delaney of who showed up at the station last night, she knows just who to target, and she certainly knows how to come up with bogus reasons.
Erin knows she should feel bad for them. She should regret not being there last night. Those would be the right things to feel. But she is too busy feeling something completely different.
And now, on her way to class, she has reason to feel that different feeling even more. There, at the other end of the hall, is Otis Goldberg getting something out of his locker. Something inside her jumps. It feels reptilian—a darting snake, a lizard flicking its tail. Before she even has a chance to think, Erin has what feels strangely like the beginning of a panic attack but also the opposite of a panic attack, which leads to the thought that maybe she would like to say “Hi, Otis” out loud, which would catch his attention, which would make him smile, which would cause him to walk toward Erin and talk to her, which would make Erin feel even happier because, Erin now suddenly realizes, as clear and unclouded as a perfect geometric proof, she likes him. She likes Otis Goldberg. She likes Otis Goldberg in a way that is different from and bigger than how she likes Rosina and Grace. She likes Otis Goldberg as something more than a friend.
But then she sees Amber Sullivan next to him, standing very close. Erin has spent years studying body language and personal space, and she knows Amber is standing closer than a friend is supposed to stand. Erin knows friends do not tuck stray hairs behind each other’s ears. They do not rub their boobs on each other’s arms.
Girls like Amber are the ones boys like. Girls with curves and smiles, with compliments and eye contact. Not weird androgynous freaks like Erin. Not girls who only know how to feel too much or too little.
So, just like that, as quickly as Erin discovers her feelings for Otis Goldberg, she vows to shove them away, to make them not exist. She can will herself to stop feeling. Her mind is stronger and more stable than the volatile and unpredictable chaos of her heart. Not the actual organ, of course, but the mysterious muck around it, the oddly placed neural cells in the middle of her chest that connect to her brain and mysterious other things that cannot be observed or measured, the place in her body that feels panic and love and cannot tell the two apart.
Erin should have known better. She was not thinking like an android. She let feelings infect her. She was not doing what Data would do.
It is true that an android can get its wires crossed. It can perceive something without complete information and come to an incorrect conclusion, but these occasional inaccuracies should not lead to emotions, which may or may not lead to further conclusions that could lead to other, even stronger, emotions, and thoughts, and even actions, but then maybe another observation interferes with the first and throws the whole series of previous neural firings into question, and the wires get stretched and tangled and extremely uncomfortable, which may or may not lead to other, completely different, emotions, and everything turns into a big fat mess.
Erin wonders if this is a metaphor. Erin hates metaphors.
She just needs a little time, a little space. She will hide here behind this stairwell until the halls empty, until everyone is in class. She will use the silence to recharge herself. All she needs is a few minutes. She will be a little late for class, but she has weighed the pros and cons of that transgression and has come to the conclusion that it is more important that she be sturdy and in one piece than be on time for class.
There. Better. Otis and Amber are gone. Everyone is gone, even the ubiquitous security guards. It is now safe for Erin to emerge from her hiding place and make her way to class.
But then footsteps. A throaty laugh. Erin looks around to find Eric Jordan at the other end of the hall, more tired and bedraggled than she’s ever seen him. His sunken eyes are focused intently on her. His signature smirk has lost all charm.
“Stop looking at me,” Erin says.
Eric laughs. “I know you don’t mean that.” He keeps walking. He gets closer and closer. “You like me looking at you, don’t you?”
“No,” Erin says.
“Even someone like you must have needs,” he says, nearly upon her. She can smell the stale liquor on his breath, his unwashed body.
Erin knows she should run. She should get away. But she can’t let him know she’s afraid. She can’t give him that satisfaction. She wants to hurt him back.