Random by Tom Leveen Page A

inconveniencing you . Oh, snap.”
    But Jack’s sarcasm flies past me. Or, through me, maybe.
    â€œYou think that’s what I thought about you?” I say. “That you were an inconvenience?”
    â€œIf I had a dollar for every time you talked to me at school last year, Victoria,” Jack says, “I’d have about a buck fifty.”
    â€œ You didn’t talk to me !”
    â€œIf I didn’t talk to you, it was because you were too busy with your little jock buddies,” Jack says. “And look what hanging out with them got you.”
    Trust me: If I could call Jack a liar right now, I would. In an instant. I have no trouble telling him when he’s full of it. What I’ve never been very good at, though, is refuting him when he’s telling the truth.
    Jack doesn’t give me time to form a response. “Better get back to your call,” he says, and continues on toward his room.
    I shake my head to snap back to my immediate issue. “At least let me Google the number, Jack. Please?”
    Jack pauses, then turns to me, gritting his teeth. “Gimme the phone.”
    I go grab it and show him the screen. He types the number in while the laptop is still balanced on his arm. He scans the page.
    â€œNothing,” he says. “It’s a cell, and it’s local. If you want to know who it is, you’d need a credit card.”
    â€œWould you—”
    â€œNo. It doesn’t matter ,” Jack says, clearly impatient. “Knowing if he is who he says he is doesn’t help him . Look, just stay up with him. All night if you have to. Things will look better when the sun comes up.”
    â€œBut the hearing . . .”
    â€œSomehow I’m sure Mom and Dad will make sure you’re there on time. I gotta get back to work.”
    â€œAre you coming tomorrow?” I blurt.
    Jack hesitates, and doesn’t look at me.
    â€œI don’t know,” he mumbles.
    With that, he finishes his walk to his room and closes the door behind him.
    Feeling my body go empty, I go back to my room and close my door too, and put the phone back to my ear. I’ve got to get my head back in the game. Basically, Jack is right; whetherAndy is lying or not has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. I want to sleep just so I don’t look like a burnout tomorrow morning in court. Right now, this is more important.
    â€œSorry,” I say to Andy after tapping the mute button off. “It was my brother again.” I try to erase Jack’s voice playing on repeat in my head. I don’t know. I don’t know.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Andy says, and he sounds tired. “No big. You love him?”
    â€œWho, Jack? My brother?” I sit down on the edge of my bed and hunch my shoulders. “Now is maybe not the best time to ask. I mean, fundamentally, yes. I do. It’s just that lately he’s been a real bitch.”
    â€œWhy lately?”
    The real reasons spring to mind, but I’m not about to talk to Andy about them. And without stopping to consider why I’m telling him anything at all, I say, “Some of my friends used to make fun of him a little, and he thinks it’s my fault or something.”
    â€œIs it?”
    â€œWhat? No! Wait a sec, you’re the one on the verge of offing himself and you’re going to psychoanalyze me ?”
    Andy laughs a bit. “Sure. Why not.” He affects a deeper, professional voice. “Tell me about your parents.”
    Smirking, I just say, “Whatever.”
    â€œNo, really,” Andy says. “What about them? Do you love them ?”
    I shift my position. “Getting awful personal there, aren’t you?”
    Andy’s momentary jokey mood ends abruptly. “I got nothing to lose,” he says.
    Right , I think. Of course not .
    â€œI love them, yeah,” I say.
    More comes to mind, but I don’t say it. The truth is, I