Chapter 39

“Demigoddesses do NOT take public transportation. I’d rather die first.”
—Nicky Drayden, The Prey of Gods

SPRING BREAK WAS OVER, which meant there were only thirty-eight more classroom days until the end of the year. Eight weeks, less a couple of days off. In my Adult Roles and Responsibilities class, there was a big grid on the whiteboard that counted down the days with a big ‘X’ drawn through the number at the end of the day. That was when my class was, so we got to watch the red erasable marker come out at the end of class and we’d cheer.

I had a fuck-ton of work to get done. These classes were nothing at all like what V1 had in high school. Of course, we were all focused to different degrees on the Human Geography project, but the work was largely independent as we gathered together on Saturdays to review it with each other. Beca and I had split up the writing and Rachel was proving to be an English Grammar Nazi as she proofread. Desi was reviewing Joan’s animations and playing with the overlays to see how they could be best used. She’d also started constructing our PowerPoint template.

But I had four other classes that were begging my attention. Rachel and I spent the study hall before lunch reviewing our Geometry lesson. It was going fine as long as we didn’t rush through it and make stupid mistakes. The half-hour to check our homework each day was crucial. As was the half-hour or so we spent each evening on the phone or texting. And the hour we managed to squeeze out twice a week to go to her house or mine to make love. Yeah.

My Intro to Business class required us to actually create a small business plan with estimated revenue, expense, and profits in an Excel pivot table. The last two weeks of class, we’d each have to make a presentation of our business plan to the rest of the class and ‘the investors’ would decide if they wanted to put in some money, trash the idea, or suggest a way to bootstrap it. Yeah. Another PowerPoint.

Adult Roles and Responsibility had an interesting term paper due. We were to chart out our lives for the next ten years, broken down into ‘Time Before Service’, ‘Time in Service’, and ‘Time After Service’. We needed to look at goals in six different areas and have at least a paragraph explaining how we intended to reach those goals. Financial, Educational, Relational, Social, Professional, Personal Growth. It was going to be an interesting project, but I wasn’t going to be writing things like becoming a mechanical engineer.

And then there was English. We had two more units to get through—Character and Themes of Good and Evil, featuring Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes, and Elements of Gothic Literature and the Role of Conscience, featuring Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—and other readings, of course. We’d already started our research papers and we were supposed to show a specific amount of progress each week. But heaviest on my mind was the short story I was working on. Ms. Levy had approved my outline and offered me a third-point additional credit for the semester if I finished a ‘reasonable’ short story. A half-point if she considered it publishable. There were a lot of nights I fell asleep late dreaming about spaceflight.

My spacesuit was confining. It inhibited movement. All around me was the deep black of space as my suit continued to fill with air. The pressure on my body was intense. I could no longer hear my own breathing. The blackness closing in. I could no longer feel the EVA suit. Only the pressure. My lungs were collapsing. My eyes had gone dark. I could not feel my own body. I would die in this eternal blackness. There was no hope.

Except the hand holding mine.

“J. Wake up, J. It’s just a dream. Just a dream.” Em’s voice finally penetrated the impenetrable. I followed her voice and the touch of her hand. “Just a dream, baby. I won’t let go of you.”

Air rushed into my lungs and I wept.

“It was a dream, Em. I knew it was a dream. I was in outer space and my suit collapsed. I knew I was dreaming but I couldn’t wake up.”

“Just a dream, baby. Just a dream. I’m here. I’ll hold you.” I rolled toward my sister’s naked body in the bed with me. Her soft breast was pressed against my cheek. Like a baby, I shifted my head, my lips seeking the comfort of her nipple. I latched on and heard her gasp.

And then I went back to sleep.

We all met together at Joan’s house to review our work again on Saturday. There was no make-out session in the offing. I’d had an hour with Rachel after school Friday afternoon with both of us bemoaning the fact that our love-making was rushed. But neither of us was willing to curtail our brief interludes. It was much harder than when I’d been meeting with Francie after school for an hour. Francie and I really had no other goals but to get each other off. With Rachel I wanted to take my time. I wanted to hold her and talk to her. It was frustrating as hell.

“I think we have the paper ready to put together,” Beca said after reading my work for the week. “Which means we need to start working on the presentation.”

“Both of you send your docs to me and I’ll cut it together and format it according to the stylesheet. No sense in you getting bogged down in the busywork,” Rachel said. We agreed and Desi put the template for the presentation up on the television screen.

“Here’s what we’ve got,” she said. “First of all, I can add content and slides in between things and rearrange them however you want. I’ve attached Joan’s animations to slides and you can put bullets in, then click to play.”

“Play the animations. Are they all done, Joan?”

“Every one. I’m doing some fun stuff for my computer graphics class, but it’s not relevant for your project.”

“You are so sweet!” Beca said. “We’ve got, like, ten days to have everything finished. I think we’re going to make it.”

“So what can we do to help you girls with your projects and stuff?” I asked. “You’ve put so much time in on this, I want to help you if I can.”

“Me, too,” agreed Beca.

“I could use a proofreader,” Desi said. “My English paper is crap. Want to have a go at it?”

“Love to,” I answered.

“You’ve been helping me all semester with Geometry,” Rachel said. “I don’t feel like I’ve over-contributed. Joan?”

“It’s four weeks till prom. Shouldn’t we be doing some practicing, Jacob?”

“Practicing? Oh. Um ... Like dancing, right?”

“Yeah, ri-ight,” Desi drawled.

“I think that’s our cue to leave, girlfriends,” Beca said. “Maybe we could go someplace to do some practicing ourselves.”

“Wait. What?”

“Call home, Jacob. Let them know you won’t be home for dinner,” Rachel said. She gave me a sweet kiss and for a moment, I thought she and I were going out. Then Desi slammed one on me and Beca stood on tiptoe to kiss my cheek, having just kissed Joan. I could smell Joan’s powder on Beca’s cheek. The three girls left and I was face-to-face with Joan.

“You look like a deer in the headlights,” she smirked. “Relax. I don’t plan to fuck you here in the family room.”

“Sorry, Joan. It was just the suddenness of everybody running out like you all had something planned. Made me a little nervous. I didn’t mean to act like I don’t want to spend time with you. I do. Really.”

“We do have something planned.” Joan said. “But you don’t need to be worried. I just requested four Saturday nights with you, followed by prom. I promise I won’t try to cut in on any of your other time with Rachel or Desi and I won’t let you cut in on my time with Beca.”

“Four Saturday night dates? I might need to get special permission from home,” I sighed. “Mom and Dad have been pretty laid back about getting together with everyone but insist that I only date once a weekend. And, well, Rachel and I were hoping to go out some, too.”

“Tell you what. You need to change clothes anyway. You really aren’t dressed to go out with me. Let me change real quick and I’ll take you home so you can change. While you’re changing, I’ll explain to your parents the new project we’ve taken on and the necessity to go out on Saturday nights. It’s project prom.”

“So you see, prom is like a big thing for me and I know Jacob is a little inexperienced about these things. So, we need to get things ready.”

“Things like what?” Mom asked. I’d changed into my slacks, a button-down shirt and dress shoes.

“Well, today, for example, I need to go to the mall to choose a prom dress. I can’t believe I’m so far behind. But I like the idea of having my boyfriend help make the choice because he’ll have to do things like pick a flower—which I’ll help with—and we need to reserve his tux. I want to be there for that because I don’t want him showing up in some kind of lavender tails or something. And then there’s the dance lessons.”

“The what?” I squeaked.

“There’s this really cool thing. Fort Wayne Teen Alliance has set up Saturday night dance lessons to get kids ready for prom,” Joan said excitedly. “They have a different DJ in every week and at six o’clock, there is a group lesson. They teach everything from line dancing to hip hop. And some swing and ballroom dancing, too. Then at seven o’clock, they give you three hours to practice. The lesson is included in the five-dollar cover to get in. You have to have a student ID to get in.”

“In other words, you go out dancing every Saturday for the next four weeks,” Dad said. “As training.”

“Um ... Yes,” Joan said. My dad hadn’t said anything since she got there and I think Joan was a little startled and frightened when he spoke up. He looked at Mom.

“I wish they’d had something like that when I took you to the prom. Might not have felt so awkward once we got there.” That was it. We had Saturdays to work on our ‘project’ together.

Dad pushed a handful of money into my pocket as we were leaving. “Tomorrow’s Easter. See if you can’t get your date and her mother flowers. And if they still have any left, pick some up for your sisters. Won’t be much selection but they always have a few available. The rest is for your lesson and dinner.”