Casey Barnes Eponymous

13



“Hold on,” she said. She went to her backpack and brought it to the couch. Then she took the list out.

She wrote it the night before after she got back from his house and told Leigh everything and Leigh ended the conversation by saying, “Oh my God I bet you guys are gonna, like, go to winter dance together.”

The image of that happening had simultaneously filled Casey with such joy and terror that she realized she needed a soundtrack. Thus as soon as dinner--an event that consisted of a glaring Yull, a Tricia prattling on about math tutors and cheating on tests, and a stepfather Jim talking about the stock market, the only part Casey really tuned in for, mainly because he said “f*cking” and that pissed Tricia off even more--anyway after wading through that puddle of distasteful familial gastronomy, she went upstairs and wrote it.

1. Song 1 - “Asleep and Dreaming” by The Magnetic Fields. For when she and Alex Deal had been going out long enough to take naps together and she woke up and found him looking at her. Because when she heard that song she thought that was what had made Stephen Merritt write it: some person he loved sleeping next to him. He could barely stand how sweet that person made him feel.

2. Song 2 - “Atoms for Peace” by Thom Yorke. Thom Yorke, not Radiohead. It was off his solo album. She had no idea what the song was about. She almost never did with Radiohead and or Thom Yorke songs and half the time she wondered if they had any idea either. But who else was so good the songs could be about eight different things and still always mean something?

3. Song 3 - “We Have This Place Surrounded” by The Boxer Rebellion. It was how the chorus crept in, dynamic and dissonant and haunting. Whoever was inside whatever place they were talking about would not get out. Alex Deal would feel that way about Casey one day.

She handed the list over. “So instead of sex I get another list?” he asked. She stared at him. Every muscle in her body wanted to respond to his question with the word “Eww.” But no, she thought, this was Alex Deal. “Do you, like, have these floating around in your bag or something?” he chuckled. She looked down. “I mean, thanks,” he said. He looked it over. “I have 69 Love Songs.” That was the album, box set really, the Magnetic Fields song was off.

“Oh.”

“Boxer Rebellion?”

She perked up. “It’s a great song.”

He smiled, only that time it seemed forced. He placed the list down and gave her one last expectant look. She froze. Just go for it, she told herself. But then she remembered Yull’s voice the night before. A moment passed. “I really gotta get home and start planning this party.”

He nodded. The stiffness had returned. “Right. Well I guess…I mean, I’ll drive you home.”

He did not say much on the ride. She tried to get a conversation going about guitar pedals. Surely it was impressive that she knew D’Addario made great ones. Melanie Corcoran probably never spoke to him about that. When they got to her house a long moment passed in which neither of them spoke.

“Guess I should let you get to your party planning now,” he said.

“Okay.”

As she walked up to the house she saw a figure move away from a window on the second floor. She groaned. Sure enough, as soon as she was inside, Yull appeared at the top of the stairs. She made a beeline for the living room.

“Just listen to me,” he said. She turned the television on, blasted the volume all the way, went into the adjoining kitchen and took a soda out of the refrigerator.

He followed her. “Don’t let him pressure--”

“I didn’t ask for your advice.”

“Don’t--”

She placed her hands over her ears and began to sing “Purple Rain” loudly. Yull went to the counter, grabbed a pen and paper, and scribbled Do NOT sleep with Alex Deal on it. Casey took the paper from him, read it, and crumpled it up. He sighed and threw his hands up in the air. “Don’t blame me when he breaks your heart.” He began to leave the kitchen.

When he reached the door she spoke. “Why did you tell me not to let him pressure me?”

He turned and folded his arms over his chest. “So he has been?”

“I didn’t say that. I just wanted to know why of all things that’s what you chose to say about him.”

Yull walked back to the counter. “Because he has a reputation, that’s why. And it’s not a very nice one.”

She frowned. Oh come now Yull was just threatened by the thought of Casey getting to be as popular as he was by way of dating Alex Deal. He did not know Alex Deal the way she did. What they had was…“What?” she asked.

He sat. “What what?”

“What’s his reputation?”

“That he likes to play it all nice and indie rock but in reality is into getting as many notches on his belt as possible.”

“But he likes The Ramones.”

“Ask Melanie Corcoran if you don’t believe me.”

“She’s a slut.”

“No she’s not. She’s really nice. She dumped Alex because she felt like he pressured her to have sex right away and then was always checking out other girls when they were in public.”

“Did she?”

“Did she what?”

“Have sex with him.”

Yull nodded. “Did you?”

“No.”

“Be honest.”

“I am being honest. I didn’t.” She turned the T.V. down and went over to the fancy china cabinet. Tricia kept junk food there. The theory was that if she kept it away from the main food stores household members would not eat it on a frequent basis. The theory did not hold true.

She took out a box of double stuff Oreos, brought them to the kitchen table, and began eating one in the only manner any human should ever eat a double-stuff Oreo: by licking out the white stuff and tossing the half-eaten chocolate bits in the kitchen sink. Yull joined in. “Do you want to talk about it more?” he asked.

“Remember those things Hostess used to make that were pink and coconutty?”

“They had cream in the middle, right?”

“They were made by Hostess, Einstein.”

“Snoballs.”

“Right. You never see those in stores anymore. Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Think you can buy them online?”

“Probably.”

Casey nodded and dug into another Oreo. A moment passed. “Do you think maybe he just hasn’t met a girl who understands him yet?”

“You mean like one with dirty hair and Kurt Cobain T-shirts?”

“Don’t ruin your indoctrination of me into the fag hag sorority,” she said. He gave her the finger. “There’s something I never told you. About him,” she added.

“What?”

“We had a thing for a couple of days at the end of the summer, when you and Mom were away looking at colleges.”

“What kind of ‘thing?’”

“We saw a movie and went to the beach and ate funnel cake and I slept over.”

Yull looked strange for a moment, as if he was realizing something. “This was right before Labor Day weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains it.”

“What?”

“At that seniors only party when he hooked up with Melanie. He got really weird when I showed up.” This made Casey feel both good and bad. “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with him?” he asked.

“Yes Yull. I’m sure.” She leveled her most recent Oreo conquest towards the sink. It missed and landed in the middle of a potted cactus. “If you truly want to be a caring brother you won’t remove that from the cactus until Tricia’s seen it.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think his problem is that he hasn’t met a girl who understands him yet. It’s like a game for him. Or maybe he doesn’t get how much he plays with girls’ heads. But there’s one thing I know for sure: The guy’s a narcissist.”

“We’re eating Oreos, bro. Please stick to a third-grade reading level.”

“Narcissus was a figure from Greek mythology who was extremely physically beautiful.”

“But Alex Deal’s not--”

“But don’t you see? That’s how he gets away with being such a dog. He plays it all shaggy sensitive band guy. Girls think he’s different than the guys who come on strong. And then, once defenses are down, he goes in for the kill.”

Casey stared at Yull for a moment. She began to dig out the white part of another Oreo with the top cookie layer. “So whatever happened to Narcissus?”

“He could never fall in love with anyone because he was so in love with himself. He viewed those who loved him with contempt because they thought they were worthy and they inflicted their needs on him. So the gods came up with a unique punishment for him.”

She stacked the scraped out vanilla part onto the middle section of another Oreo. “Now it’s like a quadruple stuff Oreo.”

“Don’t let Alex Deal cause you to pork out.”

She held up her middle finger and took a bite out of the quadruple stuff Oreo with the other hand. “What was the gods’ punishment for him?”

“They made him happen upon on a river where he saw a perfect reflection of himself. And then do you know what happened?”

She shook her head.

“He fell in love, became so infatuated with his own reflection that he refused to move away from the river. Eventually he just withered up there since he had all but forgotten how to eat or sleep.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not buying it.”

“Not buying it?”

“If he got all rexy (Casey and Leigh’s word for girls who were too thin) then his reflection would’ve taken a hit too. And he would’ve fallen out of love with it. But anyway who other than a dog doesn’t know a reflection is just that?”

He scowled. “It’s a myth. You’re not supposed to buy--”

“Next thing you’re gonna tell me is they didn’t have Oreos in Greek myths. Were you about to say that, Yull?”

“The point is not realistic merit. It’s the moral, which I do think you get.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Alex Deal is a narcissist,” he continued, “The only thing he cares about is himself, and, of course, his band.”





14



The next day Leigh walked over to Casey’s locker and said, “All is not lost.” For a moment Casey thought she was talking about Alex Deal and got an excited look in her eyes. Leigh realized the drastic mistake of her word choice. “Oh! No. I mean…” She sheepishly took the Arcade Fire ticket out of her pocket and held it out. “Sorry.”



Casey called Leigh after her conversation with Yull the night before and told her everything. “F*ck,” Leigh said, “are you gonna start listening to that Gloria Gaynor song now?”

“Which Gloria Gaynor song?”

“’I Will Survive.’ Once I went to a cousin’s wedding and that song came on and my aunt who’d just gotten divorced grabbed all the single women at the wedding and made them dance and sing along to it. My mom said it was inappropriate.”

“No.”



She took the Arcade Fire ticket from Leigh’s hand and looked at it. “I found it in the bottom of a pair of boots I took to LA,” Leigh said.

“But did you find the roach--”

“Shh. No.”

“Maybe you left it at Eva’s.”

“I emailed her last night and asked her to let me know if it turns up anywhere.”

Casey nodded. “She’ll have your back.”

Suddenly Leigh moved to block her from seeing something at the other end of the hall. But her maneuvering was highly unsuccessful. Casey peered over her head and caught a glimpse of none other than Narcissus himself: Alex Deal, in the flesh. He was with Peter. She inched out from the locker so she was standing in a place where she knew he would see her.

“You will survive,” Leigh hissed. Alex saw her. She knew he did because he stopped what he was doing for a second. Then he turned around and walked away. She looked down. “Let’s go to the movies after school today,” Leigh said.

“Your parents don’t let you go to the movies on weekdays.”

“We’ll lie to them.” She remembered something. “Oh wait I have that meeting.”

“What meeting?” Casey asked.

“Talent show. They asked me to do artwork for the posters.”

“It’s fine, I have a lot of T.V. to catch up on.”

Leigh shook her head. “Come with me to the meeting and we’ll go to the movies afterwards.”



It was one of those school days that passed in a slow, boring hum punctuated by bells and unpleasant moments. Casey was no stranger to those days but this one was a real standout. En la clase de español Señor Griffin commented, when he checked homework and saw that she yet again did not have it, that she needed to get out of whatever “funk” she was in and get back to doing homework the way she had been at the beginning of the year. As soon as Señor Griffin passed, she sent a note Ben’s way.

All your fault, homework horder. P.S. You will score mega karma points if you help your neighbor in Spanish class get out of her ‘funk.’ He penned a response. Why don’t you ask your friend from yesterday to get you out of your ‘funk’. She felt sad but also flattered. Burn, she scribbled, but that’s a no can do. He takes Greco-Roman and was born a hermaphrodite. P.P.S. Feel free to pass that knowledge around to as many people as possible.

He wrote for a minute, started to slide the note under his elbow then paused, added something, and passed.

I’m not interested in passing dirt on that dude, but thanks for the scintillating and, I’m sure, 100% true information. P.S. There are websites with tutorials on Spanish grammar. You can always use one of those when you don’t get the homework. She sighed and responded. But that would be proactive and constructive.

He shook his head. Casey was wondering what he was going to write next when the bell rang to end class. Ben, as usual, was out of his seat and through the classroom door quicker than lightning.

Math class was another variant on the all-enveloping web of social connectivity that was Walton High School. As she walked in Maxine French watched with a narrow-eyed look of perusal passed down by her bull shark predecessors. Casey assumed it would end there, but as soon as she sat Maxine whirled around, folded her arms over her chest, and raised an eyebrow. “Peter told me you were at their band practice.”

“Um.”

“With Alex.” Maxine looked her up and down.

Casey slumped into her seat and wondered if it was true that every once in a while people could spontaneously combust.

“Did Miss Kinsey have her little talk with you yesterday?” Maxine asked.

Casey sighed and put her pen down. “Yes. But she said she’d wait until today to call your parents.”

“My--what are you talking about?”

“You know. About you cheating off my test. I mean to be honest I told Miss Kinsey I’d be fine with letting you off just this once, but she seemed keen on doing something.”

“You cheated off my test!” Maxine said, “That’s what she was going to talk to you about.”

Casey shook her head and shot her a faux earnest look. Her little line of B.S. was a suicide mission. As soon as Miss Kinsey entered the room she would clarify matters and Maxine’s feathers would unruffle. But at that moment in that school day watching Maxine get bent out of shape was just what the doctor ordered. Casey began to sing “Lonely Days, Lonely Nights.”

“Are you singing?” Maxine asked in disgust.

“No.” Casey swung into the second verse.

“Yes you are. And you’re lying too.”

Miss Kinsey entered. Casey stopped singing. Maxine scowled and turned to face the front of the room. Casey yawned.



In the library, she wrote a genius playlist that included Sufjan Stevens, Iron and Wine, AND Belle and Sebastian. It might very well have changed the life course of the red-faced football player who could not remember the name of his English teacher. However it was horrifically disregarded when he tossed it in the trash and ignored her plea to read the copy she quickly wrote up.

English class did not do much to ease the pain. About a third of the way through Mrs. Edwards placed everyone into their Beowulf project groups. Casey’s relief about it being group work time (time to text Leigh while Mrs. Edwards wasn’t looking!) was squashed when Catherine Hightower whipped her notebook out and began reading her ideas for the three-part essay they were going to write. Each one of them would be responsible for writing ten pages.

“And,” Catherine said with a beady-eyed grin, “I think we should use primary sources.”

Casey looked from Catherine to Sukh, baffled. “What’s she talking about?”

“I am not sure,” Sukh said, “Catherine, Beowulf is a primary source.”

“I know.” Catherine’s voice rose like one of those television preachers with microphones affixed to their heads. “But if we reference other primary sources from the time period then it would really make an impact on Mrs. Edwards. She’s a notoriously tough grader, you know.”

Sukh frowned. “I see.”

Casey wondered if putting cold medicine in Catherine’s water bottle would serve to tranquilize her. “Do you know of any clear cough syrups?” she asked Sukh.

“Didn’t Mrs. Edwards say it would be okay to present this project in dialogue format?” he asked, “Wouldn’t that be a little less work?”

“Everyone will be doing dialogues,” Catherine said, “We have to be different. I want a hundred on this and I heard that she only gives out one hundred per class.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “And I heard that knowledge of the plot of Beowulf has zero relevance to achievement in life.”

Catherine glared and began to detail which parts of the story everyone should take. A moment later, when she said they should use different fonts for each group member and began to analyze which font would be the most appropriate for each person, Casey closed her eyes and put her head in her hands.

“Casey! You need to hear this.”

Casey shook her head and looked up. She cleared her throat. “I have a better idea for this project.”

“Oh do you?” Catherine said.

“Yes,” Casey replied, “Beowulf…as Elvis.” Sukh sat up straighter in his chair.

“Excuse me?” Catherine snapped.

“Sikh’s Elvis--”

“Sukh, Casey, Sukh.”

“Right,” Casey continued, “I’m Priscilla, and you get to be the Colonel. You battle with Elvis over creative license to the death. He, of course, wins. But in the long run, when he’s like five hundred pounds and eating his last fried Mars bar in seclusion before disappearing from the face of the earth, even if there are some very in the know people who believe he’s in Rachel--”

“Rachel?” Sukh asked.

“Nevada,” Casey said, “Area 51, where they keep the aliens. Point being, Colonel wins, in the end.”

“What does any of this have to do with Beowulf?” Catherine asked.

“Who the hell knows?” Casey said, “I didn’t understand a word of that piece of sh--” Mrs. Edwards walked to the project group next to them. Casey made quotation marks with her hand. “Literature. But everyone understands Elvis.”

Catherine just stared for a moment. “I…I…NO. No no no.”

Sukh smiled. “I don’t think the Elvis idea is so bad.” Catherine and Casey looked at him. “You can draw parallel between the Colonel and Grendel,” he continued, “Priscilla Presley can be mother of Grendel.”

“Exactly!” Casey said.

“But,” Catherine sputtered.

“The report you propose,” Sukh continued, “is the same report everyone will do. It’s the same report we hear since the beginning of our academic career. Why not do something different? We can even add live music.”

Casey sat up in her chair.

“I play the bass, you know,” Sukh added.

“I didn’t know,” she said. Sukh nodded enthusiastically. Casey beamed. “We can totally add live music!”

“A, how do you say?” he said, “A rock opera! That’s it!”

“Awesome!”

Catherine’s eyes widened in horror. The bell rang to end class. “Hasta mañana,” Casey said, “Don’t forget to wear your blue suede shoes.” Sukh smiled. Catherine ran to Mrs. Edwards’ desk.

By the time she arrived at the talent show meeting, Casey was two hundred percent convinced that high school was no more than an obstacle course set up to separate those in life who would one day pretend to enjoy pushing paper and corralling screaming children from those who were incapable of faking such matters. The latter’s bad experiences in high school would then instigate a disregard for social mores that would enable them to endure smirks at family reunions when they showed off their yin and yang tattoos as well as cause them to start their own internet destinations and comic book companies.

She slumped in and collapsed behind Leigh. “Come on guys! Shut up! We have to get stuff done!” the girl in front shrilled.

“She should try a cattle prod,” Casey said.

Leigh looked at her earnestly. “How are you holding up?”

“What, you didn’t hear the ambulance at lunchtime? They managed to pump my stomach free of all the Dexatrim and painkillers that I read would make me more appealing to a guy like you-know-who. But unfortunately they can’t do much about the ‘AD’ tattoo on my torso. It’s fine, though. I mean all I have to do is keep dating bucks with initials AD for the rest of my life and I’m all good.”

Leigh sighed. “Try chocolate.” A guy in the back of the room growled for everyone to be quiet. It did the trick.

“All hail the patriarchy,” Casey muttered.

The girl in front, who, as it turned out, was Samantha and the drama club’s representative for the selection committee, began to talk about talent show.

“Is Yull on the committee too?” someone from the back of the room called out. Casey sank down in her chair.

“No,” Samantha said, “He’s too busy with his other activities so he asked me to be.”

Leigh glanced at Casey. Casey rolled her eyes.

The other members of the committee were the head of jazz ensemble and the junior and senior year officers of the student government. The four of them would judge talent show auditions and ultimately decide who got to be in it.

Samantha began to describe how they were going to do the audition process. A guy at the front of the room raised his hand and spoke. “What’s the makeup of the acts?”

“What do you mean?” Samantha said.

“Last year over half the show was music. It kind of seemed like a battle of the bands after a while.” A few kids voiced agreement. “There’s already a battle of the bands in the spring,” he continued, “Plus there were some student comedy and drama groups who didn’t bother auditioning because they knew of so many music acts trying to get in and they didn’t think they’d make the cut.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I think we should cap the number of music acts this year.”

“How many total?” Samantha asked.

The guy considered. “I say we leave one spot open for a solo act and two for groups of three or more people.”

She looked around the room. People were nodding. “Okay,” she said.

Someone behind Casey whispered, “The bands are really going to have to compete for their slots this year.”

And that was when, in a manner as magical as when the choir starts in “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” Casey got an idea.





15



The next day she arrived early for Spanish class. She even had her homework ready. So what if Yull did half of it and told her how to do the rest. It was done and if there was anyone on the planet worth milking for a sympathy vote it was Yull Barnes.

Ben came in just as the bell rang. He ignored her. Señor Griffin circulated checking homework. When he got to Casey’s desk he hesitated. A frown crept across his features. “¿Señorita?”

She waved her homework in the air with a flourish. “Olé.”

Señor Griffin grinned. “Muy bien.”

As soon as he was gone Ben looked at her suspiciously and put a protective hand over his homework. “You wish,” she hissed. He rolled his eyes and turned back around. She glanced at his bag. Sure enough, the drumsticks were there. She composed a note.

They often say drummers are the least appreciated members of a power trio. I could not disagree more. Why? Two words: Lars Ulrich. Know the names of anyone else in Metallica? Actually don’t answer that as it may distract me from the exciting OPPORTUNITY OF A LIFETIME I’m on the brink of dangling in front of your homework hoarding head.

He read it, penned a response and passed it back. I am not joining the band of that dufus you were talking to the other day. She paused. Why do you say Alex Deal’s a dufus?

He wrote back. Because he is. I’ve seen him around. And anyway I don’t like their music. The bassist’s in my math class and he was playing it for someone the other day. It’s boring and all sounds alike.

She smiled. I agree with you about that dufus’ band and it’s not his band I want you to play in. It’s mine. That’s right, mine.

She placed the note on her desk and paused. Then she passed it up. Ben read it. For a moment she got nervous. How could she have written that? He probably thought she was a freak. But then he passed a note back. When’s the first rehearsal?



Catherine Hightower got permission from Mrs. Edwards to do the Beowulf project on her own. She informed Casey and Sukh of this in a crisp voice as soon as they broke into project groups that day. Neither of them said a word, but as soon as she turned away, they flashed each other thumbs-ups.

Just then Mrs. Edwards walked over. “What’s this I hear about you two doing something that has to do with Elvis for this project?”

Casey and Sukh exchanged a look. “Well Mrs. Edwards, we were trying to be creative,” Casey said.

“You said to be creative,” Sukh added.

“I just don’t understand how Elvis has any relevance to Beowulf.”

“That’s okay because we do,” Casey responded.

Mrs. Edwards sighed and walked away. Sukh spoke in a low voice. “Primary sources, my…well I will not say what I was going to say. At any rate I am very glad not to be working with that windup toy.”

Casey nodded. “Amen.”

Sukh whipped out his copy of Beowulf. “Okay so it is I think unavoidable that the plot of this drek will at the very least need to be addressed in our project, yes?”

She shrugged. “Can’t argue with you there.”

He started writing out the main plot points of Beowulf. “As long as we acknowledge this she cannot give us too low of a grade.” He grinned. “And then we add Elvis in as…as the icing, yes?”

“Absolutely. But also Sukh I’m wondering something.”

“Yes?”

“After school can you come over to my house?” Casey began, “This guy Ben from my Spanish class will be there too.”

“But what exactly will he be there for?”

“For band practice.” She sat up straighter in her chair. “We, my friend, are going to start the most guitar-slaying, album-selling, hotel-room-trashing rock band of all time.”