Please Ignore Vera Dietz(35)
Author: A.S. King

I thought back to the note he sent with the flowers. I said, “Love. Love, Charlie.” My helmet said, “Love. Love, Charlie.”

The place was deserted but for two cars, and I couldn’t see any people.

Charlie slowed down and pulled into the first parking space, the one right in front of the pagoda itself, and put his feet down to steady us. I stepped off, and then he balanced the bike on the kickstand and got off, too. We took our helmets off, and I reached up and tousled my hair to feel better about it. Charlie smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, someone yelled, “Hey, Charlie! Over here!”

It was one of his Vo-Tech friends. He was down on the rocks, waving at us. Charlie waved back, then turned to me and said, “Come on.” I gave an obvious scowl, but he didn’t see it. As he walked, I saw him reach back for my hand, but I slowed instead and kept my arms to my sides.

There were six of them. Two couples curled up with each other and two extra guys, goofing around on the rocks. They had beer.

“Do you all know Vera?”

There were grunts of different answers. Yeah. No. Hey, Vera. Welcome. Nice to meet you. Weren’t you in my gym class last year? Are you in Tech? Isn’t she the one who …

I managed, “Hi.” What I meant was: Take me home.

“Wanna beer?”

Charlie caught a flying can of beer. Then another. I declined and he stuck mine in the pocket of his leather. I was starting to get cold. The wind was bitter. This didn’t seem like a date to me.

“You cool?” Charlie asked.

I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say, so I said, “Yeah.”

The two couples sat at the very edge of the far rocks. They giggled and tossed their empty beer cans into the air and listened to them bounce off the rocks and land farther down the hill. Charlie guzzled down his beer really fast, then pulled the one meant for me out of his pocket and cracked it open.

“You want to sit down?” Charlie asked.

“I’m freezing,” I said. What I meant was: I hate you.

Ten minutes later, the two couples who were on the rocks got up and walked over to us. They were Jenny Flick and Bill Corso, and Gretchen and her drunk boyfriend, who I heard was in college.

“She isn’t drinking?” Jenny asked Charlie. I was standing right there, but she asked Charlie.

“I don’t drink,” I said.

This caused a chain reaction of snickering. Someone passed out more beers. Two guys headed toward the edge of the rocks to pee.

“You okay?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” I said. What I meant was: No.

Bill Corso reached into his back pocket and pulled out a joint. The rest of them circled around him to block the wind. My brain was sprinting through a trillion thoughts. Nothing made sense. They passed the joint around quickly, taking loud hits from it, and when it got to me, Charlie spared me by taking it from the person who was passing it. When she was done exhaling, Jenny said, “And she doesn’t smoke, either.”

Charlie looked annoyed. “So?”

Jenny shrugged and moved her eyes from me to Charlie, back to me, and then back to Charlie. I could see her brain working. Then, while the others passed the joint around again, her eyes undressed Charlie while I watched. It was so obvious, it made me sick to my stomach.

Charlie must have noticed I was shivering, because he put his arm around me and enclosed me in his leather jacket, next to his warm chest. This made Jenny sneer and put her arm tightly around Corso, and it made me warm enough to realize that I had to pee—which was a problem, because the pagoda was closed for business and there were no bathrooms.

When the stoner circle broke up, Charlie lit a Marlboro and the couples went back to making out on the rocks. I whispered in Charlie’s ear about having to pee.

“There’s a great spot down by the wall that Jenny uses sometimes. I’ll stand watch.”

I said, “Thanks.” What I meant was: You’ve been here before with Jenny?

I walked down in the red glow, with my right hand on the stone wall to keep my footing. Charlie stopped at the top of the path. When I reached a dark enough spot, a few steps into the trees, I slid my jeans down, and once my body adjusted to the freezing cold, I finally peed. Above the sound of liquid on frozen ground, I heard Jenny say, “Why’d you bring her?”

Charlie said, “Vera’s cool, man.”

“You think?” one of the guys said.

I reached into my coat pocket for a tissue to wipe.

“Shut up. She’s not deaf, you know.”

“Isn’t she a geek?”

“No,” Charlie said, annoyed.

“I heard she was.”

“I heard her mom slept around.”

“That’s kinda hot,” one of the guys said.

“It’s skanky,” Jenny Flick said.

My heart beat in my chest as I zipped up and followed the wall back to the glowing red scene. Charlie held out his hand, but again, I didn’t take it. I thought he could see things the way I was seeing them, and figured we were about to say goodbye and go wherever we were going next. But when we got back to the rocks, he walked over to the two Vo-Tech guys and pulled out a small bottle of booze from the inner pocket of his leather, took a swig, and passed it on.

They both drank, and when they passed it to Charlie again, and he tilted his head back to drink, one of them said, “Hey! Kahn brought the good shit!”

Charlie turned to me. “Want some?”

I said, “Nah.” What I meant was: Who are you?

He reached into his cigarette pack for a smoke, but it was empty. He fumbled around his leathers and then turned to me. “Veer? Could you grab me the pack of smokes under the seat of the bike?”

“Sure,” I said.

Jenny Flick said, “While you’re at it, can you stop somewhere and find a personality?”

“Jenny,” Charlie said.

“What? I was kidding.”

“Wasn’t funny,” he said, and then turned to say something to me, but I was already walking up toward the parking area. I got Charlie’s Marlboros from under the seat and stuffed them in my pocket. I stopped and sat on the wall, and faced the pagoda and appreciated its bizarre, out-of-place beauty. I thought if I stayed up there for a minute or two, Charlie would come looking for me, but instead, I smelled pot smoke again, and realized no one gave a shit.

I gave myself a real Ken Dietz pep talk. “Vera, this is what kids do in high school. You shouldn’t be up here sulking. You should go back and be yourself. Cynical, funny, straight-up Vera Dietz.”