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Authors: Chris Crutcher
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next two weeks simply by using up a lifetime of heartbeats. He has to try….
He approaches the door; forcing out of his mind how pretty she is, he raises his hand to knock. What if her dad is home? What if he comes out? This guy botherin’ you, sweetie? Boy, you better git on down them stairs the way you came….
Halfway down the walk he remembers it’s only four in the afternoon and edges back to the top of the porch. Her dad will be at work. It’s now or never. Three times more he stutter-steps toward the door; three times he turns back. Anyone watching surely believes he didn’t get his money’s worth from his dance lessons. The boogeymen of indecision have blockadedhis synapse paths, and finally, in hopeless frustration, he plops helplessly onto the top step, drops his chin in his hands, and waits for his head to clear.
Behind him the door creaks, then from inches behind him: “Jeezus. You are a mess . I hope you brought a tent.”
Petey doesn’t turn. His frustration always brings tears, and if she sees his face, his humiliation will triple. “My granddad told me when I have a problem, I need to face it.”
“So turn around and face it.”
“I didn’t know it would be so hard.”
“I guess your granddad never had to carry his cauliflower ear home in a wrestling bag.”
“Guess not.”
A salty droplet melts a bullet-sized hole in the light skiff of snow on the step below Petey’s face. Chris’s voice immediately softens. “Jeez, c’mon, what’s the matter?”
Petey hates it when the tears come. He can’t talk . What a wus.
“What are you doing here?” Chris says. “You must have come here for a reason.”
“I came to say I was sorry,” Petey says, “for the other day. You know, with my bigmouth friend. I wasstupid. I thought you guys were laughing, I mean, because you thought he was funny. You’d be surprised how many girls like him. I was just trying to go along with everything. I didn’t know you were Chris Byers. I’m not usually like that; I mean, I don’t go talkin’ dirty to girls or anything like that. Anyway, I was talking to my granddad and—”
Chris places a hand on his knee. “Breathe,” she says. “Take it easy. I believe you. I got a little out of hand myself. Everybody’s got some smartass thing to say to a girl wrestler.”
“Yeah,” Petey says, thinking what a genius Granddad is, “I bet. They’ve got some pretty smartass things to say to anyone who wrestles a girl wrestler, too.”
“Guess there are just a lot of smartass folks around, huh?” Chris says.
“Yeah.” Petey hesitates then, but decides what the hell, he’s on a roll. Who knows how long it’ll be before he’s talking to a girl this pretty anywhere but in his dreams? “What did make you decide to be a wrestler?” he asks. “Not very many girls even watch wrestling. I mean there’s mud wrestling and Jell-O wrestling and—”
“Watch yourself.”
He bites down on his tongue like it’s a hot dog.“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean you should do that kind of wrestling. I just meant that’s the kind you usually see girls doing, I mean if you have cable or go to really bad movies. I didn’t mean—”
“Will you stop?” she says. “Boy, you do get cranked up, don’t you?”
Petey blushes. Chris Byers isn’t the first person who’s said that. “Yeah, but why did you get into it? I mean, why wrestling? They have other girls’ sports.”
“I liked it.”
“Yeah, but how would you know that in the first place? I mean, something had to get you to wrestle the first time. You know, like cliff divers. I always wonder how they get themselves to do that the first time.” He imagines her discovering headgear in an old Dumpster behind Silver Creek High School when she was six, or looking into the mirror in junior high and thinking earrings would look better in cauliflower ears. Hard to figure.
“Jeez. Does your mind run like that all the time?”
Petey smiles and
He approaches the door; forcing out of his mind how pretty she is, he raises his hand to knock. What if her dad is home? What if he comes out? This guy botherin’ you, sweetie? Boy, you better git on down them stairs the way you came….
Halfway down the walk he remembers it’s only four in the afternoon and edges back to the top of the porch. Her dad will be at work. It’s now or never. Three times more he stutter-steps toward the door; three times he turns back. Anyone watching surely believes he didn’t get his money’s worth from his dance lessons. The boogeymen of indecision have blockadedhis synapse paths, and finally, in hopeless frustration, he plops helplessly onto the top step, drops his chin in his hands, and waits for his head to clear.
Behind him the door creaks, then from inches behind him: “Jeezus. You are a mess . I hope you brought a tent.”
Petey doesn’t turn. His frustration always brings tears, and if she sees his face, his humiliation will triple. “My granddad told me when I have a problem, I need to face it.”
“So turn around and face it.”
“I didn’t know it would be so hard.”
“I guess your granddad never had to carry his cauliflower ear home in a wrestling bag.”
“Guess not.”
A salty droplet melts a bullet-sized hole in the light skiff of snow on the step below Petey’s face. Chris’s voice immediately softens. “Jeez, c’mon, what’s the matter?”
Petey hates it when the tears come. He can’t talk . What a wus.
“What are you doing here?” Chris says. “You must have come here for a reason.”
“I came to say I was sorry,” Petey says, “for the other day. You know, with my bigmouth friend. I wasstupid. I thought you guys were laughing, I mean, because you thought he was funny. You’d be surprised how many girls like him. I was just trying to go along with everything. I didn’t know you were Chris Byers. I’m not usually like that; I mean, I don’t go talkin’ dirty to girls or anything like that. Anyway, I was talking to my granddad and—”
Chris places a hand on his knee. “Breathe,” she says. “Take it easy. I believe you. I got a little out of hand myself. Everybody’s got some smartass thing to say to a girl wrestler.”
“Yeah,” Petey says, thinking what a genius Granddad is, “I bet. They’ve got some pretty smartass things to say to anyone who wrestles a girl wrestler, too.”
“Guess there are just a lot of smartass folks around, huh?” Chris says.
“Yeah.” Petey hesitates then, but decides what the hell, he’s on a roll. Who knows how long it’ll be before he’s talking to a girl this pretty anywhere but in his dreams? “What did make you decide to be a wrestler?” he asks. “Not very many girls even watch wrestling. I mean there’s mud wrestling and Jell-O wrestling and—”
“Watch yourself.”
He bites down on his tongue like it’s a hot dog.“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean you should do that kind of wrestling. I just meant that’s the kind you usually see girls doing, I mean if you have cable or go to really bad movies. I didn’t mean—”
“Will you stop?” she says. “Boy, you do get cranked up, don’t you?”
Petey blushes. Chris Byers isn’t the first person who’s said that. “Yeah, but why did you get into it? I mean, why wrestling? They have other girls’ sports.”
“I liked it.”
“Yeah, but how would you know that in the first place? I mean, something had to get you to wrestle the first time. You know, like cliff divers. I always wonder how they get themselves to do that the first time.” He imagines her discovering headgear in an old Dumpster behind Silver Creek High School when she was six, or looking into the mirror in junior high and thinking earrings would look better in cauliflower ears. Hard to figure.
“Jeez. Does your mind run like that all the time?”
Petey smiles and
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