I Love You, Beth Cooper Read Free

paper-white face of the diversely disabled and tragically sweet Becky Reese.
    â€œNot now,” Becky Reese said in a calming wheeze.
    Greg Saloga felt stupid. She was right. He could kill the big-head boy later . He grinned at Becky Reese, much like Frankenstein’s Monster grinned at that flower girl before the misunderstanding.
    â€œYou should sit down,” Becky Reese said.
    Greg Saloga sat down.
    â€œIn your seat,” Becky Reese clarified.
    DENIS MISSED his own near-death experience. He was busy expressing the regrets of fellow classmates who started malicious, hurtful and totally unfounded rumors (e.g. Christy Zawicky and her scurrilous insinuation that semen had been found in someone’s fetal pig from AP biology) or who chose indulgence over excellence (e.g. most of the class but specifically Divya Gupta, Denis’s debate partner, who drank an entire bottle of liebfraumilch the night before the downstate debate finals and made out with both guys from the New Trier team, revealing the entire substance of their argument even if she did not recall doing so). And Denis was just getting started, or so he thought.
    â€œAnd let us not regret,” he said, “that we never told even our best friend”—pause, then softer, slower— “I’m gay, dude .”
    Denis looked right at Rich Munsch, his best friend. This was unnecessary; everyone knew.
    Rich Munsch, however, was flabbergasted. He mouthed, somewhat theatrically: I’m not gay!!!
    Denis was about to respond when he felt four bony fingers dig under his clavicle.
    â€œThank you, Denis,” Dr. Henneman said, leaning across Denis into the microphone. “A lot to think about.”
    For a bright kid, Denis was not quick on conversational cues.
    â€œI’m not done,” he said.
    â€œYou’re done.” The principal moved decisively to secure the podium, driving Denis aside with her rapier hip.
    She heard a splish .
    She looked down and discovered she was standing in a puddle.
    THE AUDIENCE SPATTERED ITS APPLAUSE as Denis shuffled off the stage.
    â€œAs I call your names,” Dr. Henneman was saying, “I would appreciate it, and I think everyone would, if you came up and accepted your diploma quickly, with a minimum of drama.”
    The applause grew.
    Denis felt good about the speech. He had let Beth Cooper know how he felt, after all these years, and had made some excellent points about other classmates besides. He wondered what Beth would say to him when he sat down beside her. He had prepared two responses:
    â€œThen we agree”
    or
    â€œIt’s my medication.”
    Denis suddenly had a scary thought: What if she tries to kiss me? Would he politely demur, deferring such action to later, or would he accept the love offering, to the thunderous applause of his peers?
    So Denis did not see the dress shoe that belonged to Dave Bastable’s father that Dave Bastable had stuck in his path. Denis tripped, lurched forward, stomped hisother foot onto the hem of his gown, dove across his own chair and sailed headlong into Beth Cooper’s seat, where, fortunately or unfortunately, she no longer was.

2.
THE 10-MINUTE REUNION

    YEAH. WE GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL. HOW…TOTALLY…AMAZING.
    ENID COLESLAW
    Â 
    DENIS GRABBED a Diet Vanilla Cherry Lime-Kiwi Coke from the cafeteria table. He forwent the selection of Entenmann’s cookies that was also available for graduates and their families, because his stomach hurt. He could not tell whether this was because he was overheated and dehydrated, or because he had not defecated in the week leading up to his speech, or because he had just done either the single greatest or most imbecilic thing he had ever done in his life.
    In any case, the Diet Vanilla Cherry Lime-Kiwi Coke didn’t help.
    As he had every thirty seconds since he arrived, Denis surveyed the cafeteria. Fresh alumni, a few still in caps and gowns, most in caps and jeans, caps