"So," she asked, sauntering over, "are you two doing it yet?"
Nope. She wasn't pleased.
"Come on, Amber. We were just horsing around."
"For your information, guys like that don't go out with girls like you."
"I know that," I said, trying not to get mad.
"So you're thinking about it, then."
"Amber!" This is what she does. We don't argue much but when we do it really sucks. "It was hot, we were goofing off. Can we forget about it? Please?"
"Because you were all over him."
I tried to take a deep breath. "I was not."
"Now that I think about it, he probably would do it with you. But he'd tell everyone about it afterward, and they'd all laugh whenever they saw you."
"Shut up." Now I was mad.
"What, you think I'm not telling the truth?" she asked innocently.
"Just shut up."
"You're really hot for him, aren't you? That tight little butt and those strong arms? Is that why you never told me about him? Are you having sleepovers?"
"If you don't shut up, I'm going to punch you." I took a step toward her.
"Jeez, calm down already. Forget about it. Let's go out."
"Uh-uh." I walked toward the house.
"Come on. We'll go to the movies or something. I've got beer."
"Go to hell." I didn't even turn around.
"Jeez. I'm sorry."
But there was no way on earth I was getting into that car. Not without strangling her first. I slammed the door behind me. After a while I heard her car start up so I guess she drove away. With her beer.
Boy oh boy, was I mad. I was so mad that if I'd been a different sort of person I'd have kicked Smut or punched Curtis, which neither of them deserved, plus Curtis would punch me back. I ended up in the hayloft punching the hay bales instead, which cut my hands all up and got me over being mad pretty fast.
So then I just sat there ripping up hayseeds and thinking what a jerk Amber was. About how she made fun of everyone in the world but no one could make fun of her, how she didn't know anything about boys anyway because she'd never even had a boyfriend, not counting this kid Andy she used to arm-wrestle until he moved away.
Not that I'm the world's biggest expert on boys—which is probably clear seeing as I've written a million pages already and haven't mentioned them at all in that way—but at least I've gone out with a couple. Well, one. If you call seeing a movie your freshman year with your big brother and his girlfriend and his friend Troy Lundstrom "going out." But Troy well, it's not like our family is a bunch of rocket scientists or anything, but we are compared to him.
Then last year I didn't really hang out with anyone, especially after quitting basketball. I didn't even go to the prom because Amber didn't want to go with any guys from Red Bend and besides I didn't have a dress or anything, so instead we hung out in my room with a bottle of schnapps she'd stolen from work and we drank it all and I threw up, and I had to get up the next morning to milk and I threw up again in the manure gutter, and if I live my entire life without seeing another bottle of schnapps, that would be absolutely fine with me.
So I just want to make it clear that it's not like I don't like guys. I do. And I've had a boyfriend if that's what you want to call Troy Lundstrom, for a couple hours at least. But I didn't have one at the present moment. And I wished someone like Brian's Oprah mom who was good at asking questions would ask Amber why she needed to be such a jerk and say all these things just to make me mad and hurt my feelings.
But then what would I say back? Why did the things she'd said hurt so much? Because it's not like Amber hasn't talked like that a million times before, and most of the time it makes me laugh. If she'd said it about Brian a week before, it probably wouldn't have bothered me at all. I probably would have agreed with her, even. Guys like Brian, they don't go for girls' basketball starters who also know about dairy farming. They go for cute short girls with lots of hair and lots of makeup and long fingernails, and there's absolutely not one thing on that list that applies to me. So why did it make me so mad now?
Because I guess I pretty much liked Brian. I sure didn't want to think about it if you haven't noticed, but I liked him a lot. I liked being around him. I had friends in school and I had Amber, but I'd never felt this way before, of wanting to be with someone all the time, and talk to him, and run with him in my sports bra. I didn't mind that last part one bit.
But Brian, as Amber explained, wasn't for me. Girls like me dated tackles and guards, guys who probably lettered but wouldn't get scholarships, and would go to local colleges maybe and end up working in hardware stores. And you know, I've never minded that. I was okay with that because I'd lived with a couple star players and watched girls climb all over them and I didn't like those girls at all.
But now it made me sick to my stomach, the thought that I was one of those girls too. But I didn't like Brian because he was a quarterback, I liked him even though he was a quarterback. Which is a big difference that no one would understand but me. Certainly not Amber. She could make fun of Brian all she wanted, but I'd had more conversations with him, real conversations about real subjects, in one week than I'd had with Amber in all the time we've been friends. At least with Brian I was thinking about feelings, not just my feelings but other people's feelings too, which Amber never does.
Anyway, now I was stuck home on Friday night with no one to talk to but Smut. And figuring out all this stuff about Brian, about how I felt and everything, just made me feel ten times worse. All that padding I had around me from my great idea to play football was gone. So much had happened over the week, all these revelations and lies and talks and workouts and hair problems, all this liking-Brian business, that it had just worn away. And right now I really needed some of that padding back.
20. The Most Disgusting Thing I've Ever Heard Of
Saturday was about the most fun anyone has ever had in the history of the world. Listening to Jeff Peterson talk about subflooring would be a trip to Disney World in comparison. I milked, of course, and did some work around the barn, and tried not to think about Brian, which was like trying not to breathe. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore and went to see Kari at Jorgensen's Ice Cream. She was really busy but she gave me a big smile, which cheered me up a lot, and invited me to a party at the gravel pit, which cheered me up even more.
So after milking I took a long shower and tried to figure out what to do with my hair, and ended up with a ponytail again—someone out there has all the hairstyling brains I should have been born with—and a clean pair of jeans and a Red Bend T-shirt, so you can see how totally sexy I was, and went off in Mom's Caravan as she yelled "drive safely" after me because if she didn't the police will come and arrest her and put her in prison. That's what she told me, anyhow.
The party turned out to be pretty big, with kegs and a bunch of teen counselors from local summer camps. I don't go to many parties like this, which probably doesn't surprise you too much, and I'm not much of a drinker, but it was nice anyway. I talked a bit with Kari's brother Kyle, who's Red Bend's starting QB and who said it was too bad Curtis couldn't play for Red Bend because it would be really nice to have a Schwenk on the team. That was weird. Then his girlfriend came over and didn't want to talk football, so they went somewhere else.
Brian wasn't there.
I ended up sitting on an old log with Kari, looking over all those people talking and having fun. Kari chattered away for a while but then she got quiet too.
I sighed this huge sigh, feeling just so miserable. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, D.J.," she said, looking ready for some big conversation.
"What's your favorite ice cream flavor?"
She broke up like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. It might have been the beer. It cheered me up too, if you want to know the truth. We laughed pretty hard.
Just then Amber of all people showed up, nodding to me like we hadn't had a huge fight the day be
fore. The three of us sat there not saying too much. All of a sudden I asked, "Can you two keep a secret?"
"It depends." Kari grinned.
"Uh-huh," Amber said, not taking her eyes off me, and I knew she was thinking about Brian.
I dug at the log, peeling the bark off.
"What is it?" Kari asked, nudging me. "Come on. My lips are sealed."
"Your lips are covered in beer," I said, which made her giggle.
There was this long silence again. I guess I could have said forget it and walked away and that would have been the end of it. But I don't think that fast. If I thought that fast I wouldn't have opened up my mouth in the first place.
"It's just—please, don't tell anyone—I'm going to try out for the football team."
"Jesus," Amber said.
I kept working away at that log. "Jeff Peterson is finding out if it's even possible ... Please don't tell Kyle." I already regretted opening my mouth. If he found out, or anyone, and it turned out I couldn't ... that would be the worst. Finally I looked at Kari.
She was grinning the biggest grin I've ever seen. "Then I'm doing cheerleading."
"What!" Amber and I both gasped.
"Why not? If you've got the guts for football, I can at least do that. Volleyball sucks! I'll get to wear a little uniform, do all those dance steps—I used to do gymnastics, you know."
"But you—come on, Kari—" I couldn't even speak.
"Besides, you need someone to cheer you on."
I couldn't believe it. I mean, football is one thing. But cheerleading? I'd never have the guts to do that. Although Kari could really yell during basketball, and she liked people.
She grinned at me again. "Don't back out on me now."
"No way." I turned to Amber. "So what do you think? You in?"
Amber took a swig of beer. "I think it's stupid and pathetic."
We both laughed for a second until we realized she was serious.
"You're just playing football so you can be around all those guys."
"No, I'm not—" I said.
"It's disgusting. It's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard of." She drained her beer. "You seriously need to reexamine your priorities." And she stomped off, just like that.
Well. Kari and I sat there for a few minutes, feeling pretty squashed.
"What's up with her?" Kari asked.
I had no idea. "I hope she doesn't tell anyone."
"Who'd she tell? We're the only people she talks to." Kari had a point.
"Do you think it's disgusting?" I had to ask.
"I think it's totally cool, and I think you're going to kick their asses, and I think you're going to be twice as good as your brothers."
"No way," I said. But I didn't say it too loudly. I wanted those words to, you know, stay in the air a bit longer. Then Kyle came by, and Kari just kept going on and on about football and how Red Bend was missing a couple key players that the team could not live without, until eventually I had to give her a nudge but unfortunately I nudged her just as she was drinking so she ended up with beer down her shirt, which she didn't seem to mind but I felt bad. Anyway, it was about time for me to leave.
When I got to Mom's Caravan, there was Amber sitting on the hood, which is hard to do because it slopes so much. She looked like she'd been there awhile.
"Hey," I said. "You okay?"
She nodded, studying her beer cup.
"You sure?" I asked finally, just for something to say.
"You really like him, don't you?" she asked, more to the cup than to me.
I shrugged. "You're right. He'd never go out with me."
"Do you like him?" she asked again.
I nodded. It was too much to say out loud.
"Do you, you know, fool around with him?"
I shook my head. Even thinking about that made me hurt.
Amber studied her beer. "You don't get it, do you?"
"I told you, it would never happen—"
"You're with me."
"I'm—what?"
"You're with me. You're not with him. It's the two of us. Don't you see that?"
All of a sudden I could barely stand. And it wasn't the beer, I can assure you.
"Say something," she said.
I swallowed hard. "I don't know what to—I didn't know. I didn't know that."
"How could you not know?" Amber asked miserably.
"How ... how long have you known?"
"Years. I've known for years."
Remember when I said that I only saw Amber cry one time, when Hawley beat us in basketball? Well, I lied. Because I could see tears on her face now, in the moonlight.
"I'm sorry." That's all I could think of to say. It was so totally lame.
Amber slid off the Caravan and walked away. She didn't look back, and I didn't follow her.
So. That gave me a little something to think about driving home. Amber was ... one of those people. Jeez. I don't say "those people" like it's a bad thing. But those words— lesbian, homosexual, gay—they're like medical words. Like cancer. I didn't want to think of Amber having cancer. I know, you die from cancer and you don't die from being gay, not unless you have AIDS, which I've never heard of anyone in Wisconsin having. I know I sound like a stupid hick moron, but I bet it would be a shock to you too, if you found out your best friend was in love with you and thought of the two of you as some sort of couple without you even having a single clue. Which I guess really does make me a moron.
But really, when you think about it, it explained a lot. Like why Amber never had a boyfriend. Or why she was so happy to drive me around and buy my movie tickets. And drink beer with me in her mom's car. And skip the prom so we could get drunk together and sleep over. And give me back rubs whenever I needed them ... The more I thought about it, the more weirded out I got until I wanted to stop somewhere and wash my hands or something. But as mad as I was at myself for never seeing it, never seeing how she always made jokes about people being gay because of course she was gay herself, I was just as mad that she'd never told me. Because if nothing else, I'd have told her that even though it didn't look like it, I really like guys. Which is why I guess she never told me, because she's not dumb.
Lying in bed that night, I had to laugh out loud. Here I was stupid in love with a boy who'd never even look twice in my direction while my best friend was stupid in love with me. If I didn't laugh, I would have started crying.
There's another thing too, which is probably none of my business and I probably sound really stupid even saying it, but it's something I've been trying to figure out ever since Mom had to explain what those words meant and why there were some people who acted that way and all. But you know how on TV shows the guys who are really into guys go into fashion or hairdressing or dancing or something like that? It seems to me that if you're a guy who really likes guys, you should do something like, well, like football. Because football is as much about guys as anything I could think of. Not counting me, anyway. And the opposite too, that whole thing about tough women being into guy things? Sometimes Amber and I get called names when we play basketball, which I guess is right on the money for one of us at least. But don't you think girls who really liked girls would go for fashion and hairdressing instead? Not basketball. Because I look at the cute girls in our school, the ones with makeup and pink clothes and blow dryers, and I can really see why guys like that. Not that I want to go out with those girls or anything, but I get it. Get it enough to see how I don't measure up. Amber's been my best friend for six years, and I'm sorry but I've never once thought she was hot. Which I guess is part of our whole miscommunication thing.
So anyway, I just wanted to give that huge long speech to explain the look I give people when they say mean stuff about me being on the team. I don't say anything back, of course. But I think to myself that if I was a lesbian I wouldn't be playing football. I'd be working checkout at the Super Saver.
21. Whoever Said Love Was Fun?
I woke up Sunday morning to
tally fried. I think my poor little brain had blown a couple fuses trying to figure out me and Amber, not to mention me and Brian, and me and Curtis, and me and Dad. And me and Mom ... looking back, I'm surprised smoke wasn't coming out of my ears or something from all that thinking.
What was I going to do about Amber? I didn't even want to think about her. It was too much. I didn't want to think about Brian either, but even though I hated it I couldn't get him off my mind. It hurt to think about him. It physically hurt. You know those eight million songs they play on the radio about how great it is to be in love and how it feels like walking on clouds or something? Let me tell you: those songs are wrong.
And it hurt too—especially because Amber pointed it out—that now I was one of those girls who hang around football players like flies on flypaper. Like they did around Win, calling even though he wasn't interested much and even on dates he'd only talk about football, but the girls hung on every word he said, like he was some sort of genius. Even the smart girls, the girls who got good grades and were going to college. I hate it whenever anyone makes a crack about stupid girls, and I gave Justin Hunsberger a black eye, a really good one, in fourth grade when he called me that once. But when I saw those girls hanging all over Win, I really had to wonder. Especially because Win's skin was sort of bad and he wasn't so handsome anyway, not like Bill, who always had girlfriends and who Dad once caught in the barn with a girl doing what I think you can imagine.
So thinking about all this stuff was the extent of my thrilling weekend, and Monday Brian came back. Which should have made me really happy, but I felt so jangled up, what with all those blown brain fuses, that seeing him, having him so close, made it that much worse.
"Hey there," he said, starting right away on the weights.
"Hey," I said, shoveling cow poop. Then every single possible other thing I could have said just went right out my mind, like I was a TV that someone turned off.