"He is," said Sejal.
"He probably followed me here," said Ophelia from behind a sheer green blouse. "It’s weird how many guys are already into me this year."
"Nah, he’s here for Sejal. Did you see how he looked at her at lunch?"
"Should I go say hello?" asked Sejal.
"No way," said Ophelia. "If he can’t come ring the doorbell himself, then screw him. Besides, it’s only Meatball. I mean, no offense — maybe in your country the weird-looking guys are the hot ones, I don’t know."
"I’m not certain he knows which is the correct house."
"He knows," said Cat. "Go talk to him if you want. He’s smart. Pretty funny, too."
Sejal smiled. "I’m not interested in him as a…suitor."
"Suitor?" said Ophelia.
"Whatever." Cat grinned at Sejal. "It’s fine."
"Truly, I am not."
"Truly? Suitor?" Ophelia smiled at Sejal, too, a movie-star smile. "Are you the cutest thing ever?"
Doug was on the verge of giving up and leaving, as he had been for ten minutes, when the front door of the house-he-was-pretty-sure-was-the-house opened, and Sejal walked out. She was barefoot, in black jeans and a black T-shirt.
"Hello," she said.
"Hey. Hey, I…thought this was your house, but…"
"Your skin looks better."
"It’s cloudy out."
"You could carry an umbrella, no? For when it is not?"
"No, too faggy," said Doug. Did Sejal’s smile falter, then? "Sorry, I mean…too homosexual."
Sejal folded her arms and looked at her feet. Her startling toes clutched at the grass.
They were like hazelnuts. Her toes, her feet were a golden brown — the same color as the rest of her, really; Doug couldn’t imagine why it surprised him. He couldn’t fathom why it made her feet look more naked than other feet.
Doug is staring at my feet, Sejal noted. She supposed she’d just been looking at them herself, so she couldn’t really…No, now he was watching that bird in the yard. Now a glance at her chest, now a pause at her shoulder. And again the bird. He was like a cat. He was like a cat at a mirror, looking anywhere and everywhere but at the pair of eyes in front of him.
She considered suddenly that he might be her reflection. There was something familiar about his eyes, his look of distraction. He was lost, maybe missing something, like she was. Perhaps he’d left his heart someplace, too.
Then he cocked his head and looked up at her face at last.
"Hey, you have a nose earring. I mean, a nose ring," Doug said, though it wasn’t actually a ring. "A nose…"
Sejal brightened and touched the small silver stud with her finger. "My mother convinced me that in America I should leave the piercing empty, isn’t it? Then I meet Ophelia, and she has one, too! It feels different, like it’s a different kind of hole in you, here."
"Uh-huhey, do you want to go see a movie sometime?" said Doug before he had a chance to think, or inhale.
Sejal reacted as if she’d just been pinched unexpectedly in the ass. "I don’t know, Doug…"
"Oh, that’s cool."
"I arrived so recently, I still feel very…unsettled."
"I totally understand. I just thought you might be interested in seeing an American movie, because you’re probably just used to those kinds of dancey movies they show on Desi TV. That’s this late-night channel here, I don’t know if you’ve seen it."
Sejal smirked. "Okay. I do not think I’ve seen any of the current American movies. Why not."
"Hey, all right! Great. Um, well, I have this big dinner party to go to tonight, but Friday?"
"Yes."
"Okay," said Doug. "Well, I’ll see you at school!" He stood hard on the pedals, then biked quickly away, before he was overcome by it. Before her yes could catch up to him and set him ablaze.
15
Testing
THE PHONE WAS ringing as Doug entered the back door of his home. He let it ring, went upstairs, rubbed lotion into his dry cheeks. Then he sat at his computer and called for messages as he searched for "The Hawthorne Chestnut Hill." It sounded familiar.
"You have…four…new messages. New message."
"Hi, Doug…it’s Jay. You were supposed to call by five, so…just calling to—"
"Message has been deleted. New message."
"Hi, Doug…it’s Jay. I hope everything’s okay. "I don’t—"
"Message has been deleted. New message."
"Jay again. Call me as soon as you get this, I’m really wor—"
"Message has been deleted. New message."
"It’s Jay. I’m really, really—"
"Message has been deleted. End of messages."
Doug laid the phone down on his desk. The Hawthorne turned out to be an eighteenth-century mansion in Chestnut Hill, another suburb of Philadelphia. It was going to be kind of far to bike, though. He’d probably have to take a train, change at Thirtieth Street, take another up there. If he went, that is.
Outside there was a squeal of brakes, the slam of a car door, and then, a few seconds later, the doorbell.
Doug answered the doorbell. Jay was on the step, bobbing like a balloon.
"Oh, hey," said Doug. "I just tried to call you. Had you tried to call? I didn’t get the messages yet."
Jay just narrowed his eyes and frowned like a bulldog and shook his head. Then he turned and started back to the curb.
"Hey! Seriously! I just got home! Some crazy shit happened at the drainpipe! Secret meetings and this-message-will-self-destruct kind of shit. I need to tell you about it. I need help deciding what to do."
Jay paused at the car door.
In what felt like the marathon of run-on sentences, Doug caught Jay up on the events of the day. Sort of. In this version Victor just wanted to talk to Doug about some private math tutoring, and the dead butler didn’t arrive until after Victor left. When Doug finished, the sun was behind the trees and his mom and dad were returning home.
"Hi, kids," said Dad.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lee."
"Mom, can Jay stay for dinner?"
Mom paused in the driveway, her arms hugging her briefcase and two bags of groceries. Her expression conveyed to Doug, via a bit of family-only telepathy, that he knows he’s not supposed to ask in front of Jay like that because now how can she say no even though they’re only having Manwiches? "If it’s okay with Jay’s mom" was all she said out loud.
"You can help me figure out the best route to ride my bike to the party," Doug told Jay when his parents were out of sight. He hoped that hook wasn’t too flagrantly baited, but what he really wanted was for Jay to offer him a ride.
"You’re definitely going?"
"I don’t think it’s the Vampire Hunters. Do you? It doesn’t seem like their style."
"No," Jay admitted. "Do you want a ride? You don’t want to show up all sweaty."
"That would be awesome."
The boys ate and finished their homework. Then they drove early to the Hawthorne to be sure they could find it.
"This has to be it," said Doug. "It’s perfect. You can’t even see the house from the road."
Past a NO OUTLET sign the dark and quiet street stretched into a sharp, thin curve. The front gate of the Polidori residence was garnished with thick ivy. You didn’t borrow a cup of sugar from this sort of neighbor. This neighbor had no sugar for you.
Jay backed out to the NO OUTLET sign again and turned around.
"We’ll go down to the creek somewhere," said Jay.
"Good," said Doug. "We should have done this before. I want to go into that house with as few questions as possible."