73: Stupid Ideas

"Sorry, Coach. I didn't know I'd made the team. I didn't try out."

"Yeah. That's why you're not on varsity."

"Huh?"

"Coach Mitchell has this thing about not putting guys on his team who don't show up for try-outs."

"I'm sorry, Coach. I haven't been all together this year. I didn't think I'd be playing."

"I don't know the whole story and I don't need to. I've seen you working out with Whitney every morning and that was good enough to tell me you were still in shape and strong. Between that and the story that you sank nine out of ten free throws at the fair this summer with that undersized hoop and over-inflated ball, you were a shoo-in. Now don't make me regret it. Get out there and show these guys how a team works."

All of last year's juniors had moved up to varsity except Phil. I was sorry that he wasn't getting to play in the big time, but he was cool with being on JV. As the only senior on the squad, I expected he'd be elected captain, but it about knocked me out when the team voted the two of us as co-captains. I suddenly realized that outside my private little world where I suffered over the loss of my girlfriends and baby, high school was going on at the same rapid-fire pace that it had for the past two years. I was in the thick of it.

Bert had gotten my spot on the varsity as a guard. Well, good for him. He deserved it. Coach Mitchell was looking for more depth, though, and had Joe rotating in and out at guard with Sean at forward. Lionel was dominating everyone in the center and Carl, Doug, Derek, and Josh were still jockeying for final positions.

On the JV, we had all our freshmen back, which put Barry at center. He'd actually been working out over the summer, so he was getting up in the air a little better. He wasn't as tall or dominating as Lionel, but he was a good anchor in the middle. He still carried around a big attitude. John and Geoff were our utility players. It looked like George had gone up another couple inches and he was anchoring one corner. By the time practice was over, I realized I hadn't been shooting as much over the summer as I usually do. I was deadly at the foul line, but my three-pointers weren't quite on the mark. I was going to have to practice a lot and talk to Whitney about doing more court work in the mornings during our workout.

Sam was kind enough to pick me up after practice since she'd zipped me home and back right after school. I was surprised when she walked up to the house with me.

"Thanks for the ride, Sam. You know you don't have to walk me to the door unless we're on a date. Samantha, are we going to date again?"

"Who says this isn't a date?" she asked. We walked into the kitchen and my girlfriends all yelled.

"Surprise!" Cassie, Liz, Rose, Whitney, Brenda, and Samantha had decided to give me a late impromptu birthday party. I was really surprised to see Nicolette there. Each of the girls was taking a turn to hug me and almost shyly put a kiss on my cheek.

"Nicolette?" I asked as she came up to me.

"Apparently I have some kind of honorary status until they invite me to sign some document. I don't join things. Just so you know. And I don't like hugging and kissing. So just get over it. People touching me give me the creeps. That being said, Happy Birthday." She reached up and gave me that kind of cheek to cheek air kiss that Europeans do. The back door slammed.

"Surprise!" Jennifer and Courtney yelled.

"Are we too late?" Court asked.

"Happy birthday, Brian," Anna said as she came into the room. Of course, with Anna coming in, Mom and Dad were right there, but they were carrying a birthday cake with lit candles and everyone started singing to me.

"What's going on?" I asked when I'd blown out the candles. "My birthday was like a month ago."

"Your so-called girlfriends have had their heads up their asses for almost two months," Brenda said. "We finally did what we should have done in September when we found out Rhonda wouldn't speak to any of us. We called Donna. She told us the whole story, at least as far as she knew."

"Brian, I was the worst and shot everyone else down whenever they suggested that we get together and talk," Sam said. "I understand if you don't want me to be one of your girlfriends anymore. I was so hurt when Rhonda sent me that letter and then wouldn't talk to me on the phone that I blamed everything on you. Instead of sharing our grief, I turned it into anger and let it influence everyone else. I'm sorry."

I pulled Samantha to me and just hugged her.

"You were right," I said. "All of you. It was my fault. I let all of us feel safe because of the stupid agreement. I let myself feel safe and I hurt Rhonda. I don't feel safe anymore and I'm frightened that I'll hurt one of you."

"Hush, my love," Courtney said. "We all know that you would never hurt us intentionally. We'll all just have to be double-careful. It's not just your responsibility. Rhonda knew she wasn't protected. She told Donna that she was in control the whole time and it was all she could do not to slam down onto you. I know that feeling. We just have to be especially careful." Mom and Dad and Anna had been listening to all of us talk as they cut the birthday cake and served ice cream. Mom and Dad knew, of course. There was no way I could go two months as depressed and miserable as I was without telling them what happened. Mom had even talked to Joyce Gordon, but it was no use. Joyce said that now that she knew she was not coming back here, Rhonda was adapting to her new school. It was just better this way.

I wasn't sure who it was better for.

It was a school night and Anna had to drive the girls an hour and a half south so they'd be ready for school Tuesday. All my other girlfriends kissed me and headed out at the same time. Nicolette still looked at me a little uncertainly and shook my hand when she said she'd see me in the morning.

Mom called the tux shop to reserve a rental for me for the 12th. I'd have to go in on Saturday for a fitting, but they said there was no big demand that weekend so they'd be able to handle it with no difficulty. I asked Nicolette what color her dress was and what type of flower she would like. She looked at me like I'd lost my marbles.

"You don't have to get me a flower!"

"Nicolette, are you going to wear a formal gown?"

"Yes."

"With army boots?"

"No." She rolled her eyes in what I'd come to find was a characteristic gesture that indicated that everyone else in the world was an idiot. "I have shoes."

"Then you will have a flower, too," I said firmly.

"Yeah fine. A black rose, then."

"Um ... I'll do my best. Do you have a second choice? Just in case they are out of black?" She actually smiled. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen her smile.

Our first game was at Churubusco on Friday night. That meant that both varsity and JV would ride the bus and the JV cheerleaders would ride with us. Unlike football where there were so many players that the cheerleaders couldn't fit on the bus with them, during basketball season we could all travel together—at least sometimes. There was a fan bus going to the game as well and the varsity cheerleaders were on it. There might actually be a few people in the bleachers to cheer us on.

JV had eighteen regular season games including two tournaments. The varsity had a couple more and then went to Sectionals. Cheerleaders rode in the front of the bus, JV team in the middle, and varsity in the back. I never really figured out what was so special about riding in the back of the bus. On the way home, we weren't as segregated and several cheerleaders rode beside their boyfriends.

Churubusco is a smaller school than we are, so it turned out that we both had about the same number of fans. I liked this school because they really had grit. A couple years ago they took out the team favored for the State Championship, but they wouldn't play that caliber opponent again. They were class 2A and we were a class 3A team. We'd all play in different Sectionals.

It was a good game. Our JV won by three, but only because I finally found my range and hit three three-pointers. They scored as frequently as we did, but didn't make any from the outside. It was great that it was a really clean game and there were only a dozen foul shots all evening. After we got showered, we cheered our lungs out as our varsity went out and dominated the court. There was still a lot of camaraderie between the two teams and we won mostly because Lionel absolutely owned the boards.

On the bus headed back, Sora slid into the seat next to Geoff and Rose sat next to me. Brenda, of course, found Carl for a cuddle on the hour trip back. The varsity cheerleaders jumped buses after the game.

"How come you are still on JV cheer squad, Rose?"

"I guess I didn't try very hard to move up," she said. "This whole thing affected all of us, Brian. I just wish we'd all handled it better."

"I certainly wish I had. I promised Reverend Gordon that I wouldn't tell anyone about Rhonda taking all those pills, but when that speech topic came up last week all I could do was stare at it and think that she was desperate and had nowhere to turn. I'm so glad we all know now."

"Me, too. And Brian, I'm still sad. Not just for you, but for all of us. We wasted two whole months that we could have been comforting each other. Things are changing again. We're all going to be seventeen this year. That puts the burden right back on us with no agreement that says 'no you can't.' It's scary."

"You know I'll back off if you want me to, Rose. We don't have to jump in just because we turn seventeen."

"Oh, we won't." She kissed me on the cheek. "But I'll want to, you know. The night of the twenty-first of December, I'm going to want to rush over to your house, undress and feel you slide into my wet little slit. I'll wait, though."

"Rose, that kind of leaves me breathless."

"Have you thought of who you want to be your first?"

"You mean do I want you to rush over on the 21st of December?"

"That would be flattering, but I'd like you to have a little experience under your belt before you start plundering my pussy."

"Well, Jennifer and Courtney would like to have started already, but they've also backed off because they already know I'll be their first—so they say—but want me to choose who my first will be. I always figured the girl got to choose and the guys just went along with what they could get. We really are different, aren't we?"

"Hmm. We could choose for you. Let's see; there's Jennifer, Courtney, and me. We've all decided you should have more experience before you get to us. I don't think Cassie is going to be ready for a long time. She's still got a lot of hang-ups even though she's challenging herself in a lot of areas. Samantha would let you do her now and so would Liz, even though they won't be seventeen until February and May. Elaine, of course, would be able to give you the benefit of her experience. Older, wiser. What are your intentions toward the new girl? Nicolette?"

"None. I can't believe she even wants me to escort her to this dance thing, but apparently it's pretty important in her family. I can't believe I'm going to see her dressed up formally."

"Is she really as weird as she seems?"

"Oh, yeah. But she's cool. It's a weirdness that says there is something deep going on here and somebody is going to be very lucky to figure it out. You know a couple weeks ago we had to read a Shakespearean sonnet in our World Lit class. We paired off to practice and she's been sitting next to me in class so we worked with each other. I'm reading this sonnet and we're supposed to mark the cadence and rhyme scheme and she rolls her eyes at me. 'It would rhyme if you read it with an English accent, ' she said. Then she proceeded to correct my pronunciation and accent on every word."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah. Incredible. She never got a chance to practice hers, but went in front of the class and read it cold with so much emotion you'd think she'd just written it."

"So is she out for your first?"

"I like her, but I don't think it's ever going to be quite like that."

"Well, that brings us to Whitney."

"Um..."

"No, Brian. Please don't tell me you don't feel attracted to her. Please?"

"I do feel attracted to her. Not only that, but she's my buddy. And we've played around a little. But she beats me to a pulp almost every morning. Maybe you haven't watched us work out together. If she was like that during sex, I might not survive." We laughed.

"Don't write her off, Brian. She's as in love with you as the rest of us and I think she has her heart set on taking you to Prom this year."

Saturday I went in to get the measurements for my tux for next week and then headed for the florist. A black rose she wanted. I'm a chemist. I will get her a black rose.

"I'd like to order a corsage for a formal dance next Saturday."

"Hmm. Saturday the 12th? That would be the Job's Daughters installation cotillion. You know all the officers receive a bouquet. Is your date being installed as an officer?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. She didn't seem very enthused about going because she had to have an escort. That's how I came into the picture. She had to ask someone."

"Okay. Did you have an idea of what kind of corsage you want? Wrist corsages are the prevailing trend."

"No, this one will have to be a shoulder corsage. I'd like it made up of black roses." She looked at me and shook her head.

"You want a black rose for a Jobie? Do you have your last will and testament drawn up?"

"It's what she said she wanted."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it is November. If I was able to get one of the flowers commonly referred to as black roses—which by the way are actually very dark red or maroon—I still wouldn't be able to get it until spring. At this time of year, I only have stock of white, pink, yellow, and red."

"How dark are the red roses?" She pointed me to a display. They were pretty dark, but certainly not black.

"Are you aware of the symbolism of the colors of roses?" I shook my head. "Red roses are for romance and passion. If this girl asked you to the dance because she had to ask someone and you'd do, she probably isn't in a red rose category. Yellow would be more appropriate. That's friendship. You could go with pink. That's a kind of neutral happiness, appreciation, thank you sort of color."

"White?"

"Not unless you are marrying her."

"Could I have six of those red roses please?"

"Six? That indicates a need to be loved or cherished."

"In this case it indicates the fact that I'm a chemist and I'm going to get a black rose because that's what she asked for." The florist wrapped up six roses and gave me a packet of plant food along with instructions on cutting them and the temperature of the water. The colder the water, the tighter the bud will stay, but it doesn't drink it up as quickly either. Warm water will cause the petals to open up. I ordered a red rose corsage. I wished I had my old botany partner Angela around to help with this. I wondered how she was doing. I hadn't seen her in six years.

I filled six glasses with water and tested the temperature in each. According to the instruction book I got from the florist, the water should be between 100 and 110 degrees, just like for yeast. I gave each rose a fresh cut using an X-Acto knife so I wouldn't crush any of the capillaries. I wanted these roses to drink. I went through my chemistry set and chose a variety of chemicals that were either black or blue to mix into the water. I used iodine, tannic acid, copper, and bleach. Yeah. Bleach is used to extract color, but sometimes it works differently and I was thinking of bleaching out a flower before I tried to darken it. There was a girl in the theater group a couple years ago who had blue hair. Really, really bright blue. I found out she had to bleach out her brown hair completely before she could color it blue. It was pretty cool.

I looked at the last two flowers and opened my desk drawer. I got all artsy-fartsy in sixth grade and decided I'd write with a fountain pen. Well, one with ink cartridges. That lasted until the first shirt came back with an ink stain all over the front where the cartridge leaked. I ruined the shirt and had a black spot on my chest that faded more slowly than bruises. I found a few ink cartridges in my drawer and used the knife to puncture them. I squeezed three blue cartridges into one glass of water and three black ones into the remaining glass. Well, now all I could do was wait and see what happened. I figured as a last resort, I'd bake the corsage until it turned black in the oven.