The Boys - E Lockhart

Was it an innocuous frog? As in, Ruby likes frogs, Ruby was upset today, I'll cheer her up with a completely innocent and free-from-connotations frog?

Or was is a Frog Laden with Meaning?

And if it was a Frog Laden with Meaning, what did it mean?

1. I love you again, take me back.

2. I feel nostalgia for when I loved you, but I don't love you.

3. I want to see if I can make you love me again, because I like to be adored, but not because I love you.

4. I want Kim to look in your mail cubby and see that I gave you a frog and go wild with jealousy.

5. I like jerking you around because you're such a sucker and you can't seem to quit me.

I knew I should throw it in the trash and never think about it again, but I couldn't.

***

During lunch on Thursday, Operation Sophomore Love was swinging as Nora and I came out of the serving

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line with our trays. There was Meghan, lip gloss shining, gray chamois shirt unbuttoned to show cleavage, standing at the head of a table full of sophomore boys and balancing her lunch tray against her hip.

"You do not!" she was saying.

"True story," said a tall one with braces on his teeth.

"Then maybe I should go out for crew this year instead of tennis," Meghan said. "Do you think I should?"

"Without a doubt." A different sophomore, Italian-looking, with pale brown skin and thick eyelashes, was trying to get her attention.

"You'd be great at it," said the one with braces.

Meghan touched her hair. "There are my friends," she said. "See you boys later!"

"See you boys later?" I muttered to Nora before Meghan reached us. "Who on earth says 'See you boys later'? She sounds like a film from 1954."

"Only to you," said Nora. "No one else watches films from 1954. The rest of us are watching movies in first run."

I threw a raisin at her.

"How's the Operation going?" I asked Meghan as she sat down with her tray.

She shrugged. "They're hard to tell apart, that's my biggest obstacle," she said. "One is Mark, one is Mike, one is Dave and one is Dan. If any of them turns out to have a two-syllable name, that's the one I'll have to pick."

I looked over. "Which is the one with the eyelashes?"

"Mike or Mark, but I don't know which."

"He's pretty cute."

"Yeah, but there's another guy who looks a lot like

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him who just left. So this guy could be Dan, maybe. Oh, there's one of them called Don as well."

"I know that guy. Don who's on the basketball team?" Nora said. "Didn't we used to recognize these people from playing in the yard in elementary school?"

Meghan giggled. "I'm sure we did, but that was before puberty. They look different now."

"Ugh," I said. "I hate that word."

"What word, puberty?" Meghan said.

"My health is delicate," I told her. "Please don't say it again or I may chunder."

"What am I supposed to say, then?" said Meghan.

"Adolescence?" put in Nora.

"That's hardly better," I told them. "Say ... um ... mocha latte."

"Mocha latte?" Nora cracked up. "What are you talking about?"

"Mocha latte sounds nice, doesn't it? Mocha latte does not conjure images of acne and body odor and pubic hair that we don't need to be thinking about any more than necessary. Mocha latte sounds tasty."

"Okay," said Meghan. "So they look a lot different after mocha latte than they did in elementary."

"I love it!" said Nora. "Mocha latte has come upon the sophomore boys and they're starting to look good to us."

"Hooray for mocha latte!" cried Meghan.

"Listen," said Nora. "If I asked Noel to go skiing this weekend, to this house party at my family's mountain place, would you guys go? You know, to make it like a group thing?" She twisted a piece of her hair. "I'm allowed to

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invite friends, and this way it won't be so obvious I really want him to go."

"I'm there," said Meghan. "You'll be out of Noboyfriend by Monday."

"No thanks," I said.

"Why?" Nora looked at me, surprised.

"I don't ski. You know that." I hadn't even seen Noel since the whole bodyguarding panic attack debacle yesterday. I didn't think I could stand to spend the weekend watching Nora flirt with him on the ski lift.

"You can use my old Dynastars," said Nora. "The ones I used back when I was your height."

"I still won't be able to actually ski."

"Oh, come anyway. You can learn!" said Nora. "You can go on the bunny hill."

"I don't have a ski jacket."

"Oh, I have three," said Meghan. "I have goggles, I have everything. We'll set you up."

"My parents hired a chef for the weekend," said Nora, "so the food'll be good."

"Can I explain something?" I said. "One: I hate being cold. Two: I don't ski. Three: I hate sports with lots of gear. Four: I don't even know what a bunny hill is. Five: People die skiing. Six: I don't want to be one of them."

"You play goalie," said Nora. "You're not really scared of gear."

"And you're not going to die on the bunny hill," said Meghan. "Three-year-olds can ski the bunny hill."

"Seven: I do not want to spend the day with a bunch of three-year-olds who ski better than me."

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"There's a shelf full of mystery novels people have left at our house over the years," said Nora. "You can hang out by the fireplace."

She knew me very well.

"There's a flat-screen TV with DVD, plus a minifridge in the den," Nora coaxed.

"I have to work at the zoo," I told her. "The penguins and the pygmy goats won't know what to do without me." I took a deep breath and tried to be a good friend. "But it's great you're inviting Noel," I lied. "And you know what you should do in the mornings?"

"What?"

"You should bake those cinnamon buns," I said. "Really?"

"Yes. Because even though the way to a guy's heart is through his-"

"Nether regions!" cried Nora. This was an old joke.

"-there is no way romancing the stomach can hurt."

"Hm," she said. "I would never have thought of that."

"Those buns are some serious deliciousness," I told her. "And Noel is the kind of guy who would appreciate them."

Nora hugged me. "Thanks, Roo."

I felt slightly sick, but I smiled.

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8.

I Correspond with a Pygmy Goat

Dear Robespierre,

I often wonder if you mind being a pygmy goat. Does it make you feel inadequate next to the larger goats? Or do you feel supercute and adorable?

Also, do you understand English?

And do you, as a boy pygmy goat, ever worry about the girl pygmy goats? Do you feel conflicted and wonder whether you're most fond of Imelda or Mata Hari? Or do you, perhaps, feel goatly affection for some full-size specimen like Anne Boleyn, and wish she would notice your pygmy charms?

Please reply as soon as possible.

Fondly,

Ruby Oliver

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(the one with zebra-stripe glasses who scratches your ears the way you like)

--written by me on Woodland Park Zoo stationery and placed in a bright blue box labeled "Write to Our Farm Animals!"after school the next day Meghan dropped me at the Woodland Park Zoo. My internship there had started first term junior year, and now I was scheduled for Friday afternoons and Saturday days. It didn't pay much, but I liked it. Plus, I needed the money. My parents made me pay for a percentage of the gas we used in the Honda, and I owed them for a school retreat I went on in November.

At the zoo, my job was to give a short lecture during the Humboldt penguin feeding and help out in the Family Farm. I had gotten quite friendly with the goats and llamas. I fed them little food pellets and stroked their soft, hairy necks and told them how good-looking they were. I didn't mind if they chewed my sleeves or slobbered on me. I was always glad to see them.