Chapter 52: A Busy Saturday: Sheila

Saturday, February 13, 1982

I arrived at Sheila’s house at 10:30am as planned. I walked up, rang the bell, and Sheila’s sister answered. I’m pretty sure I’d seen her before. “Hey! S! Guy’s here!” She looked me up and down. “Steve, right?”

“Yes.” I offered my hand; she shook it. Firm grip, especially for a girl.

“Amy. A pleasure.”

“For me as well.”

She cocked her head. “You’re with ... Jasmine, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I like her.”

I laughed. “Me, too.”

“Well, duh. You know Ryan, right?”

“Ryan Baird? Yeah.”

“He sucks. Really sucks. And I know sucky guys.”

“Thanks for the information?”

She laughed. “I know, what do you care? But if you hear of anyone trying to date him, they shouldn’t.”

“I’ll remember that. I don’t know him really well.”

“You don’t want to.”

Sheila came to the door. “Hey, Steve.” She turned to her sister. “Bye, Amy.”

“Bye, S. Have fun. Hell, have too much fun,” she said with a little smirk.

Sheila looked at her and I could see the gears moving. “Thanks, A. You have fun, too. Too much fun, if you can.”

Amy blinked. “Um ... Yeah.” She smiled just a bit. “Thanks.”

I offered Sheila my arm. She blushed a bit, taking it. I walked her to the car, opened the door, and helped her in. Looking back, Amy was still watching, looking vaguely surprised.

I waved, went around, got in, and headed out. “Trying to build bridges?”

“A little, yeah. I don’t think she knew what to do with it.”

“Hopefully, it’ll be a positive.”

“We can always hope! So...?”

“I was going to ask if you had anything you’d really like to do.”

“Nah. Really, I don’t. Something fun, but where we can talk. Not a movie; even if the timing was right, that’s just snuggling and stuff, not talking.”

“Hungry?”

She laughed. “Nah. I might be, later.”

“I have an idea. You’re up for anything?”

“Pretty much.”

“Outside?”

She looked at me, curiously. “It’s pretty nice, especially for February. Sure, outside is fine.”

“Then, we’ll see.”

I aimed the car towards the freeway. “In the meantime, let’s start with looks.” She blushed and looked uncertain. “Ancestry — Scottish? Irish? Welsh? English? Something else?”

“Scottish,” she said, grinning. “Perfect for ‘Brigadoon’, definitely.” She attempted a Scots accent and did plausibly well. “That’s why I’m Fiona, don’t ya know, laddie!”

“Clan?”

“Clan Adam! Which actually is very close to Adcock, historically, in derivation.”

“Interesting. My family counts lineage through Clan Johnstone.”

She looked at me. “Your phrasing on that is odd.”

“I count it, too, but I’m adopted. I have no idea what my genetic ancestry is, so I claim the family ancestry.”

“Ahh! Interesting. I didn’t know that.”

I shrugged. “It’s not a big secret, but it’s not something I expect just everyone to know, either. Not like Angie.”

“Wait? Angie’s adopted, too? But you look so similar!”

We get that a lot, really. And I got that a lot when I was little. Personally, I don’t see it, and Mom and Dad say they don’t see it either. But apparently everyone else thinks we resemble each other.

“Angie’s originally my cousin. Well, still is? I don’t know the right phrasing for that. She’s my Uncle Frank’s daughter. When Frank died, and after some drama on her mother’s side of things, she wound up coming to live with us. Once the law allowed it, Mom and Dad adopted her ... so, now, sister.”

“Damn. That’s cool! I didn’t know any of that. Maybe that’s why you’re so close? No fighting like cats and dogs when you were younger?”

“Maybe so; it’s hard to say. We just ... fit. Have, from the day she got here, pretty much.”

“That’s sweet.” She hesitated a bit, biting her lip. “I’m...” She sighed. “I’m jealous. I love mom but she’s so busy. And I sort of love dad but ... I kind of hate him, too. He dumped mom with no warning to marry Bethany like a week after she turned eighteen. Seriously, dad? You’re forty-six and you marry an eighteen-year-old? She’s only four years older than Amy! It’s creepy! And, of course, when I see him, Bethany’s there. And, god, is she an airhead. Seriously! I’d say I don’t know what he sees in her, but I do. Which is ... ugh.”

“I have friends who are similar, but I can’t generalize. Your story is very different than theirs.”

“Fortunately, dad had to give mom a big chunk of money that let her start her business, but now she works so hard! She has to, but still. I could get away with murder if I wanted to. Well, not literally, but I mean, mom’s just never home. If I wanted you in my bed, what, Amy’s going to tell? She’s had boyfriend after boyfriend over. And constantly smokes pot in her room. And Bryan, I swear, he’s always trying to get a peek at me in the shower. Or Amy. I caught him peeking at Amy, Amy caught him peeking at me.”

“Not that I approve — I don’t — but hormones can be absolutely brutal at thirteen. He may recover from them.”

“God, I hope so! I used to really like him. Now he hangs out with a bunch of creepy nerds.”

I laughed. “I used to be a creepy nerd.”

“No way!”

“Okay, not that creepy. But until the fall right before freshman year I was a slightly chubby computer-and-math-obsessed, role-playing-game-playing, science-fiction and fantasy — only — reading nerd.”

She laughed. “I seriously can’t picture that. What happened?”

“Angie, or bashing my head in. Either or both.”

“What?!”

“I wrecked my bike in late July, knocked myself out, and came to with the bike on my head and a moderate concussion. The days in the hospital gave me some time to work out that my life wasn’t working for me all that well, and that starting before freshman year would be an excellent time to begin, since we get a big opportunity to start over that won’t repeat until college.”

“Impressive job,” she smiled. “I guess I see that, in a way. Just, I always thought the debaters were a bit nerdy, comparatively. Though really, they’re not, it’s just ... so ... organized!”

“We have to be super-organized. And a lot of them are, overall, but Memorial right now isn’t, so much. It helps that we have so many more girls than guys. Not that girls can’t be nerdy, but, say, look at Janet. Just Janet alone sets a tone. The last thing anyone thinks when they look at her is ‘nerdy’.”

“You totally have a point there, dude! I love her. She’s a riot.”

We arrived. She’d been so busy talking she’d missed where I was going. She looked out the window and focused. “Oh! Mini-golf! I like that! It’s been forever.”

I parked, we went in — holding hands, which felt nice — and I got us putters and balls. “I should’ve pretended to not know how to do this so you could wrap your arms around me and give me lessons,” she said with a grin and a wink.

“Still could.”

“Nah. Later.”

We talked between shots. “So, former nerd, you think there’s hope for Bryan. I hope so, too. I’d like him to pull his head out of his ass and figure out that it’s not working for him.”

“I hope he will. High school’s often a big shock; maybe that will do it.”

“Yeah. And Amy ... I guess, really, I don’t care about the pot. Or the lousy boyfriends. I just ... she can do better. Or maybe I’m ... maybe it’s just that I’m berating myself for not doing better.”

“Tell me what you want, that way. Dream person, if you could date whoever you want.”

She looked at me. “Not dream guy?”

“Why should I care? We’re talking about you, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the top of your list, anyway — particularly since I’m in a relationship. So, you’re not going to hurt my feelings. I’m not very sensitive about girls who don’t like me that way, otherwise I wouldn’t be friends with Janet and Lizzie.”

“Or Cammie. You’ve got a point.” And, that was a point to Sheila, considering Cammie wasn’t ‘out’ all that widely. Nor could she be, safely, of course. “Fine. Dream person, hands down, no question. Looks, personality, brains, attraction, everything.” She hesitated. “Look, if I say this, you’ll ask. And then I either have to explain stuff or not. I don’t want you looking down on me if I share some things that are confidential. Or worrying about them getting out, except I know that, with you, they won’t.”

“I won’t look down on you. However, I need to tell you that I share nearly everything with Angie. You know that. I won’t share it with anyone else and she won’t either.”

She bit her lip, thinking. “Okay, fine. I don’t know. I think I should just answer. Jessica Lively.”

She looked at me sideways to see how I’d react. Which was by totally screwing up my putt. She laughed a little, then looked down. “I know. Utterly ridiculous. She hasn’t noticed me since before freshman year.”

Wheels were spinning really, really fast in my head. The smoke-coming-out level of spinning.

She misinterpreted it. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”