After Dakota Part 8

"So in conclusion..."

"You already said that," Isabel whispers.

"Why don't you shut up?" Claire answers back.

Gasps and ooh's run through the room, everyone suddenly awake and alert. Mr. Hagen restores order, but not before the girls exchange raised middle fingers. Claire mumbles a few more sentences and sits down.

At lunch, she goes the long way around the building so she won't run into Isabel's gang. She buys a Hostess cherry pie from the vending machine and is on her way to the bathroom when there they are, moving in unison like a pastel-colored amoeba. The big girl with the hoop earrings points first.

"Seriously?" Claire says to herself and to the universe. She reverses course. She can hear them calling after her but can't make out the words. Maybe they're threatening to use their huge hair to smother her to death.

The choice now is the gym to the left, where groups of boys play lunchtime basketball with the P.E. teachers, or...

Claire sits down on one of the worn benches under the Tree, as far away from the current smokers as possible, so maybe they won't notice her. Isabel's group rounds the corner and stops like there's some magic force field around this area.

A red and white pack of Marlboros appears in front of Claire's face. She traces it down to a hand, an arm, a body. It's that guy Bryce and Cameron don't like: mirrored sungla.s.ses, a faint mustache under his nose.

"Want one?" he asks.

"No thanks," Claire says, then throws another glance at the girls, still frozen in place.

"You know those s.k.a.n.ks?"

She laughs, covers it right up. "Only one of them."

"What grade are you?"

Once he hears this, he'll ignore her for sure. She says it anyway. "Freshman."

He doesn't ignore her. His name is Ricky. He identifies the other guys there in the haze, but Claire mentally gives them nicknames: Stringy Hair, Buzzed Head, CAT (because of his baseball cap), Two Chins. Along with them are a can of Pringles, and some kind of crispy burritos.

Somewhere during the meet-and-greet, Isabel and Co. get tired of standing there and move on. There's always tomorrow. And the next day. Etc. Etc. It's depressing to think how long a school year really is.

Claire stays under the tree for the rest of lunch, eating her pie, trying not to look like she's not breathing the smoke, hoping Bryce sees her here and does his frog eye-bugging thing. When the bell rings, Ricky says, "Hey, you maybe want to go out to lunch with us tomorrow?"

What Claire almost says: "For reals?"

What Claire does say: "You guys can go to a restaurant in thirty minutes?"

"As long as certain grannies aren't driving," he says toward one of the others; none of them acknowledge it. "Anyway, if you want to, meet at the parking lot right after fourth."

In sixth period, Mr. Duran talks while the slide projector throws pictures up onto the wall. Click-clack goes the spinning tray as it changes images. "What do we notice about the depth of field in this shot? Anyone?" he asks, but it's post-lunch coma time there in the dark. On the stool to Claire's left is one of the boys from P.E., digging his finger in his nose up to the knuckle. On the stool to the right, a curly-haired girl jerks awake every time her chin hits her chest.

Click-clack.

Claire and the guys get into a wood-paneled station wagon the next day, Two Chins at the wheel, heading for the Original Hamburger Stand. Claire sits next to Ricky in the front. This close, she notices the black stains under his fingernails, the way his eyebrows almost collapse together to make one super-brow. Cigarette smoke trails out the open windows as if the car is ablaze.

"Hey, Flintstone, try pedaling that thing faster!" Two Chins yells when they're behind a slow driver.

They order at the drive-thru and wolf down burgers on the way back to school. Claire sucks down a soda so huge she looks pregnant afterwards.

"Why do you only paint your nails on one hand?" Ricky asks her.

"Why do you wear your wallet on a chain?" she replies. Her face stares back in duplicate from his mirrored lenses.

They get back to school and finish eating in the parking lot. The boys discuss copying homework and getting tickets for the AC/DC concert. Finally CAT, his cap pulled down to his eyebrows, says, "Time to go."

"We all have fifth period together," Buzzed Head tells Claire. "Mrs. Anderson makes you do campus cleanup if you're tardy."

The boys start one direction, but Claire's cla.s.s is the other way. She wants to stop them. She wants to know if she can go out to lunch with them again, or was this a one time deal. Maybe she was part of an experiment, like a wet-mount slide in Bio cla.s.s: find and study a pathetic ninth grader.

31.

Bryce puts on his costume for the church Halloween party, held Sunday the 30th. He went as Han Solo three years ago, in winter gear and "riding" a cardboard Tauntaun, but apparently a lot of people didn't see The Empire Strikes Back. Or were too dense to figure out the costume. Not wanting to answer a million questions again, this year is back to cla.s.sic white shirt and black vest Solo (the bada.s.s from Star Wars, not the lovey-dovey Han from Jedi). He stands in front of the mirror in his room, fast-drawing his plastic laser pistol with its official sound effects.

Last year he and Cam had a great idea: dress as Hall and Oates. Bryce found a black curly wig and mustache at the costume store; Cam's hair worked pretty well naturally. Their great idea lasted until lunchtime at school, when they'd been called every known variation of "f.a.gs" (and even some theretofore unknown variations). They un-costumed in the bathroom, Bryce stuffing the wig and mustache deep into the garbage can, and spent the rest of the day as themselves.

Hall and Oates were immortalized in the yearbook's Halloween section, though at least real names weren't printed below the photo.

Cam waits for Bryce in the driveway, dressed as Legolas in a white hooded tunic, a thin wooden bow on his shoulder. "Claire's not coming?"

"Been in her room all day," Bryce replies. "She's either grounded or not speaking to anyone."

"I can't stay late I have to study for the Econ test."

"That's on Tuesday," Bryce says.

"Yeah, but I don't wanna wait till the last minute."

As with all holidays, the church is fully decked out for Halloween: carnival games, an elaborate haunted house that even features a fake graveyard. Bryce has heard stories of other churches that are anti-Halloween; he's glad he doesn't go to any of those.

Snow White and Red Riding Hood Noel and Anna from youth group arrive at the entrance to the haunted house the same time as Bryce and Cam. Screams echo from inside. "Hi, Bryce," Noel says. "Can we go through with you guys?"

Mr. and Mrs. Coleman, dressed as pirates, are the ticket takers. As the group of four enters the tunnel, with its ghostly music playing, Mr. Coleman calls, "Watch out for Jabba the Hutt!" Ok, so one adult is up on his movies.

As they walk single file down the dim hallway, girls holding hands in front, both boys rate Red a six. Snow gets a seven from Bryce but a five from Cam. Bryce's main criticisms about Noel have always been the too-thick gla.s.ses and the fact she never, ever wears shorts. Come to think of it, she shows a distressing lack of skin in general. On the plus side, she goes to an all-girls' school, which, if the things Bryce has heard go on at those places are true, is s.e.xy.

A sarcophagus swings open and a mummy lurches out at them. The girls shriek and keep shrieking, at the witch, the skeleton, Medusa. By the end, the two of them are flushed and gasping, looking like they just survived a near-death experience.

From there it's on to the cafeteria with the ma.s.sive dessert table. Brownies, cookies, cake, even "eyeb.a.l.l.s" and "fingers." Spiderweb cotton candy. A bubbling cauldron of punch. Tables full of colorfully clad eaters shove food into their mouths like death row prisoners.

With plates piled high, Bryce, Cam, and the girls sit on a patch of gra.s.s outside. Cam pulls his hood back, revealing his white painted face and pointy ears.

"You were here last year," Anna says.

"Yeah, I was a robot."

"Who are you now?" Noel asks.

"Legolas." When he sees their blank looks, he adds, "Lord of the Rings?"

"That's like The Hobbit, right?"

A little wizard chases a little princess in circles nearby. When he catches up, she whips him with a licorice rope.

"My mom made the Rice Krispie treats," Noel says.

Anna asks, "What church do you go to, Legolas?"

"I don't. My mom's not an early getter-upper."

"Lucky dog," Bryce says, then bites into a brick-sized brownie.

"Even if she was, we're not really religious," Cam adds.

"Do you believe in G.o.d?" Anna asks it not as a challenge, but rather as if she wants to know his favorite food.

Uh-oh. There are times for serious talks, and times for hanging out with chicks; those two times don't go together. Bryce says, "Hey, you guys wanna go back through the " before a hunk of brownie lodges in his throat. He holds a finger up, telling them to wait for the words haunted house. He tries to cough but no air comes.

The other three faces go diagonal and blurry. A fist of pain lodges in his chest.

Noel is saying something.

Bryce tries to speak again to tell them what? but the sound that emerges doesn't resemble a word.

And like that, he knows he's going to choke to death. At church. Because of a brownie. Dressed as Han Solo. This is it: the method and the date.

He waits for the tunnel of light he's heard so much about.

When Cam slaps him hard on the back, a wad of chocolate and walnut flies free, landing in the center of their circle. Air floods Bryce's lungs; he loses his balance even though he's seated, tilts sideways to the gra.s.s. The others talk over each other, asking if he's ok, leaning in.

So it wasn't his time after all. Not yet.

On the ride home later, Cam says, "Anna gave me her number," and holds up his palm.

"I knew it," Bryce replies, looking from the road to the hand. "She was totally walking close to you the whole time."

"When you were taking a wiz she said, 'Hold out your hand' and just wrote it down."

"Dude, you are un-fricking-believable. Who comes to a church party and gets a phone number? Are you gonna call her?"

"Maybe. I wish I knew what she looks like out of the costume."

Their street is dark, quiet. Tomorrow night, the real Halloween, will be different. Bryce pulls up in front of his house. "Remember when Dakota and her girlfriends "

"h.e.l.l yes," Cam answers.

The high school girls, dressed as belly dancers, trick or treating barefoot. Cam and Bryce tracked the jingle-jangle of their costumes through the neighborhood all night, grateful for any glimpse of bare legs and stomachs.

The vision of them like some wish a genie granted.

32.

The kids from school sit clumped together in the middle rows, even though the rest of the plane is empty. Dan, Chloe, Damien among the other faces.

Nothing outside the windows except black clouds webbed with lightning.

"We have to get off," Cameron says. The others laugh about something. "Did you guys hear me? It's not safe!"

"But we're going to help the poor," Nicole Steinbach replies without looking at him.

He wants to yell at them about the imminent crash but they start singing "99 Bottles of Beer." He runs up the aisle, or tries to, toward the c.o.c.kpit. He has minutes, maybe less, but even at top speed he doesn't seem to be getting any closer to the door.

The plane tilts hard and Cameron wakes up, gripping the bed. Several seconds tick by before he realizes it's not tilting. Several more seconds for his heart rate to slow at all. 3:41 a.m.

At 4:01 he gives up on sleep, goes to his desk, and opens his Economics textbook.

33.

The Sunday of the church Halloween party, it's Claire's turn to rake leaves in the front yard. Of course there are always more when she does it than when Bryce does. Baloo squirts from pile to pile on the crunchy carpet of orange and brown, making sounds like a duck, trailing stray leaves behind him. Claire sneezes non-stop because of the dust.

When her dad comes home, instead of helping or even offering to hold the garbage bag open, he says, "Missed a spot, kiddo." Claire throws the bag down, kicks the rake, and storms in after him.

Things go downhill from there. Yelling, vows, the usual business. Her mom says, "You don't seem like you're suitable to be around people right now. Maybe you should stay home tonight."

So Claire locks herself in her room. Not like she even wanted to go the Halloween party in her hobo costume she'd only agreed in order to make them stop talking about how much time she spends in isolation. She'll sit in here and entertain herself more than the haunted house would, which is for kids anyway. The snack drawer in her desk has a secret stash of food; she can stay locked away until the next day, no problem. Even longer if she finds someplace to pee.

"I catch the waves down in AF-RI-CA!" she sing-yells along with the radio, hoping to annoy anyone within earshot.