Ah, the joys of first-period Physics. Usually my biggest problem was sleepiness. Not today. (Although I was definitely sleepy.)
The guy’s name was Jim-Something. He leaned over while Mr. Lloyd was writing on the blackboard and muttered, “C’mon, dude, spill. You know we want to know.”
I didn’t even look at him. “Jim, I need to finish my trig homework before class. Do you mind?”
Jim’s voice was a leer. “Yeah, we all know the two reasons you didn’t finish your trig homework last night: A, Elena Garcia, and B, Kristin Curry.”
Marty Nixon leaned in and said, “At least tell us where you went to do the deed. Your house, Elena’s house, Kristin’s house, Motel 6—where?”
I glanced around. “Would you believe, we spent all night chomping pizza at CiCi’s?”
Five male voices said as one: “Are you fucking with me?”
When the Dismissal Bell rang, Mr. Lloyd held up his hand. “Marvin, a moment please.”
Seconds later, I was standing in front of his desk. “Yes, Mr. Lloyd?”
He said, “Marvin, you are usually a good student in my class, paying attention to my lecture. Today it was obvious that you were distracted. I hope tomorrow that you will return to giving me your full attention, and fully participating in class discussions.”
“I will, Mr. Lloyd. I’m sorry to let you down.”
“On the other hand, Marvin”—Mr. Lloyd’s face broke out in a leer—“if I did what you supposedly did yesterday, I’d be distracted, too. You lucky, lucky dog!”
Hours later in the school cafeteria, Bob and Christopher both looked shocked when Elena set her lunch tray down next to mine. But then I said to Bob and Christopher, “Will you watch our trays, please? There’s something we need to do.”
“Sure, no problem,” they each said. Then Bob and Christopher gave each other looks that said Do YOU know what’s going on? Because I sure don’t.
Elena and I walked over to the athletes’ table. The guy next to Jorje slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Brace yourself, bro. It’s your turn.”
I don’t know what Elena said to Jorje, because she said it in Spanish. But then she kissed him hard on the mouth. And just when everyone (including me, to be honest) started to wonder whether Jorje and Elena were getting back together, Elena stepped away from Jorje and walked back to me. And everyone who could see the hot stare she was giving me, had no doubt who her man was.
A few minutes later, Natasha seated herself in the empty seat across from me at the lunch table. Walking up with Natasha (but not sitting) was a freshman girl. Natasha looked curiously at Elena, then said to me, “I have problem. But is lucky, I is thinkink I have answer.”
The freshman girl, meanwhile, was looking at me as if I were a rock star.
Natasha continued, “Last week, I did invitink you to clothing party. I said, ‘We go as Russian spy couple.’ But now say I, what I was thinkink? Because Russian man is short, and you are not short.”
I nodded. “For the joke to work, you need a guy who is, say, 5′2″. And no guy your age is like that.” Not anymore.
Natasha said, “Five-foot-two? Someone tell to me conversion.”
The freshman girl rolled her eyes. “It’s 157 centimeters, Anya.”
I raised an eyebrow. “‘Anya’?”
The freshman girl said, “When we Russians call Natasha ‘Princess Anastasia,’ it’s a slam.”
“You’re Russian?” I asked. “You don’t sound it.” The girl had a thoroughly American accent.
The freshman girl turned red. “Oh my god, I’m such a ditz! Hi, I’m Ilyana Basorsky. Born in Volgograd, but lived in the U.S. since I was five.”
“AHEM!” Natasha said. “So I did makink new plan. Instead of we goink as Boris and Natasha, we is goink as Captain America and Black Widow.”
“I dunno, Natasha,” I said. “I can’t do a Russian accent well, and you’d look funny as Captain America.”
It took Natasha a second, but then she laughed.
I continued, “But here it is Wednesday noon, and the party is Saturday night. How am I going to find a costume that fits me by then? Find a brass lamp and tell the genie to make me a Captain America costume?”
Ilyana said, “I’m not a genie, but I’ll do you right. I’ll make you the costume by Saturday night, and this can be my Final Project for Home Ec.”
Natasha said, “Ilyana is good in sewink. She does makink folk-dance clothinks.”
It took me only seconds to decide. “This works. Ilyana, let’s you take my measurements after school, so you can start your sewing.” Then I realized something. “Shit.”
“Vat?” Natasha asked.
“I promised Anna Kay that I’d tutor her in Trig after school.”
Elena said, “What’s the problem? You can do both at the same time.” Then Elena’s voice got throaty. “And trust me—Anna Kay won’t mind looking at you while Ilyana works her tape measure.”
I said, “Why will she not mind? I stand there, I get measured. Sounds boring, and it’s not getting tutoring done.”
“Marvin, you haven’t figured it out? The costume is form-fitting. You’ll need to be naked when you get measured. Or close to it, anyway.”
Natasha said, “I did tellink Harold to brink shorts for you. Oh, in speakink of Harold—”
Meanwhile, Elena was biting her lip, and I knew she was thinking sexual thoughts, but was too submissive to say them. So I looked at her and said, “Will you and Kristin come to the Home Ec Lab after school? I worry that Ilyana and Anna Kay might ravish me while I’m defenseless in shorts.”
“Sure, Kristin and I can swing by there,” Elena said, grinning.
“AHEM!” Natasha said. “I did comink here, Marvin, also in tellink you that I did invitink Harold Miller also to clothink party.”
Bob asked, “So who’s he going as? Iron Man? Spider-Man? Daredevil?”
Natasha smiled. “Is surprisink.” To Bob she said, “You is not close. Estonia and Kamchatka is closer.”
Christopher said, “Superman? Batman? Nah, Harold’s too short for Batman. Robin?”
Natasha grinned. “Still you is not close. Nobody here can is guessink Harold’s clothink for clothink party.”
Actually, I could guess. But I didn’t speak my guess aloud because it sounded so ridiculous.
“Really, Marvin, I don’t mind being tutored in Home Ec Lab,” Anna Kay told me.
Kristin made a throaty laugh. “I’m sure you don’t. The scenery will be great.”
School had ended for the day. The three of us, plus Elena and Natasha, were walking toward the aforementioned Home Ec Lab.
Harold ran up to us. “I brought Marvin his shorts, Natasha. These should fit him, like you asked.” Harold pulled his bookbag off his back, and it was obvious to me that he barely could slow his bookbag as it dropped to the floor. He opened up his bookbag, dug out a pair of black shorts, and handed them to Natasha.
When Harold tried to put the bookbag back on his back, it was obvious that he was struggling to lift it. So I decided to help him out. By then, Natasha had handed the shorts to me, so I had to help Harold one-handed. Fortunately, his bookbag turned out to be no heavier than mine, so I was able to put his bookbag on his back without working my arm hard.
Harold stared at me, saying nothing. He looked afraid.
I remarked, “Harold, we’re not exactly friends, but a word of advice: Lose that purple shirt.”
He shook his head. “Natasha brought it to me this morning, and asked me to wear it.”
“Dude, it’s not only purple, it’s satin. It makes you look gay.”
Harold said, ”Natasha brought it to me this morning, and Natasha asked me to wear it. Why aren’t you bothering Natasha?”
Then Harold turned to Natasha and said, “May I be excused now? I, uh, have things I need to do at home.”
I’m not sure why it took Natasha a long time to answer that request. I’m also puzzled why, during her long silence, she kept glancing at me. Her looks at me puzzled me mainly because I’d already figured out that the magic pheromones didn’t work on her.
At last she said, “Yes, you may is to home goink.” Harold zoomed away.
(Or he would have zoomed away, if his bookbag didn’t strain his legs so much. Jeez, his legs had sure gotten skinny.)
A minute later, the four girls and I walked into the Home Ec Lab. I knew that Ilyana would be there, and I expected her teacher to be there as well, to check Ilyana’s tape-measure work. And indeed, those two were there, waiting.
But Ilyana and Mrs. Williams weren’t alone in the room. Not by a long shot.
The room was filled with female flesh.