Class - Cecily Von Ziegesar [46]
A worn Home phone book lay on the kitchen counter. Shipley snatched it up and without even pausing to think, turned to G for Gatz.
“Hello? Is this the Gatz household with two teenage kids—a guy named Adam with red hair, and a pretty girl with long dark hair and a strange name that I can’t remember—Philosophy?” she asked desperately.
“Is this some kind of poll?” the woman on the other end replied.
“No, I just…Is Adam there?” She and Adam rarely saw each other on campus and they never spoke. Shipley wasn’t sure why, but ever since she and Tom had become a couple, she’d avoided Adam completely.
“Adam is at the college, rehearsing his play.”
“And what about…his sister?”
“Tragedy?!” the woman bellowed, her mouth away from the phone. “Who may I ask is calling?” she said into the earpiece. “Someone named Soon Yi!” she bellowed after Shipley had given her name.
The phone clattered against something hard and then Tragedy picked up.
“Hello?”
“Tragedy? I don’t know if you remember me. This is Shipley.”
“Of course I remember you,” Tragedy huffed. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with Adam now? He hardly talks or eats or even looks at anyone. He’s like a ghost.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Shipley said, wondering what all this had to do with her. “But please, I just need someone to—” She explained the situation, her voice shuddering on the verge of hysteria. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “He won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do!”
“Okay, Jesus. Calm down.” Tragedy sighed impatiently. “Listen, take a deep breath and make yourself some chamomile tea or something. I’ll be there in a sec.”
11
In driver’s ed they teach you that most accidents happen on familiar roads close to home. You relax and let your guard down. It is then that you are at your most vulnerable. Adam thought about this every time he drove home from Dexter. He never seemed to drive on roads that were unfamiliar, which meant, basically, that he was an accident waiting to happen.
“Adam!” Ellen Gatz hollered across the yard from the barn as Adam pulled up to the house. “Your sister’s in there talking on the phone with some friend of yours named Shun Lee!”
Adam tore inside the house, only to find that Tragedy had already hung up.
“Shipley’s down the road babysitting and the kid won’t stop crying,” she explained. “Why in fuck’s name she called here, I don’t know, but I said I’d go over and help.”
“I’ll drive you.” Adam lunged for the door. “Come on.”
The road was a blur. The car seemed to zoom along on its own. All Adam could think about was Shipley. She was all he’d been thinking about for weeks.
“Hi,” she said, greeting them at the door, cheeks puffy and eyes rimmed with pink from crying. “Adam, you came too?”
“Yes,” Adam answered robotically. From inside the house came a piercing, forlorn shriek followed by a series of breathless choking wails. The baby sounded like it was being tortured. “I came to help,” he said bravely.
Shipley backed away cautiously, as if she’d just remembered that it wasn’t her baby or her house. “Well, I guess you should come in.”
The kitchen stank of cigarettes. A half-empty bottle of white wine stood open on the kitchen counter. Tragedy didn’t wait for the grand tour, she just headed upstairs to Beetle’s room, leaving Adam and Shipley to stare at each other in the kitchen.
“How was play rehearsal?” Shipley asked. Now that he was standing in front of her, she knew why she’d been avoiding him.
“Good,” Adam said. “Better than before. I think it’s actually going to be good.”
“Great!” She glanced at the stairs. “Maybe we should go up and see how they’re doing.”
“Okay,” Adam agreed, reluctant to give up this moment alone together, but eager for a distraction.
He followed her up the stairs, admiring the neat sway of her trim rear end. No awkward creases or excess flab. She probably looks even better naked, he thought, forgetting to breathe.
Shipley tried to march upstairs in the least