Shar doodled on the covers of all her textbooks with a black Sharpie and then ripped them off and handed them to me. “Art for your otherwise boring and crappy room,” she explained, flinging the ripped covers at me. “Keep them, Allison. Treasure them.”
Semi-serious. An order but not an order. Like whenwe’d go out and she’d say, “You know what we should do, Allison.”
Of course, for the first little while hanging with Shar, in the back of my brain I had a nagging concern about not knowing what exactly her deal was. Part of me, because of my past, will always wonder what the deal is whenever anyone decides to be my friend, especially in cases where I can’t see exactly what it is I’m bringing to the bargain.
Shar didn’t seem to want anything from me, other than to have me follow her around.
Briefly, very briefly, I wondered if we’d eventually encounter the plot twist where it would be revealed that Shar was hanging out with me because she’d made a bet with her popular friends that she could earn my trust then break my heart, which is the twist in a shocking number of movies about teenagers.
Of course for that to be true, Shar would have to have some kind of posse of really popular friends, and Shar did not.
Actually, she didn’t even seem to like a lot of people other than me.
One night we were lying around in her room drinking coffee and listening to her favourite old rock and roll, the Rolling Stones, when her floormates decided to have a RUNWAY WALK OFF in the hall.
Someone set up some speakers while the rest of the girls pushed the stacks of textbooks, mandarin peels, pop cans, and pizza boxes to the side. The first thing we heard was the pulse of bass. Then a squeal. When we opened the door, the scene in the corridor was like some sort of low-budget, modest Playboy mansion movie: girls were dancing in oversized T-shirts, frilly nighties, and pyjamas with the legs rolled up and waistbands rolled down. Some girls were even handing out spare heels for people to borrow. The Patties were there, with patent heels and surprisingly shapely calves. Mini Patty wasn’t all that sturdy in pumps but she managed a nice plant and turn, pausing for a moment to pucker her lips, emphasizing her cheekbones, before she sashayed back down the brown carpet. Carly was there too, in a pink baby-doll nightie and pink heels, trotting down the hallway, light as air, the popcorn littering the hall barely crunching under her feet.
I fear dancing with the lights on in groups the way some people fear dark spaces at night. Next to the runway, I flattened myself against the wall as if someone was pressing me there, pushing the ">“I know.”toDoscarred part of my neck, which was suddenly insanely itchy, against the cool plaster. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Shar stood stock-still and crossed her arms. Asian Patty spotted us and darted over to grab Shar by the elbow and pull her into the show.
“Walk it, Shar!” someone cheered as Asian Patty attempted to twirl her.
Shar was immovable. Her joints locked into place.
A tiny sliver of what looked like the result of a bad smell pulsed across the surface of her face. As Asian Patty pulled, Shar put on an impossibly wide smile and backed away. “Uh. No.”
“Oh come on!” someone behind us yelled. “Just let loose, Shar! Relax!”
Shar tugged her arm free with maybe a little more seriousness than anyone expected. The music stopped for a second while someone’s iPod selected a new song. The pulse was slow to start up again.
Asian Patty let loose a little snort. “Uh. OKAY. I told you she wouldn’t. What’s your deal, party-pooper?”
Shar’s smile tightened so that it looked like two parallel elastic bands stretched tight. “Hmmm. ‘Partypooper.’ That’s nice. What are you, seven?”
A sharp laugh erupted from my body. Asian Patty frowned. Shar grabbed my hand and pulled me back into her room.
“Whatever. What a bitch,” Mini Patty coughed
Semi-serious. An order but not an order. Like whenwe’d go out and she’d say, “You know what we should do, Allison.”
Of course, for the first little while hanging with Shar, in the back of my brain I had a nagging concern about not knowing what exactly her deal was. Part of me, because of my past, will always wonder what the deal is whenever anyone decides to be my friend, especially in cases where I can’t see exactly what it is I’m bringing to the bargain.
Shar didn’t seem to want anything from me, other than to have me follow her around.
Briefly, very briefly, I wondered if we’d eventually encounter the plot twist where it would be revealed that Shar was hanging out with me because she’d made a bet with her popular friends that she could earn my trust then break my heart, which is the twist in a shocking number of movies about teenagers.
Of course for that to be true, Shar would have to have some kind of posse of really popular friends, and Shar did not.
Actually, she didn’t even seem to like a lot of people other than me.
One night we were lying around in her room drinking coffee and listening to her favourite old rock and roll, the Rolling Stones, when her floormates decided to have a RUNWAY WALK OFF in the hall.
Someone set up some speakers while the rest of the girls pushed the stacks of textbooks, mandarin peels, pop cans, and pizza boxes to the side. The first thing we heard was the pulse of bass. Then a squeal. When we opened the door, the scene in the corridor was like some sort of low-budget, modest Playboy mansion movie: girls were dancing in oversized T-shirts, frilly nighties, and pyjamas with the legs rolled up and waistbands rolled down. Some girls were even handing out spare heels for people to borrow. The Patties were there, with patent heels and surprisingly shapely calves. Mini Patty wasn’t all that sturdy in pumps but she managed a nice plant and turn, pausing for a moment to pucker her lips, emphasizing her cheekbones, before she sashayed back down the brown carpet. Carly was there too, in a pink baby-doll nightie and pink heels, trotting down the hallway, light as air, the popcorn littering the hall barely crunching under her feet.
I fear dancing with the lights on in groups the way some people fear dark spaces at night. Next to the runway, I flattened myself against the wall as if someone was pressing me there, pushing the ">“I know.”toDoscarred part of my neck, which was suddenly insanely itchy, against the cool plaster. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Shar stood stock-still and crossed her arms. Asian Patty spotted us and darted over to grab Shar by the elbow and pull her into the show.
“Walk it, Shar!” someone cheered as Asian Patty attempted to twirl her.
Shar was immovable. Her joints locked into place.
A tiny sliver of what looked like the result of a bad smell pulsed across the surface of her face. As Asian Patty pulled, Shar put on an impossibly wide smile and backed away. “Uh. No.”
“Oh come on!” someone behind us yelled. “Just let loose, Shar! Relax!”
Shar tugged her arm free with maybe a little more seriousness than anyone expected. The music stopped for a second while someone’s iPod selected a new song. The pulse was slow to start up again.
Asian Patty let loose a little snort. “Uh. OKAY. I told you she wouldn’t. What’s your deal, party-pooper?”
Shar’s smile tightened so that it looked like two parallel elastic bands stretched tight. “Hmmm. ‘Partypooper.’ That’s nice. What are you, seven?”
A sharp laugh erupted from my body. Asian Patty frowned. Shar grabbed my hand and pulled me back into her room.
“Whatever. What a bitch,” Mini Patty coughed
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