School had barely started, and Zoe was already counting down the days to summer. She had happily dropped science, but the school required she take math all four years. She was struggling in it, and was bored in Civics and English. Luckily she had filled her schedule with art courses: drawing and painting, advanced sculpture, photography, video, and ceramics. But even they were starting out slow this year.
Meanwhile, Elmo had been spotted hanging out with Abby in another neighborhood; her mother was on her back more than ever about school and college applications; two colleges had rejected her, and Homecoming loomed. She still hadn’t given B.B. an answer.
He stopped her one evening on the stairs to the third floor. “Do you want to go with me to Homecoming?”
“Um,” said Zoe wearily. She had just spent several hours roaming the streets with Bert and several other friends. “Look—Big Bird—” She gazed up desperately into his face. He was nearly three feet taller than her. “I’m sorry, but—I don’t think I’m going to go.”
He looked disappointed, but he shrugged it off. “Well, that’s okay.” He looked like he was going to say something; then he just shook his head. “See you around, Zoe.”
“See you.”
For the first time in days, Elmo sat with them at lunch the next afternoon.
“Well, hey,” growled Cookie, pausing from polishing off his tray (that’s including the tray). “Long time, no see.”
Elmo chose not to respond to these last few words. “Hey.” He sat next to Zoe, and she felt that electric charge run through her when his smooth fur brushed hers. Zoe was tongue tied. She swallowed. Across the cafeteria she saw Abby sitting with a group of her friends (all sluts, of course). For a brief moment their eyes met, and Abby’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. Then her face relaxed and she turned away.
“Jesus,” Zoe muttered. To Elmo she said, “You still going to that rave with her?”
Bert looked up. “What rave?”
Elmo threw Zoe an angry glance. “I don’t know. Don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Last week you said—” Zoe began, but he cut her off. “God, Zoe, why don’t you just stop talking bulls**t?”
Zoe fell silent, shocked and hurt. It was often that Elmo could be a jerk, but he was never downright mean, least of all to her.
To her surprise, Cookie set down his cookie and glared at him. “Yo, what’s the matter with you? If you’re just gonna be an a-hole to us all then f**k off.”
Elmo stood up. “Maybe I will.” He strode out of the cafeteria. Across the room Zoe saw Abby stand.
She got up, too.
“Where’re you goin’?” Bert asked.
“Um, BRB,” Zoe replied distantly.
Abby was hurrying towards the door but Zoe had much longer legs, she got there first.
She found Elmo at his locker, fiddling with the finicky dial.
“What’s up?” he said gloomily.
Zoe felt a flash of irritation. Couldn’t he at least apologize for his behavior? “There is a rave Saturday, isn’t there? At the old stadium?”
Elmo sighed and gave up on his locker. “Yeah, there is. I just didn’t want Bert coming along and whining in my ear the whole time.”
Zoe was silent. (What about her?)
“Elmo!”
They both turned. Abby was hurrying towards them. The false smile one usually found plastered across her face was replaced with a bratty-looking pout. “Elmo!” she whined. “Why did you leave?”
Once again, unexpected anger flared in Zoe, but this time it was directed towards the little fairy.
“Jesus Christ,” she said loudly. “What, can’t he leave you alone for five seconds, you f**king little parasite?”
Abby stopped. “Well, what a b***h you are!”
“I’m a b***h?” Zoe continued, her voice rising shrilly. “Look who’s talking! At least I don’t spread my legs for every boy who comes along!”
Abby literally let out a scream of rage. She slapped Zoe across the face. She was stronger than she looked. Zoe grabbed her wrists and kicked her in the shins. Abby head-butted her fiercely in the chest and tore free. Then she came at Zoe, nails clawing at the air. Zoe seized a fistful of that damn sparkly hair and yanked with all her strength.
They fell to the floor, scratching and screeching like a pair of cats. Zoe quickly took the advantage; she was a lot bigger and stronger than Abby. She started punching the other girl in the face.
All at once, Zoe felt herself lifted off Abby. She struggled, kicking and screaming, but whoever it was was too strong. They were tall, too.
A teacher was hauling Abby off the floor. She was clutching her face and crying. Zoe could see blood soaking into her fur.
“You did a good job on her,” said the person holding her. Zoe flipped her head back to see Big Bird gazing back down at her.
“She had it coming!” she snarled.
B.B set her down delicately, as if she was a bomb that might go off if handled too roughly. “Was just saying.”
A flash of red off to her right caught her eye: Elmo was still slouching around.
“Damn, girl,” he said with a grin. “That was one helluva fight.”
Zoe did not smile back. She still wasn’t feeling too happy with Elmo. “Thanks for your support,” she said frostily. She started walking away.
“Zoe!”
Zoe turned. It was B.B.
“Do you want me to walk you to the nurse?” he asked.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “No. I’m fine.”
Zoe spent Saturday in her room. Her mom was halfway across town, working, so she could safely blast her music. That was, until the old coozers downstairs managed to get up here.
The first knock came just after noon. With an exasperated sigh, Zoe rolled out of bed and stomped to the front door.
“What?” she demanded in her meanest voice, yanking open the door. “Oh—”
She found herself staring at B.B.’s XXXXL tight T-shirt, flaunting his big chest and powerful abs. She hated to admit it—but B.B. was pretty hot.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
B.B. shifted nervously. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come down and hang for a few hours.”
Zoe hesitated, then wondered why she did (I’ll tell you why. She’s ashamed to admit to herself, but she’s scared to be seen with Big Bird because he’s a “good boy”). Here was a chance to do something other than mope around.
“Yeah,” she said, aware that she was still in her pajamas and looked like a total slouch. “Um, let me just—”
B.B. nodded and smiled, and Zoe went to get ready.
An hour later she descended to the second floor, showered, trimmed, combed, and dressed in a clean T-shirt and jeans. She knocked on the door of #208.
B.B. pulled it open with a grin. “God, it’s about time, I thought you’d never come.” He stood back to let her in. Unlike her apartment, his door opened into a decently-sized living room. The kitchen was through the next door, alongside the hallway. A TV was pressed up against the wall opposite a king-size couch with a worn coffee table in front of it. It was blaring; a football game was on.
“Ohio and Penn,” B.B. said. He grabbed the remote and turned it down a little. “Mind?”
“No, of course, not,” said Zoe, sitting nervously on the couch.
“I got hot chocolate,” he said, kicking the door shut. “And snacks.”
“What snacks?” Zoe asked.
He went into the kitchen. “Oreos, wafers—”
“Everything you got!” she called back, laughing.
It was surprisingly peaceful, just sitting with B.B. on the couch, talking and joking. Zoe found he was easier to talk to than Elmo and even Cookie; he was empathetic and got her humor. At one point he told her how much he liked art, especially ceramics. He brought her a shallow dish done in white clay with colorful patterns around the edge and center.
“You did this?” Zoe breathed, running her fingers over it.
“Yep,” Big Bird said. “I have more…” Soon he had set out a collection of pottery he’d made in art.
“Wow,” said Zoe, impressed. “I could never do this. I mean, I like ceramics, but I’m really more of a 2-d person…”
Big Bird nodded. “Yeah, I remember seeing some of your work in the gallery. You’re really good at drawing. That’s definitely not my thing.”
They went on talking. Outside the sky darkened slowly. 4 o’clock came and went, and then five, and then six. At half past six Zoe’s phone, abandoned on the coffee table, buzzed. It was not a text, but a phone call.
“Hold on,” Zoe said to B.B., recovering from laughing at one of his jokes. She picked up the cell phone. “Hello?”
“Holy hell!” Elmo’s voice shouted into the phone. “Man, Zoe, you gotta get down here!” From the racket on the other line he seemed to be surrounded by many noisy people. Zoe though she heard loud rap playing in the background. She withdrew the phone from her ear a little and glanced at B.B. From his raised eyebrows, she could tell that he could hear, and was listening.
“Elmo?” she said carefully. “What’s up?”
“Man, it’s this rave!” Elmo shouted. “It’s unbelievable—there’s so many kids like us, Zoe!”
Zoe didn’t answer. She noticed Big Bird’s eyes were narrowed.
“K-kids like us?” She said. “What do you mean, Elmo?”
“I mean druggies! Potheads! Whatever. But you’ve got to get down here, girl—it’s amazing. Zoe, they have X!”
Uh-oh. Zoe met B.B.’s eyes.
“Don’t do it, Zoe,” he said quietly. “Don’t go.”
“Hello? Zoe?” Elmo was clearly wondering what the hold-up was.
“Elmo—” Zoe began, not sure what she was going to say.
“He’s an idiot,” B.B. said. “And he’s going to drag you down with him.”
This time Elmo heard him. “What the hell? Are you with another guy, Zoe? Who was that talking?”
“It was—just the TV—” Zoe started to say.
Elmo snorted. “Yeah, bull. Who’s the guy, Zoe?”
Zoe hesitated. “Big Bird.”
Next moment she jerked the phone away from her ear as Elmo’s shriek of derisive laughter burst on the line. “Big Bird!” he howled. “What, are we not good enough for you now? Did you take a fall down the stairs or something?”
Zoe felt heat flush to her cheeks. Without another word she slid her phone shut, disconnecting Elmo.
Big Bird looked at her. She looked at him. There was a sudden silence, despite the noise of the TV, still broadcasting football games. Zoe squirmed.
“Well, aren’t you going then?” Big Bird said, his voice unexpectedly bitter. “Gonna go cozy up to that little red sleazeball?”
“Don’t talk about him like that!” Zoe snapped; despite Elmo’s jerkiness the past few weeks, he was still her friend, and, well—she still liked him.
Big Bird’s eyes narrowed. “I take it your head’s feeling better? Recovered from falling down the stairs now?”
Zoe stood up. “It’s been nice, B.B., but I really need to go now. I have, um…homework.”
“Homework,” he repeated. She was scared by the flat, cold look in his eyes.
“Yeah…um…’bye…” Zoe gestured feebly before wrenching open the door.
He didn’t respond.
Gender:
Points: 9631
Reviews: 118