Autoboyography
Page 7
I spot a bunch of people I know from school. Jack Thorne is playing what I’m sure is a rousing game of Skee-Ball with a string of tickets slithering along the floor at his feet. Soccer Dave is playing pinball with Clive and has a soccer ball predictably clamped between his feet. The birthday boy himself, our friend Manny Lavea, is goofing off with a few of his brothers near a row of tables in the back, but much to Autumn’s chagrin: no Eric in sight.
I search the silhouettes in front of the giant movie screens suspended above the bowling lanes—sorry, Thunder Alley—before giving up.
“Are you texting him?” I ask Autumn, looking down to find her still staring intently at her phone.
“No.”
“Then what has you glued to your phone tonight? You’ve barely come up for air.”
“I was just typing up a few notes,” she says, taking my hand and leading me past the ticket redemption center and toward the tables. “For the book. You know, random thoughts that pop into my head or pieces of dialogue. It’s a good way to get stuff down. Fujita is going to expect something on Monday.”
Stress tightens my gut, and I change the subject. “Come on, Auddy. Let me win you something.”
I win her a gigantic tiger, which I’m guiltily aware will soon become landfill, and we wander back over toward the party room as they’re bringing out the food. A haggard woman named Liz tries to bring the party to some sort of order before giving up and dropping a tray of veggies and dip on the center table. Truthfully, we’ve been here so many times, Liz could go out back and smoke a pack of cigarettes and we’d be fine getting through the night.
Eric finds us as Manny’s mom is handing out paper plates, and our entire group—about twenty of us in total—moves in a line on either side of the long tables. There’s the normal fare of bad pizza and Sprite, but I help myself to some of the dishes his mom has prepared too. Manny’s family is Tongan, and when I first moved here in tenth grade from the diverse wonderland of the South Bay, it was such a relief to find a brown person in the smiling sea of white faces. Because of missionary efforts in Hawaii and other Pacific Islands, there’s a surprisingly large number of Polynesians in Utah. Manny and his family are no exception, but they’re among the LDS families who don’t keep only to themselves. Manny is big, and hilarious, and nearly always smiling. I’d probably be into him if it weren’t such an obvious waste of time: He is roaringly heterosexual. I would pull out every penny I have and bet that Manny isn’t going to be virginal when he marries.
I step up next to Autumn, opening my mouth to tease her about how she’s got only a single breadstick on her plate, but the words fall out of my brain. Sebastian Brother is standing across the room, talking to two of Manny’s brothers. My pulse takes off in a surging gallop.
I didn’t know he was going to be here.
Auddy pulls us over to a bench to sit down, and sips a cup of water, distracted. Now that I look closer, I see she’s put more effort into how she looks tonight: She straightened her hair. She’s wearing sticky, shiny lip gloss. I’m pretty sure her shirt is new.
“Why aren’t you eating?” I ask, unrolling the paper napkin from the plastic utensils.
In an effort to prove she’s not looking at Eric, she takes a Snap of her food, examines her handiwork, and then types something before turning her phone to face me. It’s a photo of her breadstick on a plain white paper plate with the caption “dinner” written beneath it.
Honestly.
“The pizza looked greasy and the other stuff was weird,” she says, motioning to my own plate. “That salad thing has raw fish.”
I look up again and subtly glance over her shoulder to see that Sebastian has moved to the table next to us. There’s a backpack on the bench next to him. I’m instantly obsessed with the idea of where he’s been. School? The library? Does he live on the BYU campus? Or at home with his parents?
I turn back to my food. “It’s the same ceviche you had at that place in Park City. You liked it.”
“I don’t remember liking it.” Autumn reaches her fork across the table to steal a bite anyway. “By the way, did you see who’s here?”
As if I could miss him.
Eric and Autumn throw out some small talk, and although I’m not really listening, I’m paying enough attention to notice the flashes of awkward every few seconds. Anyone would notice. Autumn’s laugh is too loud. The silences stretch and then are broken with a burst of them speaking at the same time. Maybe Eric is into her too, and that explains why they’re both acting like a couple of junior high kids. Is it bad that I’m relieved she’s into him, even if it could crash and burn, affecting all of us? My friendship with Auddy matters the most to me, and I don’t want there to be any residual romantic crumbs between us. If things can go back to normal for good, maybe I can eventually tell her everything.
Maybe I’ll have someone to talk to about this Sebastian dilemma.
And with that, the cat ears of my thoughts have turned back around, focusing behind me. It’s like Sebastian’s mere presence hums. I want to know where he is every second. I want him to notice me.
This plan is prematurely thwarted when Manny drags a bunch of us to the laser tag arena. I go begrudgingly, following them into the briefing room where we await our instructions.
Autumn has opted to watch from the observation area in the next room, so I stand with Eric, wondering if there’s a way for me to slip out unnoticed before the game starts. But when I move toward the doorway, I see Sebastian and Manny’s brother Kole step into the arena. I nearly choke on my gum.
I’m not even pretending to listen when the instructor comes in. I’m unable to drag my eyes away from Sebastian and the way his jaw and his face and his hair look in this light. He must be having a hard time paying attention as well, because his gaze flickers away to scan the room and he sees me.
For one,
two,
three seconds,
he stares back.
Recognition flashes across his face, and when he smiles, my stomach lurches like the floor has dropped out from under my feet.
Help me.
I smile back, a wobbly mess.
“My name is Tony, and I’m your game master,” the instructor says. I blink away, forcing myself to turn toward the front. “Have we chosen the two team captains?” When nobody volunteers, he points to where Sebastian and Kole are standing on the periphery and gestures for us to follow him to the vesting room.
Somehow in the shuffle, Eric winds up at the end of the line, and I’m right next to Sebastian. May God bless Eric. On each side of the room, there are rows of vests outfitted with power packs. Tony instructs us to slip one on and secure it in the front, miming the action like a flight attendant readying us for takeoff.
“Remove a phaser from the charging station and pull the trigger,” he says. “You’ll see a code name appear on the LED screen. Everyone see theirs?”
I do as he says, and the name “The Patriot” flashes across the small screen. A covert check of Sebastian’s shows the name “Sergeant Blue.”
“Remember that name. It’s how your score will be posted on the boards outside, after the game. To score points and win, you have to take out your opponents on the other team. You can do this in one of six places.” Tony reaches for Manny’s sleeve and pulls him to his side. “Here’s where you should aim,” he says, dramatically pointing a finger to each of the illuminated packs attached to the vest.
I search the silhouettes in front of the giant movie screens suspended above the bowling lanes—sorry, Thunder Alley—before giving up.
“Are you texting him?” I ask Autumn, looking down to find her still staring intently at her phone.
“No.”
“Then what has you glued to your phone tonight? You’ve barely come up for air.”
“I was just typing up a few notes,” she says, taking my hand and leading me past the ticket redemption center and toward the tables. “For the book. You know, random thoughts that pop into my head or pieces of dialogue. It’s a good way to get stuff down. Fujita is going to expect something on Monday.”
Stress tightens my gut, and I change the subject. “Come on, Auddy. Let me win you something.”
I win her a gigantic tiger, which I’m guiltily aware will soon become landfill, and we wander back over toward the party room as they’re bringing out the food. A haggard woman named Liz tries to bring the party to some sort of order before giving up and dropping a tray of veggies and dip on the center table. Truthfully, we’ve been here so many times, Liz could go out back and smoke a pack of cigarettes and we’d be fine getting through the night.
Eric finds us as Manny’s mom is handing out paper plates, and our entire group—about twenty of us in total—moves in a line on either side of the long tables. There’s the normal fare of bad pizza and Sprite, but I help myself to some of the dishes his mom has prepared too. Manny’s family is Tongan, and when I first moved here in tenth grade from the diverse wonderland of the South Bay, it was such a relief to find a brown person in the smiling sea of white faces. Because of missionary efforts in Hawaii and other Pacific Islands, there’s a surprisingly large number of Polynesians in Utah. Manny and his family are no exception, but they’re among the LDS families who don’t keep only to themselves. Manny is big, and hilarious, and nearly always smiling. I’d probably be into him if it weren’t such an obvious waste of time: He is roaringly heterosexual. I would pull out every penny I have and bet that Manny isn’t going to be virginal when he marries.
I step up next to Autumn, opening my mouth to tease her about how she’s got only a single breadstick on her plate, but the words fall out of my brain. Sebastian Brother is standing across the room, talking to two of Manny’s brothers. My pulse takes off in a surging gallop.
I didn’t know he was going to be here.
Auddy pulls us over to a bench to sit down, and sips a cup of water, distracted. Now that I look closer, I see she’s put more effort into how she looks tonight: She straightened her hair. She’s wearing sticky, shiny lip gloss. I’m pretty sure her shirt is new.
“Why aren’t you eating?” I ask, unrolling the paper napkin from the plastic utensils.
In an effort to prove she’s not looking at Eric, she takes a Snap of her food, examines her handiwork, and then types something before turning her phone to face me. It’s a photo of her breadstick on a plain white paper plate with the caption “dinner” written beneath it.
Honestly.
“The pizza looked greasy and the other stuff was weird,” she says, motioning to my own plate. “That salad thing has raw fish.”
I look up again and subtly glance over her shoulder to see that Sebastian has moved to the table next to us. There’s a backpack on the bench next to him. I’m instantly obsessed with the idea of where he’s been. School? The library? Does he live on the BYU campus? Or at home with his parents?
I turn back to my food. “It’s the same ceviche you had at that place in Park City. You liked it.”
“I don’t remember liking it.” Autumn reaches her fork across the table to steal a bite anyway. “By the way, did you see who’s here?”
As if I could miss him.
Eric and Autumn throw out some small talk, and although I’m not really listening, I’m paying enough attention to notice the flashes of awkward every few seconds. Anyone would notice. Autumn’s laugh is too loud. The silences stretch and then are broken with a burst of them speaking at the same time. Maybe Eric is into her too, and that explains why they’re both acting like a couple of junior high kids. Is it bad that I’m relieved she’s into him, even if it could crash and burn, affecting all of us? My friendship with Auddy matters the most to me, and I don’t want there to be any residual romantic crumbs between us. If things can go back to normal for good, maybe I can eventually tell her everything.
Maybe I’ll have someone to talk to about this Sebastian dilemma.
And with that, the cat ears of my thoughts have turned back around, focusing behind me. It’s like Sebastian’s mere presence hums. I want to know where he is every second. I want him to notice me.
This plan is prematurely thwarted when Manny drags a bunch of us to the laser tag arena. I go begrudgingly, following them into the briefing room where we await our instructions.
Autumn has opted to watch from the observation area in the next room, so I stand with Eric, wondering if there’s a way for me to slip out unnoticed before the game starts. But when I move toward the doorway, I see Sebastian and Manny’s brother Kole step into the arena. I nearly choke on my gum.
I’m not even pretending to listen when the instructor comes in. I’m unable to drag my eyes away from Sebastian and the way his jaw and his face and his hair look in this light. He must be having a hard time paying attention as well, because his gaze flickers away to scan the room and he sees me.
For one,
two,
three seconds,
he stares back.
Recognition flashes across his face, and when he smiles, my stomach lurches like the floor has dropped out from under my feet.
Help me.
I smile back, a wobbly mess.
“My name is Tony, and I’m your game master,” the instructor says. I blink away, forcing myself to turn toward the front. “Have we chosen the two team captains?” When nobody volunteers, he points to where Sebastian and Kole are standing on the periphery and gestures for us to follow him to the vesting room.
Somehow in the shuffle, Eric winds up at the end of the line, and I’m right next to Sebastian. May God bless Eric. On each side of the room, there are rows of vests outfitted with power packs. Tony instructs us to slip one on and secure it in the front, miming the action like a flight attendant readying us for takeoff.
“Remove a phaser from the charging station and pull the trigger,” he says. “You’ll see a code name appear on the LED screen. Everyone see theirs?”
I do as he says, and the name “The Patriot” flashes across the small screen. A covert check of Sebastian’s shows the name “Sergeant Blue.”
“Remember that name. It’s how your score will be posted on the boards outside, after the game. To score points and win, you have to take out your opponents on the other team. You can do this in one of six places.” Tony reaches for Manny’s sleeve and pulls him to his side. “Here’s where you should aim,” he says, dramatically pointing a finger to each of the illuminated packs attached to the vest.
