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Ragdoll

Chapter One

It was an awful big house for just one person.

Despite the fact that Charlie Keller had many more important things to think about, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his new home. It was enormous. How could he be expected to live in this huge brick monster alone? It didn’t look welcoming in the least, what with it’s blue door swallowing the movers who were taking in boxes and furniture, and then throwing them up later, empty handed. Really, the entire situation was terrifying; Charlie was glued to the seat of his Honda.

He’d been sitting in his new driveway, motionless inside his car, for nearly a half-hour. Though the movers had been patient at first, Charlie could feel the heat of their glares as they walked by carrying sofas and nightstands. They were taking little precautions to quiet their muttering as they passed. Of course, Charlie didn’t blame them; he’d be angry, too, if the man who was supposed to be telling them where to put things was sitting blankly in his car, staring ahead for no reason. It was a perfectly legitimate reason to be upset.

However, knowing this didn’t exactly make Charlie move any faster.

If he moved, he’d wake himself up from his zen-like state where his biggest worry was that his house was enormous. If he moved, Charlie would be forced to remember that he was pushing forty and somehow expecting to start his life over. If he moved, he’d realize that there was a reason he was moving into a house that was too large for him alone, and that reason’s name was Lisa.

Lisa.

When they’d met, ten years earlier, Charlie knew she was the one for him and within a year and a half they’d married. Lisa was witty and charming, and had a bright smile that made her attract friends like magnets. Unfortunately, a lot of those friends were male. And wanted to be a little bit more than friends.

Of course, Charlie never doubted that Lisa was faithful to him. But he was a jealous man. And the larger Lisa’s circle of male friends grew, the more short-tempered Charlie became. They tried therapy, but it hadn’t gone well. The therapist had been male, and fond of his wife.

What had saved their marriage, at least for awhile, was sex. Charlie and Lisa tended to solve all their problems by ignoring the issue and hopping into bed; there was no fight a little make-up sex couldn’t solve. And when Charlie had returned home from work one day to find Lisa holding a very clear pregnancy test, it was as if no problems had ever existed.

The both of them were on cloud nine, picking out baby names and outfits. Lisa insisted that the child was going to be a girl, despite the fact that there was no evidence of it. The doctor told Lisa that the baby was positioned in a way that he could not tell the gender. Lisa had offhandedly replied that it didn’t matter because she already knew, anyway. Together, she and Charlie found a house reasonably close to his parents so that they would be able to pop over and baby sit, on occasion. It had seemed too good to be true.

And like most things that seem too good to be true, it was.

When she lost the baby, Lisa had spent three days locked in the bedroom, refusing to move. Charlie slept on the couch, knocking on the door every now and again in an effort to check on his wife. Seventy-two hours later, when she emerged, Lisa told him that having the miscarriage put a lot about her life into perspective, and she wanted a divorce. It wasn’t that surprising. They’d tried to be as amicable as possible, with Charlie giving Lisa the apartment and she giving him the Honda, but it was still strained and awkward between them.

Charlie supposed there was no other way for it to be.

Suddenly, the sound of fingers tapping the window echoed in the car and Charlie turned to find that one of the movers had finally lost his patience and come to get some help on where to put the large pieces of furniture. Pretending that he could not hear the mover’s request because the window was closed, Charlie shrugged and took another few moments to simply sit and stare ahead at him. At his future.

He hadn’t really wanted the house. The apartment was great, but it was closer to Lisa’s parents so he’d decided to let her have it. His real estate agent called later that same day to inform Charlie that he and Lisa had gotten the house they’d put an offer on. Charlie had figured he had nothing to lose, and took it.

Now, as he grasped the car handle and let himself out of the Honda, he wondered why he’d done it. It would have made more sense to find another apartment closer to his office. But it had seemed like fate that his agent should call on the exact date he realized he had no place to live, and Charlie had jumped at the first opportunity. Regretting his rash decision, Charlie took a deep breath and headed toward the front door, brushing past some movers as they made their way back to the van to grab the last of his bulky furniture.

The floor plan for the house was fairly simple. Upon entering, a large foyer greeted any guests. Straight through the hallway was the kitchen, and two doors on either side of the hall provided access to the dining room and family room. Up the stairs and to the left was the master bedroom.

Suddenly, Charlie ached for a few moments rest. He needed time to think, sort out his feelings, and he certainly couldn’t do that if he was directing movers on where to put the loveseat. Checking down the hall to make sure that no one could see him, Charlie darted up the stairs and entered his new bedroom, relieved to see the mattress lying discarded in the middle of the room.

The sheets and blankets were still neatly packed in a box somewhere, and Charlie decided he didn’t need them. He flopped carelessly down onto the mattress, curling up into a ball and sighing. Sleep would be helpful: maybe he could dream of something other than the terrible mess he’d made of his life. He’d barely had a chance to close his eyes, however, when one of the movers barged into the room. Realizing that he probably looked ridiculous lying in the fetal position on a bare mattress, Charlie unfurled and stood up.

The mover looked embarrassed. “Sorry to—interrupt.” He said, taking a step back toward the doorframe, “But you have visitors.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed back down the stairs, leaving Charlie to wonder whom it was that could have possible called on him. He didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood, and all of his former friends were a few hours away, back near Lisa. Frowning, Charlie straightened up his clothes and walked down the steps, catching a glimpse of a couple he’d never seen standing in the foyer. Upon seeing him descend, both the woman and the man grinned up at him. Charlie felt more at ease as he extended a hand to the pair.

“Hi,” Charlie said, trying to smile and failing, “Charlie Keller.”

“June,” the woman replied, taking Charlie’s hand in her own and giving it a shake. “And this is my husband, George.” George nodded and shook Charlie’s hand, as well. “We saw the moving truck parked outside and decided to pop in and introduce ourselves.” She paused, for a moment, as if embarrassed, then continued, “Also, we are having a party tonight, and thought it’d be nice to invite you. It’s always tough, being new in the neighborhood.”

Charlie feigned interest in attending the party. Not well, but neither June nor George seemed to take notice. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, in a voice more curious than he felt.

“We’re moving!” George laughed, “In two days, actually. But we figured it might give you a chance to meet all your new neighbors at once if you came over tonight. If you’d rather not come…”

It took all the politeness Charlie possessed not to tell George and June that he had no desire to attend their shindig, but he managed to swallow his pride and nod as if he cared. June understood his awkward head nod to mean that he was very willing and excited to attend, and she grinned at him as she said, “Wonderful! It’s tonight at seven o clock.” She cast a glance over at George’s watch, “That gives you around two hours to get some things in order over here, will that be enough time?”

Shrugging, Charlie agreed that he had plenty of time and bade them both goodbye before closing his front door and breathing a sigh of relief. Though the couple seemed nice enough, it was peace and quiet that he was craving, and after assuring himself that everything was out of the moving van, he shooed all the movers away. The truck pulled away from his house within minutes, and Charlie was finally alone at last.

He wasted no time bolting back up the stairs to return to his original idea of sleeping, however, his meeting with George and June had awakened him and now he could not relax enough to sleep comfortably. The mattress, devoid of all covering, was plush and new, and yet it didn’t matter. His physical comfort could not relieve the stress he was undergoing, and Charlie felt himself kept awake by thoughts of Lisa and his recent divorce. How had things gone so terribly awry for the both of them?

An hour and a half and many tosses and turns later, Charlie finally decided to give up and get ready for the party. He briefly entertained skipping the entire celebration; he didn’t know George and June beyond their short introduction from earlier that day, and it didn’t seem right for him to be at their last party with their friends that actually cared they were leaving. Still, Charlie went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, opened some boxes until he found a comb, and then combed his hair thoroughly. After checking his reflection to make sure he looked at least somewhat presentable, he walked out the door and to the end of the block, the house which the couple had pointed out on their way out the door.

In a few minutes, Charlie reached the front door and rang the bell. When the door flung back, it revealed a somewhat intoxicated June, who shuffled Charlie inside and got everyone’s attention.

“Excuse me!” June cried out, thwarting Charlie’s plan of simply sneaking away. “Everyone, this is Charlie. He’s moving in to the old Haskin’s place.”

The attendees gave halfhearted waves and spared another moment to stare at him openly, as if they could analyze his every thought and move solely by looking at his appearance. Charlie was relieved they couldn’t; had they been able to, they would have known exactly what he’d been thinking about them. A majority of the party-goers were close to his age, each one was wrapped up either with a significant other or with at least one precocious child who refused to sit still. Everyone else looked to be around seventy. Giving an awkward wave, Charlie was relieved to see people quickly return to their conversations. He didn’t really want to talk to any of the people in the room, and it was good to know that he wouldn’t have to fake his way through a conversation.

As soon as June had turned away, Charlie slipped out of the room. Distinctly male laughter floated out of a room down the hall; Charlie assumed it was George. It was too soon to leave, since he’d just arrived a few moments prior, so Charlie decided to see if he could strike up some sort of conversation with George. Perhaps the man could tell him a few local places to check out, or something.

Charlie immediately felt that he was trespassing as he entered the room. It had not occurred to him that George might be talking to someone, though Charlie felt stupid for disregarding that possibility. George hadn’t seemed like the type that would burst into random laughter for no reason whatsoever. That idea hadn’t dawned on him, however, until after he’d walked in to see George conversing with another man.

The man was a bit older than Charlie, perhaps in his mid fifties, or so. His hair was graying, but he had a youthful sort of smile that he gave Charlie as soon as he walked in. It was terribly embarrassing, and Charlie found that he had no idea whether he should stay and try to make conversation or go and pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened.

George spoke before he made any decisions. “Charlie!” he said, motioning for him to come into the room, “I was just talking about you.”

“Good things, I hope.” Charlie replied, his voice soft. George continued to beckon him closer, and his friend’s smile didn’t waver. Charlie took a few more steps before seating himself in the chair farthest away. “Am I intruding?”

“Of course not!” scoffed George, as he stood up. “Can I get you a drink? The only thing we haven’t packed yet is the alcohol!”

“If you insist.”

Pouring a drink into a glass and then handing it to Charlie, George affirmed that he did, in fact, insist. Charlie looked into the glass; it was Scotch. He took a swig and then set it down on the ground next to his seat. George watched him drink, then began to introduce Charlie, “Stan, this is Charlie Keller. He’s the guy that moved in next door to you.” George tilted his head toward Stan, “And Charlie, this is Stan Smith.”

Stan lifted his glass toward Charlie. “Nice to meet you.”

Charlie nodded in return. “Nice to meet you, too.”

George had just opened his mouth to ask Charlie what business he was in, but he never got the chance to pose the question. At that exact moment, a toilet from the bathroom in the hall flushed, and into the room flounced a girl in a graphic tee and a jean mini-skirt. She noticed Charlie immediately, and gave him a strange look.

“Who’s this?” she asked, gesturing to Charlie.

Stan lifted his eyebrows at the girl, as if to remind her to behave. “Dee, this is our new neighbor, Charlie.” Stan turned his attention toward Charlie, “Charlie, this is my daughter, Deedee.”

Another handshake, this time between Deedee and Charlie. She smiled at him, revealing very straight teeth. Braces, he figured. All teenagers seemed to get them. He murmured a quick “how do you do” and then dropped her hand as if it burned. Deedee, however, seemed unfazed by his reaction, and turned toward her father.

“I’m going to go upstairs and see June, alright?” she asked.

Stan shrugged. “Go right ahead.”

With one last wave, she turned and walked out the door, leaving three very silent men in her wake.

“She’s a little spitfire, that one.” George chuckled, trying to fill the awkward and noiseless voice. “You’re going to have to watch out for that one, Stan, once she starts dating.”

Stan sighed, signifying that he knew that very well and had spent much time thinking about it. “Deedee’s a smart girl. Too smart for her own good. She thinks she knows everything.”

The conversation was veering in directions that Charlie was uncomfortable with, but try as he may he could not think of a plausible reason to leave. He could fake a headache, but it was such a cliché excuse he doubted that Stan and George would truly believe it. Instead, he chose to remain silent, staring off into space and attempting to appear somewhat interested. Part of him wanted to excuse himself from the room and go home, but his new house wasn’t a home and Charlie knew he wouldn’t feel any more comfortable there than he did in this room discussing Stan’s teenage daughter.

To his surprise, Stan seemed to notice Charlie’s discomfort and gave him a smile, mercifully changing the subject. “So, Charlie, what do you do?” he asked, sipping his own glass of Scotch that George had given him.

“I’m an accountant.” Charlie readjusted in his seat, picking his own glass up from the floor, and twisting it about in his hands. “I worked for a company back where I used to live and they transferred me to their branch out here.”

“Great, now I have someone to do my taxes.” Stan joked, laughing lightly. George joined, with great guffaws. Charlie sat, wondering why everyone made that joke when he mentioned his occupation.

After quieting, George leaned over, topping off Charlie’s glass. “Married?”

The room became silent, and it stayed that way for a long time. Charlie cleared his throat once, then twice, trying to find something to say. He stared into his drink as if it held the meaning of life. Finally, he managed, “No.”

When Charlie didn’t say anything else, George knew that he had touched upon a sensitive topic. He chanced a glance at the silent man’s left ring finger; it was unoccupied, but there was a tan line that seemed to suggest that it had once worn a ring. Immediately, George realized his mistake.

“I’m sorry.” George said quickly, embarrassed.

Charlie shook his head, but didn’t lift his eyes from the scotch. “Don’t be.”

The room returned to its uncomfortable hush, and Charlie seized the opportunity to get out. Excusing himself and leaving his drink on the floor by his chair, he slipped into the hallway, through the front door, and then out into the night air. It was a perfect evening; the night was cool and refreshing, and being out of the stuffy house filled with people who were a reminder of what he didn’t have (a wife, children) and what he had to look forward to (being old) improved his mood immensely.

Walking down the driveway and onto the sidewalk, Charlie took a deep breath. The party had been fairly terrible and awkward, but at least he’d gotten to meet some of his new neighbors. And anyway, Stan had seemed nice. Perhaps they could go golfing, or something.

He’d barely gone thirty feet before he heard someone calling his name. The distinctly feminine voice confused him—had he met any women, really, other than June? Thinking that perhaps he’d left something at the hostess’s party and she was chasing after him, Charlie stopped and turned. Only it wasn’t June that was quickly approaching him, but Stan’s daughter, Deedee.

She jogged up to him, somehow managing not to trip in her sandals. She paused once she caught up to him, breathing a little heavier than normal from the exertion. Between breaths, she said, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Stated Charlie, obviously confused as to why she’d run up to him. “Deedee, right?”

Nodding, Deedee seemed to have caught her breath. “Yes.” She paused, “Look, I don’t want to seem weird or anything, but could you walk me home?” Charlie’s gaze shifted over her shoulder and back toward George and June’s home, unintentionally implying that she could simply asked her father to walk her back. Deedee noticed. “My dad is having a good time. He and George are, like, best friends, and I don’t want to interrupt when they might not get to see each other as much.”

“Your house isn’t that far away.”

She rolled her eyes, impatient. “I know, alright? But there was a robbery a few days ago, two houses from mine. I’m just nervous. So walk me home, okay?” The last statement was not a request, but an order. Deedee walked past him, expecting Charlie to follow her. He did.

Charlie had expected their short walk to be silent, but Deedee apparently didn’t know how to be quiet and was instantly talking again. She prattled on for a few minutes, explaining that she was relieved to be away from the party—there was no one her age. Most people were in diapers, whether because they were young or old. Charlie was silent, and eventually Deedee took the hint that he wasn’t interested in conversation and grew calm. By that time, they were nearly to her door. He walked her up the driveway, then opened his mouth to bid her goodnight. She noticed, and interrupted him quickly.

“Come inside.” She interjected. “Please. I don’t want to be alone with a burglar on the loose.”

Eyes down, Charlie scuffed his shoe against the black concrete of the driveway. “Look, I didn’t mind walking with you, but I’m not sure how good it would look if I went inside with you when we were all alone. You know?”

“No, I don’t know.” She retorted, sounding slightly offended, “Don’t be ridiculous. No one would think that. Seriously, everyone’s been on edge the past few days because of the burglar. He broke in when a teenager was babysitting some kids and all of them had to hide in bathroom until he left. They were scared shitless, and the babysitter didn’t even have her cell phone with her or anything.” Charlie seemed mostly convinced, but for good measure, she added, “Everyone is at George and June’s anyway.”

She inserted her key in the garage door and lifted it up, walking inside and assuming that Charlie would trail behind her. Though he was still resistant to the idea, Charlie obliged. She let him into the house, and he discovered as he entered that they were in the kitchen. Sitting her keys on the counter, Deedee threw a look over her shoulder.

“Do you want anthing to drink?” she asked, walking toward the refrigerator on the other side of the room.

Charlie stood awkwardly in front of the door. “Water, I guess.”

Leaning over to the cabinet and pulling out a glass, she stuck it under a faucet and then walked over to Charlie, handing it to him. He took the glass, but did not drink. Deedee lingered close to him, studying him.

“So, what do you do?”

He sighed, anticipating the taxes joke. “I’m an accountant.”

Deedee wrinkled her nose distastefully. “Ew. Boring.”

“Thanks.” Charlie replied sarcastically, taking a sip of the water only to discover that he was not at all thirsty. He wanted to put down the glass but there was no counter close to him, so he continued to hold it.

Deedee continued to talk, either completely unaware of or ignoring Charlie’s sarcasm. “Are you happy?”

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Charlie drummed his fingers against the glass’s side. “I don’t know. I just transferred here.”

“Why did you transfer?” she insisted, taking the glass from Charlie’s hand and turning around to placing it on the counter closest to her.

“Can we stop with the twenty questions?” snapped Charlie.

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Deedee nodded understandingly. “Oh, I get it.” She said sagely, “You’re divorced.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “What? How—did—what?”

“Easy.” She explained, “New house—yet you’re moving in alone? She probably got the old one, right? You’ve transferred jobs.” A grin painted it’s way across her mouth, “Also, you’re very irritable.”

He continued to stare, unbelieving and just barely managing to mutter, “So?”

“So that means you haven’t had sex in awhile.”

The room was dead silent. Charlie felt his eyes bug out of his head, and though he wanted to say anything to shut up the cocky teenager in front of him, he discovered no words would come to him. Finally, he found his tongue, sputtering, “Now, you just wait one second—”

However, Deedee had been waiting for him to challenge her, and she quieted him quickly. “What?” she asked, clearly amused, “You going to deny it?”

She effectively caused him to lose his fire, and he merely shrank back, heaving a sigh. “Well, I was,” he said, coloring slightly in his cheeks, “But now I’m not.”

It took a moment for the full extent of what was going on to hit him: Charlie was discussing his sex life with a teenage girl he had met within the past hour. Undoubtedly, he had hit a new low. Shaking his head at himself, he turned away to hide his embarrassment. “I’m going to go now.” He said, wanting to leave the house immediately.

As he reached out to grasp the doorknob, however, Deedee’s voice rang out.

“I’ll give you some, if you want.”

Charlie’s hand stopped in mid-air as he tried to decipher her meaning. “Give me some…?” the implication hit him, “Oh hell—you didn’t just mean what I thought you meant, did you?” He pivoted to face her.

Deedee shrugged. “Did you think I was propositioning you?”

Gulping, Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

He received a smile for his honesty. “Then you’d be completely correct.”

She stood in front of him, with the same absent smile on her face, and Charlie wondered what the hell had just happened. After a moment of blankly staring at the girl in front of him, he cleared his throat. “Alright.” He said, then, “Well, bye.”

Reaching around for the doorknob so he could flee, Charlie felt a small but strong hand catch hold of his wrist. Though every instinct told him not to, he chanced a glance over his shoulder, where Deedee was staring at him very seriously.

“Wait. I wasn’t trying to offend you. I was only offering to help—”

Charlie cut her off mid-sentence. “Some help!” he cried, ripping his arm away from her grasp and trying once again for the door. Somehow, she managed to slip by him and throw herself in front of the exit.

“See, look!” she answered, “You need to get some—you’re freaking irritable as hell!”

Backing away from the door, Charlie realized he needed to find another way out. He looked down the hall out of the kitchen and spied the front door. Deedee realized his intentions and was quick on his heels as he made his way down the foyer, yelling back at her the entire time.

“I am not irritable!” he fumed, practically running toward the front door.

Deedee was right behind him. “Sexually frustrated, then.”

He glared back at her as he reached the door. “I am certainly not sexually frustrated!”

“And I can tell because you’re just so damn pleasant!” Deedee spat, pushing her body against the door. She stared defiantly up at his face, but softened a bit when she saw how angry he was. Her tone changed as she added, “Look, we don’t have to do anything tonight. All I’m saying is, you know, if you want to come over sometime—”

Frustrated and appalled, Charlie fairly exploded. “Stop talking!”

“—if you want to come over sometime,” Deedee reiterated, placing more stress on the phrase, “I’d be perfectly glad to help you with your problem.”

Having said what she wanted to say, Deedee took her weight away from the door. Seizing the opportunity, Charlie turned the knob and threw it open, saying, “You’re the one with the problem!”

He looked over his shoulder to see if he had made any impact, only to see Deedee smiling generically. She seemed unaffected by his perplexed look. He understood when she very suddenly spoke.

“Hi, Daddy!”

All the color drained from Charlie’s face. How much had Stan heard, he wondered to himself, panicking. He was about to begin to explain the situation and apologize profusely when Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled good-naturedly. Relief flooded Charlie.

“What is Deedee’s problem?” he asked, looking over Charlie’s shoulder at his daughter.

Charlie had never been an especially good liar and his mind flew over possible answers to give Stan. Deedee piped up before he had even thought of something plausible.

“Math.” She stated, casually, “You know how hopeless I am with numbers. Charlie walked me home because I was scared of the burglar, and he asked about school. I was telling him how horribly I did on a math test last week,” She grinned at her dad, “and he offered to tutor me.”

Stan walked past Charlie into the house, beaming at Deedee. “That’s right, you said you were an accountant. Well, that’d be perfect, then.”

Charlie was horrified. “About that—”

“Thanks so much for walking her home. It’s a small community, you know.” He laughed, advancing a bit at Charlie, who in turn backed out the still-open door. “That burglar’s got everyone spooked.”

“But—” Charlie stuttered, only to be cut off by a cheery-voiced and devious-eyed Deedee.

“See you tomorrow, Charlie!” she crooned.

And then she closed the door in his face before he could protest again.

Left alone on the porch, Charlie was forced to wonder how, exactly, this entire situation had happened. He had left his monster-house that evening with every expectation of leaving George and June’s party early so he could come home and go to bed in an attempt to forget his life. That would probably still happen, of course, but he had not anticipated the part where a teenage girl offered to have sex with him to help him deal with his divorce.

Deedee had certainly given him food for thought as he headed back toward his house, right next to hers. He entered through the front door, then headed up the stairs. The boxes still littered the floor, but Charlie didn’t feel like doing any unpacking. He quickly surveyed the room for the box labeled “linens”, but upon being unable to find anything, he shrugged and decided to just sleep on the bare mattress. Stripping down to his boxers, he curled up on the mattress and shut his eyes.

Sleep came that night in bursts. He would wake up then fall asleep then wake up again, and every time he dreamed he dreamed of a teenage girl, standing in front of him in her bra and beckoning for him to come toward her. When he completely woke up, rather late, Charlie felt dirty. He grabbed a quick shower then threw on a robe and went downstairs to see if he had any bags of chips that could serve as a makeshift breakfast.

He was partway through a bag of Doritios when the doorbell rang. Wiping his orange fingers against his robe, Charlie padded his way through the hall and opened the door to find the same girl he wanted to avoid standing on his doorstep, armed with a mathbook, a notebook, and a number two pencil.

Charlie glared. “Don’t you have school, or something?”

Deedee raised her eyebrows at him. “Not on Saturday.” She peered into his home, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Not if I can help it.” He said, not quickly enough, as Deedee decided to let herself in and pushed past him, talking all the while.

“Now, I was thinking that for today, we’d study for about an hour. I don’t have a fricking clue what we’re studying in math, but I know it’s in chapter seven, so hopefully you can help me with that.”

Despite his initial distemper, Charlie found himself actually impressed. “You really want to study?”

She nodded, before turning and walking into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder. “Yeah. I wasn’t lying when I said my math grade sucked.” She paused, waiting for him to follow her, which he did, “I thought we could break for lunch, then, but from the looks of it,” she looked pointedly at his cereal, “you won’t be hungry.”

“Alright, sounds okay.” He replied, distrustfully. “And after lunch?”

“Why,” she said, as innocently as possible, “dessert, of course.”

Charlie groaned. He’d been waiting for something like that. “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but get out. Right now.”

Pouting, Deedee remained rooted in her spot. “Oh, don’t be this way.”

“Be what way?” he glared, “The not-a-pedophile way? Because I have to say, that’s really the way I prefer.”

Deedee remained undeterred. “You won’t be a pedophile, don’t be ridiculous.” She added, “I’m perfectly and legally allowed to do whatever and whomever I please, according to the great laws of this state.”

“How old are you?” Charlie wondered aloud, half-hoping she wouldn’t answer the question.

She raised her chin and continued to look him straight in the eyes. “Sixteen.”

Charlie groaned. “I don’t need this right now.”

At that, Deedee scoffed. “Oh, trust me. You do.”

Dropping his head into his hands with exasperation, Charlie didn’t even look at her as he muttered, “Why won’t you just leave? Please, just leave!”

She held out her mathbook. “Uh, hello? You haven’t helped me with my math at all.”

“Two plus two equals four!” he retorted, pushing the girl back into the hall and toward the door. “Now get out!”

Pulling away from him, Deedee glared at Charlie. “Fine, I’ll get out.” Before Charlie could celebrate, however, she quickly continued, “My dad invited you over for drinks tonight, though. You’re his replacement George, I think.”

Charlie rubbed his temple, unsure of how much more he could take. “Tell him I’m busy!”

“No!” she cried, looking insulted, “If you’re going to lie to him, do it yourself!”

“Alright, I’ll call him, okay?” he stood still, realizing that he didn’t have a phonebook. Inwardly, he felt his stomach drop into his knees as he realized what he would have to do. “What’s your number?”

Deedee grinned devilishly. “I thought you’d never ask!” she giggled, juggling her books as she flipped the notebook open and wrote something down on the first blank page. She tore it out, folded it, and handed it to Charlie. Biting her lip, she backed up toward the door and said, “I’ll let myself out.”

Once she was gone, Charlie unfolded the paper. In girlish scrawl, the words “Deedee: 708-6247 xoxo” were written.