time with Donald Caruso in the bus at all. No, it's amazing. It's like I'm an M&M melting in Frank's hands or a lump of sugar dissolving in a cup of tea. My legs get all shaky like Jell-O, they really do. I guess all the corny things they say about being in love are absolutely true.
“You're amazing, Vanessa,” Frank says, looking up at me with a grin. Then he turns away and I just sit there, since I don't know what else to do. Frank lights a cigaretteand then turns back around and gives me this weird look, like he's almost surprised to see me sitting there.
“Get dressed,” he says in this hard voice like he's fed up with me. When I don't move, he barks, “Move it, move it,” like he's a drill sergeant.
“Okay, okay,” I say, jumping off the counter. “Frank, what'd I do?” I ask, trying not to sound as freaked out as I feel. God, what did I do wrong now?
“Nothing.” Frank softens his voice a little. “Just get dressed.” He picks up my clothes from the floor and tosses them to me. I do what I'm told and then race out of the house because Frank has already gone down the stairs and out the door without waiting for me.
“Hey, Frank,” I yell, but he ignores me and just keeps walking toward the car, so I start to run after him. He wouldn't just leave me here, would he? Then what would I do?
“Frank, what's the matter?” I ask as I slip into the Volkswagen next to him, but he doesn't say a thing. Oh my God, is it over? Frank is so moody. One minute he's the nicest guy on the planet and the next minute he's a big fat jerk. He shoves the screwdriver into the ignition and the car makes this horrible wheezing sound like it's just about to die.
“That stupid scumbag Lloyd,” Frank snarls as he jiggles the screwdriver around.
“Who's Lloyd?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn't.
“My partner in crime,” Frank mumbles, which I guess is his way of saying friend. “That jerk was supposed to fix this after he …” Frank's voice trails off.
“After he what?”
“Never mind,” Frank says in his “don't ask any more questions” tone of voice.
Finally, just when I think I'm going to have to walk home, the engine catches. Frank floors it and throws the screwdriver onto the dash. He doesn't say one word to me the whole way back, and believe me, I know better than to start a conversation.
When Frank stops the car at the farm, I reach for my knapsack, kind of stalling, but he still doesn't say anything, so I clear my throat and ask, “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“That's for me to know and you to find out,” he says like a total five-year-old. I just look at him but he doesn't say anything else, so then there's nothing to do but get out of the car, slam the door, and wait until tomorrow. Frank sure is a puzzle. First he's nice as can be and then he's totally mean all in the space of an hour and a half. God, leave it to me to fall in love with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
FIVE
“Hello, Kaplan, what are you, deaf?”
“Huh?” I look up from my science quiz to see Stephen Taubman, whose enormous overgrown Jew-fro blocks my view of the blackboard, all turned around in his seat staring at me.
“May I have that, please?” Mrs. Markson is standing right next to my desk with her hand stretched out, and by her tone of voice, I can tell this is at least the third time she's asked me to hand over my paper.
I turn in my unfinished quiz, ask to be excused, and skedaddle into the girls' room for a little peace and quiet. I just want to think for a few minutes, so I lock myselfinto a stall and play yesterday's events over and over in my mind, like an old, scratched record that keeps skipping. But I just can't figure out what I did wrong. I let Frank go to second base with me, didn't I? Maybe I should have gone further. I don't want him to think I'm a cocktease, which is something guys supposedly hate. But on the other hand, according to Donna Rizzo, the only way to hold on to a guy is to refuse to go all
“You're amazing, Vanessa,” Frank says, looking up at me with a grin. Then he turns away and I just sit there, since I don't know what else to do. Frank lights a cigaretteand then turns back around and gives me this weird look, like he's almost surprised to see me sitting there.
“Get dressed,” he says in this hard voice like he's fed up with me. When I don't move, he barks, “Move it, move it,” like he's a drill sergeant.
“Okay, okay,” I say, jumping off the counter. “Frank, what'd I do?” I ask, trying not to sound as freaked out as I feel. God, what did I do wrong now?
“Nothing.” Frank softens his voice a little. “Just get dressed.” He picks up my clothes from the floor and tosses them to me. I do what I'm told and then race out of the house because Frank has already gone down the stairs and out the door without waiting for me.
“Hey, Frank,” I yell, but he ignores me and just keeps walking toward the car, so I start to run after him. He wouldn't just leave me here, would he? Then what would I do?
“Frank, what's the matter?” I ask as I slip into the Volkswagen next to him, but he doesn't say a thing. Oh my God, is it over? Frank is so moody. One minute he's the nicest guy on the planet and the next minute he's a big fat jerk. He shoves the screwdriver into the ignition and the car makes this horrible wheezing sound like it's just about to die.
“That stupid scumbag Lloyd,” Frank snarls as he jiggles the screwdriver around.
“Who's Lloyd?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn't.
“My partner in crime,” Frank mumbles, which I guess is his way of saying friend. “That jerk was supposed to fix this after he …” Frank's voice trails off.
“After he what?”
“Never mind,” Frank says in his “don't ask any more questions” tone of voice.
Finally, just when I think I'm going to have to walk home, the engine catches. Frank floors it and throws the screwdriver onto the dash. He doesn't say one word to me the whole way back, and believe me, I know better than to start a conversation.
When Frank stops the car at the farm, I reach for my knapsack, kind of stalling, but he still doesn't say anything, so I clear my throat and ask, “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“That's for me to know and you to find out,” he says like a total five-year-old. I just look at him but he doesn't say anything else, so then there's nothing to do but get out of the car, slam the door, and wait until tomorrow. Frank sure is a puzzle. First he's nice as can be and then he's totally mean all in the space of an hour and a half. God, leave it to me to fall in love with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
FIVE
“Hello, Kaplan, what are you, deaf?”
“Huh?” I look up from my science quiz to see Stephen Taubman, whose enormous overgrown Jew-fro blocks my view of the blackboard, all turned around in his seat staring at me.
“May I have that, please?” Mrs. Markson is standing right next to my desk with her hand stretched out, and by her tone of voice, I can tell this is at least the third time she's asked me to hand over my paper.
I turn in my unfinished quiz, ask to be excused, and skedaddle into the girls' room for a little peace and quiet. I just want to think for a few minutes, so I lock myselfinto a stall and play yesterday's events over and over in my mind, like an old, scratched record that keeps skipping. But I just can't figure out what I did wrong. I let Frank go to second base with me, didn't I? Maybe I should have gone further. I don't want him to think I'm a cocktease, which is something guys supposedly hate. But on the other hand, according to Donna Rizzo, the only way to hold on to a guy is to refuse to go all
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