“Scott Mookus,” said Botha.
“He calls me ‘Scat Mucus’ and I scream to him, ‘Penis!’”
“Close up your idiot mouth,” Botha said. “Stop acting the moron.”
Benji Nakamook mumbled, “One day I’ll cut your tongue out and paste it to your shirt.”
“What was that?” said Botha.
Benji said, “I’d like to spray accelerant on your mustache and toss matches at your face.”
“Are you saying something to me?”
Benji half-rapped, “While you’re munchin’ at your luncheon, I’m plannin’ your assassination. Pling.” It was from “Zealots” by the Fugees.
Botha said, “You have to speak up, Nakamake.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” said Benji. “It’s lunchtime.”
Jelly said, “That girl’s so weird, Gurion.”
Benji said, “What girl?”
“And she used to go out with Ruth’s ex’s little brother,” Jelly said, ignoring Benji.
When? I said.
“Just last year,” Jelly said.
For how long?
“Who cares how long? His brother’s a dickbag, and he worships his brother, and he tried to go out with me because Ruth is my sister and he wanted to date a Rothstein like his dickbag brother, but this Rothstein wasn’t having it. I would not go out with him, not after I saw how his brother treated Ruth. And after I said ‘No, man, go away, you worship a dickbag,’ he went out with June. Do you want to know his name? Ask me his name. I’ve been keeping you in suspense, but I’m ready to end it. Don’t you want to know the name of June’s ex?”
Maybe, I said. I don’t think I do, I said.
“Well that’s dumb cause you should, cause his name’s Josh Berman.”
I thought: Berman, Josh Berman. I know that name; how? At least he’s an Israelite.
That latter thought looks a lot more racist than it was. The wording is accurate, but At least he’s an Israelite = At least I know for sure now that June’s not one of those Israelites I read about who doesn’t want to date other Israelites.
And then I remembered how I knew his name: I’d read it in the Aptakisic News. I’d read it in an article written by Ruth about the Main Hall Shovers.
“Josh Berman,” said Jelly. “Josh Berman!” said Jelly. “Not just a Main Hall Shover,” said Jelly. “And not just a Jewish Shover,” said Jelly. “But the alphadog king of all Jewish Shovers,” said Jelly. “How’s that?” said Jelly. “What do you think of that?” said Jelly.
What I thought was that I didn’t want to think of that at all. I didn’t know any Israelite Main Hall Shovers; I only knew about them — I only knew what Ruth wrote about them in the Aptakisic News—and I knew I didn’t like them — I disliked all Main Hall Shovers on principle, and as for the Israelite ones, hate was probably too strong a word to describe what I… I didn’t want to think about it, there at lunch. I didn’t want to think about Shovers or any of it.
Did she kiss him? I said.
Jelly said, “Tch.”
I wanted, least of all, to think about them kissing, but I saw that I had to.
Did she? I said.
“Probably,” said Jelly. “I can’t say for sure.”
Then don’t say probably.
“They went out for a while. Maybe three weeks. That’s why I said it.”
But you don’t know for sure, I said.
“No,” Jelly said, “but I don’t know for sure that she didn’t kiss him either.”
I thought: If June kissed him, this person Josh Berman, it was only a kiss. Then they broke up. She broke up with him. She broke up with Josh Berman, if they kissed or they didn’t kiss, and that meant she wasn’t in love with him.
But then I thought: You don’t know what a kiss is; you’ve never kissed anyone! Only a kiss? That’s a line from the movies! A lyric from a showtune! You don’t know what it is any better than you know who broke up with who, who June loves or doesn’t, who June loved or didn’t.
I must have looked bad, because Jelly backed off.
“All I’m saying’s she’s weird,” Jelly said. “She’s just weird.”
“Who’s weird?” said Benji.
Jelly said, “Pay attention.”
“But I heard everything you said,” Benji told Jelly. “I was just being polite because I wanted to be in the conversation, but you weren’t talking to me and it sounded like your conversation was private, and I didn’t want you to feel like I’d invaded your privacy, so when you said some girl was weird, I asked you which girl, so that you wouldn’t think someone had been eavesdropping on you. I’m highly sensitive when it comes to other people’s privacy. You should know that about me, Jelly. So I’m asking you, ‘What girl?’ even though I know. I’m asking it as a favor to you. So you won’t feel invaded. So I won’t feel invasive. So we won’t feel awkward. So we both feel the same. And now we do feel the same — that much is true. But the same in this case is no good kind of same. We both feel uncomfortable. You criticized my gesture and made us feel uncomfortable, and now we have to work together to repair the situation. And so, to that end, I’m asking again, ‘What girl is so weird?’ And you should be polite enough to tell me, Jelly.”
Jelly’s lips puckered to beat back a smile her flaring nostrils betrayed the strength of. “June Watermark,” she said. “She draws violent things, she went out with Josh Berman, and whoever’s in love with her should be in love with me instead.”
“Who cares what June draws?” said Nakamook. “I don’t care what she draws. I mean, say that for instance I was in love with you, Jelly, and Mangey started saying I shouldn’t be because you bite people. It wouldn’t matter to me, because being in love with you would make it so I didn’t care that you bite people because you’re really hot and you’re very funny, let’s say, and then maybe I’d enjoy it when you bit me because I loved you so much that I couldn’t even tell you about it directly since if I did that and you said you didn’t love me back I would have to kill us both or something.”
Jelly said, “Are you in love with me, Benji?”
Benji wasn’t even looking at her, though. He was squinting at me, like he was measuring something.
A kiss, I kept thinking. A kiss is just a kiss. What is a kiss?
“And who cares if she went out with Berman?” said Benji. “That kid is a dentist and he never laid a hand on her.”
How do you know? I said.
“He couldn’t kiss a baby asleep in a cradle. He couldn’t kiss his grandma. He couldn’t kiss a lapdog. He’s never kissed anyone,” Benji said.
How do you know? I said.
“I can tell,” Benji said, “if someone’s never been kissed.”
How can you tell?
“It’s a talent,” said Benji.
You can’t tell, I said.
“You’ve never been kissed. Jelly’s never been kissed. Leevon’s been kissed. Main Man hasn’t.”
“You’re guessing,” Jelly said.
“Am I wrong?” Benji said.
“He’s just guessing,” she said.
He at least wasn’t wrong about me or Jelly.
Benji said, “Listen. Gurion, listen—”
Main Man interrupted: “Listen to me. You’ve fallen in love with the girl of all girls, the queen of queens, the one who will mother the most righteous sons of you! Hers is the all-American ponytail of all American ponytails. I am walking on air for you. I am singing in the rain.”