Crash Test Love Read online

  And to prove to myself that I can be strong, and happy, without being in a relationship.

  I put down my guitar, pick up my cell, and punch in some numbers I’ve already memorized. “London? It’s Garrett Lennox. Count me in.”

  HENRY

  INT.—MY CAR, SATURDAY NIGHT

  Duke, Nigel, and me pull into the parking lot of a Hilton hotel. A girl named Rosie Black is having her Sweet Sixteen tonight. Duke heard about the party from his friend Brian, who goes to high school with Rosie in Great Neck and hooked up with her once, but it ended badly. (Somehow Brian woke up in her driveway wearing lipstick, gym shorts, and a shirt that read Who’s Your Daddy?)

  I park and we get out of the car.

  ME

  Everyone has the story down, right?

  DUKE

  Yes, Mom.

  ME

  I’m not your mother.

  DUKE

  That’s what she said. You know, when I was doing her.

  NIGEL

  I hate those jokes. I really do.

  We begin our trek into the Hilton. We don’t have an invitation, but that’s never stopped us before. We’re wearing suits and we’re young—it’s surprisingly easy.

  Tonight, Duke and I are pretending to be fraternal conjoined twins who were only recently separated. (This is not actually possible.) Nigel will be a foreign exchange student from Canada who is staying with us. (We chose Canada because, well, it’s so ridiculous!)

  We enter the hotel and immediately turn left; we’ve been here before. It’s a pretty hoppin’ venue for a Sweet Sixteen because there’s a themed fifties diner on the bottom floor. It looks like a (slightly) classier Johnny Rockets. I know we’re in the right place because I hear music.

  The room is packed—there are at least two hundred people here, which means we’ll go basically unnoticed. On first glance, there are tons of hot girls. Score.

  Duke gets mixed up in the crowd within seconds. Most of the kids here are from Great Neck, which means they’re very rich and/or Persian.

  NIGEL

  I’m thirsty. Grab me a Coke?

  ME

  Sure. (I locate an empty booth with a balloon centerpiece and shove him inside.) Be right back.

  I walk up to the bar and ask for a Coke and a gin and tonic. The bartender gives me the Coke (in an actual glass bottle) but not the G + T. Ah, well. Can’t blame a guy for trying.

  I sit down next to Nigel and hand him the bottle. He looks at it quizzically.

  NIGEL

  This feels so … elegant.

  ME

  Only the best for you, man. Only the best.

  I turn my attention to the dance floor. Most of the girls are wearing T-shirts that say Melissa’s Sweet 16 over their dresses, which I think is a travesty, and white socks over their tights instead of shoes. I don’t fault them for that. I can’t imagine getting my groove on in a pair of high heels. That shit must hurt.

  I bop my head along to the music and feel happy. I’d like to be dancing, sure, but I don’t mind just being surrounded by a bunch of random people who don’t expect anything from me. I think for a moment about Garrett, because we met at a party not all that different from this one, but only for a moment. I’m here to have fun. And I can certainly have fun without Garrett.

  My eyes move to a really pretty girl who’s sitting with a bunch of other, less pretty girls at one of the booths diagonal to mine; she has long red hair and is wearing a dress with no straps and her boobs look sweet. I glance over at Nigel, who is touching the Coke bottle lightly with his index finger.

  ME

  Can I leave you alone for a second?

  NIGEL

  Yeah, no worries. Do yo thang.

  ME

  I won’t be long. And you probably shouldn’t say ‘yo’ and ‘thang’ in the same sentence.

  NIGEL

  Point taken.

  I find a spot where it’s a little less noisy. I look back at the girl; she’s already left her table and is walking in my direction. One for Arlington.

  ME

  Hey.

  HER

  Hey. Do I know you?

  ME

  Do you want to?

  HER

  (laughing)

  Yes?

  ME

  That’s a good start. I’m Angel.

  HER

  That’s an … interesting name. Like the guy from Buffy?

  ME

  No.

  HER

  From the musical Rent?

  ME

  No.

  HER

  Where do you go to school? Great Neck South?

  ME

  I’m homeschooled.

  HER

  Yeah? For any particular reason?

  ME

  My brother and I were conjoined twins, but, uh, now we’re not.

  HER

  That’s not … really a reason.

  ME

  It’s not?

  HER

  How do you know Melissa?

  ME

  Family friends.

  HER

  (leaning in close)

  I’m her cousin. Older cousin. I’m a junior at Penn State. I have the key to one of the hotel rooms upstairs. (She cocks her head.) Care to join me?

  No girl has ever been so frank with me before. I check in on Nigel, who’s still fascinated by the Coke bottle. He’ll be fine. Duke is nowhere to be seen.

  ME

  Lead the way.

  As soon as we close the door to her room, I yank off my suit jacket, pull off my tie, and drop my pants.

  HER

  Whoa, there, cowboy. Slow down.

  ME

  Is something wrong?

  HER

  We just met.

  ME

  I thought you invited me up here to … you know.

  She slips her shoes off and waltzes over to the minibar.

  HER

  I invited you up here to get to know you better. It was so loud down there. (She pauses.) Want a drink?

  I’m kind of embarrassed. I don’t want to make the scene more awkward than it already is, so I button my pants, toss my suit jacket and tie on the bed, and nod my head.

  HER (cont.)

  There aren’t any mixers, so we’ll just have to go for it.

  She grabs two tiny bottles and motions to a sliding glass door that leads to a balcony. We go outside; it’s dark, and there’s not much of a view, but the air is light and cool. I sit down on one of the chairs.

  HER

  So what’s your real name?

  ME

  Huh?

  HER

  You don’t look like an Angel.

  ME

  Oh. Um, well … it’s Henry.

  HER

  I’m Lila.

  She passes me one of the bottles, but I have to drive later, so I refuse. She shrugs and drinks it herself, grimacing as it goes down. We both laugh. Her laugh is nice—not like Garrett’s, which is heartier, and more musical—but nice nonetheless.

  LILA

  How do you really know my cousin?

  ME

  Family friends. I told you.

  LILA

  Uh-huh, sure. (She looks at me.) You’re cute. Young, but cute.

  ME

  I’m not that young.

  LILA

  How old are you?

  ME

  Eighteen. Well, seventeen. But I’ll be eighteen soon.

  LILA

  How soon?

  ME

  A coupla months.

  LILA

  Trust me, kid. You’re young.

  ME

  You’re what, twenty? Not exactly ancient.

  LILA

  I don’t mean young year-wise. Just life-wise. (She wipes a few strands of hair away from her eyes.) College changes you. The whole world opens up. You’ll see.

  ME

  I can’t wait to go. I want to get the hell out of here.

  LILA


  Long Island?

  I nod.

  LILA (cont.)

  It’s not that bad. But I hear you. Don’t rush your senior year away, though. That’s time you’ll never get back.

  We’re pretty high up. In the distance I can see cars driving along the highway. Below us is an outside restaurant where people are having dinner. I don’t have much else to say, really. Lila seems nice, but there’s no real spark. I think about some of the girls I’ve hooked up with recently. Everything happens so quickly it’s hard to say if there’s ever a real connection. I’m not sure I would know a spark if it set me on fire. Then I think about Garrett and I know that’s not true. I realized the moment I saw her there was a spark. That she sparkled.

  It’s getting kind of chilly. I notice Lila shiver and move my chair closer. I touch her shoulder. She has goose bumps.

  ME

  Here.

  I run my fingers up and down her arms, lightly.

  LILA

  That feels good. It tingles.

  I lean forward and kiss her shoulder. Then her neck. She turns her head and pecks me on the lips.

  LILA (cont.)

  You’re sweet, Henry. You’re gonna make someone a great boyfriend someday.

  I want to laugh. If only she knew how messed up I am, she’d never say anything like that. Me? A great boyfriend? I don’t think so.

  ME

  You wanna head back to the party?

  LILA

  That’s probably a good idea. I’m sure my parents are looking for me, wanting to take pictures or something.

  She goes back into the room. I’m about to slide the balcony door shut when I stop and take a second to stare into the night and just breathe. I feel as though I have as many questions as there are stars.

  We’re in my car, driving home. It’s almost one in the morning. I don’t have a curfew, but Nigel does. He’s in the backseat, sleeping, still holding on to the (now empty) Coke bottle.

  DUKE

  So, did you have fun? I saw you go upstairs with that cute redhead.

  ME

  You did?

  DUKE

  (elbowing me)

  Get any?

  ME

  Uh, you could say that.

  DUKE

  Nice, dude. Nice. One of these days, you’ve gotta tell me your secret.

  ME

  Sure. One of these days.

  We drive the rest of the way home listening to Bruce Springsteen’s Magic album. I can’t help but realize I don’t love Sweet Sixteens—not like I used to. Have I outgrown crashing parties? No, that’s ridiculous. But what, then, has changed?

  The next morning, I wake up around noon and cook myself some eggs. I shoot a couple of hoops outside, then check my e-mail. Soon, it’s almost two p.m. I shower, shave, and leave so I can grab a cup of coffee and get to work by three.

  I’ve worked at the Huntington Cinemas since I was sixteen. It’s a bit out of the way from where I live (about a twenty-five-minute drive), but it’s the best independent movie house on Long Island. Hands down. My boss, Roger, pretty much lets me do whatever I want, and I get to see all the films for free. I also help pick which films to show, which is awesome, because Roger basically knows nothing about movies. (I’m not sure what he actually is knowledgeable about, but that’s another story.)

  I love my job. I love that all I have to do is scan tickets or help people choose what movie they want to see or take their money and give them change or direct them to which theater they’ll be sitting in. Sometimes shit hits the fan (or overflows the toilet), and I do have to clean the theaters—which kind of blows—but mostly it’s pretty calm. Unlike at school, where everyone wants a piece of me, the other employees mostly let me be. They get that I’m not much of a talker.

  The Huntington Cinemas is my refuge, my home away from home, where I go to leave the world behind. Which is why I’m shocked when I see her standing in the middle of the lobby.

  Garrett.

  Turning up for the second time without any warning.

  GARRETT

  Henry looks surprised to see me.

  Surprised doesn’t really capture it, though. More like horrified. I decide to take his reaction as a compliment.

  I’m wearing a nice pair of jeans and a curve-enhancing sweater. I’m unsure what the qualifications for working in a movie theater are (Not stealing candy? Being able to count without using your fingers?), but I’m kind of nervous. I don’t want to apply for a job here and get rejected. How embarrassing.

  “Garrett? What are you doing here?”

  He’s wearing the same uniform as the other employees, but somehow Henry Arlington makes yellow, black, and a name tag look good.

  “Nice to see you too.”

  “I mean, hey.” He tugs on the collar of his shirt. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. Just here to apply for a job.”

  “You want to work here? Why?”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “It’s not exactly glamorous,” he says, motioning to the concession area, where a girl with red hair (and an equally red face) is scooping greasy-looking popcorn into a paper bag and coughing. The lobby of the cinema has an old-school Hollywood vibe (plush carpet, white and gold wallpaper, flowing curtains over the windows), but there’s something a little run-down about the décor.

  Smile. Wink. “You think I’m glamorous?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Henry says. “I mean … you know what I mean. Does the J Squad know you’re here?”

  I’m tempted to say: They’re the ones who gave me directions and told me what hours you worked. I don’t, though.

  (“Whatever you do,” London instructed me, “do not let him think you’re applying for a job because of him. And don’t let on that you know he told people you hooked up, otherwise he’ll get suspicious. Just be cool.”

  “And don’t say anything stupid,” Jyllian added. “Or slutty.”)

  I try my best to follow their advice. “No,” I say. “Why?”

  “You guys seem to do everything together, that’s all. I’m surprised they untied your leash for the night.”

  “There’s no leash, Henry. They’re my friends. That’s what you do with friends: spend time together. Besides, we’re still getting to know each other, which takes effort.”

  “I never pinned you as one to follow the masses.” He looks at me as though he wants to say something more. I want to say, You know absolutely nothing about me. Just then, however, a stocky man approaches us and raises his eyebrows.

  “No fraternizing on the job, Arlington,” the man says. He has a goatee that seems to be painted on, and his eyes have the glassy sheen of a drug addict or someone with glass eyes. “You know the rules. This isn’t a house party, or whatever you kids do on the weekends. Don’t chat with your lady friend during work hours.”

  “I’m not,” Henry starts to say, “this is—”

  “Garrett Lennox,” I say, extending my hand. Generally, I’m not into handshakes with random people (all the germs!), but if this guy is Henry’s boss—and I assume that he is—then I need to start kissing ass. Or at least being friendly. “I’m not his lady friend. But it’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Huh” is all the man says, scratching his head and giving me a confused look.

  “I’m interested in a job,” I say, motioning to the lobby.

  No response.

  “Here.”

  Still no response.

  “At this particular cinema,” I say.

  “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.” The man frowns. Henry is stifling a laugh. “What are your qualifications?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever worked at a cinema before?”

  “Well, no.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Have you ever worked before?”

  I wonder if he’d count a three-day stint as a Baby Gap salesperson, only I don’t mention it because I’m afraid he’ll ask why I left, to which I will have t
o respond that I was fired for hooking up with Ben in one of the dressing rooms during my break.

  “Sure,” I tell him. “I’d really love to work here. I just moved to Long Island over the summer, and I’ve heard this place shows great films. I’m a huge movie aficionado.”

  This is not exactly true. I do know a bit about movies, but not because I’m particularly interested in them. Ex-boyfriend #3, Dan, was very artsy; he used to make me watch foreign films nearly every weekend (with subtitles, of course—he wasn’t a monster). It was one of the reasons we eventually broke up. “I like my movies like I like my reality TV shows,” I told him. “Trashy. And in English.”

  Also, and more importantly, my father is a film professor. I’ve grown up around classic movies and know them as well as I know myself. (Some might argue that’s not much, but I would tell those individuals to Suck It.)

  The man introduces himself as Roger. I notice that one of his front teeth is gold, and I immediately take a liking to him. “We could use more people around here like you, Gracie,” he tells me.