After Dakota Part 13

Will she want to have s.e.x here?

Has anyone ever done that before?

When the voice says, "What the h.e.l.l?" Cameron turns and jumps up while simultaneously trying to cover his crotch. He goes face first into the pit, loses his gla.s.ses in the process.

Loo from Norway stands in the middle of the arcade, hair askew, wearing a tank top and white briefs. He holds a broom like a baseball bat.

"Cameron?"

"Loo?" The two co-workers, having established their ident.i.ties, stare at each other through the netting.

"I thought someone broke in," Loo says.

"What are you doing here?" Cameron replies.

"I sleep here sometimes. You don't tell, please?"

Doesn't Loo see they have each other busted? Cameron's dad calls this kind of situation a Mexican standoff. "I won't."

That's good enough for Loo. He nods, says, "Good night," and leaves the arcade.

And Cameron is alone. "Rosemary?" he whispers. Her head pops up from the pit.

"Who was that bloke?" she asks, handing him his gla.s.ses.

"Never mind."

They still have their hideaway, but it isn't the same anymore, isn't special. She says she'd better get home and he agrees. Cameron's uncomfortable crotch situation has diminished enough that he can exit the ball pit. On the way out of the restaurant, she points at the menu and comments on how good the hot dog looks.

42.

Hey, G.o.d, it's Bryce calling. Or speaking. Actually I guess I'm thinking. So yeah, about the whole cancer thing. I'm not sure what I did to deserve this. Is it payback because I've been bad? I know I stole that troll doll when I was little but I took it back right after, remember? All those F.T.E. pranks didn't really hurt anyone. The thing with Aaron was a total accident. Yeah, I know I've drooled over women but c'mon, I'm a teenager we're built that way. You know what I'm talking about. Or maybe you don't. Were you ever a teenager? Jimmy in Sunday school used to constantly ask Who are G.o.d's parents? Like, were you even born? I don't understand this, after what happened to Dakota. Do you have it in for all the kids on our street or something? I mean, Cam doesn't even believe in you and his life is perfect. I'm not saying do something to him please don't just pointing it out. But I'm sure you already know all this. I haven't prayed for much in my life, right, other than for Darth Vader to be lying when he said he was Luke's father. That doesn't count, though. I'm not one those people at church constantly asking you for things. So here goes: please, please make this lump go away. Make it so I don't have cancer. Please. If you won't do that, can you at least make sure I get a girlfriend before I die? Just to rank them: lump gone is number one, girlfriend is number two. Are you surprised I said girlfriend is number two? I am. I want to go out on a high if I have to go out. Not a drug high, right, you get that. Yeah. It's been a fun life, I'm not ready to leave yet is all. This isn't fair, man. If I'm supposed to get some bigger message I'm gonna need some help figuring out what it is. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe this just happened to me and you're not responsible. Anyway, thanks for listening.

43.

Claire and her friends used to be able to spend all day inside the vast cavern called Roller World, dropped off in the morning with their skates and money for a corn dog or Moon Pie from the snack window. The girls would watch the high school kids in fascination, the tight jeans and belly shirts, the couples skating b.u.t.t to crotch (especially during slow songs like "Crimson & Clover"). Polka dots of light spinning from the ceiling. Music so loud you could only use faces and hand signals to communicate.

Skating in endless loops: shooting the duck, bunny hop, scissors.

Always in motion.

Day would turn to evening and no one inside would know.

The second Claire walks in now, her nails a not-quite-dry blue, Meredith skates over to the entrance with a grin. "Justin came! I literally can't believe he's at my birthday. I had to invite other guys from school so he wouldn't be the only one."

"You painted all your fingernails," Claire says.

Meredith holds out her hands, ten flaming red tips. "People kept asking me why I only did one side."

Atop the tables are pizzas and Capri Sun packets. This is a no-gift fourteenth birthday party; according to Meredith, Pat said, "You have too much already," as if that settled the issue.

Twins Sharon and Karon Longerot are here, along with some new kids from Sandia: a blond with a bow in her hair... a girl with square gla.s.ses... more unfamiliar faces, both s.e.xes. Everyone knows each other except Claire. She hasn't seen the twins since summer, and immediately spots the Rudolph zit on the tip of Sharon's nose.

Claire heads for the rental counter, her last pair of roller skates long since gone to the Salvation Army. Justin is there when she walks up.

What she notices first is that she's not nervous.

"Claire Rollins," he says. "Long time no see."

"How's Sandia?"

"It's ok."

"Your hair's not spiky anymore," she says.

His hand goes to his head. "Yeah, everyone who has spiky hair at our school is like a punk rocker."

"Too bad."

On the rink, Meredith shares private jokes with the other girls; Claire watches this and doesn't feel jealous, or even curious, or much at all. The DJ plays special songs for the birthday girl: "Karma Chameleon," "Cruel Summer," "Give It Up."

So the fourteen-year-old Meredith likes new bands and paints all her fingernails.

Everyone takes a break for cake (chocolate on chocolate some things about Meredith won't ever change). Gossip about people Claire doesn't know. Kylie did this, Darrian did that.

Back on the rink afterwards, the DJ interrupts the music from his booth at the back wall. "This next song is going out to someone special," says the voice of G.o.d. "From. A. Secret. Admiiiiiiiiiirer."

Styx's ballad "Babe" starts up.

Claire circles alone, as the singer talks about getting weary and feeling like giving up. The secret admirer could be anyone out here. A couple glides past Claire, the girl skating backwards, her arms around the guy's neck. Two boys hang over the railing, laughing.

When the party winds down, Pat sends home leftover cake on paper plates and bags of party favors. Claire comes out of the bathroom, rounds the corner, and b.u.mps into Justin next to the Jungle Lord pinball machine.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey."

Still not nervous. This boy in front of her now in his Adidas T-shirt and shorts, hair parted to the side is just a boy.

"You like Styx?" he asks.

"They're ok."

He looks around, everywhere but at her. "Well, my mom's here. See you later I guess."

"See ya."

Meredith zooms over on her skates. "Oh my G.o.d," she says. "I saw you guys talking so I didn't come over. What did he say?"

"Asked if I like Styx."

"Do you think he...?"

Now Sharon and Karon arrive, bees around the gossip flower; the fat rubber stoppers on all their skates b.u.mp together. "Justin dedicated that song to Claire!" Meredith tells them. Wide eyes and gasps follow. Claire imagines herself six months ago, three months ago, probably on the floor overcome by giddiness at the news.

"Are you going on a date with him?" Sharon asks.

"He didn't ask me. Anyways, I may like someone else now."

Meredith asks, "Is he an enior-ses?" Pig Latin.

Sharon and Karon respond in unison, "A senior?"

The wide eyes and gasps double in intensity. The three of them push Claire to the bathroom, where they can hear the news undisturbed. Like they're all back in middle school, best friends again, the Sandia kids left on the outside with their party favors.

Claire could tell them about Ricky's car. That he shaves. That he maybe writes poetry, like the second one in her locker: My love burns so hot my heart is in pain My soul is on fire awaiting the rain So let yourself flow like the rain from above And water my life with your shower of love * * *

Claire's mom comes home with a box from Dillard's.

"Can I look at it?" Claire asks. Inside the box, under the tissue paper: the fur coat.

"This is going on the top shelf of the closet and is not to be disturbed," her mom says. "Am I clear?" A reference to the time with the Barbie Dream House.

Claire nods. She can wait until Christmas, then she'll wear it every day and be beautiful.

44.

After Sunday night dinner at Furr's, the Rollins family gathers in front of the TV for the movie The Day After. Parents in the two recliners facing the set, Claire on the couch. Bryce sits on one his beanbags, brought up from the bas.e.m.e.nt for the occasion, and flips through the Sears holiday catalog. His mom announced that Santa needs Christmas lists, and this is the first year he has no clue what to ask for. Brother and sister used to wait for the catalogs to arrive in the mail so they could zoom through the back pages, the toy pages, hunting for that one magic thing.

Now he looks at the catalog for what may be his last Christmas gift ever. He doesn't need a chessboard, or a metal detector, or Masters of the Universe figures. Since Sears doesn't carry a Cure For Cancer, everything else seems pointless. But he can't say that so he goes through the motions, folding down the corners of pages, pretending.

Claire sits on the couch with a notebook open in her lap. "What do you have to write about?" their dad asks.

"My thoughts on the movie."

"That'll be easy," Bryce says. "Just turn in a blank paper."

She waits until neither parent is looking to flip him off.

A movie about the effects of World War Three: some social studies cla.s.ses are required to watch, some get extra credit, other teachers don't care.

The movie starts: men in uniforms talking, doctors, farmers. Their dad makes his usual random comments throughout, oblivious to or ignoring Claire's sighs. "You kids know your mom and I were on a date during the Cuban Missile Crisis, right?"

Yes, they know he's only told the story a hundred times before. Claire shushes him loudly as his story gets rolling. When the movie goes to commercial, their mom tells the room this is too intense for her and she's going to bed. "n.o.body complain to me if you have nightmares."

She steps out and the missile crisis story resumes, the air-raid sirens, how the two of them were escorted to a bomb shelter, a detailed inventory of what was inside. Claire furiously scribbles in her notebook like a secretary trying to record her boss's every word.

Bryce says, "At least we're not living somewhere like Kansas." The people in Kansas where the movie is set are screwed because they live near missile silos, targets for the Russians.

"We're in the same situation, son," their dad replies. "You live near an Air Force base. Sandia Labs. Los Alamos. Think about it." Then he laughs.

Claire shushes them both this time.

He stops his commentary stops even moving, with his drink halfway to his mouth when the nukes explode, when people are burned to skeletons and buildings erupt in flame.

What is there to say when one has a chance to watch the end of everything?

45.

On one page of Claire's social studies notebook are her thoughts on the movie. On the next page: My dad is so so so so so so LAME! How did I get stuck with this family????????? I must be ADOPTED!

46.

The door to the bathroom is blocked. Cameron's mom wearing pajamas and full makeup on Sunday night scrubs the floor with a sponge.

"Smells like a bleach factory blew up," he mumbles, ready to head to her bathroom instead.

"We need to keep this place cleaner." She works like she's trying to dig underground. "I can't stand it."