The Abstinence Teacher by Tom Perrotta Read Free Book Online Page A

escalator at the North Vista Mall. It was a freak accident; he said he put his foot down wrong and the bone just snapped like a pencil. With only a couple of months to go before graduation, he found himself hobbling around on crutches, the lower half of his right leg encased in a bulky plaster cast. He couldn’t practice with the band, couldn’t work the clutch on his Civic hatchback. His girlfriend, Missy Prince—a broad-shouldered softball pitcher widely considered the prettiest girl jock in the school—picked him up in the morning, but she had practicein the afternoon. Apparently, Paul’s other friends were occupied as well, because he was soon reduced to taking the bus home from school, the transportation choice of very last resort for a senior.
    Paul had been riding the bus for about a week when Ruth approached him on the sidewalk; he had just completed a laborious dismount from the vehicle, hopping on one foot with his crutches tucked under his arm, backpack in one hand and a trumpet case in the other. He gratefully accepted her offer of help, and the two of them set off on the slow trek to Peony Road, making stilted small talk about Ruth’s sister, Mandy, who was nearing the end of her first year at Rutgers. She helped him up the steps to his front door—he used her shoulder for support, bearing down so hard she thought she might crumple like an aluminum can—then followed him inside, through the hall and into the kitchen, which seemed instantly familiar to her, despite the fact that she hadn’t been there in years, not since she, Mandy, and Paul had played together as little kids. Everything was exactly the same as she remembered: the cushiony red benches of the breakfast nook, the toaster that accepted eight slices of bread, the needlepoint sampler over the stove that said, Take All You Want, But Eat All You Take .
    “Here you go,” she said, setting the backpack and trumpet down on the table.
    “Thanks.” Paul smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a pale green dish towel. He seemed to be having a little trouble catching his breath. “Didn’t know … how I was gonna … carry all that shit.”
    “No problem,” said Ruth. “It was on my way.”
    He used his pinky and ring fingers to lift a few strands of hair from his forehead and tuck them behind his ear, an oddly girlish gesture that made Ruth suddenly conscious of the delicacy of his features—small nose, feathery eyelashes, the ghost of a narrower face encased in the flesh of a broader one.
    “You, uh, want a sandwich or something?” he asked.
    Ruth hesitated. The kitchen was dim and silent, and it was no longerpossible to ignore the obvious fact that they were alone in the house. Mr. Caruso worked on the assembly line at the GM plant; Mrs. Caruso ran the office for Ruth’s dentist. His brothers and sisters were older, living on their own.
    “I don’t think so,” she said.
    “We got roast beef, ham, turkey—”
    “I’m not really hungry.”
    “You sure? How about a soda or something?”
    “I better get home.”
    He gave her what Ruth later remembered as a searching look, focusing a whole new kind of attention on her, as if he’d suddenly realized that she’d grown up, and had become something more interesting than his next-door neighbor’s little sister.
    Embarrassed by his scrutiny, Ruth felt her eyes drift down over his soft belly and broad thighs before finally landing on his cast, which was almost completely covered with psychedelic graffiti. There were still a couple of empty spaces near the toe, and she wished she knew him well enough to fill them with her name and a brief, cheerful message. She gave an apologetic shrug.
    “Lotta homework,” she said.
    THAT WAS an odd, unsettled spring for her, the first time she’d ever really been alone. Ever since Mandy left for college, Ruth had been sunk in something approaching a state of mourning. Her big sister was the one indispensable person in her life—ally, best