Perfect. Part 33

But he's never heard you blabbing at me. Go away.

That Guy The one now living behind my eyes, keeps trying to tell me what to do, and it's getting really annoying. I did what he said-posted those pics of Cara and her girlfriend. He said they'd go viral, and boy, did they! People clear across the country, and probably around the world, have had the chance to gawk at Cara's p.u.s.s.y. I see her at school, and I'm pretty sure she knows. If looks could kill, I'd be skinned and left for the bone pickers. But she hasn't said a word. Of course, what is there, really, to say?

She can't even prove that you're the one who posted them.

I Hope The Guy Behind My Eyes Doesn't talk all the way through prom tonight. It's late this year, rescheduled from an early April weekend with too much snow coming down. Duvall and I hired a limo (with a lot of help from his parents and Uncle Jeff).

Might as well do it right.

Aubree is wearing purple, so I got a lavender tux. Hope it doesn't make me look gay.

Gay. Hmm. Wonder if that b.i.t.c.h is coming with Blue Hair.

Of course she's coming with Blue Hair. Just not to prom.

Shut up, a.s.shole! Oh my G.o.d! Does she come? And just when did she know she wanted to come with girls? And was it my fault?

Think I'd Better Lift A little before it's time to "s.h.i.+t, shower, and shave," as my dad used to say. d.a.m.n, I wish he was here. Remembering him opens a big sinkhole in me.

Why does everyone important have to desert me? I'm almost to the bas.e.m.e.nt door when the doorbell rings. I look out the peephole. It's a uniform.

"Aunt Mo," I yell. "You'd better come here. It's a cop." I don't wait for her to open the door.

"Can I help you?" Aunt Mo's footsteps approach quickly, and I'm glad she's here when the big deputy says, I'm looking for Sean O'Connell. Is that you?

My head sort of bobs, and he goes on. I need to ask you some questions. Do you want to let me in? He looks at Aunt Mo, who pulls the door the rest of the way open, allowing him to step through. d.a.m.n, the man is tall. He makes me feel like a dwarf. "Uh, did I, like, do something? Jaywalk?

Run a red light? What?" Does he know about the steroids?

Do you mind if I ask the questions? Do you know a girl named Cara Sykes?

"Uh, yeah. We used to go out."

But now she's a lesbian and ...

Oh, s.h.i.+t. This can't be about that.

And do you know anything about posting p.o.r.nographic photos of her on the Internet?

Before I Can Answer Aunt Mo puts the brakes on.

Excuse me, but is Sean in some sort of trouble? Sean, do you have any idea what Deputy ...

uh ... Rossiter is talking about?

The guy obviously knows something. Lying would be stupid. I'll try avoidance.

"I did see some pictures of her. They were pretty bad."

Rumor has it that you took them. Which would mean criminal trespa.s.s. And Ms.

Sykes is alleging stalking.

Does that sound accurate?

Guy Behind My Eyes: Deny!

"Well, no, I ... not exactly."

GBME: That is not denial.

"I wouldn't call it stalking."

GBME: I think we're in trouble.

Being Eighteen Has a lot of advantages.

You can vote. You can go where you want. Do what you want without a parent or guardian's approval.

One major disadvantage: If you're arrested, you go straight to jail. Do not stop at juvenile hall. Do not take a parent or guardian with you.

The good deputy reminded me that I have the right to an attorney and to keep my big mouth shut. GBME agreed. So did Aunt Mo.

I'll call Jeff and we'll get you an attorney. Don't worry.

We'll have you out of there before you know it.She didn't even ask about the pictures.

GBME: Ha! Maybe she's already seen them.

"No way. Don't be ridiculous."

GBME: You never know.

Deputy Rossiter: Who in the h.e.l.l are you talking to back there?

"No one. Sorry. Just processing."

GBME: Maybe Aunt Mo is a lezbo too. Maybe she'd like them.

"Aunt Mo is so not a lezbo."

GBME: You never know.

Deputy Rossiter: Did you know crazy people talk to themselves?

"I am not crazy."

GBME: You never know.

The Booking Process Takes a lot of time. Retinal scan: check. Personal info: check. Photographing, face forward, right, left: check. Fingerprinting: check. Every step, all new to me, just another day at jail for the intake officer. Now a nurse comes to take some blood and ask a lot of questions about my medical history.

"What's the blood for?"

The question seems fair, but the mastiff-faced nurse seems totally put out by it.

She rolls her big bug eyes.

To identify certain diseases, of course.

She squints at my pupils. Screen for substances ...

The familiar nervous p.r.i.c.kling begins at the base of my skull, creeps upward. "Like what?"

Mastiff Nurse: Why, you worried about something in particular?

GBME: You really need to learn when to keep your mouth shut.

"Uh, no. Just curious is all."

My face flushes embers.

It must be cranberry red.

Mastiff Nurse: Are you currently taking any medications?

GBME: A simple "no" will do.

"Would you please shut up?"

Mastiff Nurse: Excuse me?

GBME: I'll shut up if you will.

Andre

If You Will Only pause, as you hurry through your days, take a minute to look at pa.s.sersby, beyond cursory skin-deep a.n.a.lysis, all the way into their eyes, what beauty you might find woven from the life threads there.

If you will only look past my clumsy attempts at love, sound the depths of emotion in my heart, what haven you might find in the soft surf of my harbor.

Birthdays Have never really felt like such a big thing. Certain ones stand out-my fifth, when my gramps took me to Disneyland and Cinderella kissed me. I thought she was the most beautiful lady in the universe.

My eleventh, when we went to San Francisco and watched a street dance compet.i.tion in Golden Gate Park. I'd been practicing on the sly, but wasn't nearly as good as I thought I was.

Seeing those b-boys do one-armed handstands made me believe I could do one too. I tried, landed on my head. Never knew a tiny head wound could bleed so much.

My sixteenth, when I got my driver's license and the Quattro on the same day. Mom wanted my first car to be a safe one.

Today is my eighteenth birthday. Jenna and I are celebrating tonight. It's someone else's party we're going to, but that's okay. I haven't seen her in over a week, and I can't believe how much I've missed her. Don't know if absence actually makes the heart grow fonder, but it definitely makes it ache. Should love be painful?

I'm getting ready when someone knocks on my bedroom door.

Mom. May I come in? Birthday present?

I'm s.h.i.+rtless, but she's seen me that way a time or two.

"Of course." I step back and she brushes by.

Your father had to fly to Oakland. Your grandmother has been ill.

She's out of danger for now, but they are moving her into a nursing home.

I thought you might try and get down to see her as soon as school is out. Your grandfather would like that too. He's asking about you and your plans for next year.

Gramps, too? "Why didn't anyone tell me that Grandma Grace was sick? Is she going to be okay?"

When people get older, their bodies deteriorate. You can make the outside look better, but you can't always control what's going on inside. She has brain cancer. Inoperable. But she's not in pain.

Guilt smacks me in the face. How long since I've even called to say h.e.l.lo? "How long does she have?"

A Few Months That's it. The truth of death grabs me by the shoulders. Shakes.

Mom comes over, puts her arms around me. She hasn't held me like this since I was little. I'm sorry.

I know you were close. And I'm sorry I had to give you the news on your birthday.

She would want you to go to your party, though. For Grace, death is a beginning. She's a woman of strong faith. I wish I was. It would make the day-to-day living easier.

Easier? How much easier could it be for her? What is she afraid of? "Are you afraid of dying?"

Her arms fall away, as if they have been around me too long.

She smiles. Only when I think about it.

She has always seemed ageless to me, like time has no way of touching her. I understand now that no one is immune to time's embrace. One day I will lose her. She goes to the door, hesitates. Happy birthday.

Before he left, your father made a deposit into your savings account.

Use some of it for a mad splurge, okay?

"Okay." One day I will lose them both.