Liam and Imogene meet again the next Friday. And the following Friday, same thing, right after school. Both times, it feels like a game of chance she assumes she will lose and end up walking home alone. But he is there in the truck, smoking out the window while Nick Cleary sits behind the wheel with an air of tolerance. On the third Friday, Liam asks to see her the next day, and in the afternoon, they walk up to Corey’s camp. No one is there, but Liam knows where the key is. They spend over three hours rolling on the floor, her bra undone, their tops hoisted up to their armpits, but not off, not yet. She lets him put his hand down her pants, but not take them off, and afterwards, he complains he might have chafed his dick against his zipper with all the dry humping.
They’re not a secret, but there’s no advertising. And less of a reason for it as he really did get hot over the summer. In the bathroom, Imogene overhears Shelly MacInnis remark to Crystal about how cut Liam is now. “I’d like to get him unconscious and feel him up,” she says. “Just for me. I wouldn’t want him to know I did it.” “Yeah, it would go to his head for sure,” Crystal says.
In school, from Monday to Friday afternoon, they do not approach each other. Avoiding Liam during the week is easy as the only class they share is homeroom. They orbit the school in their own spheres. Imogene and Rita and her cluster of friends, Liam skipping off class to disappear behind the Rec Centre. They glide past each other from the opposite ends of rooms. Imogene glimpses the slope of his cheekbone, his hands pushing through his hair, the back of his denim-clad thighs where his track jacket ends. A sample of his voice reaches her: a jeer, a snippet of laughter. After school, she works in the Youth Centre or has to help Nan. It’s easy to avoid whatever this is during the week.
On Fridays, when they drive around with Nick, they get someone to pick up flasks of Lambs or Golden Wedding, which they mix with Pepsi or 7UP. There is never a plan. They look for things to do. Nick is charming and Liam slightly feared, so they are always welcomed. One night they join a fire on the beach, one night a house party. One night, they smoke up in the Anglican cemetery with a bunch of last year’s high-school graduates, the taste of the hash oil harsh in the cigarette and having zero effect on her. One night, they end up at a shed party with a bunch of fishermen, two of whom knew Imogene’s grandfather and keep her in a corner, telling stories and drinking rum until Liam yanks her away.
Nick and Liam assign her to do small tasks like buy onesies (you’re a girl, they’ll just give them to you), watch out for cops, enter a party first. She loans them some kind of legitimacy. It is good to feel useful. Before Nick drops her home on Fridays, Liam sorts out somewhere they can meet on the Saturday. “Not having a vehicle sucks,” he says.
In class, she tries to remember how his hands look, their tan shape on the leg of her jeans. She forgets if he is taller than her or not. She thinks about things she’d like to try. In a way, it’s ideal; he’s not her boyfriend, so she can practice for the real thing. By Thursday, she is counting the hours left in the day. She busies herself planning what to wear, what to bring to school for Friday—makeup, money, cigarettes, an extra sweater. By two o’clock on Fridays, her muscles tense and release, gearing up for the walk to the parking lot.
One day, Crystal interrogates her in the bathroom. “What’s going on with you and Liam? Are you going out?” Imogene shrugs and smiles. And when Rita finds out, she is thrilled with it all. On the fifth Friday, she follows them out of a shed party. “Hi, guys, where you going? Immy, I have to tell you something.” And she hops into the front next to Nick, making Imogene and Liam squeeze into the back seat of the cab. Nick drops Rita off last.
Within a week, Rita and Nick are Going Out. They are always touching, connected by any available joints and appendages, names written together on textbooks and locker doors. Rita sits on Nick’s lap in the lunchroom, his head against her shoulder, the ends of her hair brushing his forehead. They walk with hands in each other’s back pockets, they neck at school dances. Junior-high girls request slow songs for them: “Right Here Waiting,” “Lost in Your Eyes.”
Rita and Nick’s new coupledom highlights Imogene and Liam’s vagueness. Imogene isn’t sure what’s happening, but it’s fun to have a bit of badness on the go. It reminds her of those first couple of weeks after she was suspended, the quiet respect around her. The acknowledgement of her potential.
But the thought of doing boyfriend and girlfriend things with Liam, like holding hands or making out in public seems ridiculous. Even when they are alone together, it feels otherworldly, like they are different versions of themselves. It’s only outside of school she wants him next to her. She wants his voice in her ear. And when no one can see, she wants his hands on her, his tongue in her mouth, his skin on hers. Everything is something new she can take with her.