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drownedinlight) wrote2011-03-11 09:40 pm
drownedinlight) wrote2011-03-11 09:40 pm
Entry tags:
When Needed Part 4
Arcadia paid diligent attention to everything David had to say about what they should do in emergency situations or who they should go to if they did not know what to do or needed help. That was, except for when she would sneak slight glances at Marlowe, who seemed to be paying just as much better attention than she was.
She did not get another chance to talk to him until the walking tour was over and they were dismissed to leave the camp. As many of the new counselors walked toward the parking lot, he gravitated toward her.
“So what did you think of the whole thing?” he asked.
“Seemed pretty standard to me,” she said with a shrug, “but I’ve done some volunteer work with kids before so a lot of it was the same bag. What about you?”
“I’ve got to admit, I’m a little nervous,” he said. “I’ve never been responsible for anyone before, and their giving us eight little kids to look after tomorrow.”
“Could be worse,” Arcadia told him. “You could hate kids. Or you could have ten in your group, like me.” Marlowe broke into a grin.
“How very optimistic.” He paused for a minute wring his hands as they stopped by Arcadia’s car. “Listen, I know this is kind of forward, but you seem kind of cool and I want to get to know you better. Would you go to lunch with me tomorrow? Just as a kind of get to know you better thing?”
“Well, tomorrow we don’t get dismissed until three,” Arcadia reminded him. “And I don’t think lunch with eighteen kids is exactly what you had in mind. So, how about we go to lunch now?” Arcadia felt herself heat up after she asked the question, and saw Marlowe go a little red.
“Well, it’s kind of lame, but I got dropped off by my dad.” After he said this, it seemed like he remembered something because he looked over his shoulder. “Who is nowhere in sight. He’s usually late to realize these things.”
“You could give him a call,” Arcadia suggested. “If he’s on his way, we’ll go tomorrow, if not we’ll go today.”
“Deal,” Marlowe said, digging his cellphone from one of the pockets on his cargo shorts. He punched a few of the buttons before lofting the phone to his ear. “Dad? Yeah hi. No it’s cool, I actually wanted to ask if it was cool if I caught a ride home with someone else—though we were planning on going to lunch first, if that’s okay. Yes, I just met her. Her name is Arcadia. Savage.” He looked at her and squinted. “Well, she certainly doesn’t look like a sociopath. Yes I will be careful. All right, thanks Dad, I’ll see you in like an hour or so. Yes, I will call to let you know if we stay out later. All right, yeah, Dad. Bye.”
“Well, that sounds great,” Arcadia said. “Now I just have to ask my mom if it’s okay that I keep the car out a little longer.” The call lasted less than a minute and her mother informed her that she was in book club, and yes it was all right to keep the car an hour longer, though she would appreciate maybe getting it back some time this afternoon. Marlow slipped into the passenger seat while she talked settling in, buckling his seat belt, fiddling with every knob and button around him. “So where do you want to go?” she asked, as she folded her phone shut.
“You’re the lady,” Marlowe replied. “And I just moved to town, so I have no idea where all of the local haunts are.”
“Does a deli sound good to you?” she asked, as she turned the key in the ignition and began to back out of her spot.
“Delis can be nice,” he agreed nodding along with every word. “So why did you want to work with kids?”
“I didn’t go looking for the kids, per say. The stable where I keep my horse, they have a contract with this camp because they actually bring in a lot of business. So, the stable master there suggested it might be something I might like, because I’ve helped the occasional kid out during a lesson. And he said it was right up my alley with all of the hiking and archery I do, so I figured I would give it a try and I figured the worst thing that could come out of it was a few scarred kids and a wasted ten weeks of my summer.”
“I actually did it because there were some people who scarred me for life at their age,” Marlowe said.
“Well, I’m not going to try and be mean or anything,” Arcadia squeaked. “I just mean, I’m not sure what I’m doing, you know?”
“Yeah I do,” Marlowe said. “I’m still kind of reeling, like I said back at the camp. But I’m doing this to kind of get used to it. I’m thinking about majoring in education when I start college next year. What about you, any plans towards the future?”
“The only thing I think I would want to study is medieval history and I guess I would really have to end up being a professor for that to ever work out financially.”
“Well, who knows,” Marlowe said. “You could end up doing something really cool with that.” He paused while he stared out of the passenger door window. “Are we seriously already backed in town?”
“I told you it’s a small town,” she said. “Unless you actually go into the Metropolitan area, South Wood takes like twenty minutes to drive all over, and about five if you just want to go straight through. And the Deli’s just up ahead in the shopping complex.” It did not take more than a minute for Arcadia to drive up to the Deli and parallel park.
“Just so we’re clear, I am paying,” Marlowe said, as they both got out of the car.
“And why do you get to pay?” Arcadia asked.
“Well, because we never said we were going Dutch, and we used your car, so I think it’s only fair that I pay for lunch,” he said. “So now, tell me what is good about this deli?”
“Are you a red meat kind of person?”
“Absolutely!”
“Get the roast beef,” she advised, as they walked into the small deli, “my brother gets that every time we’re here, and he likes the way they fix it.”
“Hey there, what can I get you folks?” asked a college age young man from behind the counter.
“Could I get the turkey BLT?” Arcadia asked.
“Yeah, and I’ll have a roast beef something. No onions or peppers though, please,” Marlowe requested.
“Sure think, hey George, come help me out with these sandwiches!” the guy behind the counter called into the back, as he began slicing up a six inch baguette.
Arcadia leaned against the counter, as Marlowe turned to her again,
“So, favorite band?”
“Tori Amos, though she’s not a band. You?”
“Simon and Garfunkel, actually; who’s Tori Amos?”
“You’re unbelievable if you don’t know who Tori Amos is. Favorite author?”
“Orson Scott Card. You?”
“Francesca Lia Block, or John Milton and possibly Edmund Spenser.”
“Wow, uh, some very different authors there,” Marlowe said.
“Not at their cores,” Arcadia said. “I like the mythos of what they write.”
“Okay, favorite movie.”
“The Princess Bride, always and forever.”
“Unbreakable.”
“An M. Night Shyamalan movie? I think that says something about you, and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.”
“It says that I like suspense thrillers, and not all of his movies are bad, you know. Haven’t you ever seen the Sixth Sense?” Marlowe asked, removing his wallet from one of his pockets. Arcadia looked up to see the two guys wrapping their sandwiches in parchment paper, and walking them over to the counter with the cash register.
“I have to agree with him there,” said one of the guys. “You want some drinks or chips with these?”
“I’ll just have a water,” Arcadia replied.
“I’ll get a soda and a bag of chips.” The guy punched a few buttons on the cash register and Marlowe handed him a debit card, while Arcadia went to the refrigerator and pulled out two medium sized water bottles. Marlowe met her at the door, holding a bag of chips and the two sandwiches. “So tell me, where do we sit in this fine deli?”
“Just outside,” she said, pointing with a free finger. “Keeps the sandwich making space form being crowded.” She led him outside to a table where they set down their objects and traded things around before they sat and began to unwrap their sandwiches.
“All right, so answer me this; five people, living or dead, who would you have dinner with?”
“Oprah, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Tori Amos, Eleanor Roosevelt and King Arthur.”
“King Arthur?” he asked before talking a sip of soda. “I get all of the others, being inspirational people and all, even if I’ve never heard of one of them, but why King Arthur?”
“Because I like King Arthur,” she said. “And whether or not people think he was real, he stood for an ideal that out of a great darkness there can be an even greater light if people simply work together to achieve it and don’t try to fight one another to for status quo. He was a great man who did a great many things.”
“And yet he was destroyed by those he cared for the most,” Marlowe said. “What about Lancelot and Guinevere?”
“Well, that didn’t come about until Malory started writing really,” she said. “But you’re right, there was always some play for power in Arthur’s court that led to his downfall, and the downfall of his great ideal. I guess all things come to an end in time.” She took a bite of sandwich chewing it down before she asked, “So, what about you? Five people dead or alive.”
“Simon, Garfunkel, John Lennon, Orson Scott Card and Harry Houdini.”
“Houdini? Really?” she asked.
“Hey, he was a pretty cool guy,” Marlowe justified. “He made his living escaping from things—how cool would that be, just being about to get out of stuff all the time, and not just trick stuff. People tied him up with all kinds of things, hand cuffs, their ropes, chains and he always managed to escape. I just wish I could do that, sometimes, escape from everything that’s around me and just vanish, like he did.” Marlowe paused for a moment, looking into space, before he snapped his attention back to Arcadia. “So, yeah, I want to learn all of his secrets and use them for my own personal gain.” Arcadia laughed a little.
“I still think King Arthur’s better.”
“Well, you picked him, so you would. Um.. I can’t think of any more questions.”
“Why did you move to South Wood?” she asked.
“Because my dad got a job here, and…” He paused to wipe his mouth and swallow, staring into the wrapping of his sandwich for a few seconds. “If I disclose too much, will you stop me?” he asked. “Because you seem really great, and I wouldn’t want to ruin a friendship with you.” Arcadia could not help but wonder if it was only friendship he wanted but nodded and said,
“Of course.”
“My parents just went through a really nasty divorce,” he admitted. “My Mom decided to leave because she felt like he was ignoring her for some of his beliefs, but she’s known these things about him since they got married, and even believed a few of them herself, so I couldn’t understand why she was leaving now. So I went with him and that was that.” Marlowe let out a huge breathe, as if he had been holding in how he felt for so long, it had almost suffocated him. Arcadia reached out and took his hand, grasping it gently in her own. Marlowe smile, folding his hand around hers in return.
3/11/11 WC: 2031
Piece WC: 7433
Project WC: 26649
Still Reading: Gender Dilemmas in Children's Fiction by Kerry Mallan
She did not get another chance to talk to him until the walking tour was over and they were dismissed to leave the camp. As many of the new counselors walked toward the parking lot, he gravitated toward her.
“So what did you think of the whole thing?” he asked.
“Seemed pretty standard to me,” she said with a shrug, “but I’ve done some volunteer work with kids before so a lot of it was the same bag. What about you?”
“I’ve got to admit, I’m a little nervous,” he said. “I’ve never been responsible for anyone before, and their giving us eight little kids to look after tomorrow.”
“Could be worse,” Arcadia told him. “You could hate kids. Or you could have ten in your group, like me.” Marlowe broke into a grin.
“How very optimistic.” He paused for a minute wring his hands as they stopped by Arcadia’s car. “Listen, I know this is kind of forward, but you seem kind of cool and I want to get to know you better. Would you go to lunch with me tomorrow? Just as a kind of get to know you better thing?”
“Well, tomorrow we don’t get dismissed until three,” Arcadia reminded him. “And I don’t think lunch with eighteen kids is exactly what you had in mind. So, how about we go to lunch now?” Arcadia felt herself heat up after she asked the question, and saw Marlowe go a little red.
“Well, it’s kind of lame, but I got dropped off by my dad.” After he said this, it seemed like he remembered something because he looked over his shoulder. “Who is nowhere in sight. He’s usually late to realize these things.”
“You could give him a call,” Arcadia suggested. “If he’s on his way, we’ll go tomorrow, if not we’ll go today.”
“Deal,” Marlowe said, digging his cellphone from one of the pockets on his cargo shorts. He punched a few of the buttons before lofting the phone to his ear. “Dad? Yeah hi. No it’s cool, I actually wanted to ask if it was cool if I caught a ride home with someone else—though we were planning on going to lunch first, if that’s okay. Yes, I just met her. Her name is Arcadia. Savage.” He looked at her and squinted. “Well, she certainly doesn’t look like a sociopath. Yes I will be careful. All right, thanks Dad, I’ll see you in like an hour or so. Yes, I will call to let you know if we stay out later. All right, yeah, Dad. Bye.”
“Well, that sounds great,” Arcadia said. “Now I just have to ask my mom if it’s okay that I keep the car out a little longer.” The call lasted less than a minute and her mother informed her that she was in book club, and yes it was all right to keep the car an hour longer, though she would appreciate maybe getting it back some time this afternoon. Marlow slipped into the passenger seat while she talked settling in, buckling his seat belt, fiddling with every knob and button around him. “So where do you want to go?” she asked, as she folded her phone shut.
“You’re the lady,” Marlowe replied. “And I just moved to town, so I have no idea where all of the local haunts are.”
“Does a deli sound good to you?” she asked, as she turned the key in the ignition and began to back out of her spot.
“Delis can be nice,” he agreed nodding along with every word. “So why did you want to work with kids?”
“I didn’t go looking for the kids, per say. The stable where I keep my horse, they have a contract with this camp because they actually bring in a lot of business. So, the stable master there suggested it might be something I might like, because I’ve helped the occasional kid out during a lesson. And he said it was right up my alley with all of the hiking and archery I do, so I figured I would give it a try and I figured the worst thing that could come out of it was a few scarred kids and a wasted ten weeks of my summer.”
“I actually did it because there were some people who scarred me for life at their age,” Marlowe said.
“Well, I’m not going to try and be mean or anything,” Arcadia squeaked. “I just mean, I’m not sure what I’m doing, you know?”
“Yeah I do,” Marlowe said. “I’m still kind of reeling, like I said back at the camp. But I’m doing this to kind of get used to it. I’m thinking about majoring in education when I start college next year. What about you, any plans towards the future?”
“The only thing I think I would want to study is medieval history and I guess I would really have to end up being a professor for that to ever work out financially.”
“Well, who knows,” Marlowe said. “You could end up doing something really cool with that.” He paused while he stared out of the passenger door window. “Are we seriously already backed in town?”
“I told you it’s a small town,” she said. “Unless you actually go into the Metropolitan area, South Wood takes like twenty minutes to drive all over, and about five if you just want to go straight through. And the Deli’s just up ahead in the shopping complex.” It did not take more than a minute for Arcadia to drive up to the Deli and parallel park.
“Just so we’re clear, I am paying,” Marlowe said, as they both got out of the car.
“And why do you get to pay?” Arcadia asked.
“Well, because we never said we were going Dutch, and we used your car, so I think it’s only fair that I pay for lunch,” he said. “So now, tell me what is good about this deli?”
“Are you a red meat kind of person?”
“Absolutely!”
“Get the roast beef,” she advised, as they walked into the small deli, “my brother gets that every time we’re here, and he likes the way they fix it.”
“Hey there, what can I get you folks?” asked a college age young man from behind the counter.
“Could I get the turkey BLT?” Arcadia asked.
“Yeah, and I’ll have a roast beef something. No onions or peppers though, please,” Marlowe requested.
“Sure think, hey George, come help me out with these sandwiches!” the guy behind the counter called into the back, as he began slicing up a six inch baguette.
Arcadia leaned against the counter, as Marlowe turned to her again,
“So, favorite band?”
“Tori Amos, though she’s not a band. You?”
“Simon and Garfunkel, actually; who’s Tori Amos?”
“You’re unbelievable if you don’t know who Tori Amos is. Favorite author?”
“Orson Scott Card. You?”
“Francesca Lia Block, or John Milton and possibly Edmund Spenser.”
“Wow, uh, some very different authors there,” Marlowe said.
“Not at their cores,” Arcadia said. “I like the mythos of what they write.”
“Okay, favorite movie.”
“The Princess Bride, always and forever.”
“Unbreakable.”
“An M. Night Shyamalan movie? I think that says something about you, and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.”
“It says that I like suspense thrillers, and not all of his movies are bad, you know. Haven’t you ever seen the Sixth Sense?” Marlowe asked, removing his wallet from one of his pockets. Arcadia looked up to see the two guys wrapping their sandwiches in parchment paper, and walking them over to the counter with the cash register.
“I have to agree with him there,” said one of the guys. “You want some drinks or chips with these?”
“I’ll just have a water,” Arcadia replied.
“I’ll get a soda and a bag of chips.” The guy punched a few buttons on the cash register and Marlowe handed him a debit card, while Arcadia went to the refrigerator and pulled out two medium sized water bottles. Marlowe met her at the door, holding a bag of chips and the two sandwiches. “So tell me, where do we sit in this fine deli?”
“Just outside,” she said, pointing with a free finger. “Keeps the sandwich making space form being crowded.” She led him outside to a table where they set down their objects and traded things around before they sat and began to unwrap their sandwiches.
“All right, so answer me this; five people, living or dead, who would you have dinner with?”
“Oprah, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Tori Amos, Eleanor Roosevelt and King Arthur.”
“King Arthur?” he asked before talking a sip of soda. “I get all of the others, being inspirational people and all, even if I’ve never heard of one of them, but why King Arthur?”
“Because I like King Arthur,” she said. “And whether or not people think he was real, he stood for an ideal that out of a great darkness there can be an even greater light if people simply work together to achieve it and don’t try to fight one another to for status quo. He was a great man who did a great many things.”
“And yet he was destroyed by those he cared for the most,” Marlowe said. “What about Lancelot and Guinevere?”
“Well, that didn’t come about until Malory started writing really,” she said. “But you’re right, there was always some play for power in Arthur’s court that led to his downfall, and the downfall of his great ideal. I guess all things come to an end in time.” She took a bite of sandwich chewing it down before she asked, “So, what about you? Five people dead or alive.”
“Simon, Garfunkel, John Lennon, Orson Scott Card and Harry Houdini.”
“Houdini? Really?” she asked.
“Hey, he was a pretty cool guy,” Marlowe justified. “He made his living escaping from things—how cool would that be, just being about to get out of stuff all the time, and not just trick stuff. People tied him up with all kinds of things, hand cuffs, their ropes, chains and he always managed to escape. I just wish I could do that, sometimes, escape from everything that’s around me and just vanish, like he did.” Marlowe paused for a moment, looking into space, before he snapped his attention back to Arcadia. “So, yeah, I want to learn all of his secrets and use them for my own personal gain.” Arcadia laughed a little.
“I still think King Arthur’s better.”
“Well, you picked him, so you would. Um.. I can’t think of any more questions.”
“Why did you move to South Wood?” she asked.
“Because my dad got a job here, and…” He paused to wipe his mouth and swallow, staring into the wrapping of his sandwich for a few seconds. “If I disclose too much, will you stop me?” he asked. “Because you seem really great, and I wouldn’t want to ruin a friendship with you.” Arcadia could not help but wonder if it was only friendship he wanted but nodded and said,
“Of course.”
“My parents just went through a really nasty divorce,” he admitted. “My Mom decided to leave because she felt like he was ignoring her for some of his beliefs, but she’s known these things about him since they got married, and even believed a few of them herself, so I couldn’t understand why she was leaving now. So I went with him and that was that.” Marlowe let out a huge breathe, as if he had been holding in how he felt for so long, it had almost suffocated him. Arcadia reached out and took his hand, grasping it gently in her own. Marlowe smile, folding his hand around hers in return.
3/11/11 WC: 2031
Piece WC: 7433
Project WC: 26649
Still Reading: Gender Dilemmas in Children's Fiction by Kerry Mallan