I know that feeling. I’ve felt it myself, on those first early dates with James and a couple other boys—?that aching, itching desire to touch, to feel, to bond, to give in to desire. And I’ve sat next to boys who’ve given it off like smoke from a fire, who’ve pulsated with so much need, so much yearning, that you can practically feel the heat rising off of them.
Maybe Ethan can’t put it into words. Maybe he can’t even completely understand what he’s feeling, but he’s definitely in love or lust or whatever you want to call it with my sister. Serious skin hunger has set in. Mom would probably be alarmed, but why shouldn’t he feel physical desire for the girl he likes? I mean, so long as he doesn’t push himself on her in any way.
What about her? I study my sister. She’s mostly just staring open-mouthed at the television, but then I see her glance down at Ethan’s hand and there’s something in the way she looks away again quickly—?I can’t tell whether it’s nervousness or excitement or uncertainty or what—?that makes me think she’s aware of his thirst on some level that might not even be conscious.
So, yeah, he’s a step ahead . . . but maybe she’s not too far behind?
As we’re saying goodbye, Ethan leans forward, grabs Ivy by the upper arms, leans in, and plants a big, wet, juicy one right on her mouth.
Part of me wants to cheer him on, and the other part wants to say, Whoa there, Dude. Make sure the lady wants it. But I’d be the first to admit that, in this case, it’s a little hard to know what the lady wants.
Ivy steps back as soon as she can and wipes her mouth on her shirt—?not deliberately or insultingly, just like there’s saliva on it and she wants to get it off.
I glance at David. He looks anxious. I flash a smile that’s more reassuring than I feel. I want this to work so badly. For Ivy’s sake. And for Ethan’s.
And, oddly, a tiny bit for my own. I’m kind of enjoying having someone all in with me on this project—?David wants this to succeed as much as I do. If Eth-vy (Iv-an?) doesn’t work out, I’m back on my own.
And that sounds so lonely.
Twenty-Three
“AS FLIES TO WANTON BOYS are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport,” Ms. Campanelli recites at school a few days later. “Anyone know what that’s from?”
Jana instantly says, “Shakespeare. King Lear.” And checks to see if people are impressed with her.
Spoiler: they’re not.
Except maybe for Camp, who beams. “Right! And what’s he saying? Because I think it relates to what we’re talking about here.” We started off the day with Salinger’s story “Teddy,” and somehow that got us onto the subject of religion, which led to the current discussion of polytheism.
Jana says, “It means the gods torture us for fun just like boys do with bugs.”
“That’s right,” Camp says. “It’s sort of an early precursor to chaos theory, when you think about it—?there are no guarantees that just because you’re a good person, things will go well for you. Some god might just be in the mood to mess around with your life.”
“It’s sort of the opposite of a real religion, then,” says Sarah.
“Interesting,” says Ms. Campanelli.
David lifts his head to look up from his computer screen. “What’s the difference between a ‘real’ and a ‘not real’ religion?” he asks Sarah.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Enlighten me. What makes one religion more real than another?”
“I just meant, like, you know, the Jewish-Christian stuff. What we all believe.”
“We all?” he repeats.
She waves her hand and says again, only more irritably, “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” James says, turning in his seat to glare at David. Almost like he’s been waiting for an excuse to do that. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand her just to make her feel bad.”
“He’s not,” I say, and both James and Sarah swivel to stare at me. “There are tons of other religions. And there’ve been, like, thousands, since humans have started keeping records. And for all you guys know, people in this room could be Buddhists or Zoroastrians or Mormons or atheists. I mean, you can’t just assume that everyone believes what you believe or say that your religion is more ‘real’ than other people’s.”
“I didn’t!” Sarah says. “You’re totally putting words in my mouth!”
“Everyone, relax.” Ms. Campanelli holds up her hands. “Your choice of adjective was a little unfortunate, Sarah.”
Sarah’s mouth hinges open in the universal sign of this is so unfair!
“But,” Camp continues, “I also agree that we all knew what you meant, so let’s move on. I want to talk about Teddy’s parents—?do you think they love him or not?”
Jana is of course already answering the question by the time I’m sliding back down in my seat, my heart pounding in a way it usually doesn’t when I speak up in class. David catches my eye. He looks grateful . . . and confused. He didn’t expect me to defend him.
I shrug and look away, and now it’s James’s turn to catch my eye. He also looks a little confused. But not at all grateful.
Later that day, I have lunch with James and Sarah as usual. Neither of them mentions English class, but they laugh more at each other’s jokes than at mine—?it’s a subtle thing, but I don’t think I’m imagining it.
Afterward, James splits off, and Sarah and I head to our next class together.
That’s when she says, “So what’s going on between you and David?”
I groan. “Nothing. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“You’ve always said that he’s a jerk, but suddenly today you’re all David’s right in class.”
“Because he was right—?you shouldn’t have said some religions are real and others aren’t.”
“Oh, please. Everyone knew what I meant. You would never have taken his side before.”
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing. But just so you know, James is feeling really weird about you right now.”