DeBeers 04 Into the Woods Read online

  "Okay," I said. "Come to my house at seven."

  "Your house?"

  "I'll leave your name at the gate. Here's my address." I tore a sheet of paper from my notebook. He spoke as I scribbled and made a little map of the street.

  "I was thinking I could maybe come get you and take you to my house. It's going to be very quiet there. My parents are going to a charity event, and my sister is sleeping over at a friend's house."

  I handed him the paper. "I don't go anywhere on a school night," I said with a finality that made his shoulders sag,

  "Oh. Your father's like a general or something, isn't he?"

  "No," I said, laughing with good justification this time. "The navy doesn't have generals. Admirals. My father is a lieutenant commander, an instructor in Heliops."

  "Huh?"

  "Helicopters.''

  "Oh."

  "Don't look so worried. The last time he bit someone, there was no sign of rabies." I added.

  "I just thought we would be more comfortable at my place:"

  "I'm very comfortable at home. I have my own room. No one will bother us. I promise." I said "All we're going to do is study anyway, so why worry?"

  "Right," he said. He glanced at the group of students hovering around Wendi and Penny and then smiled at me and said he would be there at seven.

  Before the end of the day I saw him again. He gave me a big smile and waved on his way to baseball practice. I knew he was one of the school's star pitchers and there was one more big game to be played. I had yet to attend one and thought that I just might go to this game. scheduled for Friday at the home. field.

  Despite my determination not to let our study session be anything else but that. I couldn't help feeling excited about it. I tried to be as casual and nonchalant as I could when I informed Mommy that Trent was coming to study with me. Daddy was still at work, and then he called to say he wouldn't be home for dinner. He had a meeting with his command to plan an elaborate exercise. At dinner Mommy asked me about Trent, and I told her he was the boy Autumn had a big crush on. I explained haw popular he was, a star on the baseball team, and very goodlooking. I added that I had told him how seriously I took my studying for tests, practically growling about it.

  She smiled to herself as if she knew something about me that I didn't know.

  I went on and an about how helping someone study reinforces everything for yourself. She listened and nodded but kept that soft smile on her lips.

  "What?" I finally cried. "I know you've been laughing at me. Mommy."

  "I'm not laughing at you, Grace. I think you're cute justifying a study session with this boy. You let slip how good-looking and popular he is, not to mention what a hero he is on the baseball team. You like him, don't you?"

  "I don't know him enough to like him. Mommy."

  "Okay." she said, and then dropped the smile from her lips and looked hard at me. "Don't let what happened to Autumn Sullivan dominate your relationships with boys. honey. Keep it all in mind, be cautious, but don't be afraid of yourself. Do you know what I mean? I want you to have fun. too. There's a balance you have to find. If you make every boy you meet feel like he's a rapist, you won't ever have any good times, and before you know it, you'll have left all the opportunities behind and never have a real youth. With all the moving we've done, I'm always afraid you will miss out on the fun."

  "How do you find the balance?" I asked.

  "You'll find it. You've got a good head on your shoulders. Just listen to all the little voices and warnings and take your time before you place your trust in anyone. That's the best advice I can give."

  "Didn't Autumn's mother give her any advice. Mommy?"

  She shrugged. "Maybe not. honey. Some people are afraid of bringing any of this up. They have this faith that somehow, miraculously, everything will turn out all right. I don't think Autumn had too good a selfimage, either, do you? She was too desperate for acceptance. At least, that's what I've concluded after listening to her mother talk about her."

  "Yes," I said I started to help her clean up.

  "Go on. Prepare for your study session." she said. "There's not much to do here. and I know how you are about your room whenever anyone, not to mention a handsome young man looks at it."

  She winked and nudged me with her shoulder.

  I smiled at her and then went to my room. Nervously, I set it up, placing two chairs at the desk, then thinking they were too close, then too far away. I adjusted the blinds, debated about how much light we needed, fixed my bed until it looked as snappy as a military bunk, cleaned the vanity mirror, dusted, set out my books and my notebook, started to plan a strategy for studying our history notes, checked myself in the mirror, brushed my hair, debated about putting on lipstick, thought about putting on same cologne, and then finally sat and stared at the clock. It was five minutes to seven. The guard at the gate would be calling any moment to let us know we had a visitor.

  Wendi and Penny were sure to find out about this. I thought. I wondered if it would raise my status in their eyes or simply frustrate them more. They had done their best to isolate me from the other students who came from naval families, as well as many of the students in our class, portraying me as snobby. That was ironic. Who in the school was more conceited than those two? I knew that my shyness was often misinterpreted that way, however, so I realized they were having success. This would be their first big failure, and it hadn't come too soon with the school year's end just around the corner.

  I began to ad- antsy at five after seven. I told myself not to get upset, civilians didn't have the same commitment to time and schedules as we did. When someone in the Navy was told to report at thirteen hours, he or she was there at the striking of the hour. Lateness was almost as sinful as disloyalty.

  However, by seven-fifteen I was seriously concerned, even a bit angry. I opened my notebook and began to review the day's new material, trying not to look at the time or think about it At twenty-five after seven. Mommy knocked on my door.

  "Didn't you say he was coming at seven?" she asked. "Yes. He was supposed to be here by then."

  "Oh. Well. I told Lorraine Sanders I would stop by at seven-thirty to help her choose some new wallpaper for their kitchen."

  "Don't wait around, Mommy. He's rude to be this late and not call me."

  "Just don't get yourself upset over it. Grace,"

  "I'm not." I lied. "I'm doing the studying I have to do anyway."

  She nodded. "I'll call you in an hour. You know where I am if you need me.," she added.

  I heard her leave the house, and then I sat back and folded my arms under my breasts. When I gazed at myself in the mirror. I thought I looked as if I was fuming enough to start a stream of smoke out of my ears. Wendi and Penny must have gotten to him. I thought. They must have found out, and they must have pulled him aside and told him ridiculous stories about me. My rage blurred my eyes when I went back to my notes, which only made me angrier.

  Finally, at seven thirty-five, the phone rang. I made up my mind I would tell him the thirty-five minutes we lost couldn't be made up. We were stopping at nine no matter what. I had other things to do. People had to realize the consequences of their inconsideration.

  To my surprise it wasn't the guard at the gate. It was Trent.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I sprained my ankle at baseball practice, and they took me to the hospital emergency room. I just got home. and I'm sitting here with ice on my ankle."

  "Oh."

  "I would have called you earlier, but with all the excitement and waiting for the X ray..."

  "That's all right," I said "Is it painful?"

  Not as much now, but I'm out of the game. I might even have to stay home tomorrow. I don't know. They gave me a crutch so I would stay off the foot, but maybe if I just rest it I won't need it. "Anyway," he said before I could respond, "I'm really in deep trouble now study-wise and need your help more than ever. Would it be all right if I send a cab to pick you up and pay for one to t
ake you home?"

  "'What?" He was speaking so fast I couldn't absorb the idea.

  "The taxi could be there in twenty minutes. I already found out. Actually. I've already sent him to your address, hoping you'll say yes. We could still get in a couple of hours. My notes are a mess."

  "I..." I looked in my mirror and saw myself shaking my head. "A taxi? That's expensive, isn't it?"

  "It's worth it. My parents will be proud that I spent money on a good thing for a change."

  There was a beep on the phone.

  "Hold on, someone's calling," I said, and pressed the button marked Flash.

  "I have a taxi arriving for Grace Houston." the guard at the gate declared.

  "What?" He really had done it.

  "Sending him through," the guard declared.

  "Wait," I started to say, but the line went dead. I flicked the button. "The cab is already here!"

  "Great. See you soon. He knows my address." Trent said, and hung up.

  When I looked at myself in the mirror again, I saw how my jaw had dropped.

  Quickly I rose, went out to the kitchen to find the Sanders's number on our Rolodex. I heard the taxi driver beep his horn. As soon as I found the Sanders's number. I punched it out, but it rang and rang and rang, and no one picked up. Whoever was on the phone was not going to permit an interruption. The driver sounded his horn again.

  I went to the front door and waved to him. "Just a minute, please." I called. He nodded,

  I returned to my room and stood there for a moment, completely indecisive. Then I gathered up my books and notebook and went back out, stopping in the kitchen to call the Sanders's home again. It still rang and rang. so I gave up.

  As quickly as I could. I wrote a note to Mommy, explaining what had happened, and left it beside the phone. Then I hurried out to the cab. The driver was standing and smoking. He flipped his cigarette at the street and opened the door for me. I got in, and he backed out of our driveway. My heart was thumping.

  This is both ex-citing and crazy, I thought, never recalling doing anything as impulsive.

  Minutes later we were on the highway. and I was sitting rigid in the back, embracing my books as if they were a parachute and any time I wanted I could pull the cord and bail out. I replayed Mommy's advice to me as if it was a prayer. I want you to have fun, too. There's a balance you have to find. If you make every boy you meet feel like he a rapist, you won't ever have any good times, and before you know it, you'll have left all the opportunities behind and never have a real youth. With all the moving, we've done, we always afraid you will miss out on the fun.

  Those words calmed me down. and I sat back until we pulled into the driveway of what was obviously a very expensive home in one of the upscale communities.

  With his crutch under his right arm. Trent came to the front door. I saw he wasn't wearing a shoe on his right foot, and it was bandaged about the ankle. He grimaced.

  "Sorry about all this," he said. "Thanks for coming."

  "How did it happen?"

  "Bad slide into third base. I tried to make a double into a triple and paid for my greed," he explained with a laugh, "Come on in."

  His house was a beautiful ranch-style home with a large front lawn. The stonework on the outside looked very expensive, and when I entered I saw a chandelier, plush area rugs, and elegant furnishings. No home we had lived in was even half its size. I thought. I remarked about how beautiful his house was, and he flipped on some lights by a patio door to show me the patio and the swimming pool.

  "C'mon," he said, turning the lights off "I know how sacrosanct your study time is. See?I'm not only learning my history with you, I'm improving my vocabulary."

  We both laughed.

  He limped his way down the corridor and turned into his room, which was easily twice as big as mine. I was impressed with how neatly it was kept. He had school banners up on his walls. trophies on the shelves. and pictures of sports heroes. There was an expensive-looking computer station as well as a separate desk. He had a king-size bed with thick posts and a massive head-board, all in a dark cherry wood.

  "I'm connected to the Internet in case there's something you want to look up," he said, nodding at the swirling heavenly bodies on the monitor screen. "I downloaded that screen saver from the Hubble telescope site."

  I didn't have a computer. Now that we were somewhat settled in Norfolk. Daddy had mentioned he was going to buy one for me. but I didn't say anything and pretended to know exactly what Trent was talking about.

  You want anything to drink, juice, soda. anything?"

  "No, thank you," I said. "I'm fine."

  I put my books on the desk, and he hopped over to a chair and brought it closer.

  "Then let's go at it he said, flipping the cover of a notebook open. He looked up expectantly. I smiled.

  Not every boy is a rapist.

  This was nothing more than what it was intended to be, what he said it was. I was glad of that but also felt a strange contradiction. What if that was really all he wanted from me, history help? Maybe I wasn't as attractive as I hoped I was or as much as Mommy assured me I was. I didn't want to be invited under false pretenses, but my feminine ego was complaining.

  Look, Grace Houston, I told myself, make up your mind. Do you want to exchange historical facts or kisses?

  "Here is how I've organized it all," I began, and he leaned over to glance at my pages.

  We studied hard for a good hour. Every once in a while I saw his eyes brighten with an understanding. He copied information quickly, rearranging his awn notes.

  "You've got an order to everything that makes this so much easier." he complimented. "I guess I never really learned how to take notes properly."

  "I redo it all when I get home. It helps reinforce it in my mind, too."

  "Yeah. I can see why. Does all this orderliness and structure came from military life? My father's always threatening to send me and even my sister to military school."

  "Maybe it does," I said. wondering about it myself "It's not something I'm aware of constantly, but I suppose when you are around it all day and all night..."

  "Exactly." He glanced at the clock. "We haven't studied as long as you thought we would, but is sacrosanct over yet?"

  I laughed. "I think we did pretty well.'

  "Good. Let me show you my card collection." he said excitedly, and got up and went to his closet. He took out an armful of albums and plopped them down on the desk beside me.

  "This first album has my oldest cards. Most of them are reproductions, of course. but they are still rare or hard to get." he said. "These first cards were distributed in cigarette packs."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. A lot of people don't know that."

  "I didn't."

  He nodded and smiled. "Here. This is Ty Cobb stealing third base for Detroit. This is Iris Speaker batting for Boston, and here's Cy Young. You've heard of the Cy Young award, of course."

  "Of course." I said. I had heard of it. but I wasn't ready to tell him what it was,

  "Baseball cards were first issued during the 1880s when tobacco companies wanted to promote sales. The cards depicted more than a thousand ballplayers from teams in thirteen different leagues and seventy-five cities!"

  His enthusiasm brought a wide smile to my face.

  "Look at this," he said, flipping to the rear of the first album. "Members of the All American Girls Professional Baseball League from 1943 to 1954. That's Alice 'Lefty' Hohlmayer. She had a record of forty-three scoreless innings in 1948. She once got a base hit off Satchel Paige in an All-Star game. And this is Lavonne 'Pepper' Paire, who led the league in the least strike- outs at bat. Six in 392 times at bat!"

  He glanced at me and at the album and then at me again. "You think I'm nuts. huh?"

  "No. Trent. I'm amazed and really impressed. You could make a wonderful talk in our history class about baseball history and use these as displays."

  "Really?"

  "Absolutely.
I bet you would get extra credit."

  "I could use some extra credit," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "Ask Mr. Caswell, I bet it's not too late."

  "Maybe I will," he said. nodding. "Thanks." He smiled, "Most of the girls I show this stuff to are looking for ways to make a quick exit before I get to the second page, much less the second album."

  "It's a wonderful collection, fascinating," I said sincerely.

  He opened some of the other albums to show me the cards he cherished the most and explained why or how he had managed to acquire each.

  "My father thinks it's okay that I do this, but he has no idea what it's all worth now. If he did, he would have it up for sale. He's a broker."

  "Oh. I wouldn't sell it ever. It's something you'd want your own son to have someday. I'm sure." I said.

  "Exactly!" he replied, his eyes full of excitement. He sat back and stared at me a moment.

  "What?" I said. smiling.

  "Don't get mad at me." he said.

  "Why would I?"

  "I just thought you were like one of my cards, a valuable find," he said.

  "Why would I get mad at that?"

  He smirked. "Not too many girls would appreciate being compared to baseball cards. Grace."

  "Oh." I laughed and then thought aloud, "It's not what you're being compared to so much as what the person doing the comparison thinks of it, how he values it."

  "Smart and beautiful. too. I'm going to kick myself in the head later for taking so long to say hello to you." he said, and leaned forward to kiss me on the lips, a short but soft kiss I saw coming but still :meted with surprise.

  He kept his face close to mine, searching my eyes to see how I had reacted, and then he kissed me again. We were in an awkward position, both on chairs, leaning toward each other, but we held on to each other until he tried to get me to my feet and put too much weight on his bad ankle. He groaned in pain, stumbled, and barely caught himself. I reached out and held on to his left arm, helping him get his balance. His face was twisted in agony.