Chapter Eight

Raymond woke to the sound of palm fronds rattling outside. He didn't open his eyes. For a moment he forgot where he was, what had happened. Something was different. Light fell on his eyelids from a strange direction. The lap was strange. The sound of measured breathing above him soothed him—told him everything was all right. He opened his eyes.

Susan had her head back—he could see the white of her neck and the way her jaw hung, loose. Her mouth was probably open. Suddenly, he ached all over. Breathing hurt his chest. When he moved slightly, the leather of the couch chilled him where his flesh touched. The night before flashed before him, worse than his nightmares. His only comfort was this warm lap, the sleeping girl it was attached to, and the gentle sounds from outside.

A car rushed by, disturbing the calm. Raymond closed his eyes and tried to block it out: the night before, the pain, the noise around him—everything. But the footsteps intruded. They came down the hallway and stopped in front of the couch. Wondering, he opened his eyes and found himself face to face with his mother.

"What is going on?" she whispered.

"It's a long story," he said, suddenly wishing his head were somewhere else, maybe against Susan's shoulder. He wondered what his mom would say if she knew he only had on his underwear. "She drove me home and I couldn't drive her back and it was raining so she stayed. We kind of fell asleep." One of Susan's arms was draped across his chest protectively, the cupped hand holding the blanket in place.

"What happened to your face? Did you get into another fight?"

"Well … kind of."

Mrs. Harmon examined the sleeping face disapprovingly. "Hmm." She paused. "We're starting up a new unit so I'll be gone till at least four. Don't leave Danny alone. You can explain all of this when I get back."

"Okay."

She gave one more look and left. When the car had pulled out of the driveway, Raymond relaxed his neck, letting his head sink back into the soft lap.

"She gone?"

Eyes opened. Susan was staring down at him.

"You're awake?"

She smiled at him, rubbing her neck. "Stiff," she explained. "I heard you whispering."

Raymond rocked forward, trying to sit up. "Man, I'm sore." She reached over and helped him up, and he swung his body to a sit.

"I mean, I thought it might be better to play dead. Better politically. Discretion the better part of valor and all that, you know?"

He nodded, rubbing his arms "I know." He stood up, and just then realized that he only had his underwear on.

"Take the blanket with you," she suggested.

"Good idea." Stifling a groan, he tucked the blanket up around his aching chest, feeling a little like Julius Caesar, post-Brutus. Moving toward the hall, he yawned—and almost fainted. His chest felt like fire. He figured that he'd probably cracked a few ribs. Or rather, the Bloods had cracked them for him. As he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, the phone rang—breaking the peace once and for all. Raymond went over to the phone and stood over it, waiting.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

He hushed her with a gesture. "Wait."

Two more rings, and the machine clicked on. After the message came the beep.

"Raymond? Hi, it's me, Julie. I don't know why you're being such an asshole, not returning my calls, but I wish you'd call me. You're probably standing there right now, waiting for me to hang up. Oh I hate this machine !" Click.

Raymond looked at Susan.

"I see what you mean," she said.

He hit the rewind button, hitched the blanket up further and cringed at the pain, then went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water.

* * *

They went to Susan's beach that morning and stayed into the afternoon. Danny spent the day running around, chasing crabs, finding little bits of coral and broken shells that had washed in from the reef; Raymond and Susan sat on the grassy terrace, watching him, talking. Occasionally Danny would bring one of his findings over to either of them and offer it as a present. Raymond and Susan each had small piles of treasures next to them in the grass.

They discussed the night before and the Bloods in general. Though Susan kept insisting that the school administration wasn't really aware of the problem, Raymond thought they were. Ms. Greer had known he hadn't started the fight. Yet he couldn't figure out why she refused to deal with the situation. Susan told him flatly: she doesn't care.

Raymond also had to agree with Susan that the dance music had been as she'd predicted.

"Nyah nyah—told you so."

"Rub it in … What's the matter?"

Susan was looking past him, over his shoulder. "Don't—don't turn around. Enemy aircraft, 8:00 high."

"What?" She lifted up a little and glanced over his shoulder again.

"Keep talking."

"About what?"

She raised her voice and plastered on a silly smile. "So I don't know—do you think the Fed's going to cut3 interest rates?" Her eyes were being obvious about not looking behind him, so Raymond compensated by turning around. Larissa was coming up the beach, less than ten feet away. Susan made like she had just noticed. "Oh, hi!"

"Hi!"

Raymond gave a little wave. "Hi."

"What's going on?" Larissa asked, as if it wasn't obvious.

"Nothing," Susan said. Raymond was content to have her answer for both of them.

The burden of conversation suddenly placed on her shoulders, Larissa shifted in the sand nervously. "Great day, huh?"

Raymond nodded, examining her. She had on the same bathing suit he'd first seen her in. She was wet, her hair slicked back, and there was a waxy shine to her skin. The wind was blowing the wrong way, but he could still smell her sunscreen. He turned away so he wouldn't have to look at her, and saw Danny chasing waves twenty yards away.

"Get home okay?" Raymond asked.

"Eventually."

Susan crossed her legs and leaned back casually. "So. You and Saul back together, then?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." She giggled, forced. "Guess he can't live without me."

"Guess not," Susan sighed, her sarcasm like rubbing a balloon.

Larissa's foot worried a hole in the sand, digging down and pushing it back. "So," she said, "are you two an item?"

Susan and Raymond looked at each other. "I don't know, Raymond," Susan said, slipping an arm around him. "Are we an item?"

With a shrug, Raymond reached a hand up to hold the one draped over his shoulder. It was a warm hand. "Sorry," Susan said. "You'll have to ask another time. We haven't quite decided."

Calling out to them, Danny waddled up, bearing gifts. "It's sea glass," Danny explained, handing them the wave-smoothed shards of somebody's discarded beer bottle. "They dig it out of the ocean and then they chop it up and color it white and make windows out of it."

"That's great, Danny." Susan turned her piece over in her fingers. The sun glinted off it like an eye.

Larissa took the hint. "Well, I guess I'll see you folks at school." She left in the direction she had been heading, not looking back. They both waved at her, then turned their attention to the sea glass. Danny's little wet presents glistened in the late afternoon sun as Susan and Raymond passed them from hand to hand.

* * *

The next week passed more quickly, and Raymond set into the grind of Wailele High. He counted days not by their names or numbers, but by the daily ritual of dropping his spork in the bucket at the lunch table. Each time he performed that simple act, it reminded him that he was in Hawaii, eating lunch with people he still hardly knew, at a school on the inconvenient side of a rock out in the middle of the planet's widest ocean. Each day, the thought irritated him less and less.

That Wednesday, the boat came with the Cutlass. Sarah drove his mom in to Honolulu to pick it up and when they got back the little Nissan became practically (if not officially) Raymond's. He began driving it to school—Susan and him. Raymond had been a little hesitant about this at first, afraid that Ed would somehow have his feelings hurt. But Ed just smiled and asked somebody else to ride. Mornings, when he passed the bus stop, Raymond kept his eyes on the road to avoid the stares from the kids waiting on the curb.

All that week, Raymond studied at Susan's house. Sometimes they took Danny with them and sat out on the beach, reading Gruber novels or working on math. Other times they sat in her room, one of them in the dilapidated bean bag and one on the bed or at the desk, and they'd sit there quietly for hours. It surprised Raymond the amount of time he was devoting to schoolwork lately. He had always just done the work he had needed to pass the class with a B or a C, but when faced with the options of goofing off at home or at the beach, watching television, or sitting with Susan and studying, the choice was academic. He even liked her parents. Mrs. Murello was just like Susan, minus the red hair and figure. She and her husband were both as sarcastic as Susan, though less blatant about it. Every day she'd come home from work, rap on Susan's door and ask, "Are you two in there spooning again?" Susan would always answer, "No, ma, we're forking." It struck Raymond as interesting that she never once opened the door to look. It was always unlocked.

One Friday, Ed approached Raymond after band. "So what's up with you and Susan?" The question was casual, but Raymond could see more than casual interest in Ed's eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on," Ed pressed. "What's the deal?"

Raymond pushed his bangs out of his face. "We've been hanging out a lot."

"Just friends?" he probed, question marks shining in his eyes.

"Just friends," Raymond affirmed. "I mean, we haven't even been on a date, yet." True, they were going to the movie that night, but he didn't tell Ed that. "We've only slept together once—is everybody pairing us up already?"

Ed shrugged, completely confused.

That evening, Raymond and Susan went to a horror film at the tiny theater in the seven-store Kalohe shopping center. It wasn't a movie either had particularly wanted to see, but there wasn't much of a choice—no twelve-plexes in Kalohe. Plus, it provided them an excuse to have a Mainland-style "date."

A half dozen of the younger Bloods clustered around the theater entrance, and Raymond avoided their eyes as they stood in line. One of them said something in another language that was obviously extremely funny, and they all laughed.

"I wish they'd go somewhere quiet and evolve," Susan said in a low voice.

"That would be beyond their attention spans." As he whispered to her, Raymond couldn't resist the temptation to nuzzle her ear. They shared a warm squeeze.

He paid for tickets and bought popcorn and a large Coke for them to share. It was an official date. They found seats, sat down, and waited for the movie to start. When the lights dimmed, Raymond put his arm around Susan and held her tight. She felt comfortable, close to him. It looked like it would turn out to be a perfect evening.

During the previews the lobby doors opened and a group came in late. But Raymond's attention was split between the screen and the girl under his arm. He looked over and smiled at Susan just in time to see the silhouette of someone taking the chair next to her.

Susan squinted at the dark figure, then turned to Raymond. "It's the Bloods," she whispered.

"What to move?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah, it's just the little ones."

The movie began, and Raymond forgot about the Bloods. He almost even forgot about Susan. By the first gruesome murder, Raymond was in Hollywood's comfortable world, glad to have the audience's screams shock the tension from of his body. The blood bath progressed and Raymond managed to let himself privately enjoy it. He put his feet up on the seat in front of him and coasted along.

When the requisite sex-before-slaughter scene came, Susan grabbed his hand. He turned to her, as heavy soundtrack panting surrounded him, and followed her eyes down to her bare thigh. A brown hand cupped her leg just above her kneecap, working its way slowly up toward the hem line of her short skirt. The Blood who belonged to the hand smiled grotesquely as he looked straight up at the screen, where the heroine and her soon-to-be-disemboweled boyfriend writhed in a darkened greenhouse.

Susan reached down and held the boy's wrist, her face not registering the slightest concern. While Raymond was debating between slugging the kid in the face and calling the theater manager, Susan said loudly, "I'm thirsty."

"What?"

"Hand me the Coke," she whispered.

He held it out to her, and she took off the lid and straw and dropped them on the floor. By now the Blood was up to the hem. She took the cup from Raymond, glanced at the Blood for a second, then dumped the diluted Coke and slushy ice into his lap. He gasped and swore under his breath, then stumbled out of the theater as his friends cackled at him. As their hooting died down and the heroine's boyfriend literally spilled his guts, Susan dropped the empty cup on the floor and let it roll. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she took Raymond's hand again. His hand congratulated hers with a friendly squeeze.

* * *

As they left the theater, the Bloods were all lined up outside the entrance. The Blood at the end had a damp spot around his crotch and between his legs, and a scowl on his face. As Raymond and Susan passed, the Bloods stared for a moment and then turned and laughed ferociously at their wet friend. Susan shot Raymond a smirk, and he helped her into the car.

They drove straight to her house, turned on the floodlights and walked out to the grass terrace, just barely within reach of the lights. Both of them sat down, and they stayed apart for a while, talking. The ocean pounded below them in the blackness, tingling salt mist in their nostrils. Then Raymond curled up on the Oriental grass and rested his head in Susan's lap, like he had that night after the dance. It felt comfortable and warm and he could look up and just barely make out the features of her face.

Their conversation dwindled until it was just touches and looks. She held one of his hands, their fingers woven together, while her other hand played with his hair. She reached down and ran her palm along his jaw, making a sandpapery noise.

He closed his eyes and had almost drifted off when she squeezed his hand and jolted him back.

"You falling asleep on me?"

"Course not," he fibbed.

"Sure." He felt her take a breath, and let it out slowly and noiselessly. She bent her head down, brushed the hair out of his eyes and looked at him straight. "Are we an item?"

After thinking for a minute, wanting to be perfectly sure about what he said, he smiled. "Kind of feels like it, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Kind of does." She thought a moment. "Big I? Little I?

"What begins with I?"

That took her off guard. "Pardon me?"

Raymond grinned broadly. "Sorry. Danny's way into Dr. Seuss."

"What I mean is, are we an 'item' or an 'Item'?" For the second, she made quote marks in the air.

"How about we start as an 'item,' lower-case I, with option to capitalize?"

Her hand squeezed his. "Deal," she said.

"Deal."

© Copyright 2002 by David S. Baker