All Adults Here(58)

“Bob’s Burgers!” said the kid in tie-dye. Megan wrote it down slowly, in bubbly letters.

“Into the Woods!” said James. “Or, just more generally, fairy tales.”

“Elizabeth Taylor,” August said. When Cecelia turned to look, surprised that he’d spoken, he said, “What? As long as I’m here, might as well contribute.”

Fifteen minutes later, the following list was on the board: Bob’s Burgers, Into the Woods/fairy tales, Elizabeth Taylor, 1001 Arabian Nights, Rock and Roll, the 1980s, Shakespeare, the Empire State, and Clapham FTW. August got up to go to the bathroom, and as soon as he was gone, the girl sitting in front of Cecelia turned around.

“Hey,” the girl said. She was the one wearing all black, down to her fingernails and eyeliner. “You’re Cecelia, right?”

It didn’t sound promising. “Yeah?” Cecelia said, as though she were unsure of the answer.

“I’m Melody,” the girl said. “Seventh grade.”

“Hi,” Cecelia said.

“Can I ask you something? Well, two somethings, really.” Melody waited.

“Okay,” Cecelia said.

Melody leaned halfway across the expanse between their desks, and after a moment’s hesitation, Cecelia leaned in the other direction to meet her there, their heads nearly touching.

“You’re friends with August, right? Is he gay? He’s gay, right?” Cecelia’s eyes were level with Melody’s temple, and she watched the thin skin move in and out as Melody breathed.

“I don’t know,” Cecelia said. It actually hadn’t occurred to her, which instantly made her feel very, very stupid, even though of course she didn’t know if it was true. Her generation—at least at home—had been open-minded, at least that’s what her father said, with awe, you kids are all so open, even though the alternative seemed like choosing to live in a previous incarnation of the world, like the people who were into steampunk and wore stovepipe hats. But who knew if that was true here. This was how rumors worked—no matter if something was true or not, if it sounded like it might be true, and was something you hadn’t actually imagined yourself, then truthfulness seemed triply more likely. Who cared if Megan and James really had sex, or did whatever, in a bathroom? If everyone said they did, what was the difference? That was how she’d ended up in Clapham. Obviously Cecelia hadn’t understood as much as she thought she had about the way her generation worked.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Melody said. “Second question. Is it true you got kicked out of your old school for sleeping with someone you met on the internet? How did they find out? Your school, I mean. Because . . .”—here Melody paused and took a breath—“. . . because I’ve been talking to a guy who’s a freshman in the high school and he’s friends with my older brother and nothing’s happened yet but he said that in two years, when I’m a freshman and he’s a junior, he wants to take me to junior prom, which actually seems sweet, but he’s not, like, my boyfriend, and I definitely don’t want to get kicked out of school. What do you think?”

Cecelia sat back up and shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

Melody stayed where she was, clearly still waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” Cecelia said. “That doesn’t sound like something that could get you kicked out of school. Tell your parents, maybe?”

“Oh, they know,” Melody said. She nodded vigorously. “But good, good. Okay. Thank you!”

Ms. Skolnick had pushed herself off the desk. She grabbed a mug, checked to see that it was empty, and said, “Okay, everyone! Time to vote! Grab a piece of paper, write down your vote, then pop it in!” Cecelia was happy for the interruption. She tore a small corner of paper out of her notebook and hunched over. August slid back into his seat.

“Voting time? You better vote for mine.” He hunched over, too, as if they were taking a test and he didn’t want her to cheat off his page. Maybe they were.

Ms. Skolnick walked up and down the aisles, holding her cup out like a beggar, until everyone had dropped their folded choices in. When everyone had put in their vote, she walked back to her desk.

“Anyone care to tally?” Megan sauntered back to the board like a bored Vanna White.

In the end, it was a gentle victory for Clapham FTW, which had squeaked ahead by a single vote.

“Well, okay,” Ms. Skolnick said, surprised. “Not really sure what that means, but we can make it work.”

“Maybe it can be round, with a gazebo in the middle,” Cecelia heard herself say. “You know, like the town? I don’t know. Maybe that’s dumb.” More than anything else, Cecelia was mad at her parents and Katherine for making her second-guess her every decision.

August gasped. “That is actually a really good idea.”

Ms. Skolnick nodded, and the rest of the Parade Crew turned around to look at Cecelia, their dark horse.





Chapter 27





Wendy Asks for a Hand



Wendy had called and asked Porter to meet her at Spiro’s, which wasn’t like her at all. Porter didn’t actually think she’d ever seen Wendy eat a meal in a Clapham restaurant, and she’d been married to Porter’s brother for a decade. Drink iced coffee, maybe, while cutting grapes in half for her sons or asking questions about the provenance of the meat in the hamburger, but never actually just dig in and eat. Porter was curious but also hungry. She left the house twenty minutes earlier than she needed to and started driving.