Bellweather Rhapsody by Kate Racculia

Author:Kate Racculia [Racculia, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2014-05-13T00:00:00+00:00

14

Big Dance Number

“BUNNY BOY, PSST.”

Pete Moretti the Tenor is standing on the other side of the dinner buffet from Rabbit, and he is talking to Rabbit, smiling at Rabbit—in fact, it appears as though Pete Moretti has cut the line in order to be standing directly across from Rabbit. They’re reaching for the same tongs to grab a slice of grayish roast beef.

“What’s your real name, by the way?”

“Rabbit.” He feels himself blushing in the steam rising off the warming pan.

Pete laughs. “No, your real name.”

Rabbit’s face blushes brighter. “Bert. Bertram,” he says.

“My middle name’s Ernest. If it makes you feel any better.” Pete flops a lump of mashed potatoes on his plate. “Want?” he says, and drops a scoop on Rabbit’s plate.

“Thanks.”

“Gravy?”

Rabbit nods and Pete smashes a dent in his mashed potatoes with the gravy ladle. “My nonna taught me this,” Pete says. “She called it making lakes.”

“Thanks,” Rabbit repeats. Why oh why can’t he think of anything witty to say? Why can’t he be easy? Why can’t he be cool? He grins moronically because he knows the answer to all these questions: he is too happy, he is too excited. This is too awesome to even pretend to be cool.

“What are you doing later, Bert?” Pete tosses him a roll. It hits Rabbit’s plate and bounces into his mashed potatoes.

“Nothing yet,” Rabbit says, “Ernie.”

An easy smile slides across Pete’s face and every one of Rabbit’s internal organs turns to slush.

“Room ten-thirty-three. The Boys from Buffalo are throwing a party in honor of the dearly departed Jill Faccelli. It was going to be a search party, but who are we kidding, right? It’s an Irish wake. Since you and your sister were so close to her, we’d love you to be the guests of honor.”

“Yeah,” says Rabbit. “Yeah, that would be fun.” His mouth is saying the words while his brain is thinking that using Jill’s disappearance, her theoretical death, as an excuse to get tanked is in horrendously poor taste. Then his heart is feeling Pete Moretti tap his elbow. His heart is hearing Pete say he’ll see Bert later, whenever he wants to come up, they’ll be there from eight on.

Alice goes nuts. Rabbit knew she wouldn’t take the invitation or the party in the spirit it was intended; hell, he had a hard time himself, which is why he didn’t tell her until they were back in his room after dinner. Even so, he had never expected her reaction to be so violent. She screams at him—no words, no accusations, just a long, high wail that terrifies Rabbit’s roommate, Daniel (second-chair clarinet, concert band), who was already less than enthused that a third party would be sleeping on their floor for the remainder of the weekend.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Dan says. Rabbit hears him lock the bathroom door from inside.

“How can you even . . . Rabbit, what’s the matter with you? What those idiots are doing tonight is gross. And you want to be a part of it?” She takes hold of his arms and sits them both down on his bed.

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