Down to the Bone Page 2

  “Skulls again, huh?” He set out his texts.

  Liddy stiffened. The caveman remembered what she’d been studying? “As you can see.”

  “Whose skulls are they?”

  “Genus Homo.”

  “You’re studying gays?”

  Oh please, his brain couldn’t be that small she thought, even as she caught the glimmer in his eye and knew he was trying to joke with her. A poor joke, but he was trying and that earned him points. Maybe she’d upgrade him from habilis to erectus.

  “Hominids,” she affirmed.

  He hesitated, as if searching his own internal dictionary for the word. “So we evolved from those?”

  “Some of them.”

  “What about the others?”

  Reasonable question. Liddy smiled at him, and was captured by the smile he offered back. It was irresistibly boyish. Shit. She put him another notch up the ladder. He was beginning to look intelligent.

  “You know those pictures of evolution where you see the monkey slowly straightening up and losing its hair until he’s a man? Okay, now imagine one of those middle ape types having three or four brothers. And they each develop their own, parallel evolutionary line.”

  “Okay.” He seemed to be listening.

  “But one stops at hairy-nearly-upright ape stage. And another stops at half-hairy stage. And another gets all the way to looking very much like that human being, but shorter and thicker with a really heavy brow and jaw. And another one gets all the way but shrinks, becomes dwarf-like.”

  “You mean, like those Hobbit guys they found on that island?” He brightened.

  “Homo floresiensis.” she nodded. By Jove! The jock apparently watched the science channel. She tapped at the skull pictures. “Genus Homo. Our cousins who died out. Dead end, they call it. Concurrent with us or our ape-like forefathers, but they just didn’t last.”

  “Survival of the strongest.”

  “Fittest!” she corrected. “Get it right. Strength wise, neither you nor any other homo sapiens has ever matched a Neanderthal. They’ve found bones from that hominid with breaks similar to those of rodeo riders, implying that they wrestled big and heavy animals. But they still died out twenty-nine thousand years ago—although research says they live on in us. Interbreeding was possible and happened. Meanwhile, Homo floresiensis—if theories on them are correct—were the size of children, perfectly suited to their island environment and its dwarf elephants; they didn’t need to be big and strong, they needed to be small. They survived up till thirteen thousand years ago and, supposedly, the only reason they aren’t around today is because a nearby volcano erupted and killed them all.”

  He looked oddly stunned, as if she’d switched on a light bulb in that dim brain of his. No, she chided herself. Not dim at all. That was becoming quite clear.

  “So.” He licked his lips. “These dead end cousins of ours...they lived or died for all sorts of reasons, like there not being enough of them to continue the species when disaster struck?”

  “Or because they weren’t suited to their environment, whatever that was.”

  Now he was looking troubled. Liddy checked the time on her phone. She had to get going. She started to pack up.

  “How long....” the jock said, then paused. “How long did some of these other humans survive?”

  Fuck me, Liddy thought. He might be a homo sapien after all. “Difficult to say. We know approximately when they lived, but for how many thousands or millions of years...sometimes we haven’t enough evidence to tell.”

  “How old are we?”

  “Us moderns? A point of debate, but the oldest fossils we’ve found are a hundred and sixty thousand years old.”

  “So, some of those other hominids may have lasted as long as we have?”

  Oh, the wheels were turning now. She could practically see them. She knew exactly what he was thinking and the strangest thing of all was that it stimulated her more than his powerful muscles and masculine fragrance. There was nothing as sexy as a brain coming to life.

  “Longer,” she agreed. “Homo habilis lasted for half-a-million years at least.”

  “So we...haven’t really proven that we’re the fittest to survive,” he concluded. Thought that up all by himself, she mused proudly. Who would have imagined?

  “Taking over the planet is no mean feat,” she said, gathering up her stuff. He rose with her. Very civilized. “But being the most popular kid in the schoolyard is no guarantee that you’re going to make it to adulthood. And time-wise, our species is still in day care.”

  He looked thoughtful at that.

  “Nice talking with you,” she said, and strangely, meant it.

  She felt him at her back, still standing and watching as she headed down the stairs. It made her shiver with pleasure. Back at her apartment, Liddy welcomed the Prehistory Anthropology Club for their bi-weekly meeting. Her mind, however, was not with her peers as they munched on nachos and argued mitochondria-DNA and genetic drift. The discussion, Neanderthal-Sapien interbreeding and the resulting genetics of modern man, reminded her of the discussion she’d just had in the library and made her wonder about the feasibility of a geek-jock relationship. After much internal debate she concluded that it would never happen.

  He finally saw her outside of the library. She was in the dining area of the Student Union, eating a sandwich and reading a book, of course. She was wearing a black tee and he could just barely see the skull tattoo on her shoulder. Worn, hip-hugger jeans flattered her thick hips and thighs.

  Jarrett, standing with a tray between his hands, wondered if he ought to approach her. There was no one else at the table, but maybe she was waiting for someone. Or maybe she was studying and really didn’t want to be disturbed.

  “Can I join you?” He wasn’t even aware that he’d wandered over to her table, just that he was suddenly there and had to ask.

  Her eyes came up behind those square glasses and he quailed. They demanded to know if he was smart enough, worthy enough to disturb her deep and penetrating thoughts. Thoughts that traveled back to the dawn of time and understood the mechanisms of creation and transformation. Jarrett had never felt so inadequate or daunted. He hesitated, ready to apologize and retreat.

  “Of course,” she said, and with a blink, her gaze warmed and glowed. He felt absurdly relieved.

  “I don’t think I ever introduced myself.” He set the tray down across from her. “I’m Jarrett. Jet for short.” He offered his hand.

  “Liddy.” Her hand was tiny in his monstrous paw, but cool and firm. He was a little sorry when it left his grip. “Jet because you’re fast?”

  “Naw.” He smiled. “It’s because my kid brother couldn’t pronounce ‘Jarrett’ when he was two years old. Just ‘Jet.’ ”

  “Cute,” she approved, then with a raised brow, “Um, hungry?”

  He had loaded his tray with a pair of roast beef hoagies still steaming hot, a huge pile of fries, an equally large pile of onion rings, a plate of coleslaw, four bananas, two big bottles of water, three pint cartons of milk and a slice of chocolate cake.

  “This is nothing. When I was living at home, my dad had to restock the refrigerator every other day. I’d polish off a dozen eggs for breakfast.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I know. I might not be as strong as a Neanderthal, but I’ve got a primitive appetite.” He grinned and dug in.

  Liddy wasn’t quite sure what to say to that…provocative statement. She was still coming to terms with Jarrett’s appearance at her table, and the fact that he’d asked to join her. He must have thought her a moron for the way she’d stared at him, as if he’d just dropped out of a tree. But it was so different to see him outside of the library, here amid the chatter of dishes and voices. He seemed at ease, not hemmed in by the shelves and the solitude.

  She watched him chow down on one of his hoagies. The French rolls were as long as her arm and stuffed with meat, cheese and sautéed peppers. A couple of bites could have fill
ed her up. Obviously, his bulk and muscles needed more fuel. She could not get over the size of him and she felt herself going embarrassingly weak with desire. Was there some way to get him naked? Maybe if she waved her peanut butter and jelly sandwich under his nose and offered to exchange bites for articles of clothing?

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” she ventured.

  “Out of state game.” He finished off the hoagie, then tore open packets of ketchup. He squeezed copious amounts over his fries.

  “Did you see it?”

  Liddy flushed. She actually had watched the game, searching for Jarrett in particular. She hadn’t, however, known his name or position, and so all she’d seen were men in helmets smashing into one another. After a while she’d shut off the television.

  “Um, not really. We lost, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “We shouldn’t have. A few bad plays and fumbles. Coach was pissed. But we’ll win the next one. Some of our new guys are really good. During the third quarter, offense actually used the old wishbone formation and Delarose—” He paused and she knew that her expression had gone blank. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  Liddy shook her head and attempted to match his previous tone. “I’m a bit of a primitive myself when it comes to sports.”

  “Do you know anything about football?” Jarrett ventured. Liddy was smiling encouragingly, like she wanted him to go on.

  “Whichever side gets to the goal line earns points,” she said, amused. “The team with the most points wins.”

  “Well, yeah, but....” He hesitated, experiencing a very odd moment of role reversal. This girl was smarter than him and he hadn’t expected to know more about any subject than she did. It was suddenly important to him, however, to get across to Liddy the rush and power of the game. To prove to her that it took more than raw muscle to succeed.

  How could he put it in terms she’d understand?

  “When a creature evolves so that it can survive in some harsh environment,” he said, “you want to know how it did that, not just that it got to the goal line. Right?”

  She leaned back in her chair, eyeing him in that way again, as if he were one of the skulls in her books and she was trying to figure out his species. “You mean, it’s how you play the game? All right. Go on.”

  “Do you have a pen?” He reached for a napkin. Sketching with one hand while using the other to eat his second hoagie, Jarrett showed her what plays had worked and what hadn’t and why.

  Her rapt attention was oddly satisfying.

  OCTOBER

  “So it’s over between you and Crissy?” Bobby asked. “Done, finito, kaput?”

  Home turf this time, fourth quarter. Their team was winning and they had the ball. Jarrett warmed the benches with the rest of the defensive unit, sipping at Gatorade and working out the kinks in his shoulders.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think she’s got her sights on Delarose.”

  He and Crissy hadn’t broken up so much as mutually drifted apart. He couldn’t say he was happy about it, but it was hardly unexpected. Girls like Crissy moved on and moved up if they could. And though Carl Delarose was one of the new kids, it was pretty clear he was going to be moving up fast.

  “You’re leaving out the best part, Jet,” said Eric, and whispered, conspiratorially, to Bobby. “He’s got himself a new girl. A geek!”

  “A geek!” Toby was a large, black, brick wall of a man. He was standing behind them, a disapproving scowl on his face.

  “Look,” Eric invited, and pointed.

  Jarrett winced and bitterly regretted letting Eric in on the secret. The guys all turned to take a gander. Luckily, Liddy didn’t notice. He’d gotten her a seat close to the field. She appeared small and a little lost, bundled in a sweater and wool cap. She was watching the game with a frown, as if trying to remember the rules.

  After that first lunch together, Jarrett had seen more and more of Liddy. He’d run into her crossing the campus, arms laden with books, and offered to carry them for her. They’d walked and talked about football all the way to the door of her apartment, a good twenty-minute stretch. Not long after that, she’d turned up at one of his practices and had even been waiting afterwards to walk with him to class. They’d discussed the rise and fall of dinosaurs. Right before they’d parted, he pulled out his cell phone and arranged for her to have a season pass. He’d urged her to come to the games, to see him in his native habitat.

  As a quid pro quo, she’d invited him to study with her in the library. It was a new experience for him to hang with a girl who could help him with his homework; it had always been the other way around with the girls he’d dated. Terrifying at first, it was also liberating. There was rarely anything that he had to explain to her, not political or historical references, not words or terms, certainly not science. And she didn’t just quiz him on what he’d learned, she offered her own opinions—intelligent, even-handed opinions that always got him thinking.

  It was, in Jarrett’s view, a decidedly strange relationship. They talked on the phone and e-mailed each other, met almost daily, yet they didn’t hold hands or kiss or go out dancing. He hadn’t even seen the inside of her apartment or gotten her up to his dorm room. Nevertheless, he found himself wanting to open doors for her, pay for coffee, and, when the rain came down, share his umbrella with her. He wanted to look good for her, win a touchdown in her honor. Years of beautiful girls throwing themselves at him, and it was the science geek that he wanted to impress. How fucked up was that?

  “You gave up Crissy for her?” Toby sneered. “I mean,” he added quickly as Jarrett glared, “she’s not butt ugly or nothin’. But come on—”

  Whatever else Toby was going to say was mercifully cut off by their quarterback throwing a stunning pass. It flew long and far, right into the waiting arms of the receiver who was immediately brought down. The crowd yelled and waved banners.

  “Damn!” Eric breathed. “That was friggin’ beautiful! We could score.”

  “All that matters is we keep the ball in our hands,” Toby muttered. “Anyway, as I was saying—”

  “Don’t be getting on Jet’s case,” Bobby warned him. Bobby was known, unofficially, as the handsomest man on their team. He had walnut brown skin and a tigerish smile that melted girls in their tracks. “He’s being smart. Senior year of high school, I got myself a geek girlfriend. Best thing I ever did.”

  “Is that right?” Toby skeptically crossed his arms. “How geeky we talkin’?”

  “Brother, I am talking classic geek. Overweight, long brown hair, glasses and no sense of style.”

  “Ouch,” Eric winced, and Jarrett found himself shifting uncomfortably. In high school, he and his friends had hung out at the track when the girls’ P.E. class ran laps. Mostly, they’d ogled and whistled at the sexy babes leading the pack, but now and then they’d hooted at the dumpy girls lagging behind, girls lanky haired and bespectacled; the same girls who had gazed longingly at them in the halls.

  If Liddy had been at his high school, he’d probably have treated her the same, he thought with shame.

  “Sh—shoot!” Bobby said. No one was allowed to curse on the field, and Bobby wasn’t the only one who had a hard time remembering that rule. “A penalty!”

  Jarrett glanced up. He’d missed something. The referee was blowing his whistle, signing that their side was being penalized for unnecessary roughness.

  “That fuc...dumbass,” Eric said, even as their coach met up with the ref to argue.

  “You were saying?” Toby urged Bobby.

  “I was saying that a geek girlfriend is a good thing,” Bobby insisted. “First, they’re obscenely grateful for the attention. A popular girl knows there are other guys after her, and if you don’t treat her right, she’ll get someone else. But the geek girl, she understands how lucky she is, and she will put up with any shit—excuse me, crap, you throw at her.”

  Jarrett frowned. That didn’t sound like the best reason to
be with a girl.

  “Second,” Bobby formed a victory sign with his two fingers, “Geek girls are kinky. Take it from me. They read all this shit—um, stuff on the internet and they want to try it all. None of that don’t-you-dare-come-in-my-mouth bull. They’ll suck you dry and do it underwater. Third,” another finger, “they’ll do your homework.”

  The other guys gawked and Bobby smiled knowingly.

  “Yeah,” he said smugly, “I didn’t have to write a single paper my senior year. I’m tellin’ ya, Jet here’s got the right idea. Girls like that one,” he nodded up toward Liddy, “oughta be on every jock’s list of must-have school supplies.”

  “Never thought of it that way,” Toby conceded. He and Eric were eyeing Jarrett with respect now, as if he’d done something very clever. He felt he ought to object, tell them he didn’t regard Liddy that way, but the game came to an end right about then. Their team didn’t get another goal, but they’d kept hold of the ball and won.

  The coach gave them all thumbs up as jubilant friends and fans flooded the area. Jarrett saw his father and brother jogging over. Though he stank of sweat and was stained with mud and grass, his father embraced him.

  “They don’t give you enough to do,” Dad groused.

  “They give me plenty to do,” was all Jarrett bothered to say. “Hey, Frankie.”

  His brother, shoulders hunched, nodded. Frankie looked very small and intimidated by all the hulking players.

  “Jarrett! Hey, Jarrett—” It was Liddy. She came running up, cheeks flushed in the crisp night air, and Jarrett felt an odd mixture of elation and panic. Had she liked the game? Had she liked what he’d done during the game?

  “Liddy, hi. This is my dad, and my brother.”

  That caught her up short. “Oh, hey, I didn’t mean—”

  “No, no. I’m glad you came down. Dad, Frankie, this is Liddy. She’s studying to be a biological anthropologist.”

  “Anthropologist?” his father echoed as he pressed her hand. He glanced at Jarrett with confusion and disappointment.