Amy 12: Sarah And The Mystery Of Delacroix High free porn video

Amy 12: Sarah and the Mystery of Delacroix High by Amy Komori The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2010 Amy Komori. All rights reserved. Chapter One: Miss Popularity "Komori!" "Hey." "Whassup, Amy?" "Um... Going to class?" "Outstanding!" One accidental result of joining the J-V cheerleading squad was I'd practically become an overnight sensation among the school's jocks. I wasn't sure what to make of it. At the start of the year, I was just this anonymous girl and if I was known for anything it was for looking like a super-skinny Asian boy with Natalie Portman hair. Delacroix High's hardcore skater kid contingent (almost all woodpushers except for Michelle and me) knew me for being into inline. But that was about it, just a face in the crowd (sickeningly cute or otherwise). Now I was Amy Komori, the shortest cheerleader. The confusing cheerleader. I still dressed pretty boyishly, still kind of clomped around with a scowl on my face. But thanks to Superboy-- who I considered a nice guy (for a sideshow freak candidate, that is)-- a lot of the senior guys and underclassmen jocks seemed to take me on as some kind of weird mascot or something. I mean, fuck knew what they really thought about me but if I happened to run into any of them in the hall, I got lots of fist-bumps and they'd drawl, "Komori!" and it was like I had to run a gauntlet of big-brotherly goodwill or something. It was happening right that second, with Sarah at my side. An Amy/Jock Love Fest. "Amy! How's it going?" "It's casual." "Fuckin' A, dude." We finally got clear of them, and I gave the last a backwards wave over my shoulder. "That was so weird," Sarah said. She looked around to see if anyone else wanted a piece of me. "I know," I told her. "Every time! It's like I'm a stupid celebrity or they like me or something. Why? I'm not even sure I like me." My knuckles were still stinging. Some of those guys had hands hard as concrete and probably as large as my head. "I like you," Sarah said. She shrugged as if to admit her helpless inability to resist my field of personal magnetism. Then she whispered, "I have the best news!" "What?" We stopped in a clear area of the hallway, but we didn't have time for long conversations. Sarah pulled me up against the wall. "Tell me," I said. "I think I found someone who saw what happened to Heidi's mom's car. But he--" The first class bell rang. "That's great," I told Sarah, with a big smile. I wished I had time to squeal with her or jump up and down but my class was down at the end of the hall and I knew hers was all the way in another wing and she was going to be hard-pressed to get there on time as it was. "Meet me after practice, okay? You can tell me about it then." She nodded and we split up for our classes. And I still couldn't concentrate. Everything out of the teachers' mouths sounded like blahdy blah blah, or one of the adults in a Snoopy cartoon. Bell after bell, class after class and I was present in body, absent in mind. Jostling down the hallways, trying not to get run over, doodling in my notebook instead of taking notes: little caricatures of Sarah, Gina with hearts around her, Heidi with devil horns. Incorrect answers, narrow-eyed stare downs from the teachers, dying at my desk and watching the clock hands way too much. Cheerleading practice was the same old shit but it had lost a lot of its power to oppress. I could put myself on autopilot now, crack jokes with Monique and Saffy, talk to Kimmy and kind of tune out the other girls, even Heidi to a certain extent?unless she was telling us what to do. She was still my captain and I had to let her think she was still in charge of me. Since it was my third Thursday as a cheerleader-- even I couldn't believe how well I was doing at it by now-- we zipped through the cheers and dances and then painted signs. I didn't have to do the large one this time, just some of the smaller ones. When we finished the first batch, Monique and I went around the school putting them up all over. Feeling daring, I made an excuse and said my mata ne a little early and went to find Sarah. My heart led me right to her. "Hi," she said, squinting with the setting sun right in her eyes. All freckles and teeth, smiling, wearing a flowing long-sleeved shirt and jeans, holding her book bag in front. "I waited for you." I was still in my practice outfit, feeling a little chill in the air. "Whassup, sistah?" I drawled. "Sorry that took so long. Let's go get my books and get the hell out of Dodge." "You didn't take them with you to practice?" "Dude, what are lockers for?" As soon as we got inside the school and saw how deserted it was?the main office was dark, and all the classrooms, too, plus the overhead lights were all off in the hallways?I put my hand on Sarah's shoulder and whispered, "It's like a haunted house." Sarah shivered and stage-whispered, "It is!" I got into this sneaking around pose and started creeping along the wall with my arms out like I didn't want anyone to see me, my eyes wide and my mouth a little O. Sarah stood there stifling her giggles. "Shh!" I told her. "If the spirits hear you, we're doomed to spend all eternity among them!" "This is like 'Are You Afraid of the Dark,'" Sarah said. "'The Tale of the Haunted School.'" I threw myself against the wall. "They're here. Oh my God... can't you feel their sinister?" "You look so cute," Sarah blurted. I straightened up, pressed my back against the wall and looked at Sarah with one eye closed. "What are you talking about, Sarah?" "You were doing jazz hands!" "No, I wasn't." "Yeah," Sarah said, nodding her head. "No. No I wasn't." Sarah put down her bag and demonstrated for me, backlit by the main doors and tall windows. "That's jazz hands?" I asked. "I just thought those were sneaking around hands." Sarah shook her head no this time. "Come on, let's get my books so we can get out of here," I told her. No more ghostbusting, no more jazz hands. We went upstairs to find my locker, just chatting about the usual stupid shit. I pointed out the signs I'd personally made, but they were nothing special; I hadn't tried to subvert the message or anything. Sarah happily related funny stuff Michelle Cho said that day and this story about how one of the ultra-Christian boys in her Biology class?there were a few of these kids at our school-- had an argument with their teacher about evolution. I didn't have any in my classes, but Lena once told us how an ultra-Christian girl in her English class objected to a reading assignment and got an alternate book, but it had been very low-key. It seemed like the best incidents happened in the science classes. The upstairs hall was a little darker than downstairs, especially as we moved away from the stairs. A teacher we didn't know looked out of her classroom as we passed, decided we weren't whoever she was waiting for and disappeared again. "What did they decide?" I asked. "About what?" "Evolution? Good or evil?" "Um..." she said, really giving my stupid question a serious thinking through. "They didn't really decide. Ms. Klein just told him she wasn't going to discuss it, or wasn't allowed to or something. Is your family Christian or Buddhist? Or what?" "Oh, wow. I don't even know!" "Do you believe in God?" "Of course! Her name is Kim Deal. And the devil is Heidi Fleegleman." We got my books. My locker was in the darkest part of the hall, with just some slanting squares of light pouring in from the big windows over the central stairwell to guide us back. Someone was having a quiet conversation in a classroom; his murmuring voice was just barely audible. I took Sarah's hand (it was warm and soft) and we walked like a couple?Gretel and Gretel-- down the steps and out the front door to the bus pick-up area. "What's your family?" I asked Sarah. "I dunno. My mom kinda believes in God. I guess she was like Catholic or something growing up. She went to Catholic school." "Have you ever been to a church or anything?" Sarah shook her head no. "Not since I was a little kid." "Do you believe in evil?" I asked her. "Of course." "Okay, then, what's your definition of pure evil?" "You are!" She pulled out of my grip and made devil's horns with her hands on either side of my head. I pretended to be shocked, but actually I was totally flattered. Sarah was en fuego that afternoon with the nice things. Chapter Two: Sarah's Witness Mrs. Komori was waiting for us, sitting patiently behind the wheel of her car. When she saw the two of us walking towards her, she waved. The entire way home, she carried on a light conversation with Sarah, making her feel welcome and like the center of the universe. As always I got such a high out of listening to them. Mrs. Komori always seemed cheerful, and Sarah was polite and attentive. Once home, we went back to my bedroom on the pretext of studying together. But the true subject for the afternoon was the Heidi Fleegleman Keying Case. "Okay," Sarah said when we could talk freely and for about as long as we wanted, "I totally found a witness?" "Like an eye witness? You're so 'NYPD Blue,' dude." "Um... I guess? You know Willis Wallace?" I was aware of Willis Wallace but I didn't really know him. In fact, everyone probably felt the same way about Willis Wallace; he was the only black geek at Delacroix High, which had a thriving tribe of geeks, dorks, spazzes, goths and losers-- all these guys and girls playing Magic the Gathering at lunch, theorizing about "The X-Files" and "Millennium," discussing "Project A-Ko" and "Robot Carnival" (once before I became the awesome-ass cheerleader me, I got too close and someone asked me since I was Japanese what anime I liked and after explaining to me what that was, told me I'd lost my speaking privileges for the day because I said "Sailor Moon" and "Dragonball Z"), reading comics and fantasy novels, arguing about Playstation and N64 games. Willis Wallace was the most "Star Wars" obsessed among them; if you wanted to know Luke Skywalker's middle name or if Yoda had a dick, you could ask Willis Wallace. But he was reclusive, too. I could picture him in my mind, a slight, short guy skulking through the hallways, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone around him. Wearing drab clothes. He didn't dress like a stereotypical nerd or anything out of a movie or Urkel, just boring. A t-shirt or a 3-button polo and jeans, always neat, not the least bit quirky. That was pretty much every fact I had on him. Sarah told me Willis lived on the same street as Heidi, in Piney Ridge, this upscale subdivision way across town that had lots of pines but precious few ridges, at the farthest reaches of the Delacroix High school zone. One of the first things I learned at Delacroix Junior was that "Piney Ridge kid" meant rich kid. Most of them went to private schools, but as far as I knew the families there weren't actually rich, just well off; Piney Ridge kids had parents who were doctors, lawyers, business owners. We had a few of them in our high school, obviously, and they were almost always a step higher on the social ladder than the rest of us. Almost always. Willis Wallace was obviously a mutant. Why had he gone down this path? His father was a private-practice lawyer and I'd met him once with Mrs. Komori?he knew Mr. Komori back in the day, but it was a fairly sad story so they didn't get into it in front of me. Mr. Wallace was nothing like his son; he was tall and extremely handsome and had this booming voice and a super outgoing personality. He'd been nice to me (even if it was incredibly weird and even a bit annoying being treated and kinda talked down to like a little girl), putting his hand on top of my head in this paternal way and I'd had this feeling if he wanted to, he could've pushed me all the way through the floor. Instead, he accidentally pulled out one of my barrettes, then made a big deal of apologizing when he handed it back. Sarah had been asking around, playing her Babysitters Club Super Mystery game and one day, she'd found a note in her locker. From (you guessed it) Willis Wallace. "Only he didn't sign it with his name," Sarah said. "He just made it like it was from someone else at first. A third party. He said 'intermediary.'" "Why did he do that? How did you find out it was actually from him?" "Well, he gave me all these secret directions but instead I watched and waited until I finally caught him putting one of his notes in my locker." "Oh." Not the high adventure spy-type answer I'd been expecting, and surprisingly direct. Sometimes we all forgot that Sarah?straight A's without as much as a single B to besmirch her record-- was the smartest among us. I would've stupidly played along with Secrets Boy, passing notes and running all over campus finding his little hiding places. Sarah had just taught me solving mysteries in the real world wasn't at all like in books and movies, apparently. "Anyways," Sarah said, "he told me he heard I was looking for someone who might know something about who keyed Heidi's mom's car and he had some info." "Do you think he saw anything?" I asked Sarah. "He said he did. Only..." "Only what?" "He wouldn't tell me what he knows." "Why not?" "He... wants to meet you." "What? Like so he can tell me in person or something?" "I think he likes you." Oh. That stopped me. I had a little flashback of Patrick and possibly Mike. This was sure not to end well, plus I was incredibly embarrassed by it. I mean, of all the people in school! I bit my lip and then said, "I see..." "He wants us to come to his house. He said I should bring you over Saturday around 2 and he'd show you something. And then, like, tell us." "Show me something? Show me what? And what if he's lying?" Sarah frowned. That someone would be lying apparently hadn't occurred to her. "I-I don't think he is. Why would he lie?" "Lots of reasons." "I don't think he is. Anyways, we'll find out together!" "Will you marry me, Sarah?" I said with a big grin on my face, my eyes dark slivers, like crescent moons. Because I was so tiny, Emily always told me I looked like a little girl when I smiled like that. "Of course I will, my lovely. You shall be my blushing bride," she replied, in a fakey Brit accent. Sarah was so sweet, I could've eaten her up like a birthday cake. I hugged her. I felt all warm inside, like I tended to do whenever one of my friends came through for me. You know, soft and squishy like I was stuffed with toasted marshmallows, with just a hint of "I really have to pee." Sometimes, listening to Tori Amos was enough to do that to me, which is why when I was in a sort of menstrual mood?not having an actual period, just times when I felt really connected to my femaleness, which was happening to me a lot more often since I started high school-- I usually listened to girl stuff like the Runaways and Liz Phair. They made me feel girly, but in a kick-ass way. But for now being connected to Sarah in this softer, more flowing and spiritual feeling made me happy. She really was like a flower among us weeds and sometimes she gave me hope I could be a blossom, too. "Only..." Sarah said with this distant look on her face. "I know why you did everything but I still wanna know why Heidi didn't just tell her mother or something in the first place." "Because..." Why hadn't she? It had never occurred to me to ask. It was like being hit with the stupid-hammer. BOOM! Amy, you're so dumb. "A-and why she wouldn't go to the police or something." "I dunno," I said. Truly stumped, feeling even stupider. "It just doesn't make sense. She must be pretty weird." "Yeah. She is, actually. She comes off as Miss Perfect but there are like..." I stopped because I wasn't sure how to put it. "There are seams showing. Do you know what I mean?" "Of course." It struck me that Sarah was about a million times smarter than I was and I was one of the cleverest monkeys in the zoo. That night I tried to work it out in my mind. Heidi and I had sparred, someone had keyed her mom's car, she'd blamed me. Then what did she do? She didn't tell her mom. She just started picking on me and demanding money, then beat me up... but behind my back she was talking me up to the cheerleading squad. Then the whole blackmail-me- into-a-cheerleader scheme. I knew now why I'd given in and put myself through hell?although the crazy collateral stuff with my friends was still a little painful?but why had Heidi? Chapter Three: Rooting for the Wrong Team Friday was another pep rally, same shit, different team names: our J- V team would play the Harden High Golden Warriors and the varsity team was up against regional powerhouse Colbyville this time. It seemed like such a fucking waste of time. I mean, in the two games I'd cheered for so far, both our football teams had been creamed so badly, it was miraculous no one had gotten killed. The newspapers were saying there was even an excellent chance we'd lose all ten games and were making it out like some kind of historical event. All I knew was it was completely humiliating to have to cross the field and act all friendly to the other team's cheerleaders with the scoreboard lit up with failure. Not that I gave a shit about football, but I hated being associated with losers and wearing the uniform of a loser school. So what was the point of getting everyone hyped when we knew the only way we'd win was if our opponents died in a bus crash on their way to our stadium? Oh, and the other fun thing was, this was my first away game as a cheerleader, too, so I was going to have to ride on a stupid school bus to get there and come back. We wouldn't get a dinner break to change clothes; after we got back from one certain defeat out of town, we were going to have to stay in our uniforms to watch another one in the stands. Who scheduled these stupid things? I wanted to kill him! And so did any number of our parents, for that matter. This week, I decided to accessorize my uniform with a puka shell choker necklace. I wasn't sure why. Officially, we were only supposed to wear our spirit ribbons and nothing else extra?none of my trademark barrettes, no beaded bracelets, not even my power beads-- but I'd been in a puka shell choker mood that morning. It seemed like a gesture so teensy it barely registered as rebellion of any kind. "You're not supposed to be wearing that," Heidi said when she noticed. Which was right away. This was the first thing out of her mouth when I showed up. "You're not supposed to be..." I started to say, then went blank. Oh fuck it, I thought, and just shrugged. "Well?" Heidi asked, expecting me to take my necklace off. "Well what?" I told her, "I'm wearing this." She just rolled her eyes and walked away. The "Buttercup" cries were a lot louder and more frequent at the pep rally, too. It was like people were just waiting for the chance to call me that when I ran around with my spirit sign. I was like a stupid highlight now, even for the stoners and freaks who hated pep rallies as much as I did. Then classes in my neatly laundered uniform, wandering the halls standing out like a sore trendster, Little Miss Popularity, Heidi Fleegleman's newest and bestest prot?g?. And once again, both of our football teams had their asses handed to them. I cheered my evil heart out in Harden while the Golden Warriors laid a golden turd on the Blue Devil's head, 28-7. The ride back to our school was like death. Later, I froze my ass off yet again because of my dumb cheer uniform. We'd started wearing these white long-sleeved undershirts beneath our shells, but I didn't even have a jacket or sweater or anything because I'd completely forgotten the temp change thing... would I ever learn? But, hey, at least I had my puka shell necklace. I sat hugging myself and shaking like a boozehound with the DTs, sitting between Heidi and Superboy as the Tigers mauled us 51-6. "I'm so effin' glad I'm not out there," Superboy confided to us. "Oh man, that's brutal. You ever play football, Buttercup?" "Yeah, when I was a little boy. But I gave it up when I started bleeding once a month." Heidi kicked me. Not too hard and it didn't hurt or anything. I just smiled at her. Chapter Four: Gina Takes the Wheel The next morning, I had to clear my trip across town with Mrs. Komori. She looked at me doubtfully at first while I ate Fruit Loops, but when I explained it was to pick up some notes for class, she gave me her conditional permission. "Over there and back," she told me. "No skating, no side trips to Sarah's or Gina's, all right? Grounded is grounded." "Can you give me a ride? Please?" "Sorry, Honey Bunny, but I've got to go to the office today." "But it's way across town. Can you drop me off?" "Sure. What time do you need to be there?" "At 2." "Oh... I'm leaving as soon as I get dressed. How about I take you over there when I get back? Can you wait until then? About 5?" "Yeah." That was a blatant lie, because there was no way I was going to wait, not with my life on the line. Fuck, dude. I was a wee bit pissed at her. She always had time to drive me places when it was just for unimportant stuff, like skating. I mean, not that skating was unimportant, but it was nothing compared to possibly beating info and snot out of Willis Wallace that would get me out of those stupid frigid bleachers every Friday night. Mrs. Komori left shortly after that and as soon as her car was out of the driveway, I called Sarah and told her what was happening. "But he said 2!" she said. "I know. You told me. I can't help it, dude. It's not like I'm making her work today. Can your mom give us a ride?" "I don't think so. She's working today, too." "Oh. Can you come over, though? Like now?" "I'm on my way!" Then I called Gina. "Gina, I kinda need a favor. I need to get from my house to Willis Wallace's house by 2." "Today?" "No, fucker. By 2 next Saturday." "Just messin' with ya. He lives way out in Piney Ridge, right? That's where your girlfriend Heidi Fleegleman lives." "Yeah. So while I'd like to walk or something, I don't think that's possible." "Through Christ, anything is possible." "Shut up." "Don't sweat it, Mulan. I got the perfect solution." That sounded fine by me, so I hung up on her. Sarah showed up a few minutes later. She was extra chirpy because her plan was falling into place, except for the transportation problem. Gina came though on that. Before I could even pour Sarah a caffeine- free Dr. Pepper, Gina was coming down our driveway in her mom's car. Behind the wheel. Alone. Sarah and I couldn't believe our eyes, which were approximately as large as bowling balls. But there she was, floppy brown hair, face of freckles, sly eyes, all proud of herself. Gina was practically swaggering as Sarah and I burst through the door. "Holy shit!" Sarah shouted. She clamped her hands over her mouth not because she'd cursed, but because she as just so shocked at what she was seeing. "My dad's been teaching me," Gina said, one hand on her hip, spinning the keys in a kind of absent-minded way. Good old Gina. Ready for anything. If I'd been a guy, I probably would've had a boner. "Oh my god!" Sarah gasped. "That's crazy! And illegal! Crazy and illegal!" "It is?" Gina asked in mock-surprise. "Why didn't you just ask your dad to drive?" I asked. "Or your mom?" Gina bounded over to me, ruffled my hair like I was some na?ve little kid and just smiled. "We're gonna get in so much trouble, though," Sarah protested. "Probably," Gina agreed. Gina and I together had to talk Sarah into coming now. She wasn't so concerned with safety, it turned out, as she was with getting Gina into trouble. Gina shrugged it off, and I was just thinking how fucked up and awesome this would be if we pulled it off. "What's a little risk?" I asked Sarah, massaging her shoulders. "All we have to do is drive there and back. Nothing bad's gonna happen and you'll be my hero for the rest of my life. I'll do anything you want. And I mean... anything." Sarah giggled. She knew my innuendo was just a joke but she was flattered nevertheless. She nodded and Gina led us to the car. "This is just like in 'Ferris Bueller,'" Sarah said. "Yeah, except Sloane's car was all kickass," Gina said. "This is a stupid Ford Escort." "Sloane was the girlfriend, Gina," I corrected her. "Why did she have a last name as a first name? I thought Ferris's friend was the last name person." "He is. Sloane is Ferris's girlfriend's first name," Sarah said. "Mia Sara is her real name, though." "How do you even know that?" I asked. "I love 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off,'" Sarah said. "It's my favorite movie." Gina and I both looked at each other and I said, "I did not know that." "His friend's last name is Cameron. Actually, maybe that's his first name." "Everbody in that movie has a last name for a first name," Gina said. "Ferris's sister doesn't. Her name is Jeanie," Sarah told her. "Get in the car, Sloane," I said. Gina took her sweet time starting up the car. I wasn't sure how she'd felt driving over here by herself, but her cocky act was starting to unravel. "Dude, do have any idea what you're doing" I asked. I was in the passenger seat, Sarah was in the back. "I don't think you have any idea!" "Shut the fuck up," Gina said in a huffy voice. "Oh shit. I had it in drive." "What does that mean?" Sarah asked. "It means she's an idiot," I said. Gina suddenly punched me in the arm, right where Patrick had left a bruise. I hissed and drew back from her, rubbing my newly re- blossomed injury, tears squirting from my squinting eyes. Gina had punched me a lot harder than Patrick had, that's for sure. "Oh wow," Gina said, her face suddenly pale. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard." "WELL YOU DID!" I screamed. "You made me nervous! Are you okay?" "Owwww! Fucker! Patrick already hit me there! You hit me right on my bruise!" "How was I supposed to know!" "Just drive already!" I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt. Sarah was cringing, probably wishing she was riding in the trunk. Gina started the car and looked around. She almost drove forward, right into our house, then crinkled her nose in embarrassment, put the car in reverse and slowly, haltingly backed out of the driveway into the alley, just barely missing our big plastic garbage can. "You're gonna kill us, dude," I moaned. "I'm already grounded! Just think how much trouble I'm going to be in when my mom comes to pick me up at the morgue!" "No, I'm really good in forward." Amazingly, Gina wasn't lying at all about that. Once she got us going, she handled the car like a pro. Only about halfway to Willis's, a cop car started following us and Sarah nearly hyperventilated and I was about to pee in my pants. I tried to watch the cop through the rearview mirror because Gina told us not to look back. Sarah hit on that particular phrase as if it were a mantra, and kept repeating it: "Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back." Did I call her Sloane? She was more like Rainman, and I went from wanting to kiss her to wanting to slap her. A few streets down from Piney Ridge, the cop car turned right and we went straight. Gina let out a long breath. "Holy shit, that was scary." "Were you holding your breath the whole time?" I asked. "Pretty much." Gina turned us into the Piney Ridge entrance, which was made to look like a huge gate set in brick walls, but as far as I knew, it was just for looks and they never actually shut it. It wouldn't have really helped anyway; Piney Ridge wasn't a gated community and you could see all the nicey-nice houses from there where walls might have blocked your view. I guessed they wanted people to see their semi-affluence. There was a large ornamental pond or lake, which still had ducks paddling around in it, then huge front yards and these gigantic pine trees left in place when the developer built the place. Some of the houses had tennis courts and some had pools, kind of like Gina's, only larger. Lots of wooden privacy fences. Out here you actually saw BMW roadsters and Audis and cars like that parked in the driveways, although there were still your typical Chevys, Hondas and Toyotas. "This is his house, on the left," Sarah told us. "Where's Heidi's?" I asked. Sarah thought for a moment. "I... um... don't know." Gina parked us by the curb, right in front the mailbox, which probably wasn't a hot idea, but I wasn't about to complain since she'd done all the driving. Willis's mom?who was like super-hot with high, well-sculpted cheekbones and this fit body, which just freaked the three of us out so much we kind of gaped at each other and I hoped it wasn't obvious-- showed us in, and we all went through their spacious living room with its massive TV and book-lined shelves into the kitchen, which was all bright and sunny and full of stainless steel everything?refrigerator, stove, microwave. Mrs. Wallace offered us iced tea, and it turned out to be unsweetened. Then she went to get Willis, who'd seen us coming up the walk and locked himself in the bathroom. It took some doing, but she brought him into the kitchen and he sat at the dinner table with us. I don't know what Willis thought when four girls showed up at his house on a Sunday afternoon to see him, invited or not. He probably didn't expect us to show, and I doubted he'd talked to four non-mother girls in his entire life, total. Up close, he had a huge head. And big, round ears. Up close, he looked like a stretched, skinny baby. Chapter Five: Willis Wallace Teaches Me a Thing or Two We sat for a long time and sipped our ice tea. Willis watched us closely, first studying Sarah, then Gina, then me, his visual dessert. I mean, if he really did like me the way Sarah thought. The only sounds we made were the ice clinking in our sweating glasses and Willis's labored breathing. "So," Sarah said. She looked at me. "Yeah, so," I said. "Good point." I looked at Gina, who yawned, then said, "So, Willis, tell us the story about Heidi Fleegleman's car." Willis suddenly sat straight up in his chair, and his eyes brightened. He gave me this intense scrutiny which I couldn't tell if it was scientific or sex-a-riffic. What exactly was going through his mind, I'd have paid a million dollars to know. On second thought... "Who was it?" I asked. "I'll tell you, but first I want to know something." "Shoot." "Did you come over here just to ask me that, or did you come here to actually see me?" "Um, well, sort of both, I guess. You asked me to, dude." "You guess." "I don't know. Probably just to ask you that, but I didn't wanna--" Willis sighed. "I thought so." He got up and started to leave the kitchen. What the fuck? "Wait!" I said. He stopped. I followed up my bleat with an incredibly dumb, "Uh..." I was all out of material. Without turning around, Willis said, "If you come back to my room and let me show you something, I'll tell you what you want to know." He must've heard our chairs scooting, because he said, "Just Amy." Oh shit. This is it. I felt this acidic nervousness in my stomach, but I followed Willis through the living room (smiled sheepishly at his mom) and down the hall to what I thought would be like Hannibal Lecter's cell in "Silence of the Lambs." Instead, it was just a very messy boy's bedroom. Wills told me to have a seat. I looked around at the catastrophe of clothes, books, action figures all over the place. "Star Wars" books piled on his desk next to a bad-ass looking computer in matte black. Sitting on the tower CPU thing, I recognized a little plastic Spider-Man; it made me remember when I'd been a kid and had a dick. At that time, Spider-Man meant a whole lot more to me than he did now. "I don't know where to sit," I said, a little more impatiently than I'd intended. Calm the fuck down, Amy, I told myself. You're gonna totally queer the deal and then you'll be really fucked. But I couldn't help it. I mean really. The room reeked of boy and boy-thoughts, and it smelled like sweat and furtive masturbation. I felt I had no business being there. "Just sit on the bed," Willis told me, so I found a spot that looked the least likely to have caught any nocturnal seepage and sat down. Please don't let him sit next to me, please, I prayed to whoever was listening. What if he demands a kiss? As payment? What would Spider-Man do if one of his informants wanted a kiss? Did Spider-Man even have informants? I can't remember! I'm going to have to do it, dude. Why couldn't I think straight? Why was I mentally babbling to myself? Was I saying any of this out loud? Then Willis surprised me. Instead of clumsily putting moves on me, he sat at his desk and turned on his computer. His voice got very weak and hesitant, but he told me he wanted to show me a Flash animation he'd been working on, a superhero of his own creation. I think I took my first easy breath since the moment I first got a nasty whiff of Willis' personal space. His little cartoon was actually pretty good. The superhero (Flying Fist) looked a lot like Willis, minus the big ears. Wow. A glimpse of this whole inner life of someone I'd never given as much as a single thought to; it played itself out on that computer monitor, a display of Willis' little hopes and dreams. Being physical, getting the girl. How lonely he must be. I was really getting an education in my peer group's natural or unnatural behaviors. "The reason I asked you to see this," Willis began, then paused to take a deep breath. "Well, it's because you look a lot like Katana." "Wha--? The fuck are you talking about? Is that like a person? A thing? You got me all the way out here to tell me I look like Kanata?" I'd popped off the bed, my nerves forgotten in this incredulousness. "K-Katana." Willis' stutter told me he was probably feeling a similar discomfort to my own, but multiplied by ten or more. Girls could be so hard to talk to, especially if you were someone like Willis for whom nearly every human relationship was problematic. Whatever he thought of me, however much he liked me, no doubt made it even worse. Holy shit. It hadn't occurred to me I had an affect on people. I mean, I knew Patrick liked me at one point and I knew being in close proximity to me frequently gave him boners even now that we were in the "just friend" zone. I just tried to act like I didn't notice. Typical teen guy stuff; poor Patrick probably got boners around every girl he met. And yeah, there were my friends who loved me so much they were capable of hating me. And Heidi Fleegleman, whatever the fuck her deal was. But it suddenly struck me if I were really cruel or something, I could probably break this kid. Or was I being conceited? While I thought that over, Willis took a floppy pile of comic books off his shelf. Batman and some other characters I didn't know. Batman hung out with other people? That was the first thing that came to mind. "This one is pretty old," Willis said. "You know that comic shop downtown? I bought these for a quarter each." He opened this comic book and started showing me the pictures inside. Batman, some guy in brown and orange, this guy with a messed-up face, a blond woman in a black leotard with multi-colored designs running down one side, and then another woman with upturned, squinty eyes?in red and yellow, her costume accented with vaguely Asian armor and holding a weird-looking sword. Basically, they looked like the X-Men, which I did know more about than I ever cared to let on. "That's her," Willis said, pointing at sword-girl, but I'd already assumed as much. "Tatsu Yamashiro, code-named Katana." "That's supposed to be me or something? I don't look like that." Willis made this coughing sound and sort of stammered a little, then launched into this way too detailed and incredibly agitated and quavery account of how he'd been into Batman at one point and all this tedious shit about Batman's history all the way up until he formed some super-team. I remembered as a guy watching the Batman cartoon in the afternoons a few times and thinking it was pretty cool, but this whole portion of Batman's career was news to me. I listened at first, nodding my head?which Willis took as a signal of intense interest?and he just kept going, bringing in all these irrelevancies and side plots and details; his basic premise seemed to be since I was a girl, I was uninformed and ignorant, totally lacking in the proper superhero education and needed to be talked to as if I were retarded or something. So I kind of stopped listening at all pretty quickly and just zoned out on him and thought about Heidi Fleegleman and stuff that had happened at the game the night before and a little more about Patrick and his idiotic little boners and this whole idea that I'd gotten myself into this whole convoluted situation that resulted in my sitting on Willis Wallace's bed listening to him drone on and on about a stupid-ass comic book. "-- and Katana was killed with her own sword, but she later came back to life?" Willis was saying as I snapped back and started listening again. "She got killed? That sucks. Why do you like her so much?" I interrupted in an attempt to turn the lecture into a conversation again. Conversing meant learning, and learning meant I could escape before nightfall at least. "She's just interesting. I think I've always been interested in Japanese culture. Did you know George Lucas based the jedi knights on samurai? The name jedi is from jidai, as in jidai geki, or samurai period drama?" "And you think I'm like this character Kantina?" "Katana. I don't know if you're like her. I just kinda identify you with her for some reason." I looked again at the comics he'd been showing me. On second blush, Katana looked pretty but generically Asian?or at least the comic book and cartoon way of drawing and coloring Asians-- and she seemed stiff and pissed off. I still didn't see any resemblance between us at all and she still did absolutely nothing as far as moving or engaging me, although I felt the teensiest tracing of guilt for not having listened to Willis's whole spiel about her, especially considering how important it was for him. Those comics were the ones lying out, so I assumed he'd been reading them recently. Maybe just that same morning, in anticipation of this scene and making me the Katana of his dreams or something. I stopped short before I got into what he did to himself while thinking these thoughts. Anyways, he meant it as a compliment, he told me. "That's cool," I said. Inwardly, I screamed, Tell me what I want to know! I tried to hide how ready I was to bolt. "I know Sarah probably told you how I like you. Can... can I call you sometime?" That threw me. So surprisingly direct. I decided to go with complete honesty, since he'd shown me so much of himself. I said, "I-I don't think that's a good idea." He looked hurt and it made me feel terrible. "You don't like me? You think I'm a dork loser or?" "I..." Dammit. Hearing him say it like that made me feel like a total bitch, like Heidi Fleegleman. It was true. I did think he was a dork and a loser. I felt totally superior and had been secretly mocking him and thinking all these horrible thoughts about the guy the entire time. I'd denied the guy his basic humanity in exactly the way I supposedly hated in Heidi and Ashleigh Bodine and their friends and I knew this wouldn't be the last time. But that wasn't why I didn't want to go out with him. There was something else and it was more about me. I bit my lip and breathed deeply and avoided eye contact or even looking in Willis's general direction while I tried to think of a way to explain this to him without committing myself to something that may or may not be true and?more importantly? without making Willis feel more like shit than he usually did. "You like somebody else?" Willis asked, sensing my distress, trying to be helpful. "Um... yeah. I like a couple of people. God, dude, I don't even know if I like them or not. I don't even know if I can like anyone. I do have this huge crush on someone..." "May I ask who?" "She's is in the kitchen now." Behind his glasses, Willis's eyes went wide. "You're a lesbian?" he asked. Then, the suspicion of a put-on. "You aren't just telling me that because you think I'm a geek or ugly or something are you? Because I'm black?" "No. It's true. I'm only probably a lesbian, okay? I mean, I'm pretty sure I like girls. I haven't liked any boys yet?" "I think this is bullshit. In junior high, I heard you did stuff and... and you were that guy Patrick's?" "That shit's not true at all!" I knew exactly what he'd heard and I didn't want to have him say it out loud. "None of it. And Patrick wasn't my boyfriend. I wasn't his girlfriend. We're only friends. I've never had a boyfriend and I've never been with anybody." "Neither have I." "Well, no shit there, dude. Um... sorry." "Don't sweat it." "I just feel like... if I'm gonna be with someone, it's more than likely gonna be a girl. Just please don't tell anyone, okay? Or I really will go Kitina on your ass!" "Katana. Who's the first one? Sarah or Gina? Everybody knows you're always hanging out with Sarah?" "It's a secret. Just don't tell either of them, okay? Nothing's gonna come of it anyways and I really didn't plan on telling anyone." "I'm just?" "Seriously, dude! Do not tell! I mean it! I don't want another story going around that's just gonna mess things up. I'm still figuring myself out." I think the fact he knew something no one else knew made him feel some sort of closeness to me he wouldn't have had if I'd just let him call me. I think he liked that, but I really didn't know. Because all he said was, "Who would I tell?" That really crushed me. It actually made me want to cry a little but I held back. Willis Wallace in his little fortress of solitude, with me as an infiltrator. I couldn't believe I'd shared this stuff with him, my little secret, the one I was hiding even from Emily. Willis looked at me and said, "What about the other one?" "What other one?" "You said you liked a couple of people." "I'm not gonna tell you that, either," I said. Shit, I had said that, hadn't I? I'd almost forgotten, just that quickly, just a slip-up. Why had I copped to two crushes? Who was that other girl? I saw her in my brain for a split second and quickly looked away. No. No, no, no! Then Willis told me what I needed to know. I felt a little wrung out when I made it back to the kitchen. Blinking, dazed. It was like coming out of a cave into the light for the very first time. But I knew what I needed to know, but all it did was confuse me even more. Gina had this sly look on her face; she probably thought Willis and I had been making out as my method of payment. Sarah asked me what I'd learned. And what I'd learned was that Heidi had keyed her own car.