Bomb Cyclone and its Effects on Harvard - 2

A Novella

2

What hit me, was the stars.

The clouds had departed, with enormous haste, and left behind exquisitely tangled huffs of fair-weather bastions in the dark. Not ominous – but with a secret that they enthralled. It was as if everyone knew the joke, but me. The road was clear, but the sidewalk was undrudge. Walking was the only option – one would have to be crazy the use a bicycle – which is why my parent kept strict watch on the car keys. It was a lock with imaginary teeth – but effective nonetheless - that they kept shut. It was like a dragon, with sharp – pointy – teeth.

About 1 mile, the less said the better - there was splashing, so my legs became a sort of numbness. And about a quarter way in, it finally dawned that a more circuitous route would be better - which meant that the town lights did not reach this particular stretch of roadway. But as soon as that happened, it was off to a dream world - and the subject was “What is Lily talking about?” But could be so important, important enough that she wanted to communicate it in person?

A whirl of whirling - but then a car pulled up - it was a friend of my father's. Be nice, the uncommunicative, be evaporated - in that order. Most of all – have an excuse. Do not get into the car – while the degree varies – there is no upside to it.

The black Mercedes pulls up – and the passenger's side window clicks mechanically down. Fortunately – my face was “on”, which meant that only a few people would be able to read what was going on behind the eyes.

“Hello, isn't it a bit cold out to be just in a jacket and dress?” A wide-faced man looked out at me. There was a grimace, or perhaps a leer. Though its expression conveyed wide-open happiness, there was something underneath it that called out “danger” - at least that is what I saw. Your mileage may vary - especially if you are one of the adults, who does not think anything about the way a man looks at a teenager. It just simply does not register In the block of your brain as 'sex'.

“Hello, Mr. Grunion - it is only a short hop.” Everyone involved in this conversation knows that this is not going to be enough to dispense with the leering face. But I had to try, in any way, he was going to go off and report me to my father - and that would not do. Counting the number of steps to Lily's home residents - and factoring in the weather - made it possible to avoid the messiest of complications. There would still be repercussions, but if playing my mother against my father correctly, it would not be that bad. Just hoping that his phone is not at the top of all of the papers that he carried. He was a tax attorney, and always had mountains of documents - it sort of in the job description. The evil business is good to its minions. The question is still, is the phone handy, or not? It was not visible, so there was a chance.

“Then let me take you there.” In your wildest dreams – you could drive to my parents' house and nothing could stop you. Not getting in your car. “It would be bad.” - goes the line in an old movie.

Then an urge swelled up: be uncommunicative - “That won't be needed. It's freezing, so I must be going.” Pray that this is the end of things: to enunciate this, the next thing he saw was my back.

Hearing, rather than looking, the Mercedes drove off - but slowly because there was black ice on the asphalt. Even a novice driver knew that that could be deadly. I will tell you about my accident some other time. It seems certain that time was of the essence - because while his phone would not be reachable in the car, there was better than 50-50 that he would call my father. And that would set the chains in motion. It had better be worth it Lily, it had better be worth it.

Just to be sure, changing roads would probably be a good option - you never know what sorts of things that drivers have in mind. It is probably nothing, it is almost certainly nothing - but why take that chance?

Leaving between 2 driveways and then out the other side - still on the road which would get me to Ms. Zhang's place - when what to my wondering eyes should appear (note the reference!) but Lily. She was taller than her parents, though not among the tallest girls in the class, and she had that feature of a curve of the face that made it seem round. There is an actress that has that face - and Lily knew how to use that to get any boy that she wanted. In actuality, none of the boys at high school interested her at all. She had not spoken of a boy at all in our times together. This did not mean much.

While she should do the talking - admitting this makes it easier to blurt out what happened instead - “Lily why are you out here? And may take some time, but in only 3 minutes your door would have been rung.” But then, everyone wants ruthless truth-telling, about everyone else that annoys them. But not about the ways that their behavior falls short.

This inspired a glance from her - as if there was something that she had not realized, until now. “Oh, that is right, your parents are obnoxiously strict.” There was a time to have details of your life sink into someone about to become a friend - and unfortunately, most people do not get to the time with the particular clarity that perspective allows.

“What does that have to do with anything?” This was not the way that these things should occur, not with my rattling my bones with the temperature.

She pulled out the keys to a car, jangling them as she did so. “Your parents do not give you the keys to a car. Mine do, or at least within the town.”

“What good does that to us? I think my father is going to be warned about my leaving the house, so the effects of my being out have grown exponentially.”

“Tell him you are with me.”

“Is not going to go over well, he wants me home.”

“Did anyone ever tell you their chair parents are strict, maybe beyond strict? This is something that only Nazi parents would even contemplate - it is not even 7 o'clock in the Post Meridian..” She showed off how she had one a minor award in Lignum Latium, whereas I had not.

“It is dark outside, and that for my father means I should be inside the house.” There was a difference between her parents and mine. This was a known quantity - it stems from the idea that valedictorian is possible - which is not going to happen, there are several much brighter and harder-working individuals in the class.

“Why don’t your parents hire people to write your papers - mine do. Then all you have to do is shine for the class, and drop in details which show that you're going someplace.” That was the Privileged class talking - the richest rich who will ever live, are alive now.

It was at this point that I realized that Ms. Zhang had a different idea of what the lower orders were for. For her parents, hiring menial labor to boost their progeny's score is acceptable - whereas mind wants me to put my nose to the grindstone. They did it because it was fun to watch their daughter and him and become a marionette, or at best a follower of someone who has an idea - and wants subordinates to unquestioningly sacrifice themselves for the greater good – which means the rich make out well.

“Stop for a minute. You have not told me what it is that was too secret for the phone, you have not told me where we're going to drive, and I have not said that I will join you in this little endeavor that you have planned. You going to have to convince, not just assume. It is only polite.” All the “I's” splattering out in this line of dialogue, is revolting if you think about it. It is not that it does not happen often - because in my case it does - but, normally, the time between saying the time of its realization is a little bit wider. This time my stomach retched at the same time that my brain continued to hammer on the 1st person subject pronoun - the result was nauseous. Hurling, however, was not an option - though, it did present itself rather forcefully.

At this point, she rolled her eyes back, and slowly explained her position, as if to a child:

“Here are the facts: I want to meet my male friend. That is right Flash, I have a boyfriend. But he is not in town, because the boys at high school are rather dull and pedantic - to say the least. But my parents do not know that I have such a person in my life. Your parents are not the only ones that are strict about things. Minor fine with me going out - but having a boyfriend is right out.”

“So what is this to me?”

Again - she rolled her eyes distinctly - upwards.

“Did anyone ever tell you that a man can manipulate one person easily, but this is nearly impossible for him to do two? I need someone to tell me whether this can be taken up to the next level.” She pursed her lips and had a serious look on her face. It is clear that her parents did not want to hurt to have a boyfriend, therefore meant they could not give their opinion on whether the boyfriend's intentions were serious or not - which meant that she needed someone else to referee.

“You mean …” then dropping my voice to a whisper: “sex?” As if sex were some sort of forbidden word... in my case, my parents did not want me to use it.

“He has not said anything, but that is the drift that he is sending out.”

“And you want to meet him tonight, and have me along to give my opinion.”

“Yes, in a word.”

“And this cannot be done during the day?”

“He is going home tomorrow.” Of course, if we had been true friends for some time, some warning would have been nice. But, she did not have any friends - or she would have asked one of them. So, therefore, she had to look for which one of her near-friends was going to be promoted - and she selected Sally Lefèvre. This was and was not a compliment.

The maw opens its mouth: because our positions were alike, we had no true friends. For my part, the most popular people in my set did not like me and spared no chance to make this known – not beautiful, smooth, or intelligent enough. Her problem was - taking grades from someone else is forbidden, so she had to be careful all the time. The pressure was on both of us - she probably knew what time the train was arriving, and her near hysteria was probably an indication that the time was approaching. My purse was in hand. Checking off the key points: why was important to not speak on the phone, while is important to do so now, and why being in particular - were all, for the most part, explained. That means that we were at the “Go/No Go” decision point - as my father would say. He was not a dictator at work - more of a process mandate plenipotentiary President for life, however long it was. Perhaps, he only ruled one small bit of the company, in part one field he was God, or at least a local deity to be worshipped.

“Let us – gogogo.”