Chapter 2
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After high school I plao go to the Uy of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. My father wanted me to go to Harvard or Prion like some of the sons of other gressmen did, but with my grades it wasnt possible. Not that I was a bad student. I just didnt foy studies, and my grades werely up to snuff for the Ivy Leagues. By my senior year it retty much toud go whether Id eve accepted at UNd this was my fathers alma mater, a place where he could pull some strings. During one of his few weekends home, my father came up with the plan to put me over the top. Id just finished my first week of school and we were sitting down for dinner. He was home for three days on at of Labor Day weekend. "I think you should run for student body president," he said. "Youll be graduating in June, and I think it would look good on your record. Your mother thinks so, too, by the way."My mother nodded as she chewed a mouthful of peas. She didnt speak much when my father had the floor, though she wi me. Sometimes I think my mother liked to see me squirm, even though she was sweet.
"I dont think Id have a ce at winning," I said. Though I robably the richest kid in school, I was by no means the most popular. That honor beloo Eriter, my best friend. He could throw a baseball at almost y miles an hour, and hed led the football team to back-to-back state titles as the star quarterback. He was a stud. Even his name sounded cool.
"Of course you win," my father said quickly. "We Carters always win."
Thats another one of the reasons I didnt like spending time with my father. During those few times he was home, I think he wao mold me into a miniature version of himself. Since Id grown up pretty much without him, Id e to resent having him around. This was the first versation wed had in weeks. He rarely talked to me on the phone.
"But what if I dont want to?"
My father put down his fork, a bite of his pork chop still oines. He looked at me crossly, givihe once-over. He was wearing a suit even though it was hty degrees in the house, and it made him even more intimidating. My father always wore a suit, by the way.
"I think," he said slowly, "that it would be a good idea."
I khat whealked that way the issue was settled. Thats the way it was in my family. My fathers word was law. But the fact was, even after I agreed, I didnt want to do it. I didnt want to waste my afternooing with teachers after school-after school!-every week for the rest of the year, dr<var>藏书网</var>eaming up themes for school dances to decide what colors the streamers should be. Thats really all the class presidents did, at least back when I was in high school. It wasnt like students had the power to actually decide anything meaningful.
But then again, I knew my father had a point. If I wao go to UNC, I had to do something. I didnt play football or basketball, I didnt play an instrument, I wasnt in the chess club or the bowling club or anything else. I didnt excel in the classroom-hell, I didnt excel at much of anything. Growing despo, I started listing the things I actually could do, but to be ho, there really wasnt that much. I could tie eight different types of sailing knots, I could walk barefoot across hot asphalt farther than anyone I knew, I could balance a pencil vertically on my finger for thirty seds . . . but I didnt think that any of those things would really stand out on a college application. So there I was, lying in bed all night long, slowly ing to the sinking realization that I was a loser. Thanks, Dad.
The m I went to the principals offid added my o the list of didates. There were two other people running-John Foreman and Maggie Brown. Now, John didnt stand a ce, I khat right off. He was the kind of guy whod pick lint off your clothes while he talked to you. But he was a good student. He sat in the front row and raised his hand every time the teacher asked a question. If he was called to give the answer, he would almost always give the right one, aurn his head from side to side with a smug look on his face, as if proving how superior his intellect was when pared with those of the other peons in the room. Erid I used to shoot spitballs at him wheeachers back was turned.
Maggie Brown was another matter. She was a good student as well. Shed served oudent cil for the first three years and had been the junior class president the year before. The only real strike against her was the fact that she wasnt very attractive, and shed put oy pounds that summer. I khat not a single guy would vote for her.
After seeing the petition, I figured that I might have a ce after all. My eure was on the line here, so I formulated my strategy. Eric was the first to agree.
"Sure, Ill get all the guys oeam to vote for you, no problem. If thats what you really want."
"How about their girlfriends, too?" I asked.
That retty much my entire campaign. Of course, I went to the debates like I was supposed to, and I passed out those dorky "What Ill do if Im elected president" fliers, but in the end it was Eriter who probably got me where I o be. Beaufort High School had only about four huudents, so getting the athletic vote was critical, and most of the jocks didnt give a hoot who they voted for anyway. In the end it worked out just the way I planned.
I was voted student body president with a fairly large majority of the vote. I had no idea what trouble it would eventually lead me to.
When I was a junior I went steady with a girl named Angela Clark. She was my first real girlfriend, though it lasted for only a few months. Just before school let out for the summer, she dumped me fuy named Leas twenty years old and worked as a mei his fathers garage. His primary attribute, as far as I could tell, was that he had a really nice car. He always wore a white T-shirt with a pack of Camels folded into the sleeve, and hed lean against the hood of his Thunderbird, looking bad forth, saying things like "Hey, baby" whenever a girl walked by. He was a real winner, if you know what I mean.
Well, anyway, the homeing dance was ing up, and because of the whole Angela situation, I still didnt have a date. Everyone oudent cil had to attend-it was mandatory. I had to help decorate the gym and up the day-and besides, it was usually a pretty good time. I called a couple of girls I knew, but they already had dates, so I called a few more. They had dates, too. By the final week the pigs were getting pretty slim. The pool was down to the kinds of girls who had thick glasses and talked with lisps. Beaufort was never exactly a hotbed for beauties anyway, but then again I had to find somebody. I didnt want to go to the dahout a date-what would that <bdo>?</bdo>look like? Id be the only student body president ever to attend the homeing dance alone. Id end up being the guy scooping punch all night long or mopping up the barf ihroom. Thats eople without dates usually did.
Growing sort of panicky, I pulled out the yearbook from the year before and started flipping through the pages one by one, looking for anyone who might not have a date. First I looked through the pages with the seniors. Though a lot of them were off at college, a few of them were still around town. Even though I didnt think I had much of a ce with them, I called anyway, and sure enough, I roven right. I couldnt find a least not anyone who would go with me. I was getting pretty good at handliion, Ill tell you, though thats not the sort of thing y about to yrandkids. My mom knew what I was going through, and she finally came into my room and sat on the bed beside me.
"If you t get a date, Ill be happy to go with you," she said.
"Thanks, Mom," I said dejectedly.
When she left the room, I felt even worse than I had before. Even my mom didnt think I could find somebody. And if I showed up with her? If I lived a hundred years, Id never live that down.
There was anuy in my boat, by the way. Carey Dennison had beeed treasurer, aill didnt have a date, either. Carey was the kind of guy no one wao spend time with at all, and the only reason hed beeed was because hed run unopposed. Even then I think the vote was fairly close. He played the tuba in the marg band, and his body looked all out of proportion, as if hed stopped growing halfway through puberty. He had a great big stomad gangly arms and legs, like the Hoos in Hooville, if you know what I mean. He also had a high-pitched way of talking-its what made him such a good tuba player, I re-and he opped asking questions. "Where did you go last weekend? Was it fun? Did you see any girls?" He wouldnt even wait for an answer, and hed move around stantly as he asked so you had to keep turning your head to keep him in sight. I swear he robably the most annoying person Id ever met. If I did a date, hed stand off on one side with me all night long, firing questions like some deranged prosecutor.
So there I was, flipping through the pages in the junior class se, when I saw Jamie Sullivans picture. I paused for just a sed, then turhe page, cursing myself for even thinking about it. I spent the hour searg for anyone halfway det looking, but I slowly came to the realization that there wasnt anyo. In time I finally turned back to her picture and looked again. She wasnt bad looking, I told myself, and shes really sweet. Shed probably say yes, I thought. . . .
I closed the yearbook. Jamie Sullivan? Hegbe..s daughter? No way. Absolutely not. My friends would roast me alive.
But pared with dating your mother or ing up puke or even, God forbid . . Carey Dennison?
I spent the rest of the eveniing the pros and s of my dilemma. Believe me, I went bad forth for a while, but in the end the choice was obvious, even to me. I had to ask Jamie to the dance, and I paced around the room thinking of the best way to ask her.
It was then that I realized something terrible, something absolutely frightening. Carey Dennison, I suddenly realized, robably doing the exact same thing I was doing right now. He robably looking through the yearbook, too! He was weird, but he wasnt the kind of guy who liked ing up puke, either, and if youd seen his mother, youd know that his choice was even worse than mine. What if he asked Jamie first? Jamie wouldnt say no to him, and realistically she was the only option he had. No one besides her would be caught dead with him. Jamie helped everyone-she was one of those equal opportunity saints. Shed probably listen to Careys squeaky voice, see the goodness radiating from his heart, and accept right off the bat.
So there I was, sitting in my room, frantic with the possibility that Jamie might not go to the dah me. I barely slept that night, I tell you, which was just about the strahing Id ever experienced. I dont think anyone ever fretted about asking Jamie out before. I plao ask her first thing in the m, while I still had my ce, but Jamie wasnt in school. I assumed she was w with the orphans over in Morehead City, the way she did every month. A few of us had tried to get out of school using that excuse, too, but Jamie was the only one who ever got away with it. The principal knew she was reading to them or doing crafts or just sitting around playing games with them. She wasnt sneaking out to the beach or hanging out at Cecils Diner or anything. That cept was absolutely ludicrous.
"Got a date yet?" Eric asked me iween classes. He knew very well that I didnt, but even though he was my best friend, he liked to stick it to me on a while.
"Not yet," I said, "but Im w on it."
Down the hall, Carey Denison was reag into his locker. I swear he shot me a beady glare whehought I wasnt looking.
Thats the kind of day it was.
The miicked by slowly during my final class. The way I figured it-if Carey and I got out at the same time, Id be able to get to her house first, what with those gawky legs and all. I started to psych myself up, and when the bell rang, I took off from school running at a full clip. I was flying for about a hundred yards or so, and then I started to get kind of tired, and then a cramp set in. Pretty soon all I could do was walk, but that cramp really started to get to me, and I had to bend over and hold my side while I kept moving. As I made my way dowreets of Beaufort, I looked like a wheezing version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Behihought I heard Careys high-pitched laughter. I turned around, digging my fingers into my gut to stifle the pain, but I couldnt see him. Maybe he was cutting through someones backyard! He was a sneaky bastard, that guy. You couldnt trust him even for a minute.
I started to stumble along even faster, and pretty soon I reached Jamies street. By then I was sweating all over-my shirt was soaked right through-and I was still wheezing something fierce. Well, I reached her front door, took a sed to catch my breath, and finally knocked. Despite my fevered rush to her house, my pessimistic side assumed that Carey would be the one who opehe door for me. I imagined him smiling at me with a victorious look in his eye, ohat essentially meant "Sorry, partner, youre too late."
But it wasnt Carey who answered, it was Jamie, and for the first time in my life I saw what shed look like if she were an ordinary person. She was wearing jeans and a red blouse, and though her hair was still pulled up into a bun, she looked more casual than she usually did. I realized she could actually <var>..</var>be cute if she gave herself the opportunity.
"Landon," she said as she held open the door, "this is a surprise!" Jamie was always glad to see everyone, includihough I think my appearaartled her. "You look like youve been exerg," she said.
"Not really," I lied, wiping my brow. Luckily the cramp was fading fast.
"Youve sweat through your shirt."
"Oh, that?" I looked at my shirt. "Thats nothing. I just sweat a lot sometimes."
"Maybe you should have it checked by a doctor."
"Ill be okay, Im sure."
"Ill say a prayer for you anyway," she offered as she smiled. Jamie was alraying for someone. I might as well join the club.
"Thanks," I said.
She looked down and sort of shuffled her feet for a moment. "Well, Id invite you in, but my father isnt home, and he doesnt allow boys in the house while hes not around."
"Oh," I said dejectedly, "thats okay. We talk out here, I guess." If Id had my way, I would have dohis inside.
"Would you like some lemonade while we sit?" she asked. "I just made some."
"Id love some," I said.
"Ill be right back." She walked bato the house, but she left the door open and I took a quick glance around. The house, I noticed, was small but tidy, with a piano against one wall and a sofa against the other. A small fan sat oscillating in the er. On the coffee table there were books with names like Listening to Jesus and Faith Is the Answer. Her Bible was there, too, and it eo the chapter on Luke.
A moment later Jamie returned with the lemonade, aook a seat in two chairs he er of the porch. I knew she and her father sat there in the evenings because I passed by their house now and then. As soon as we were seated, I saw Mrs. Hastings, her neighbor across the street, wave to us. Jamie waved back while I sort of scooted my chair so that Mrs. Hastings couldnt see my face. Even though I was going to ask Jamie to the dance, I didnt want anyone-even Mrs. Hastings-to see me there on the off ce that shed already accepted Careys offer. It was ohing to actually go with Jamie, it was ahing to be rejected by her in favor of a guy like Carey.
"What are you doing?" Jamie asked me. "Youre moving your chair into the sun."
"I like the sun," I said. She was right, though. Almost immediately I could feel the rays burning through my shirt and making me sweat again.
"If thats what you want," she said, smiling. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
Jamie reached up and started to adjust her hair. By my reing, it hadnt moved at all. I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself, but I couldnt force myself to e out with it just yet.
"So," I said instead, "you were at the orphaoday?"
Jamie looked at me curiously. "No. My father and I were at the doctors office."
"Is he okay?"
She smiled. "Healthy as be."
I nodded and glanced across the street. Mrs. Hastings had gone baside, and I couldnt see anyone else in the viity. The coast was finally clear, but I still wasnt ready.
"Sure is a beautiful day," I said, stalling.
"Yes, it is."
"Warm, too."
"Thats because youre in the sun."
I looked around, feeling the pressure building. "Why, Ill bet theres not a single cloud in the whole sky."
This time Jamie didnt respond, a in silence for a few moments.
"Landon,"<q>..</q>; she finally said, "you didnt e here to talk about the weather, did you?"
"Not really."
"Then why are you here?"
The moment of truth had arrived, and I cleared my throat.
"Well . . . I wao know if you were going to the homeing dance."
"Oh," she said. Her tone made it seem as if she were unaware that such a thied. I fidgeted in my seat and waited for her answer.
"I really hadnt planned on going," she finally said.
"But if someone asked you to go, you might?"
It took a moment for her to answer.
"Im not sure," she said, thinking carefully. "I suppose I might go, if I got the ce. Ive never been to a homeing dance before."
"Theyre fun," I said quickly. "Not too much fun, but fun." Especially when pared to my other options, I didnt add.
She smiled at my turn of phrase. "Id have to talk to my father, of course, but if he said it was okay, then I guess I could."
Iree beside the porch, a bird started to chirp noisily, as if he knew I wasnt supposed to be here. I trated on the sound, trying to calm my nerves. Just two days ago I couldnt have imagined myself even thinking about it, but suddenly there I was, listening to myself as I spoke the magic words.
"Well, would you like to go to the dah me?"
I could tell she was surprised. I think she believed that the little lead-up to the question probably had to do with someone else asking her. Sometimes teenagers sent their friends out to "scout the terrain," so to speak, so as not to face possible reje. Even though Jamie wasnt much like other teenagers, Im sure she was familiar with the cept, at least in theory.
Instead of answering right away, though, Jamie glanced away for a long moment. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach because I assumed she was going to say no. Visions of my mother, puke, and Carey flooded through my mind, and all of a sudden I regretted the way Id behaved toward her all these years. I kept remembering all the times Id teased her or called her father a fornicator or simply made fun of her behind her back. Just when I was feeling awful about the whole thing and imagining how I would ever be able to avoid Carey for five hours, she turned and faced me again. She had a slight smile on her face.
"Id love to," she finally said, "on one dition."
I steadied myself, hoping it wasnt something too awful.
"Yes?"
"You have to promise that you wont fall in love with me."
I knew she was kidding by the way she laughed, and I couldnt help but breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes, I had to admit, Jamie had a pretty good sense of humor. I smiled and gave her my word.
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