The Seeker

It's not like Arlene Bluth wanted to take tests with the wrong pencil. It's not like Tim Watanabe wanted to live in a doghouse with Bobo the green-tongued clown. It's not like Doug Highsinger wanted to bed half the girls at-

Bad example.

"Do you think guys have some kind of on-off switch in the back of their heads?" Liz asked. "I mean, I've never seen it in any diagram in a bio textbook, but I'm really thinking it has to exist."

Liz tried to keep her tone light. Maria was her best friend, but that didn't mean she wanted to listen to Liz cry over Max every moment of every day.

Maria didn't answer. She sat on the low wooden bench in front of her locker, holding one of her sneakers. She kept staring at it as if she'd forgotten what it was.

Liz took the sneaker out of Maria's hand and stuck it in her locker. "We take the gym clothes off, then we put the street clothes on, then we leave school and go home," Liz said in her best kindergarten teacher voice. "At the speed you're moving, we might as well spend the night in here. Everyone else is already gone."

"Sorry," Maria mumbled. "I was spacing. What did you ask me?"

That was so unlike Maria. Maybe some people spaced out once in a while when their friends were talking to them. Even their best friends. But not Maria. She had the gift of listening with almost maniacal attention.

"I wanted to know if you think guys have a hidden on-off switch," Liz answered. "Something that makes them kiss, totally, completely kiss you one day and then treat you like the girl who works behind the counter at some convenience store the next day. Some girl they say hi to when they buy pork rinds. Some girl whose name they don't even really know. Some girl who looks sort of familiar. Some girl-"

"Stop," Maria begged. "I not only get the picture, I get the whole photo album. You. Max. He loves you. He loves you not. Do you want to hear my theory?"

"Please." Liz grabbed her brush from the top shelf of her locker. She whipped it through her long dark hair.

She hoped Maria could help her figure this out. She couldn't stop thinking of that kiss. That incredible kiss. Every time her mind touched on it… whoa. It was like her stomach dropped down to her toes and bounced back up again. A scientific impossibility, yes. But that's how it felt.

"I just don't understand how Max could kiss me like that and then shove me away," she muttered. "Unless… unless maybe he doesn't feel the same things I do. But I mean, he was trembling when I touched him."

"Hello? I'm giving my theory," Maria reminded her.

"Sorry." Liz took a deep breath. "Shoot."

"Okay. First, I think Max is totally and completely in love with you," Maria said.

"But then why-" Liz began to protest.

"Wait, I'm not done." Maria pulled off her other sneaker and tossed it in her locker. "Second, Max thinks the closer you get to him, the more danger you're in. So he pushes you away and treats you like you're the girl who sells him pork rinds to keep you safe. It's actually sort of sweet."

"But I don't care about being safe." Liz brushed her hair so hard, it crackled. "All I care-"

"I'm still not done," Maria interrupted. She pulled off her gym shorts and pulled on a long saffron yellow skirt. "Third, the kiss. The important thing about the kiss is when and where it happened. Sheriff Valenti was this close to finding you. You were in a we-could-die-any-second kind of mode. And when you think you're going to die, you do things you wouldn't usually do."

Liz threw her brush back in her locker and slammed the door.

"So all I have to do to make Max kiss me again is to almost get myself killed."

Maria pulled off her T-shirt. "Yeah. So next time try and almost get killed somewhere where there's candlelight, maybe some music. Somewhere romantic."

Liz tried to smile. But if Maria's theory was correct, and it made total sense to Liz, then Max's on-off switch was pretty much locked in the off position.

Maria reached for her camisole. Liz caught sight of a ring on a chain around her neck. "Nice," Liz said, reaching for it. "What kind of stone is that?" The color shifted from purple to green and back with each movement Maria made.

"I'm not sure exactly," Maria answered. "I've never seen one like it." She pulled on her shirt, slid her feet into her sandals, and grabbed her purse. "Let's get out of here." She led the way out of the locker room.

"So do you think I should send Valenti an anonymous note?" Liz joked. "Tell him he can find Max at one of those dark tables at the Rings of Saturn restaurant, where I'll just happen to be, too, doing the just-friends thing?"

"That's one possibility," Maria answered as they crossed the polished wood floor of the gym. "Or, and I know you're not going to like this…"

There were times when Liz knew exactly what Maria was going to say before she said it. This was one of them. "You think I should go out with other guys," Liz said before Maria could. The words hurt coming out of her mouth.

"Got it in one," Maria answered. "There's more to life than getting straight A's and raking in the tips at your dad's restaurant. You should have some fun."

"Like you're out with a different guy every night of the week," Liz teased. Maria wasn't exactly a party girl lately, either. And Liz thought she knew why. Liz had known Maria since the second grade. She'd seen her go through some major crushes. But she'd never seen her look at a guy the way she looked at Michael.

And Maria hadn't said a word about him to Liz. That meant she felt something big. So big, she couldn't even confess it to her best friend. Liz wondered if Maria had even confessed it to herself.

"Hey, I'm still a junior," Maria answered. "I have time. I'm not an old woman like you."

"Ha. Ha, ha," Liz muttered. She pushed her way out the big double doors leading to the main hallway.

"You know I'm right," Maria pressed. "If you keep going this way, you'll end up at your own senior prom with a just-friends guy."

That was a depressing thought. Liz still remembered back when she and Maria were eight years old. Every time they had a sleep over they would haul out the Barbie and Ken dolls and dress them up in their formal wear. Then they were off to the prom.

At one of those sleep overs Liz had called her papa and asked him if she could stay up until midnight on prom night. She hadn't thought there was anything silly about asking permission ten years in advance. He'd pretended to think it over very seriously, then said yes.

"And what about after high school?" Maria pressed. "What about college? What about the whole endless rest of your life? Are you going to spend all those years thinking about Max?"

Liz's stomach lurched. Maria had a point. She was starting to feel like she had some kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder, one where she had to think of Max sixty times a minute.

Maria grabbed her elbow. "You want a good place to start," Maria whispered. "A training-wheels guy? Look over there." Maria gave her chin a jerk toward the far end of the hall.

Liz glanced over and saw Jerry Cifarelli standing in front of his locker. Jerry was one of those guys who seemed like an extra in the movie of high school. Always in the background. Sort of cute. Sort of smart. Sort of athletic. Sort of… sort of in every way, just not outstanding in even one area.

"Go on," Maria urged. "He's had a thing for you since you beat him out of the finals for the science fair when you were freshmen."

"First year," Liz corrected automatically. "Freshmen is a sexist term." She took another quick look at Jerry.

"At least go talk to him," Maria urged.

Max had made it totally clear that he wasn't going to let her get too close. She could either cry herself a river or move on.