Chapter 16: The Phantom

October 27, 1981

Sunday had been costume show-and-tell day; today was study day. Angie presented an update to everyone. Whatever rules exist for the girl-talk grapevine allowed us clueless males access to this information.

“Debbie’s fit to be tied, y’all. She won’t come back here. She’s too embarrassed. The whole thing has backfired on her horribly.” She shrugged. “I don’t have a whole lot of sympathy. It’s not even that fine a line between leading guys around by their dicks — we all do that,” she said, grinning, drawing grins from the other girls.

Except Mel and Cammie of course. “Hey!”

“You two do it. You just know you’re not paying off, and the smart ones know it, too.”

Mel looked at Cammie. “She’s got a point.”

“Yeah, true.”

Angie continued, “Anyway, there’s that, and then there’s just being a cock-tease and using it as the basis for power in the relationship. I’m saying this mostly because I’m pissed off about it and I don’t want her coming back even if she tries to. Which, like I said, I don’t think she will.”

Mike nodded. “How about ... if she comes back, we tell her that none of us is OK with her going all radio-silence on us for half a semester or more, and she has to reapply.”

“Tentatively, good enough. I don’t want to risk things blowing up, but it’s not cool. My worry is that anyone who’s that manipulative would use whatever power she’s got if it got her something, including blackmailing us.”

Cammie looked at Mel. Something got communicated. “OK, well, I’ve got a plan. Not really for this, but, just, a plan,” Cammie said.

“Huh?”

“So, either Andy or I am the most vulnerable right now. Probably me. Andy’s only vulnerable if Cal’s questionable, right?

Andy nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Not like I have any time alone with any other guys.”

“And you don’t have any time alone with Cal, either,” Mike said. “Just ask Rita.”

Cammie nodded. “Sure, but Debbie would call Rita’s word into question. My plan reinforces the idea that Cal and I are straight as arrows.”

“What’s the plan?” Jimmy asked.

“Simple. Cal and I are getting kicked out of the dance.”

“What?!” Connie exclaimed.

Cal grinned. “I get it.”

Cammie patted his head. “Yes, dear.” Everyone laughed. “It’s simple. We make out at the dance until they kick us out. Starting off with just a bit too much kissing and too much dancing close, getting more and more ... into things ... until Mrs. Higgins and Mr. Hannity boot us.”

“And then?” I asked.

“They’ll report it. My parents will love it, really. Oh, I’ll get a lecture, and I’ll get grounded, but it’ll be for a week or less. They’ll welcome proof I’m straight with open arms. Not that they question it as such, but I think they’re picking up on something.”

Cal shrugged. “Same. I might — might! — lose eligibility for a game, but that’s only if they turn a dance thing into a disciplinary report, and they usually don’t. Coach goes to bat all the time for players who get a little frisky. Hell, he encourages it! My Dad will probably love it, too. It’ll draw attention away from where we don’t want it.”

“That’ll make it harder for Debbie to claim it’s a sham relationship. Can you two pull it off?”

Cammie grinned, turned to Cal, leaned up, looped her arms around his neck, and pulled down into a kiss. A very, very steamy kiss, which he sure looked to be returning with equal heat. Then she broke the kiss and giggled. “Nothing.”

Cal grinned. “Well, not nothing, but yeah. Nothing where it matters.”

October 28, 1981

The other shoe finally dropped. Marcus came over at the start of lunch, before anyone else was there. “Look, can we talk, quick?”

“Sure, that’s fine.” We went outside to a nook few people used. “What’s up?”

“Look, I feel crappy about being so quiet. It’s been eating me up. But, just ... the whole thing has been ... awkward. All around. And there’s some ... drama ... I can’t mention.”

I tried to parse that. “Someone in the group doesn’t approve.”

“I’m pretty sure, yes. I can’t prove anything, and no one has said anything, but Debbie seemed ... um ... ominous. I’ll get in trouble if Debbie goes nuclear with my folks. Trouble which would keep me from seeing Theresa. And Debbie will go nuclear if I go back.”

“I get that. So ... what next?”

“I’m sticking with Theresa. I know what her reputation is. Maybe it’ll change if we’re together, or maybe I’m a fool and she’ll cheat left and right. But I’m not at all interested in Debbie. I just don’t want to cause any of you a problem. I think the best thing for me to do is unofficially drop out. I’m saying unofficially because, if Debbie gets word that I’m out, she might go nuclear. Maybe. She needs to meet some guy that’ll give her what she wants, or knock her socks off, either way. Until then, well, it’ll be a mess.”

“So, unofficially means...?”

“Tell Mike I’m not coming back. I trust Sarah and Angie. Past that, just, you know, keep it quiet, but feel free to fill the study group space.”

“I get it. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s my own damn fault. I let her play her game far too long. Maybe Theresa’s an overreaction, maybe not. She’s pretty cool, though.”

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am, man. Thanks!”

I caught Mike later and let him know. And to share with Sarah, but no one else. I told Angie at home, and she promised it was off-limits for the girl-talk grapevine.

October 30, 1981

The Halloween game was a horror show. We won, but at the cost of two serious injuries. And two serious injuries to Bellaire. Broken bones, torn tendons, a concussion. And it was cold. Not like last year’s, but cold. We enjoyed winning, but the rest? I worried for Andy and Cal, but they came through it uninjured.

October 31, 1981

I smiled to Dr. Stanton, getting settled in ‘my’ chair.

“I hear from Angie that Debate is going well.”

“Remarkably well. Our last tournament was, if anything, better than Clear Lake, even though Lizzie and Janet stomped us this time.”

“In the final round?”

“Yes. Three of the seven post-breaks CX rounds — one quarters, one semis, and finals — were Memorial versus Memorial.”

“That sounds remarkably well, yes.”

“I qualified in Extemp, so I could phone it in and go to State in both events.”

“You won’t, though.”

“Of course not.”

“Anything else happen at the tournament?”

Something had, but I couldn’t mention it, unfortunately.

“Not really, no. It was a lot of fun, though, and I’m looking forward to the next one.”

“Last time you were deciding on a date for Halloween, and Angie had someone arranged if you couldn’t decide. I heard from Angie that you went with her arrangement.”

I nodded. “Out of self-preservation, I went with Angie’s choice.”

She smiled. “And?”

I figured Angie would have told her a fair bit, but that she wanted to hear it from me as well. “Jasmine Nguyen, a fellow sophomore. She’s in Drama. According to Angie, she ‘needs to get out of her shell, outside of Drama where she’s comfortable’. Either every time I’ve seen her has counted as ‘Drama’ or she doesn’t need a lot of help with that, though she’s more at ease around them. But I’m more at ease around our study group or the debaters. She’s smart, flirty, outgoing. Cute.”

“Why am I not surprised she’s all of those, and that you listed them in the order you did?” she laughed.

I shrugged. “It fits the pattern. Anyway, we talked some on the trip to Dallas when we stopped for lunch — she was in the Drama team van — then more at the tournament, some at her house, and some at school.”

“What will you wear for a costume?”

“I’m going as Erik, The Phantom of the Opera. I have a half-mask and will wear the suit I wear at tournaments; Jasmine’s borrowed a Victorian gown from the costume storeroom. That’s why I went over to her house — to try out the costume.”

“She likes that?”

“Loves it. It’s literary, fun to play with, French, all that.”

“Why does French matter? I know the connection between Vietnam and France, but...”

“Her family is very French Vietnamese. They moved to the United States from France, a couple of generations ago.”

“Interesting. How are you feeling about her, outside of the dance?”

“We’re ... flirty is a good description. Some kissing, nothing more. So far.”

“That last saying that you think it’s a matter of time?”

I shrugged. “Nothing is inevitable. The dance might not go well. I think she’s pretty clear about her interest in exploring things. I think I’m beyond just rebounding from Nancy, now.”

She nodded. “Anything else interesting there?”

“She thinks I should audition for a role in a production.”

“Interesting. Would you?”

“My calendar is pretty full; however, it might be interesting. It’d fit with my goal to try new things. I think I could manage a minor role this spring, depending on the exact timing of rehearsals and performances. And, since I know she’s going to mention me to Ms. Smith, I will either have both her and Meg coming after me or Meg will shoo her away. I’m not sure of which.”

“They get along well?”

“Very well. Fortunately so, since they share a wall, a small extra office area, and we travel to the same tournaments and stay in the same motels.”

“I’ll be interested to hear how that goes. Let’s see. Anything else?”

“I’m going to pressure Angie to audition if I do.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

I laughed. “She’s got every quality that I have that makes Jasmine want me to audition. If I’d be good, so would she. Well, except for one quality.”

“What’s that?”

“A Y chromosome.” She laughed at that. “Drama, like Debate recently, has more girls than guys. Not as imbalanced as we are, but enough.”

“Interesting. Maybe because both are social? In any case, go on.”

“I’ve heard nothing new from Candice.”

She nodded. “All I can say she’s doing well and there are no major updates.”

“Works for me.”

“It’d be OK to tell her you’re seeing Jasmine. If you are. Just, no specifics.”

“I wouldn’t discuss specifics with Candice.”

“Angie?”

“You know that’s a different discussion.”

She laughed. “I do, yes. And speaking of...?”

“All I can say we’re doing well and there are no major updates.”

She laughed. “I should have seen that coming. And, that’s good. Let’s see ... our next appointment is November 14^th.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Dr. Stanton.”

“You’re welcome.”

Angie was working on her werewolf makeup when I finished getting ready to go. Those wearing full makeup were skipping dinner. I, on the other hand, had plans to meet the rest (Mike, Sarah, Connie, Jimmie, Mel, Mark, and Morty) for dinner. Chinese, a departure. Mike’s idea, and not — I think — based on Jasmine’s presence.

I looked in the bathroom and wolf-whistled.

“Go away!” she laughed, making a shooing motion.

I leaned in and whispered. “Or you’ll huff, and you’ll puff, and you’ll bl...”

Whap! “Leave already!”

I laughed and headed out.

I was in front of Jasmine’s house by 4:30pm, mask on. I headed to the door, rang the bell, and Jasmine answered. “Oh, no! The Phantom has come for me!”

Her father and mother laughed from behind her. Mrs. Nguyen was a handsome woman, likely in her late 30s. Jasmine stepped out, and I smiled to her mother. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Nguyen.”

“Camille,” she said, smiling, hugging me, and planting light kisses on either cheek. I managed not to blush.

I hugged back, lightly, and let go quickly, then shook hands with her father.

“Pictures!” he said. “I will never hear the end of it if there are not pictures!”

Camille laughed. “Her sixth-grade play.”

“See? Never!”

He herded us into the front yard and had us pose in front of — what else? — a trellis covered in jasmine. We posed, with and without the mask. Then I offered her my arm.

“Have her back by midnight, Steve!” He gave a little grin. “Or so!”

“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, honey!” Camille added.

“And what wouldn’t you do, mama?” she shot back.

“Nothing you need to worry yourself over,” she chuckled, smirking a bit.

The whole exchange amused me. My curfew was eleven tonight, so we wouldn’t be hitting midnight. Eleven was an interesting decision; another bow to practicality. On tournament weekends I was driving and might not be home until 1am or later, and that had to be fine. Making it much before eleven would’ve sent a strange message about my maturity — mature enough they trusted me to drive a bunch of kids to and from tournaments but not mature enough they’d trust me around dating-like events? When even Meg couldn’t strictly account for the time between the end of the tournament and the time I arrived home? So we compromised at eleven. Few fifteen-year-olds would be so lucky. And of course, if it was mine, then it had to be Angie’s, too. I thought we were 90% or more of the way to de facto permission to just date as we saw fit.