Trouble is a Friend of Mine

I read the header on the sheaf of paper Bill handed me.

93% of boys and 62% of girls are exposed to Internet porn before they turn 18, so we know what you’ve been up to. After the last time you saw porn, did you A) want to have sex, B) feel so grossed out, you had to shower, or C) no, really, I only use the Internet for homework. Add a comment.



I said, ‘People won’t admit they’ve watched porn, will they? Doesn’t this need to be anonymous?’

‘People don’t even want to be anonymous when I post their answers,’ Bill said. ‘Everyone wants to be a star.’

There were a lot of names and answers on the booklet she’d made. ‘You talk to a lot of people … from a lot of different cliques.’

‘You want to know how we did it, right? How we got in? It’s all social networking and who people link to.’ From her notebook, Bill took out a folded piece of paper that looked like a celebrity who-dated-whom map. Arrows went back and forth between cut-out yearbook photos of students. Underneath the photos were lists of names of other students. Above the arrows were words like is on the soccer team with and used to date. ‘We skipped the Dropouts and the Felonious Punks because they don’t have outside links. We started with the Dumb Geeks and then moved up to the Goody-Goodies. When the Wannabes started playing, it was basically like hitting the East Australian Current. We were in the mainstream. Everyone wanted to play.’

‘Isn’t it genius? Ask how she came up with it,’ Darla said.

‘It hit me when I watched a thing on terrorist cells. Terror cells stay separated because it’s easier for them to resist penetration. That’s what high school is. Cells that resist penetration, orbiting our leader … Sloane Bloom,’ Bill said. ‘She doesn’t talk to us … she doesn’t even acknowledge our existence, mostly … but we feel her presence everywhere and we arrange ourselves in order below her.’

‘And are you and Darla on this map?’ I said.

‘We float … like a virus.’ Darla looked pleased with her pronouncement until Bill’s hard stare wore her down. ‘As Bill says.’

‘Not a vi-rus, Darla. That’s negative. We’re vi-ral. We started by invading weaker cells, knowing each one had at least one person who had a toehold in the social cell above it, and we just rode it all the way up through the school,’ Bill said. ‘The only person I can’t place on this map is Digby. He only hangs with you and Henry. Once I saw him in the computer lab with Felix Fong …’

Ah, Digby. Here he was again. Bill mentioned him every couple of minutes. It was getting awkward. I knew she wanted me to produce him, but for some reason, I just didn’t want to make it happen. At the time, I told myself it was a ‘worlds colliding’ thing.

Despite the improvement in my friend situation, though, Digby’s prediction was right. No one else invited me to the dance.

The Thursday afternoon before the winter ball, Felix cornered me at the lockers at rush hour. Half the school was going on second-shift lunch, while the other half was coming off first-shift lunch. Basically, everyone was stopping off at their lockers and caught the show Felix put on. The kids standing close enough to hear what Felix said repeated his goofy speech for the kids in the back who couldn’t hear.

‘Zoe, you’re a very special girl … um … lady? Woman?’ Felix said. ‘Anyway. Would you do me the very big honor of letting me take you to the dance? Will you be my Doll?’

The ‘doll’ thing will be clear in a second. People laughed, staring at us, waiting for my answer.

When I said yes, I tried to make it clear that I was agreeing only veeeery reluctantly. I put a lot of subtext behind my, ‘Um … yeah … fine … okay.’

That paparazzi wannabe Derek Martino took a photo of Felix and me at that moment. I groaned because I could imagine exactly the caption, ‘The Moment,’ floating under our picture in ‘Memories of a Night to Remember,’ the ridiculously named thirty-dollar prom keepsake they were printing up. The worst thing, though, was that the photo memorialized yet another one of Felix’s awful T-shirts. This one said: GREAT STORY, BABE. NOW MAKE ME A SANDWICH.

‘Felix, what’s with the T-shirts?’ I said.

‘Hilarious, right? Digby gets them for me from his work. Employee discount!’ Felix said.

Employee discount? Probably not from shelling shrimp at the Cajun place. Probably not from wearing the mall mascot Angelo the Duck. That left …

‘From the Make-Ur-Bear store? Are you wearing teddy bear T-shirts?’ I said.

‘They’re from the Nasty Bear line for adults … the bears are bigger. They fit perfectly,’ he said.

‘One condition, Felix, for us going to the dance together. No more rude T-shirts,’ I said. ‘Ever.’

‘Oh … okay,’ he said.