there
who want to know if their brownie
batter is good enough.” I point
out the door. I go on about boys being
the devil’s spawn, and I don’t think
she believes me (I don’t), but she washes
her face and forces
a smile as we walk into the hall.
“Can I call you later, just to talk?”
I’m not sure I want to be Ashlyn’s
sob sister, but part of me
remembers what it was like
to have that kind of girlfriend,
so I don’t say no.
Phone Encounter
I have Dean’s cell number taped to the inside of my desk at home (and on speed dial, and in my journal, and burned into my memory forever), and because I’m a loser and obsessed and probably going to regret it, I call him before I go to bed, just to say hi. He answers after five rings. Each ring is a stone against my heart: he has call display. Does he not want to talk to me?
“Hey, beautiful,” he says finally, and I melt.
“Hi! Just wanted to say goodnight — you busy?” My own voice is pathetic in my ears.
He pauses. “Nah, just got home from work. You busy?”
I tell him I’m in bed (truth), just reading (lie).
“In bed, eh? Just had to mention that, didn’t you?”
My face feels red hot. Thank god he can’t see me.
“You’re blushing!” he crows. How can he know? I thrash around to look out the window, my heart pounding. He cracks up. “I’m joking. It was a guess — but I was right!”
I don’t fall asleep for two hours.
Social Chemistry
At our table in the library, I try to focus on the chemistry mumbo-jumbo before me. I finally get to the end of the chapter (James is taking a hands-off approach and making me actually do the work myself. Turd.) and he nods his approval, holding up a page he’s been scratching notes on as I worked.
“So, I’ve been thinking about how social structures can be like chemical structures. There’s this concept that society is a social molecule and social interactions are like molecular interactions.”
He hands me the page. “Check it out.”
It’s strangely beautiful and oddly … poetic. How can it all fit so neatly into these categories?
“So you are … one of the geeks?” I point to the molecular structure.
“Well, this might be chemistry geeks, all connected by one obsession or skill. You would have your own poetry geek–shaped molecule.”
“Enough with the —”
James interrupts me with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, you are, Gretchen. You’re in the food club and you are poetry obsessed. Those are, in fact, two areas of geekiness for my one.”
I stare down at the paper. “Fine. Say I am. Why are the other people circling an empty space? Shouldn’t there be something in there — like a nucleus?”
He looks impressed. “Actually, the point is that the cool people are bonded by their idea of whatever is cool. It could be anything, so each cool group is different. The thing is that the individuality of those people can’t be expressed if it doesn’t conform to whatever is ‘cool’.” Again, the air quotes.
“So …?”
He taps the page. “So maybe there are geeks trapped inside the bodies of jocks and hot girls all over this school, and no one has been able to get them out.”
“Psst.”
We both jump at the sound over James’s shoulder. Next, a wad of paper bounces off his binder and rolls between us. I turn to see two of the guys who de-t-shirted James walking out of the library, heads down as if nothing happened.
James has opened the paper and flattened it in front of him. It’s blank, but from the look on his pale face, this isn’t the first time.
Haiku for Sushi
Surprise! wrapped in rice
a good day dipped in soy sauce
Warning! Wasabi!
My New Best Friend
Guess who?
We
thankfully
have almost no classes
together, but Ashlyn
has managed to find me
three times today and offered me
her muffin, to loan me her coat,
to have me over for dinner,
to show me her family’s
new litter of beagle puppies.
I
don’t
who want to know if their brownie
batter is good enough.” I point
out the door. I go on about boys being
the devil’s spawn, and I don’t think
she believes me (I don’t), but she washes
her face and forces
a smile as we walk into the hall.
“Can I call you later, just to talk?”
I’m not sure I want to be Ashlyn’s
sob sister, but part of me
remembers what it was like
to have that kind of girlfriend,
so I don’t say no.
Phone Encounter
I have Dean’s cell number taped to the inside of my desk at home (and on speed dial, and in my journal, and burned into my memory forever), and because I’m a loser and obsessed and probably going to regret it, I call him before I go to bed, just to say hi. He answers after five rings. Each ring is a stone against my heart: he has call display. Does he not want to talk to me?
“Hey, beautiful,” he says finally, and I melt.
“Hi! Just wanted to say goodnight — you busy?” My own voice is pathetic in my ears.
He pauses. “Nah, just got home from work. You busy?”
I tell him I’m in bed (truth), just reading (lie).
“In bed, eh? Just had to mention that, didn’t you?”
My face feels red hot. Thank god he can’t see me.
“You’re blushing!” he crows. How can he know? I thrash around to look out the window, my heart pounding. He cracks up. “I’m joking. It was a guess — but I was right!”
I don’t fall asleep for two hours.
Social Chemistry
At our table in the library, I try to focus on the chemistry mumbo-jumbo before me. I finally get to the end of the chapter (James is taking a hands-off approach and making me actually do the work myself. Turd.) and he nods his approval, holding up a page he’s been scratching notes on as I worked.
“So, I’ve been thinking about how social structures can be like chemical structures. There’s this concept that society is a social molecule and social interactions are like molecular interactions.”
He hands me the page. “Check it out.”
It’s strangely beautiful and oddly … poetic. How can it all fit so neatly into these categories?
“So you are … one of the geeks?” I point to the molecular structure.
“Well, this might be chemistry geeks, all connected by one obsession or skill. You would have your own poetry geek–shaped molecule.”
“Enough with the —”
James interrupts me with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, you are, Gretchen. You’re in the food club and you are poetry obsessed. Those are, in fact, two areas of geekiness for my one.”
I stare down at the paper. “Fine. Say I am. Why are the other people circling an empty space? Shouldn’t there be something in there — like a nucleus?”
He looks impressed. “Actually, the point is that the cool people are bonded by their idea of whatever is cool. It could be anything, so each cool group is different. The thing is that the individuality of those people can’t be expressed if it doesn’t conform to whatever is ‘cool’.” Again, the air quotes.
“So …?”
He taps the page. “So maybe there are geeks trapped inside the bodies of jocks and hot girls all over this school, and no one has been able to get them out.”
“Psst.”
We both jump at the sound over James’s shoulder. Next, a wad of paper bounces off his binder and rolls between us. I turn to see two of the guys who de-t-shirted James walking out of the library, heads down as if nothing happened.
James has opened the paper and flattened it in front of him. It’s blank, but from the look on his pale face, this isn’t the first time.
Haiku for Sushi
Surprise! wrapped in rice
a good day dipped in soy sauce
Warning! Wasabi!
My New Best Friend
Guess who?
We
thankfully
have almost no classes
together, but Ashlyn
has managed to find me
three times today and offered me
her muffin, to loan me her coat,
to have me over for dinner,
to show me her family’s
new litter of beagle puppies.
I
don’t
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