something for kids who choose not to go to the carnival.”
“A Bible study? At school?” Um, separation of church and state, how about.
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have all the details, but they’re making demands, Cass, and you have to talk to someone over there. I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to make this all come together. Martin Shaddox is coming all the way up here in the middle of nowhere because of me, and I cannot have Jesus on the welcoming committee.”
“I’m nobody. Joyful News is not going to listen to me, Kayla. Why don’t you get your newspaper friends to—”
“Cassieeeeeeeee!”
“Speak of the devil.” Kayla purses her lips around a fresh coat of black lipstick and rolls her eyes.
“You’re coming to work at lunch tomorrow, right?” Annika touches my arm, almost possessively. Her perfume is so bright, so instantly recognizably her— an exclusive atmosphere that makes me giddy. In spite of my professed scorn for all of the Vomit Vixens, Annika’s intoxicating, a little. I imagine what it would be like to have my own scent, a signature in the air around me that would announce to the world who I am. Or maybe to remind myself.
“We have to get this issue ready to go by Thursday,” says Britney. Even though both girls want the same thing, her eyes are softer than Annika’s, less confident. “You can stay after school on the nights we need help, right?”
“Of course she can! I’ll even give her a ride home.” Annika bats her eyes at me until I nod yes, then rewards me with a winning smile. No need to tell them about youth group until there’s a conflict. “You’re amazing, Cassie!” she adds as they depart, leaving me feel like I’m spinning in their wake.
“How can two ridiculously tiny people feel like an entire swarm?” I’m standing, reeling, next to our locker as Kayla spins the lock. She looks a little pissed, actually, but that might be her normal face. It’s hard to tell sometimes with her.
“A plague of locusts, more like.” Her voice is dark.
“I thought you guys were like this.” I hold up my crossed fingers.
Kayla tugs a bag of gym clothes out of the top of the locker and shoves a bunch of junk that comes out with it back in. “Yeah, well, you know how it goes with those girls. You’re in until you’re not. Queen Annika has decided to hate all over Tyrone Thesaurus Rex , so now we’re mortal enemies.” She slams the locker shut, ignoring the fact that I am waiting to get in. “It’s complicated and shit.”
“So they’re not printing it? What are you talking about? Rex is brilliant.” I actually have no clue what her comic is about, but she has assured me many times that it’s brilliant. Something about a dinosaur with a big vocabulary and a plot that parallels the Oedipus story. “Everyone loves your comic.” I, for one, know my lines as best friend.
“They don’t get it. No one does. The philistines.”
I almost ask her if I should quit working on the paper. It seems the natural thing to do—the act of solidarity. It’s in the script. It’s the drama of our friendship. But then it occurs to me: Why should I quit just because Kayla isn’t into it anymore? Okay, so it was all her idea for me to do this in the first place, but still. Now it’s mine, this chance, and even though I haven’t officially done anything yet, what if I actually enjoy being a part of the paper? Maybe it’s something I’m good at. I’m not her puppet. Or worse, her puppy, trailing after her heels.
Has it always been this way? This one way? I can’t picture it, sometimes—I can’t see our friendship in the past. I can’t put the pieces into their places to see the whole picture. Instead of connections, events drawing us ever closer, which is what I imagine when I think about best friends, I remember being sort of peripherally tossed into the seats next to each other. Twin outliers. Maybe I’m the only one who could be friends with someone
“A Bible study? At school?” Um, separation of church and state, how about.
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have all the details, but they’re making demands, Cass, and you have to talk to someone over there. I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to make this all come together. Martin Shaddox is coming all the way up here in the middle of nowhere because of me, and I cannot have Jesus on the welcoming committee.”
“I’m nobody. Joyful News is not going to listen to me, Kayla. Why don’t you get your newspaper friends to—”
“Cassieeeeeeeee!”
“Speak of the devil.” Kayla purses her lips around a fresh coat of black lipstick and rolls her eyes.
“You’re coming to work at lunch tomorrow, right?” Annika touches my arm, almost possessively. Her perfume is so bright, so instantly recognizably her— an exclusive atmosphere that makes me giddy. In spite of my professed scorn for all of the Vomit Vixens, Annika’s intoxicating, a little. I imagine what it would be like to have my own scent, a signature in the air around me that would announce to the world who I am. Or maybe to remind myself.
“We have to get this issue ready to go by Thursday,” says Britney. Even though both girls want the same thing, her eyes are softer than Annika’s, less confident. “You can stay after school on the nights we need help, right?”
“Of course she can! I’ll even give her a ride home.” Annika bats her eyes at me until I nod yes, then rewards me with a winning smile. No need to tell them about youth group until there’s a conflict. “You’re amazing, Cassie!” she adds as they depart, leaving me feel like I’m spinning in their wake.
“How can two ridiculously tiny people feel like an entire swarm?” I’m standing, reeling, next to our locker as Kayla spins the lock. She looks a little pissed, actually, but that might be her normal face. It’s hard to tell sometimes with her.
“A plague of locusts, more like.” Her voice is dark.
“I thought you guys were like this.” I hold up my crossed fingers.
Kayla tugs a bag of gym clothes out of the top of the locker and shoves a bunch of junk that comes out with it back in. “Yeah, well, you know how it goes with those girls. You’re in until you’re not. Queen Annika has decided to hate all over Tyrone Thesaurus Rex , so now we’re mortal enemies.” She slams the locker shut, ignoring the fact that I am waiting to get in. “It’s complicated and shit.”
“So they’re not printing it? What are you talking about? Rex is brilliant.” I actually have no clue what her comic is about, but she has assured me many times that it’s brilliant. Something about a dinosaur with a big vocabulary and a plot that parallels the Oedipus story. “Everyone loves your comic.” I, for one, know my lines as best friend.
“They don’t get it. No one does. The philistines.”
I almost ask her if I should quit working on the paper. It seems the natural thing to do—the act of solidarity. It’s in the script. It’s the drama of our friendship. But then it occurs to me: Why should I quit just because Kayla isn’t into it anymore? Okay, so it was all her idea for me to do this in the first place, but still. Now it’s mine, this chance, and even though I haven’t officially done anything yet, what if I actually enjoy being a part of the paper? Maybe it’s something I’m good at. I’m not her puppet. Or worse, her puppy, trailing after her heels.
Has it always been this way? This one way? I can’t picture it, sometimes—I can’t see our friendship in the past. I can’t put the pieces into their places to see the whole picture. Instead of connections, events drawing us ever closer, which is what I imagine when I think about best friends, I remember being sort of peripherally tossed into the seats next to each other. Twin outliers. Maybe I’m the only one who could be friends with someone
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