Breuer shook his head, threw his hands up (all is lost) and walked away.
“A zombie? Why would you say that?”
Mae turned away and swiftly left the house, grabbing her book bag by the door. Her mother told her to stop to no avail. Mae reached the sidewalk and looked back, now bawling. Her mother wasn’t following her. Breuer was. “Stop crying, Minnow. Let’s put our heads together here. We’ll get through this. One pill isn’t going to make you a zombie.”
“How do you know? I think I feel it working.”
“Impossible. I’d ask you to throw it up, but I don’t think it matters. One dose isn’t the end of the world. But you must, must miss every dose from now on.” With his hands folded at the small of his back he sighed and openly wondered what they were going to do about this problem.
* * *
The next morning Mae took a seat at the table. Breuer then took a seat beside her. Rebecca was reading the paper across from Mae. Mae looked around her bowl for the pink pill that wasn’t there. “Don’t bother looking,” Breuer said solemnly. “Rebecca is getting craftier by the day. She ground it up and put it in your orange juice.”
No way! That’s so sneaky!
“Tell me about it. We have a serious problem here, Maeve. Serious.”
What should I do?
“Don’t drink it. She’ll throw a fit. I don’t know what will happen. She’ll make you drink it. You could knock it over, but she’ll just make another.”
I’ll drink it after I eat my oatmeal, then I’ll go to the bathroom and throw it up.
“Yeah, you could try that. I suspect that she’ll follow you and see if that’s what you’re going to do, though.”
Yeah. She’s way too sneaky for her own good. I’ll throw up on my way to school then.
“Excellent. That’s my smart little Maeve Minnow.”
Mae ate her oatmeal and said nothing to her mom. She put her bowl in the sink and ran water in it. Her glass of juice was still untouched on the table. Her mom was pretending to read, but was very much watching Mae. Mae drank the glass of juice in full, hoping it would gorge her to the point that vomiting would be that much easier. She put the glass in the sink and said goodbye to her mom.
“Mae?” Rebecca said and put the paper down. Mae stared undecidedly at her. “Aren’t you going to ask why there’s no pink pill this morning?”
“Oh yeah. That’s right.”
“You forgot about it?”
“Yep.”
Rebecca fixed a ruminative stare at Mae, then bade her a good day at school today.
“You too. Bye.” Mae headed for her book bag. Breuer was muttering something in utter disappointment.
“Stop,” Rebecca said. Mae stopped, felt tears welling in her eyes. It wouldn’t be long before she was a zombie. “You still haven’t asked about the pill. You don’t seem the least bit concerned about it. What gives?”
“Why is there no pill this morning?”
“You’re a terrible liar,” she said.
“And you’re a rotten liar,” Breuer said to Rebecca.
“What I’d like to know is how you knew. You know what I did, don’t you?” She wasn’t asking as much as she was telling; a rhetorical question.
“No.” Mae was crying full-bore now. Tears of impending doom.
“But you still drank the juice,” her mother said, as though she was a detective trying to crack a murder case. “The whole glass, too. You never do that. What’s the plan, missy?—going to the bathroom to throw it up?”
Mae shook her head, and without thought flung herself on her mom and hugged tight. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry for lying.” Tears streamed. “Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you!” She squeezed Mae. “I love you more than anything. I just wish you’d trust me.”
“I will. I’m sorry.”
“Let’s wait for those tears to dry up, and then I’ll give you a ride to school, okay?”
Mae nodded. When she thought about how she wouldn’t be able to throw up the juice, the crying worsened. She was going to become a zombie. There was no avoiding it now.
Breuer rarely showed up at school, but today he was seated at the cafeteria bench waiting for Mae. She sat beside him and said, Fancy seeing you here.
“That was pretty pathetic this morning. You’re sorry? For lying to her? She’s the dishonest one.”
I know. Sorry, Breuer, I caved in. I didn’t mean to.
“I know you didn’t. It’s okay. Two doses isn’t the end of the world. But I worry about tomorrow and every morning after. What are we going to do?”
No clue. I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I don’t know.
“Me too. All my solutions are a little violent.”
Violent? Don’t you dare think about hurting them! They’re my parents, like it or not! I love them!
“I won’t, don’t worry. I know you love them.”
I do. They’re a billion times better than the dead ones. They have their problems but who doesn’t?
“I’ll give it some more consideration. I’ll think of something. But aside from that, how’s life treating my love?”
It’s all right. There’s a boy who sits next to me in class, he’s kinda cute. He’s shy, though. I doubt he’ll ever talk to me.
“Zach?”
You know everything!
“I’m smart, what can I say? He’s shy, all right. Don’t count on him ever asking you out. He has a really small wiener, anyway.”
Mae laughed. A few kids in the area looked over at her. You saw his wiener?
“No. But I heard him wishing he had a bigger one.”
That’s too funny.
“Remember when I said that I’d find a good guy for you?”
You found one? Who?
“His name is Trent. He lives over in Roseville, but that doesn’t matter because he has a car.”
Oh yeah? He’s older then. Sixteen?
“Not exactly. He’s eighteen.”
Eighteen? You’re crazy, Breuer!
“So what. What’s in an age? I’m thousands of years old and you like me, right?”
No.
Breuer’s eyes widened.
I love you. She smiled; he returned it.
“You’ll be fifteen soon, before he turns nineteen. Three and a half years isn’t a big gap. Besides, what matters is that he’d adore you. Love you, even. He’s strong, handsome, smart. Very smart. He’s a freshman in college and has his own apartment and car. He doesn’t have a job but he doesn’t need one: his father died from an oil-rig accident when Trent was young and between his life-insurance and the lawsuit, his mom is sitting on a couple million dollars. She spoils him rotten. He’d spoil you rotten.”
How do you know he’d even like me?
“Call it intuition. I’ve been whispering good things about you in his ear.”
You have not! She giggled.
“Well I do have pretty good intuition. I happen to be quite sure he’d like you. He’s an athlete, too. Baseball. Doesn’t play in college, just an intramural league, but he’s good at it. This evening his team is playing. How would you like to go watch the game and see him?”
Uh, I don’t know. All the way in Roseville? How would I get there? That’s far.
“His team is playing Sacramento and the game is here. I wouldn’t suggest something that was impossible, you know that. It’s on the other side of town, but we’ll take the bus. You can tell your parents that you’re going to Lisa’s house to spend the night. They’ll say yes because it’s Friday. What do you think?”
What about when the game’s over? I’ll be home at night and they’ll know I didn’t go to Lisa’s.
“You need to learn how to stretch the truth, Minnow. You tell them that you got in an argument with Lisa and decided to come home.”
You’re good at lying. Too good.
“I prefer to call it fibbing. Lying is such an ugly word.”
Breuer, you know what I like mo
st about you?
“Ooo, I like this question. What do you like most?”
It’s not easy, because what’s not to like? But I love how you treat me like an adult. You’d never search my mouth for medicine. I hate being treated like a friggin kid.
Chapter 18
Breuer rode the bus with Mae across town to the new field on the other side of town. Mae was glad she brought a coat because it was a chilly one. It wasn’t the temperature as much as it was the wind. The March wind blowing from the north has a dewy weight attached to it that chills to the bone.
It was dusk by the time they made their seats on the bleachers. There were only a handful of others present. Before she could ask, Breuer answered, “It’s early. The game isn’t for another hour. I thought we’d get here early so you could let Trent see how cute you are.”
How much you want to bet he doesn’t even notice me?
“You’d lose. See the guy out in right field? The guy who just threw the ball?”
Him? She pointed.
“Don’t point. People will think you’re crazy. You’re all alone here, remember that. And yes, that’s him. What do you think?”
It’s hard to see him from here. Let’s move closer. Over to those bleachers. She pointed.
“Thanks for heeding my advice.” She apologized. “Okay, let’s go over there.” They relocated to the bleachers closest right field. “What do you think of Trent?”
He’s… he’s cute. Really cute. Way too cute for me.
“Ye with so little faith.”
I haven’t heard you say that in forever!
“And you still haven’t any faith. My turn to say it: you know what I like most about my li’l Maeve Minnow?” She shook her head. “You have no idea how beautiful you are. Inside and out. Especially out. Especially in. Both. You’re one in a million.”
She met eyes with Breuer. You mean that, don’t you?
“If I’m lying I’m dying. You’re only fourteen, which is an awkward age for most kids.”
Almost fifteen.
“Okay, almost fifteen. People your age tend to have oily skin and pimples-a-plenty, beaver-like teeth, faces are usually puffy and red from the influx of hormones. But you have the refined beauty of a college woman. A beautiful one, at that. He won’t know you’re fourteen. He’ll probably guess you’re seventeen. Maybe eighteen. Tell him you’re older than you are if he asks.”
No. I’ll tell him the truth if he asks. It’s not good to start a relationship off on a lie.
“Did I raise you well or what? You’re something else, Mae-Vee.”
Likewise, my little Buster Bottom.
“Buster Bottom?”
Oh, so you can call me li’l Maeve Minnow but I can’t call you Buster Bottom?
“I’m eternally yours. You can call me God, you can call me Buster Bottom, you can call me the Fonze if it makes you happy.”
Sit down, Fonze, you’re making me nervous. She fixed on Trent and thought, God, he’s really hot. And I could use a little warmth, it’s freezing.
“It is cold out,” Breuer agreed. “I hate the cold. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared.
Mae rubbed her hands together and blew on them. The lighting was ridiculously bright. It reminded her of Field of Dreams. There wasn’t any corn around, but the lighting and field looked the same. She couldn’t stop staring at Trent. His clingy baseball pants might have been a gift to her from God Himself. They sure accentuated his butt nicely, she thought. What a butt! And eighteen-years-old, to boot. He could go buy a pack of cigarettes and a lottery ticket on his way to the recruiting office to join the Marines. She, on the other hand, had to be watched taking her medicine because she was a bad child who couldn’t be trusted. She hated her life. Not really, but for a second she did, when she compared it to how wonderful Trent’s life must be, going to college in his car and spending his mom’s millions of dollars.
There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Trent would give two shits about me. Breuer, I’m afraid that you’re wrong on this one.
For once in her life, she’d be right and Breuer would be wrong. But damn how she hoped Breuer would be right about Trent. Those arms, those strong arms that had lines on them when his muscles flexed. Those arms would feel so wonderful wrapped around her. Those full luscious lips would feel even better, peppering her with kisses all over. All over. Well, not everywhere. Not yet, at least. Not until she was at least sixteen. That’s what Breuer recommended and she thought he was right. As always.
Then it happened. After Trent threw the ball to some ancillary character in her love story, he glanced at Mae in the bleachers. Then back to the guy he was playing catch with. A second later he was looking at Mae again, and this time he smiled at her. She smiled back and felt a beehive split open in her stomach. Her hands were folded together and propping up her chin. She unfolded them to give him the slightest little wave, unsure if he’d see it from a hundred feet away. But he did, because he waved back. Her breathing deepened. Oh my goodness, Trent. Will you marry me? Oh me, oh my, what a handsome looking guy. Let me and I’ll love you till I die.
Breuer appeared beside her. “I see love is in the air.”
Were you listening to me? What did I say about that?
“We’ve been communicating that way all day. You can’t suddenly decide that I shouldn’t be listening-in, and expect me to somehow know that.”
Relax. Where did you go? You missed it. He noticed me and I waved and he waved back. He smiled at me and I thought I was going to pop. It’s the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen!
“Didn’t I tell you you’d like each other? And I didn’t miss it. I saw it all.”
You did? But you weren’t here.
“I wasn’t here. I was there.” He nodded at Trent.
What? I didn’t see you! What were you doing over by Trent?
“Just because you don’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not around. I make myself visible to you as a common courtesy. I didn’t want to distract you by having you see me whispering in Trent’s ear.”
She gaped at Breuer. You what? What the heck! Other people can hear you? What did you tell him?
“Settle down! My Lord! I’ve told you a hundred times nobody but you can see me. People don’t tend to hear me, either, but I find that some of what I say gets through on a subconscious level. Sometimes not. All I told Trent, basically, was to take a look at the girl over on the bleachers. I wasn’t sure if he’d hear me, and don’t know for sure that he did. If I was him I’d be looking at you all I could.”
Can you read his thoughts?
“Why ask me what you already know?”
What does he think about me?
“Isn’t it more exciting not to know? Like on Christmas morning? You don’t want to know what you got. It’s more fun having it be a surprise, is it not?”
Oh for Pete’s sake. You’re starting to sound more like Dad every day. Just tell me what he thinks of me.
“After that little comment? Forget it, Mae-Vee. You’re on your own.” Breuer smiled at her, kissed her on the cheek, and vanished.
Ha-ha, very funny. Come back. He did not. Yo, Buster Bottom, where’d you go? She looked around and behind her: no Breuer. Whatever. Fine, I’ll enjoy the game without you. And by game, I mean Trent. She smiled at Trent. He wasn’t looking, but she smiled at him nonetheless. She gave another little wave at him but he didn’t see it.
The coach called the team in from the field; they jogged his way. Trent glanced at Mae, his grin warmed her heart. The coach issued a little pep-talk. The bleachers were quickly filling up. The other team was out in left field throwing the ball around. They were ugly by comparison. So was the Roseville team, actually. All except their super-star Trent. He was probably the star of the team, she’d bet on it. She simmered into a sultry stare at Trent, who was facing away from her. She felt guilty for staring at his butt as much as she was, but it was his fault for having a perfect butt and wearing stretchy-pants. When he scratched hi
s left butt-cheek, she wished she was his hand. She looked up from his butt to learn that he was now staring at her. Busted! Oh my God, how embarrassing! But he was grinning at her. A warm and kind grin, most sincere. Please ask me to be your girlfriend, Trent. Your wife. Your slave. Anything. Anything but strangers.
After the coach had said his bit, he dismissed the guys to do a lap around the field to combat the nasty chill in the air. The team jogged away, save for Trent who said something to the coach before sauntering toward Mae.
No fucking way! No friggin way, no friggin way, she corrected.
Trent ascended two rows of the bleachers, was now heading directly toward her. Her heart was an engine in the red. She was burning up. She unzipped her coat without thought. The trapped heat from her torso wafted up to her cold face, and with it the musky scent of her perfume, which she hoped Trent would smell.
“Hi. I’m Trent.”
“Hi,” she squeaked, cleared her throat and tried again. “Hi. I’m Maeve. Mae. Mae Clark.”
“Nice to meet you. Watching the game by yourself? Here alone?”
“Yes.”
“You here to cheer on your brother? Boyfriend?”
“Neither. I’m just watching the game. You look good. I mean, you have a good arm. Both arms. You’re probably pretty good.”
“Nah. I’m all right. Not as good as I’d like to be. Listen, I assume you live here in Sac. As my jersey suggests, I live in Roseville, but Roseville’s not that far. I wouldn’t ask, except for that I noticed you looking at me. Could I take you to dinner and a movie?”
“I’d love that. But don’t you have to play the baseball game?”
“I didn’t mean right now.” He grinned. She felt about two inches tall. Perhaps he understood that she was embarrassed, because he acted quickly to remedy it by saying, “I would love to go right now, but I have this dumb game. We can go tomorrow if you’d like. Or even after the game tonight. Which would you prefer?”
“My parents think I’m spending the night at my friend Lisa’s tonight, so I don’t need to be home by any specific time. Or at all, for that matter.” Why’d I just say that? Stupid! “So tonight would be best. I doubt my parents would let me stay out two nights in a row.”
“Gotcha. You live with your parents still, eh? I don’t know why that threw me off guard. I guess I just assumed that you’re in college and live in the dorms or an apartment.”
“You did not,” she said affectedly and felt blood filling her cheeks.