Proud
She got an A, of course. An A plus plus. With many compliments throughout the paper. And Mrs. Burton finished by suggesting that she read Fear of Flying.
Ha. And ha-ha. It is to laugh.
My book report? I had to say there weren’t any laughs in The Running Man. The thing read more like a horror story. I passed. Let’s leave it at that.
Electra wouldn’t, though.
We got the reviews back just before the end of class, then went to study hall.
After I read the comments on her paper to her, she was floating on air. Really. I’m half sure I saw light passing under her feet.
She forced me to read the comments on my paper. She figured out that I was embarrassed, but thought it was because of my grade.
So she tried to buck up my spirits. “At least you finished the book, Conrad! And you were brave enough to admit that you were wrong about the book when you judged it from the cover.”
“Oh, holy Christ, Electra, I don’t care about Bachman! I’m embarrassed about you!”
“What?” She was shocked. Of course.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” I tend to say that a lot, really. She’s gotten used to it. She held her breath and made an ‘out with it’ gesture.
“All I saw in your book was rape. It’s all I recall. Sex. BAD sex. Bad sex that I had to read out loud for you. You found these wonderful ideas and motivation and spelled them out… I am totally impressed. And I’m embarrassed about the way I’ve treated you.”
“HAHAHAHAHAH!” she laughed. “Conrad, you’re a fucking moron!”
“I guess I deserved that.”
“NO!” she said, stomping her feet. “I didn’t mean it that way!”
“Ooooooooooooookay,” I said, returning her gesture.
“All the time Ayla keeps getting better and stronger, faster as a hunter, competent as the shaman? She gets a little better, and each time the tribe finds out about it, they adjust. They adapt.”
“If you say so.”
She rolled her eyes. “And it’s just normal to them. ‘That’s Ayla,’ they say. It’s not until they plan to go meet other tribes when they realize just how different their lives are.
“They see how other people are going to see their tribe, with a woman shaman, for example. And they had no language to say ‘Well, you had to be there.’ They know no one will understand.”
“Ah. And I’m a moron because I don’t understand,” I said, finally grasping her point.
“NO!” she screamed. “You’re the one who’s been adapting by incremental…“ She paused, judging my expression. “By tiny changes, a little bit at a time.”
“Oh.”
“You built the gym just to keep me occupied, right?”
“Mostly.”
“But you were the one who supported me when I wanted to stop flashing customers. You were the one who bought Dance Dance Reflex Action, for ME! Right?”
“For us, really, but yeah, sort of.”
“You found a way for me and my friends to be in the talent show together.”
“Well, yeah, but that was about getting attention for me.” She ignored that.
“And Christ on a Pogo Stick, Conrad, you were the one who talked me into the graduation!”
“Chrissy….”
“Chrissy’s idea, Chip’s contacts, your stupid fucking argument until I was on board.”
“It was some of my finest stupid work,” I had to admit.
“And no matter how much attention I get, you have never, ever, not once, put me away in your pocket in a fit of pique.”
“Peeking at what?”
“Peeking at jealousy,” she explained.
“Well, no, that wouldn’t be fair.”
“So, you’re feeling guilty about how you treat me?” She gestured for me to pick her up. She wrapped a hug around my thumb. “Conrad, you’re my hero.”
We sat there for a moment, me basking in her regard, her sucking up the body heat from my hand.
Through all this, Chrissy was sitting across the table, reading through Electra's book report. Without looking up she asked, "So, do we sing 'Kumbaya,' now, or 'Wind Beneath My Wings'?"
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Index
38. Guests (N)
40. Announcements