Finally the bell rang, only we don’t have a bell at Griffin High, just a buzzer sound that’s probably not even generated each time, but a recording played over the PA. Whatever, it means we get out of class. Whoever put my lunch in seventh period, someday I will find you and get revenge. I mean, one o’clock isn’t an unreasonable time to eat lunch, but when you had breakfast at seven…and there’s almost no one in the lunchroom, because everyone has their lunches at fourth, fifth, or sixth. Only transfers like me and remedial kids have to have them this late.
To be fair, they don’t run out of stuff. On the contrary, they probably throw out most of it. But that means that we get the food that’s been sitting in trays for…three times forty minutes…OK, I need to study math more. It’s a long time. I grab a slice of pizza that’s lost all its crunch—no toppings or garlic or red pepper of course, that would give it too much flavor—and some juice and take my tray down to the last table. A few moments of peace and then I can burn through history and gym and go home.
But it looks like I’m not the only transfer student stuck in the late lunch, because these three have to be new. I would have seen them before. The hair colors alone—orange, purple, blue…the blue might look gray in low light, but even that doesn’t help. Nor did the style. Blue had a pony tail and Orange had a Peg Bundy poof and Purple had a pair of Sailor Moon pigtails. Plus the way they dressed…I know nothing about fashion, because I’m a guy and I don’t have to, but their clothes looked more like parodies of trendy clothes than what actual girls were wearing. Oh, well, it was their problem.
They didn’t look happy, but that could be attributed to the food, the fact that they were in a new school, or just the weather.
This was Friday, and I put them out of my head. I liked girls fine, but I had no idea how to talk to them, even when they didn’t have anime hair. What weirded me out further was when they came in Monday in exactly the same outfits. I mean, I didn’t give it a whole lot of thought. Probably they did laundry over the weekend and the last became first. It didn’t bother me till Tuesday.
My sixth period class is right by the cafeteria, so I just take my books in while I eat, then go to my locker before eighth. The upshot is that I’m usually first to get the leftovers. That Tuesday, though, I got my tray and get in line when this blue and gray streak runs right up next to me.
“Ooh, sorry,” she said. “Really itching for lunch, you know.”
It was blue-hair, and again, she was wearing the same faux-Gothic outfit. I mumbled a “Don’t mind” and pushed ahead to get a scoop of macaroni and cheese. Well, in name. I’m fairly sure that no part of the dish ever saw the inside of a cow.
“What the—what is this?!”
The bored server didn’t answer, just added a scoop to her plate.
“But it’s Tues—arrgh! I wish there were a way to know what the lunch is!”
I don’t know how she could have missed it, but I cleared my throat and said, “The schedule for the month is posted where you get the trays.” She looked at me as if wondering why I was speaking to her, then ran back to the tray area, bowling over another couple of students. After scanning it, she said, “They don’t even have them!”
I shrugged and took my usual spot at table. She slammed her tray down next to me. “Food sucks,” she said.
“It is pretty bad, isn’t it.”
“You think so, too?” she said.
“Yeah, but they don’t let you go out for lunch, even though there are probably some places I could drive to and back in time.”
“I meant having to eat food, it’s the worst.”
I didn’t get her. Losing interest, I turned back to my own food. “Thanks,” I heard, and looked up. “For showing me the menu,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” I decided to try to take the conversation up. “So, about your clothes…”
“Hey!” She stood up and waved. I turned around to see her two compatriots, also in the same clothes, join her. Talking was over for that day.
Indeed it seemed over for that week. She didn’t come in early again, and I didn’t feel confident striking up a conversation with the other two there. And that was something I wanted to do. I liked her increasingly, listening to the timbre of their conversation. They seemed to be complaining a lot, which I could understand, but blue-hair at least laughed once in a while. I got the impression she wasn’t that bright, but wasn’t stupid either. Just a little spacey.
So I made a plan. On Friday, I changed my routine and did go to my locker before lunch. That gave me more time to get to the next class. Right as the bell rang, I steeled my courage, walked behind them as they were headed out, and said, “Er, excuse me?” All three turned around, but I kept my eyes on target. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” I hoped that the alone would be implied.
They all had looks like they didn’t want to be separated, but orange-hair said, “Catch up with us. You do remember where the next class is, right?”
“Sure.” They walked off, and now I was in for it.
“So, um…sorry, I don’t know your name.
“Sonata.”
“Really? That’s an unusual name. Pretty, I mean. I’m Chip.”
Her eyes widened a little. “Like a nacho chip?”
“I…sure. If that helps. So, like we were saying…you probably don’t remember, but we complained about the food. Would you maybe want to get some better food? Like, with me.”
She hesitated. “Do…is there any place that has tacos? They don’t have them here, but they did at my last school.” She clearly missed it.
“I’m sure I can find someplace with good Mexican food.”
“I don’t want Mexican, just tacos.”
I was confused. Didn’t the one mean the other? Oh, she must mean that she wants fast food tacos. “OK, we can just go to Taco Border, if that’s what you’re into. Want to meet there?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you couldn’t just take me after school. I don’t have a car.”
“OK, I could pick you up at five—“
“No! I mean, let’s go right after school.”
“But we just ate…ok, I see your point, we barely ate. Sounds good.” Homework could wait anyway.
I sleepwalked through the last two periods and hung out in front of the buses that would take all the non-seniors and those without cars home. This was the worst part of a meet-up: the waiting. I made note to get her phone number if we were going to be dating. Then I realized that I never clarified this as a true date, and that three o’clock wasn’t exactly date time either. I would have to bring that up.
Finally she came out with her two-person crew. Or, to be fair, it seemed like she was in the crew and Orange was the boss. Whatever, not my problem. “Hey, Sonata!”
Purple shot me a look and lowered her tone so that I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I got the impression that neither of the other two liked me. Well, I hoped that was just typical female jealousy. Sonata came over and I did the chivalrous thing of opening the door. I know it’s considered corny and anti-feminist. But all’s fair.
OK, so, I had her in the car, good. I liked my car; what high-school student doesn’t? Even if it’s a beater and has no style, it’s four wheels, and that’s two to four more than most people my age have. And mine wasn’t that bad. Used, of course, but paid for, a gift from two birthdays ago, contingent on my getting into college to keep it. Yes, I had a lot of miles under my belt with my…
I laughed out loud.
“What?” she asked.
“I just realized, the car. It’s a Sonata.”
She was confused.
“The model of the car, I mean.”
“Oh! I didn’t even know that was a car model.”
No laugh, but then it wasn’t really a joke, just an observation. There would be time for that later, I hoped. I couldn’t see myself dating someone who didn’t laugh. Crazy, I could deal with. Humorless, never. I’d once spent the better part of a three-day weekend trying to get someone to crack a smile. Made it on the last day, by referencing something we’d seen on the first.
I reached for the radio knob. “Do you like music?”
“No!” Sonata was given to exclamations, but this was the kind of sharp warning that I would have expected had she noticed a spike on the knob waiting to pierce my finger. “I…no, I don’t like music.”
That was odd, but not too much. Some of what they played would turn even the most ardent admirer’s ear away from the medium.
It wasn’t far to the taco place, and when I brought the car to a stop she fairly jumped out and raced to get in line. She sniffed the air like a junkie taking a hit. The rush hadn’t hit yet and we reached the front of the line quickly.
“Three taco supremes, please!”
I managed to not get out a “tacos supreme.” The last thing that I needed to do at the beginning of a date was to get a reputation as a grammar stickler. Besides, I had a feeling that Sonata wouldn’t understand, and that if I tried to explain, she would get bored or annoyed.
Still, if this was going to be the model for our dates, I was going to enjoy this. The entire meal for two hadn’t cost ten dollars, and here we were at this reasonable hour, standing a good chance of getting home while it was light out. If the relationship progressed, that would mean time for extended dates.
“Thank you so much,” Sonata said, and she meant it. Don’t go crazy, Chip. You just bought her fast food.
Our number came up and I took the tray, seeking a booth in the corner where we could talk in as much privacy as could be afforded in such a place. I watched her pick up her first taco and eye it greedily, before biting in and giving a moan of satisfaction.
“You seem to like it.”
“My friends and I used to eat out all the time, but ever since we got here, we haven’t been.”
“Where did you used to go to school?” I asked.
“Canterlot High.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It doesn’t matter. But speaking of which, can I ask a question?” I nodded assent. “OK, Griffin High School. Out in the front there’s the sign that says, ‘Home of the Gophers.’ Why not a lion or an eagle?”
I searched the question for meaning. Then it hit me and I laughed again. Maybe Sonata did have a sense of humor. “Oh, that’s clever. But no, it’s not like the mythological griffin. I only came in this year but one of my classes made me research it. Some guy named Griffin, a television producer I think, gave some money to have it named. Or maybe he went here when it was called something else, I forget. But they didn’t establish the mascot until later.”
“No griffins? I’ve got to tell Adagio! She picked this school.”
“Adagio?”
“My friend, the one I eat with. She and Aria, but Adagio’s kind of the boss.”
I concentrated on my quesadilla for a moment. The freakish names were one thing, but what did Sonata mean by “picked the school”? I had pegged the orange one as the leader of the group, but did Sonata’s parents really present a series of options of moving locations to which they deferred, not to their daughter, but to her friend? It was crazy, but that seemed the least hypothesis for the moment.
“Oh, I wanted to ask about your clothes.”
“Is there something off about them? You don’t like them?”
“No, I do.” In fact I liked her whole look. “But you wear the same outfit every day. Do you have a bunch of them or do you wash it every night?”
She took her time answering, because I gave her a choice of two and she didn’t answer with either one. “I just take it off when I go to bed and put it on again in the morning.”
Another mystery. Sonata seemed to be full of them. By all logic, if what she said was true, she should stink noticeably, which she did not. If she had any scent at all, it was of talcum and sea salt, neutral tones that suited my sensitive sinuses. Nothing was worse for me than some girl who deluged herself in eau de toilette. I would almost prefer the literal meaning.
It irked me. She and I seemed so compatible, if only she didn’t say odd things. Something I needed to consider was that she might simply be an inveterate liar. But she hadn’t lied for any advantage. Say rather that she was a teller of tales. She smiled at me as she bit her last taco, and I put aside all thoughts of the enigma of Sonata.
The meal was done, and we lingered over our sodas. Time enough to arrange a second date. I didn’t intend to try to extend this one. Sonata might get the wrong idea about me if I asked to stay out till after dark.
“So I’d like to do this again sometime.”
“Buy me tacos? Coolsies!”
It was kind of a childish word, but she wasn’t a serious girl. “Well, I meant any sort of date.”
“So no tacos?”
“If you like them, I’m sure we can come back here or find some place with better stuff. Can I get your phone number?”
“Oh, sure. It’s (555) 321-5464.”
I put my phone down. “Look, if you didn’t have a good time, just let me know and I won’t bother you.”
She looked hurt. “No, I had a great time! I want to do this again! And not just ‘cause I get hungry.”
It made no sense. She was either the best actress in the world or she was being honest. “But there’s no way that’s your number. 555 is the fake area code they use so that people can give numbers on TV without people calling them.”
“I didn’t know that, but that’s what my number is. Here, I’ll text you.”
She typed on her phone and I waited. In a moment it popped up on mine: “Pls don’t be mad at me, k?” and a little emoticon of a girl giving a V-sign. I checked the return number, and it was exactly what she said it was.
“I’ll be d…OK, I don’t get it, but I’m sorry. I’ll add it to my contacts. What’s your last name?”
“Dusk.”
Of course. Couldn’t be something I’d heard of. “Spelling?” I asked, hoping that it would be something like Dusque that I could look up and find was, I don’t know, Andorran maybe.
“Dee-you-ess-kay.”
So much for hope. I logged it in and put away my phone.
“Ready to go?”
“Go?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you home.” This seemed to stymie her for no apparent reason. Only one thing I could think of. “I don’t mean my home! I’m not being forward.”
“Well, I could just walk. Maybe I’ll call Adagio and have her pick me up.”
“You don’t have to. It’s no trouble.”
Sonata bit her lower lip. “Well, all right. At least I can spend more time with you.”
My heart beat faster. I mean, there’s no way I could take that other than that she liked me, right? Again I got to her door before her, and she smiled at me, but there was still a little worry behind it. Pulling my own door shut I said, “Where to?”
“I’m still not familiar with this area. Let me put it into my phone.”
I could have used my own , but let her be the navigatrix. She guided me through the surface streets to a rather seedy part of town. I was grateful for my automatic locks. We reached a large crossroads with strip malls on each corner.
“OK, you can let me off here,” Sonata said.
“You live here.”
“Not exactly, but please, let me go here.”
She didn’t want me to see her house. OK, that was fine, not necessarily trusting a guy you just met, huh? I pulled into one of the strip mall parking lots. “I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch?”
“Sure. Bye, Chip.”
“Bye.”
She closed the door and started walking north. I didn’t quite know where I was so I put my home address into my own phone and it had me start north as well. I passed Sonata walking but didn’t bother to give her a honk. There is a limit even to my cheesiness.
A few blocks up, though, I spotted her two compatriots. What were their names again? Adagio and…Aria! That was it. I should remember that one. I guessed that she had texted them to meet her on the way after all, but I still didn’t see any place livable around there. It was more of a commercial area than a residential. I turned a corner…
Oh, no.
I knew at once that it was, even though I hoped it wasn’t. Right there was a sign: County Homeless Shelter. I drove one more block and pulled over, looked at my map one more time. Nothing else close, no apartments or houses for three miles. Sonata was poor, destitute. Probably the volunteers did her laundry for her every night, or every other night. That was why she was so overjoyed at a cheap taco meal.
Well, so what? Should I look down on her for that? It’s not her fault; it’s not like we’re supposed to be earning our own living as teenagers, right? Maybe her father got laid off or her mother just didn’t care or…or was she an orphan? All three of them? I didn’t know if they were sisters, but I didn’t know they weren’t.
No, I resolved that I would not stop seeing her because of this. But I did want to get her to open up to me. I knew, but she didn’t know I knew. I had to make Sonata understand that I didn’t care either way. And then I could help her.