Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,6
jaw tightens. He wants out of this conversation. What happened was barely even about sex, but he started down that road back when he told Hannah, and he knows where it ends. “Take me home, in fucking silence . . .”
“It’s not a fair fight, Murph,” Justin says. “You took brother Logs’s bio class.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this, Justin,” Logs says.
“Stay with me. This shit is scientific.”
“We’re with you,” Hannah says.
“This might sound a little crude . . .”
Hannah rolls her eyes.
“. . . but guys’re hard-wired, man. Look at dogs. You don’t see some female dog breaking her chain and scaling a six-foot fence to get to a dude dog. But a Great Dane will ride across the river on the back of a dog-eatin’ alligator to rub up against a Chihuahua in heat knowin’ you can’t put tab A into slot B. We do that shit ’cause there’s no choice. You never catch me saying ‘The devil made me do it.’ Darwin made me do it.”
Logs shakes his head, grateful that Period 8 kids seldom take these conversations home.
“Dude,” Arney says. “Do you find it hard to keep a girlfriend?”
“Man, I’ve always got a girlfriend.”
Paulie leans forward and touches his fingers to his toes, resting his head on his knees. “He means the same girlfriend, Jus.”
“Yeah, well, see, that’s the point,” Justin says. “We’re not doing this right. We’re not doing it how we were made. You could make a case we’re actually goin’ against God’s law.”
Ron Firth, the driving force behind Youth for Christ at Heller High, guffaws. “That would be a different law than I know. There’s a way men and women are supposed to act.”
“My point exactly,” Justin says. “We’re not men and women. We’re boys and girls. Brain science guys say we’re not cooked yet, remember, Brother Logs?”
“I do remember, Mr. Chenier, and I’m impressed that you understand all the wires may not be hooked up yet.”
“No problem believin’ that,” Justin says. “Man, if I had to operate in this confusion the rest of my life, I’d take drugs.”
Marley Waits’s hard gaze connects with Hannah’s and they execute their flawless synchronized eye roll. Marley says, “Every one of my mother’s boyfriends—and they come in twos and threes—has a version of this very same song, though I have to say none of them so far is as funny as Justin Chenier.” Marley has been a four-point plus student in every AP class Heller High School has offered and is, as she puts it, headed for the big time; her choice of most of the best universities in the country. “To put it in Hannah Murphy terms, what a bunch of happy horseshit.”
“Maybe,” Logs says, “but Justin’s biology argument isn’t a bad place to start.” Logs waves a hand through the air, left to right. “How many of you have had some difficulty in relationships that you think has solely to do with the difference between male and female points of view?”
Students who have never even had a relationship raise their hands.
Paulie stands, stretches, moves toward the door. “I’m a little raw right now,” he says. “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”
Hannah shakes her head in disgust. Arney smiles and watches Paulie go. His old buddy has never learned to play the game.
“Okay, folks,” Logs says, “let’s keep this civil.” He nods toward Hannah, who shakes her head in mild disgust. “So where do we start? Justin, you were about to make a case why girls should give guys some leeway with their reptilian behavior.”
“Not exactly how I was gonna put it,” Justin says, “but yeah, there’s driving force to consider.”
“What you call ‘driving force,’ we call horny,” Marley says.
“Sweet,” says Heather Cole, a tough little freshman cross-country runner. Hannah reaches across the aisle to high-five her.
“Call it nature,” Justin says.
“So you think nature should trump your word?” Heather says.
“You shouldn’t be trying to get our word. We’re too young to be giving our word, at least for the long haul.”
Josh Takeuchi finishes his last sandwich and stretches out on his beanbag. “Everything stays in the room, right?” Logs nods.
“’Cause I got a cool thing going with Sandra and I don’t wanna get quoted out of context. . . .”
“Everything stays in the room,” Logs says.
Tak turns to Hannah. “Soon as schools out, take your journalism recorder out on the street and ask every adult you pass if they’re with the girl or boy they were with in high school.”
Hannah says, “This