Sugarless: A Novel

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115 s6S H orny. The seventh dwarf ’s name was Horny. I was tucked in the throat of the soft brown couch. Ned’s body blotted everything out except the turquoise starburst of the Seven Dwarfs sign blinking in his window. Beyond and below the cliff of his right hip were two heaps of clothing, the islands of our wickedness. “It’s getting dark,” I said. My mother thought Mindy was giving me a ride home after coaching. “Mmmm,” he said, catching my mouth with his. Okay, so no Penthouse Forum letter, no pictorial or photo or old Japanese print, nothing I had ever read or seen had made a case for kissing. After two hours, there was still no bottom to how incredible it was. It wasn’t just first base on the way to better things, it was as good as the rest because it never had to stop; it had no beginning or end, it ran without rules and filled every in-between. It didn’t think. It came and went, it was every piece of punctuation, and I was good at it right away. Ned’s arm shifted behind my head. “It is getting late,” he murmured in the direction of his watch. “I don’t want to go,” I said, pressing my whole self into him, as yet too shy to signal with individual parts. I had read about being so happy you cried, but I hadn’t believed it until the moment Ned whispered that he didn’t want me to go either. “Ten more minutes?” I whispered back. His neck smelled like cloves. Ned had picked me up across the street from school. Before I opened his passenger door, I waved to imaginary friends so that things would look normal to the moms in cars. On the way to his apartment, as we headed east on Roosevelt Road, he asked, “So am I going to get to see it?” Without thinking, I unzipped my coat and my jeans and was about to free my boner at the stoplight in front of Aladdin Cleaners when he said, “Not that, Rick, the medal, the medal.” I couldn’t stop laughing. I took the U. High prize out of my jacket pocket, a gold disc stamped with comedy and tragedy masks, attached to two inches of blue ribbon. It pinned on like an army medal. I’d only come in second this time, not that it bothered me so much. Considering that I couldn’t remember anything from any of my rounds that day, I was surprised even to make finals. All I knew was those twenty minutes in the faculty bathroom. “Put it on, Rick,” he said. “Why?” I asked, embarrassed. I’d already refused my mother’s request. This time she’d made a victory cake. “Just do it.” “Okay, okay.” I thought of Dina Demacopoulos, in her bedroom in Palos 116 117 Heights, twirling in front of a mirror with her first-place medal pinned to her bathing suit. I hadn’t hopped on over to the Best Western for a pool party, so the only way to melt her frost had been to lose to her. Not on purpose; in a daze about Ned, I was happy she got first. She’d cried on my hair like Miss America. “Ta-dah!” I said, flicking the medal on my coat. Ned put his hand on my knee. The touch forked up my crotch like lightning. “I wanted you to bring the award, Rick, and put it on, because I don’t want you to think—ever—that I gave you first place at the Central tournament just because— because.” “Because I had a boner.” “Because you were excited.” “I have one right now. Wait—” I’d thought of something funny. “Is that what you meant by ‘outstanding’?” Steering with one hand, he didn’t even crack a smile. “You deserved that first I gave you, just like you did Saturday.” “I don’t mind second place,” I shrugged. “And Dina, the girl who won, is really good. Desire under the Elms by Eugene O’Neill.” And after a few more stoplights we were going to have our first all-nude photo shoot, so nothing else could possibly matter. “Here’s the thing, though, Richard. Two of the three judges in your final round ranked you first. Out of seven finalists, first...