That's Debatable by Jen Doll

Author:Jen Doll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

TAG

After we drove around for a while talking and then stopped for pizza at Nick’s, we really did go to the library. But we weren’t working on debate this time. She took me by the hand and gave me a proper tour.

“There’s lots of stuff you’ve never seen in here,” she said. “Like, right here is my favorite carrel.” She pointed to an area of the library that had sectioned-off desks with high walls, for privacy. “Last year the librarians started joking that they’d inscribe my name in it if I won state again, and look, they went ahead and did it!” She pointed to a little plaque that bore her name.

“So, seriously: What’s the M for?” I asked. “What if I guess? Marvelous. Magnificent. Monounsaturated.”

“Yes, the last one.”

“No, but really. Molly? It would be embarrassing if your name was Millie Molly Chalmers. I could see how you might not want to share that.”

“No, but Molly is my mom’s name.”

“Martha? Like the scholarship lady?”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with my middle name?” she asked, exasperated.

“Well, partly it’s because you have that initial hanging out there. It’s like a tease.”

She frowned. “Don’t even go there.”

“I’m not calling you a tease. It’s just tantalizing. A single initial. A mystery. It leads to questions. People can’t help it! Oooh, is it Mystery?”

“No!” She laughed. “What’s your middle name?”

“It’s Cornell, which is actually my mom’s maiden name. No relation to the college. See, easy. Now tell me yours.”

She shook her head. “No matter how much I might like you, I’m not telling. I have to have some things that I get to keep for just me, you know.”

“You like me?”

“Shhh,” she said, and pulled me over to the philosophy section. We were standing between Kant, who, I remembered from Francine, argued that philosophy aims at answering three questions: “What can I know? What should I do? What may I hope?”, and Kierkegaard, the father of existentialism, a theory that posited that people are free agents who have control over their choices, when things got serious.

“Tag. I have to tell you something.”

“Is it about how much you like me?” I asked.

“Well. Sort of.”

“I’m listening.” Suddenly I got a bad feeling. “Did something else happen with those guys? With Culhane? The Cheater’s Lake jerks?”

“No,” she said. “This is something else.”

“Do you want to sit down?” I asked. I took her hand and led her to a couple of chairs in a quiet corner. We sat, looking at each other. “What is it?” I asked. She didn’t seem to want to let go of my hand.

“My mom and I have an agreement,” she whispered. “Senior year, no boys, no romance; I need to focus on debate and college and scholarships. No distractions. I can’t risk it. I could lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. My mom doesn’t even want me helping you, honestly. So while I really do like you…”

“Ah,” I said. “But…”

“But,” she said. “That’s the thing.” She leaned toward me. “Maybe, when it comes down to it, I don’t care about my mom’s rule.

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