For the first time today, Marie found herself feeling sorry for Tommy, the way his sister might, or his mother, or some weird combination of the two. While Tommy was indisputably a brain-very high SATs, for instance-he was a terrible student. He'd never learned anything remotely resembling good study habits. He spent his time with comics-some of which Marie enjoyed-and let his grades slide lower and lower, so that now he really was sweating graduation. She knew what was going on here: a counsellor had once explained the concept of self esteem to her. People like Lucy and Tommy didn't have much. A few visits to Tommy's house had told her why, too. All the time she was there studying, Tommy's mother was in the bedroom of their tiny apartment, arguing violently and profanely over the phone with her boyfriend. Every once in a while, his mother's sharp voice got so loud that Tommy looked humiliated. His mother had been married four times and was planning on marrying the guy she was presently shrieking at. So instead of retreating into his schoolbooks and making way for a better future, Tommy retreated into adolescent fantasy-he sometimes talked about Batman as if he had not only met the man but also become his confidant-and let his grades slide. When Batman liked you, you didn't have to worry about not having much self-esteem.
Marie was just about to tell Tommy that she would help him study for trig when Richie Beck leaned across the table and said, so quietly she couldn't even be sure he said it, "I'll come over to the store and sit with you tonight, Marie."
Lucy kicked Marie under the table and smiled. Lucy knew how much Richie's soft spoken words meant to her friend. Marie had expounded many times on how much she liked this strange but intriguing boy. Right now it was hard to tell who was more excited, Lucy or Marie.
Lucy and Marie looked at each other. Marie didn't want to do or say anything that would spoil the moment here. All she could muster was "Really?"
"Sure."
"You don't have to. I mean-"
"I know I don't have to." He averted his eyes, glanced elsewhere in the cafeteria, then looked back at her. "But I want to." He shrugged again. "Probably not a good idea for you to be in a neighbourhood like that by yourself."
"Gosh, Richie, I really appreciate it."
He leaned forward. "How're you getting over there?"
"I usually take the bus."
"Why don't I pick you up?"
She felt herself flush. "Really?"
He grinned. "Really."
"Gosh, that would be great."
"What time, then?"
"Five-thirty is when I usually leave."
"I'll be there at five-thirty. I'll just honk if that’s all right."
"Sure. But you don't even know where I live."
Once again, it was Richie's turn to look uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah, I've, uh, driven by a few times."
"You have?"
"Yeah. On my way, uh, downtown."
Then he was up on his feet, a slender boy not a great deal taller than Marie. He wore a white button down shirt and plain Levi's jeans. He always gave the impression of quiet intelligence coupled with a kind of sadness, which was why Marie had always suspected he had some kind of secret. "I'll see you tonight," he said, and then faded away, into the sounds of rattling plates, the odours of steam table food, and the spectacle of more than thirteen hundred high school kids eating lunch at one time.
Lucy cocked her head to the left and cupped her hand behind her ear, as if hearing a distant sound. "Are those wedding bells I hear in yon castle?"
Marie punched her playfully on the arm. "All he said he'd do is give me a ride to work No big deal."
"Right. No big deal, Marie. I can tell you're not excited."
Marie grinned. "God, I can't believe it."
"I can," Lucy said. "See, I told you he had a crush on you."
"Yeah, right."
"Wait till you tell your mom. She told me how you had his graduation picture on your bureau. Did you ask him for it?"
Marie shook her head. "No, I got it when I worked on the yearbook. After the printer returned everything, they were just going to throw everything away so I-"
And then she saw Tommy and realised what an impact all this must have had on him. Obviously, he'd heard everything. He was only two chairs away at the table.
Lucy followed Marie's gaze.
Tommy had his hands folded in front of him and his head hung very low. He was not moving at all. Even just watching him, you could sense his grief over Marie's happiness.
Marie said, "Don't you have that appointment in the counsellor's office?"
At first Lucy looked confused, then catching on, she nodded and said, "Say, you're right. I do.''
"I'll see you in study hall at two o'clock."
"Right." Then Lucy started grinning. Obviously she was going to say something more about Richie and Marie.
But Marie shook her head and glanced again at Tommy.
Lucy nodded and said, "I'll see you at two, then."
And left.
Tommy sat unmoving for a long time. So did Marie. She made a pass through her notebook, getting ready for history next hour, and then read a few pages of Of Mice and Men, one of her favourite novels, and the book she was reading again for English with her favourite teacher, Mrs. Lattimore. Twice, kids came up to sit down and eat lunch at their regular table but then they saw Tommy with his head down and then Marie sort off waved them on to an empty table nearby.
Finally, she got up, her leg and foot very stiff as always whenever she'd been sitting for a time, and walked down the long table and sat near Tommy.
"You feel like having a Pepsi? I thought I'd go get one." Actually, she didn't want a Pepsi and if she did go and get one, it would have been the first time in her three years at Polk. Because getting one meant walking in front of everybody for a long time, then walking all the way back to her table. Her friends were nice enough to save her the trouble by automatically getting her one whenever they went up.
He didn't raise his head. "No, thanks."
She wanted to tell him about how he dressed sometimes-say, Tommy, those comic book T-shirts you wear just emphasise your size and make you seem younger. But now that she sat here looking at him, she sensed the obstinate pride he took in his T-shirts. Wearing Batman on his chest was his way of telling people he didn't care what they thought of him. Wearing Batman on his chest was an act of defiance-he probably knew how silly it made him look, and he probably revelled in it perversely. She was no different in always wanting to hide her foot, nor was Lucy any different in the self deprecating jokes she told about the birthmark on her face. She did something now she'd never done before-she reached out and touched Tommy's hand. She could feel him jerk at the touch, as if he'd been shot or electrocuted, as if he could not quite believe it.
But he didn't raise his head.
"Tommy."
He said nothing. She left her hand in place.
"Tommy."
Long pause, then: "What?"
"Do you know how much I like you?"
He said nothing, kept his head down.
"I consider you one of my best friends."
"Yeah. Right."
"I do."
He raised his head. She could see the tears in his eyes. "Is that what you consider Richie? A friend?"
She felt herself blush, heard herself stammer. "A different kind of friend."
"Right."
He hung his head again. He said, "Please take your hand away."
She removed her hand.
They sat there silently for a long time. Kids came and went; the kitchen help dropped plastic trays, shouted joking insults to each other, ran automatic dishwashers that roared with the force of Niagara and smelled oppressively of heat and detergent.
"Tommy."
"What?"
"Won't you look at me?"
"Why should I?"
"Because we're friends."
"No, we're not."
She sighed, waited, then: "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."