Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,5
herself into her empty house. Her dad is at work and her mother is collecting for the Junior League auction. She looks at her watch, thinks about school, shelves the thought. She’ll catch up. She’s always been able to catch up. She reaches to the bottom of her purse for a small pill, pops it, and starts running a tub in her bathroom.
“Are all men pigs,” Logs says, scratching his chin. “Preamble to the male Bill of Rights, I believe. But methinks this question is loaded.”
“Will a guy screw anything that makes itself available?”
“There may be exceptions in single-cell organisms,” Logs says, “but if you stick with reptiles and mammals, you’ve got a pretty solid case.”
Hannah glares toward Paulie, scowls, and looks away, back to Logs. “How are guys and girls supposed to trust each other, or more particularly, how are girls supposed to trust guys? I mean yeah, girls cheat, but it’s got to be way more with guys.”
Paulie slumps in his frayed easy chair. “Don’t keep it general for me,” he says to Hannah. “The half of this group that hasn’t seen your Facebook page is now up to speed. This is P-8. Keep it real.” He says it without sarcasm or spite.
Hannah shrugs. “Your call, superstar.”
Discomfort bounces around the room. Nobody wants to mess with Hannah Murphy, but among the girls the news that Paulie Bomb is free isn’t all bad.
“So. I cheated,” Paulie says.
Justin’s eyes narrow. “Ooooo.” He looks at Hannah. “How’d you find out?”
“What difference does it make, Justin,” Hannah says. “He cheated.”
“The chick threaten you?” Justin says to Paulie. “Who was it? Maybe I got somethin’ on her.”
Paulie sighs. “Nobody threatened me. I cheated and I said so.”
“To who?” Justin says. “You told somebody and they ratted you out?”
“I told Hannah,” Paulie says. “Jeez.”
Girls look at one another and then at Hannah. Guys look at one another and not at Paulie.
“Lemme get this right,” Justin says. “You slipped up, didn’t get caught, so you brought in friendly fire?”
Logs looks at the floor, slightly embarrassed. Justin sounds dangerously like him.
Paulie says, “Yup.”
“Good thing you’re not runnin’ for ASB prez again,” Justin says. “Don’t think I could rally anyone behind you in the face of this. That just sounds, like, ill thought out.”
At the end of his junior year, when Paulie made his failed run for the office of associated student body president, Justin, the self-proclaimed voice of people of color at Heller High, rallied his troops in support, but Arney Stack carried the majority of voters nearly two to one. Paulie was cool, but Stack had an actual political agenda and a campaign staff.
Paulie smiles sadly over at Hannah. “Naw, man, it was completely thought out. You think I’d put myself in harm’s way without thinking about it?”
Hannah is incredulous. “Can you believe this? Paulie Bomb cheats on his girlfriend, has the huevos to step up, and I’ll bet ninety percent of the guys in this room think he’s a pussy. Any of you chicks want to go lesbian with me? I mean, I’m liking the guy who cheated on me better than the ones who didn’t, and I don’t like him at all.”
“I don’t think he’s a pussy,” Bobby Wright says. It’s vintage Bobby, barely audible.
“Nobody said he was a pussy,” Justin says to Hannah. “I said he was stupid.”
“Hard to see how you’re helping me here, Jus,” Paulie says.
“You sure aren’t helpin’ yourself,” Justin says back.
Hannah scans the room. “Okay, guys, show of hands. How many of you heroes have ever cheated on your girlfriend?”
No hands are raised.
“Duh!” she says. “Don’t know why I thought I’d get truth out of a bunch of guys who think another guy’s an idiot for fessing up. The praying mantis has it right, eat the guy’s head off during conception and raise the kids on your own.”
“Wait,” Justin says. “I’ll give you that some dudes aren’t, like, Superman when it’s about comin’ clean, but it’s not like we lie all the time. Fact, I’ll bet ninety percent of our lies are just about sex.”
“That makes it okay,” Marley says.
“I’m just sayin, it’s not like we lie just to lie. And chicks lie about sex, too.”
“You’re a math guy, Justin,” Hannah says. “How do you think the two compare? Like right here at Heller, if you knew the total number of lies told about sex on any given day, think it would be fifty-fifty, boys and girls?”
Justin smiles. “Maybe not fifty-fifty . . .”
“Yeah,” Hannah says. “Maybe not.”
Paulie’s