Detention
The first time I had ever played doctor was for a girl named Jane.
It was a simple job: I had to get a boy to like her. She didn't pay me, or even ask me to do it, I offered.
It was the beginning of sophomore year and the boy's name was Leon. I had multiple classes with him and even sat next to him in Algebra, so when Jane stated that she needed help getting him to notice her I figured it would be an easy way to assist a friend. And it was.
It took a grand total of two weeks to get Leon to ask Jane out. Two weeks. Before I stepped in Leon hadn't even known Jane's name. I had a skill. An ability to talk to boys in a way they understood, an ability to convince them that they wanted things, an ability to make them think thoughts they had never considered before. And this skill caught on.
By the time Jane and Leon celebrated their one month anniversary, I was getting request after request. In the early days almost all of these requests were more or less identical to Jane's. Girls wanted to be noticed by boys. By cute boys. And I took on the ones I believed would work, the jobs that seemed doable. And, somewhere along the way, I got compensated for my efforts.
It wasn't until the end of sophomore year that I got a breakup job. Paula Mickenly hired me to convince her boyfriend to dump her. After that success, other jobs - ones that were slightly more manipulative than simply playing cupid - began to roll in. As bad as these jobs could be - and some of them were bad - the worst one wasn't expected. The worst job I ever took didn't involve me helping people cheat. It didn't involve much lying or manipulation. It was the safest job in the book.
I had to find out if he loved her.
That's it. Befriend boy. Gain the trust of boy. Ask if boy loves girl. It was such a simple progress, and should have given equally simple results. However, somewhere along the way, things got messy. Messier than they ever had.
So I quit.
Now, as I sat in Saturday detention, glaring at the back of some junior boy's head, I considered quitting again. Detention on a Saturday was almost as bad as heartbreak. Especially with . . .
"Pst! Butt!"
"Leave me alone," I whispered, glaring in the direction of the voice.
"Oh, come on. The gargoyle isn't even in here."
A few students laughed, but I felt a prick of annoyance. I turned in my seat, facing James who sat in the row behind mine. He was leaning back in his chair, only two legs on the floor, with a pencil stuck behind his ear. When he noticed me looking, he smiled.
"Why are you sitting way up there?" He said. "We're friends now. Come be friendly."
I hated how weirdly sexual that sounded coming out of his mouth.
"I really don't want to," I replied. Detention lasted two hours. We had been there for twenty minutes, and already I was considering taking a pencil and jabbing it in my eyeball. I was not going to let James Hadley, of all people, make me spend another Saturday staring at a whiteboard, surrounded by a bunch of rich kids who got caught smoking pot in the parking lot.
"You do want to."
"I don't."
"You do."
"I don't."
"You do."
"I -"
"This back and forth is kinda hot, Button."
Fine.
With a groan and the meanest expression I could muster, I stood from my desk and moved over a row so that I sat in the seat next to his. I tried not to look at his face, knowing good and well the expression I'd see, and fixated my gaze on the clock.
"You didn't hold up for nearly as long as I thought," James said, leaning his body closer to mine. His smell washed over me, and I breathed it in, wondering how someone as frustrating as James could smell so nice.
"I only did it to shut you up," I replied, crossing my arms over my Oakland Prep t-shirt.
Sister Margaret walked into the room. There were only about fifteen of us there, but her expression made it seem like she watched over thousands of the world's most dangerous criminals. She didn't register my seating change - or she just didn't care - and after another moment of staring, she left the room.
At Oakland Prep, there were rarely any real trouble makers. That's why the school was so popular with rich families. Parents of students like Francie never worried about their children mixing with the wrong sort of people, or getting into trouble with the law. For that reason, detention wasn't a full lock down. It was two hours without electronics and, preferably, without speaking. But no one ever cared enough to cause any trouble or start a riot, so for the majority of the two hours we were left unattended.
"I heard that you are going to Mia's tomorrow," James said the moment the door shut behind Sister Margaret.
"I haven't decided yet," I replied, still gazing straight again.
Mia had invited me to her house for Sunday brunch, something that she had every week with her friends after church. It would be an hour of finger sandwiches and polite small talk. I thought it sounded almost as appealing as another Saturday dentition - not that I'd ever say that to Mia or James.
"I think you should go," James said.
I raised my eyebrow. "Why?"
James shrugged his shoulders. "Mia can be really cool. You just have to get to know her."
Even though I knew Mia better than James thought I did, and was pretty sure that her and I would never be besties for the resties, I still found his words sweet. He was encouraging me to talk and get to know her. That was almost a boyfriend move.
Almost.
"Are you saying that she's more than a," I paused for dramatic effect. "Rockin' hot bod?"
At this, James laughed. "Yeah," he said, still smiling. "She's more than a rockin' hot bod."
Finally I looked at him, but his eyes were straight ahead, a small smile toying on his lips. "If you like her that much, you should take her on a date."
James glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "We do go on dates."
I shook my head and felt one side of my lips curve. "No, apparently you hang out."
James winced and dragged his fingers through his messy hair. "I did say that, didn't I?"
"You did," I nodded.
We sat in silence for a few minutes as the other students chatted quietly around us. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. James let the front legs of his chair hit the floor and I finally gave up on not looking at him, so we sat, occasionally glancing at each other but, for the most part, staring at the clock. After a few minutes ticked by, and a brief Sister Margaret check, I spoke up.
"Why are you in here anyway?"
James, somewhat startled by my voice, looked at me. "I got caught in the girls locker room."
My mouth dropped open. "Doing what?"
"Doing who," James corrected, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He noticed my expression of utter disgust and winked.
"That is disgusting," I said, looking away from him and shaking my head. Disgusting and not even kind of surprising.
James chuckled to himself. "Yeah, I got two months of Saturday detention."
"You deserved it."
We spent the rest of the time talking. James told me about his past detention experiences, we played a couple rounds of rock, paper, scissors, and somehow started a classroom wide debate on whether or not hot dogs are sandwiches. When Sister Margaret announced that the two hours were up, I was shocked. Time had, for the most part, flown by.
James and I walked out together, side by side, and didn't stop until we reached my car. He was parked a few spaces away, and I was struck by how lonely the school looked on a Saturday. I almost felt bad about leaving. Almost.
"So this is the ButtMobile," He said, standing by the trunk.
"Yes, but be nice," I replied, leaning against the driver's side of my rust-bucket-excuse of a car. "She can hear you and if you say anything too mean she can and will break down on me."
"I will be on my best behavior," James said, bringing two fingers to his forehead in a Boy's Scout salute. In his other hand he held his keys, using the key ring to twirl them around in his hand. Looking at him now - in the crisp light of the morning sun - he seemed like a boy who didn't want to go home. In fact, he wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere.
"Are you going to Theo's play on Monday?" I asked.
Theo had joined a small drama company and, once every month, they put on performances at the local theater. The first time I went was, obviously, for support. But now I went because it was shockingly fun. People brought food and drinks and, while the performances weren't always great, they were entertaining enough. I had gone to almost every performance since Theo joined the company. I remembered seeing James a handful of times as well, usually attending with whatever girl he had been seeing that week.
"I think so," he replied, squinting at me in the harsh sunlight. "But last time I went they chose members from the audience to participate in a musical number."
I winced at the memory. "I remember."
"You did well though," James continued, a smile playing at his lips. "I don't think I've ever seen someone sing along to the Wicked soundtrack with so much . . . what's the word . . ."
"Passion? Excitement? Raw talent?" I suggested.
"I was going to say despair," James said. "You looked like you were in physical pain."
I laughed and pushed his shoulder with one hand. "Shut up. I was amazing. Idina Menzel was shaking."
We were silent again, watching the the last of the detention students pull out of the parking lot and make their way home. The hood of my car was hot from the sun and dusty from its time at the mechanic, but I could still see my reflection in the gleam of the paint. My hair, curly and careless, was pulled up into a sloppy ponytail, tendrils escaping each end. My shorts were crooked and my t-shirt was wrinkled, but my eyes looked bright, alert, and awake. A stark contrast to how they probably were an hour ago.
"I think I'm going to go to Mia's tomorrow," I said, looking away from my reflection and at James. His head was tilted towards the sun, skin golden and hair glistening. He turned toward me, one eye closed from the harsh light.
"Really?"
I nodded.
We stood there for another thirty minutes, occasionally talking but mostly just enjoying the way the warmth felt on our skin. When it was time for me to go, I waved goodbye to James, and we each went our separate ways.