Class - Cecily Von Ziegesar [27]
Nick spotted Shipley almost immediately. She was registering to vote at the Dexter Democrats table, aided by that redheaded guy from the farm.
“Democrat, Independent, or None?” Shipley wondered aloud. “My parents are both Republicans.” She wasn’t sure about her brother. Probably he didn’t vote.
“None,” Adam advised, wishing he could touch her hair. His parents had driven him to Augusta to register on April 10, the day he turned eighteen. They were both registered Democrats, but they’d told him not to register for a party unless he was sure who he wanted to vote for in the primaries, and how could he know that if he never bothered to read the paper or listen to NPR? They had both been gaga for Jerry Brown, and had helped him win the Maine caucuses, baking brownies for fund-raisers and cheering him on at rallies, but they didn’t seem to mind that Bill Clinton had won the Democratic nomination. “Clinton gives a fabulous speech,” his mom would say. “Plus he dodged the draft. And,” she’d continue, raising her voice, “he has gorgeous hands!”
Tom surprised himself by not liking the sight of Shipley and Adam standing so close to each other, especially not near a table with Bill Clinton’s smiling face pasted to it. His parents were both Democrats, which he thought was hypocritical as hell. His dad had gotten very rich during the Reagan years, and Bush had won the Gulf War, pretty much. Didn’t he deserve some appreciation?
“Good to see you again, man.” Tom clapped Adam hard on the back. “All set to vote?”
Shipley wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue to discuss the election. Her political knowledge began and ended with the Gulf War was bad news, George Bush was old and boring, Ross Perot was old and crazy, and Bill Clinton was relatively young and handsome and played the saxophone and didn’t seem to mind that both his wife and his daughter had terrible hair. She’d only followed Adam over to the Dexter Democrats table in the first place to distract herself from the note scrawled on the dry-erase board outside her room. The keys are on the tire, the note read. She’d run across the road to check, and sure enough, the car was there, right where she’d left it.
“I’m sorry.” The man seated behind the Democrats table offered her a sheet of white paper crammed with voting information. “You can’t use a college post office box as an address to register. You’re going to have to register in your home state and request an absentee ballot that you can fill out anytime before the election.”
“Thanks.” Shipley took the sheet of paper and stuffed it into her bag. “You’ll never guess what happened to me today,” she gushed to Tom and the others. “First my car disappeared and then I got in trouble with Professor Rosen for going to the convenience store down the hill.”
“I gave her a ride,” Adam piped up importantly.
Nick tried to think of something interesting to report. “I got a job in AV.”
Tom hitched up his shorts. “What’s that stand for anyway? Actually still a Virgin?”
Nick glared at him. “No. It’s the audiovisual department. I set up the slide projectors and VCRs and show movies in the auditorium. I even get to do the lighting for plays.”
“What’s wrong with being a virgin?” Shipley said, blushing.
The three boys stared at her with barely concealed excitement. Shipley was still a virgin?
“Hey, you know that blue light on top of the chapel tower?” Tom said. “Well, I heard there’s this Dexter myth that if a virgin ever graduates, the light goes out.” He nudged Nick in the arm. “Dude, we got to get you laid.”
Shipley smiled. “Me too, I guess.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Tom said, grinning.
Adam pretended to be distracted by the music. Nick scowled down at his shoes.
Eliza’s eyes were glazing over. Listening to Shipley flirt with every guy in sight was even more excruciating than watching