“No, but in every high school in America, yeah. I just figured… Never mind.”
“What?” I hear in her voice that it’s one of those feeling-awkward-around-the-blind-girl moments. “It’s fine, just tell me.”
“It’s just… if I was… you know… I just figured you’d know more about music than anyone.”
I shake my head. Where do I even start?
“How often do you just listen to music and nothing else?”
“I don’t know. A lot.”
“I mean no leafing through a magazine, no surfing the Interwebz, doing nothing but listening.”
“I don’t know—does it matter?”
“Not to you, but when you say all the time you really mean you read magazines, Web surf, do homework, with music on in the background.”
“Of course. That’s what everyone does—”
“Not everyone. To me, reading is listening. I can’t listen to an audio textbook and music at the same time. And it takes me twice as long to listen to anything as it takes you to read it. Hell, you can tell right away if you’re on the webpage you want while it takes me five minutes just to figure out that I’m not and hit the links to the right page. So I can either spend most of my time reading and working to keep up with school, or I can listen to music a lot and do nothing else and guarantee that when I graduate—if I graduate—I’ll be fucked with zero education and then what will I do to take care of myself?”
After a moment, keys jangle. “Okaaay.”
“It’s fine—you didn’t know. I don’t get mad at people for not knowing. I get mad at people for thinking they do know.”
“Well… what’d you think of the song?”
“I don’t know. It’s all about cutting loose and having fun, and the tune’s catchy, but it also sounds like what’s probably going through a stripper’s head when she sees all these guys turned on by her but knows deep down all they care about is her tits and ass and nobody will ever really love her. So I guess I like how it sounds but not what it says. Do you like it?”
Silence.
“I used to. I think you just ruined it.” She leaves and slams the door.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Faith and I are going to Ridgeway on Saturday to do some shopping,” I tell Sarah. “Want to come?”
“Hang on, Parker, the phone garbled you there. Either that or you just said something totally random. If I ask you to say it again, I’ll bet you say something completely different this time.”
“Faith and I are going to Ridgeway on Saturday to do some shopping. Want to come?”
“Ha. You want me to go shopping. With you and Faith.”
“And Molly, but I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Hang on a second. My world turned upside down. Okay, I’m fine now. Say it again.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Who are you?”
“You can buy some new sweatpants.”
“What?! What did that bitch say to you?”
I laugh. And I keep laughing because she said it to be funny, in a self-aware ironic way, but I can also tell she meant it.
“She has to dress up fancy because she doesn’t have a boyfriend. And I’ll have you know sweatpants are very comfortable.”
I’m laughing too hard to contribute.
“That’s… it…” I finally gasp. “I knew there was some deeply buried reason why you’re still with Rick. He’s your excuse to wear comfy clothes!”
“What’s your excuse?”
“Oh, you know I don’t need one, Sarah. The real mystery is why the rest of you do.”
“Sad but true. I have no answer other than out of sight, out of mind.”
“Very funny,” I say. “Oh, hey, is Molly heavy?”
“Um, yeah. Why?”
“Sheila said something. And it solves a minor mystery that’s been at the back of my mind, why I hear Molly breathe hard sometimes. And her chairs creak. And Rick talks about her lunch in ways that sound weird but I always forget to ask you about later.”
“Yeah, he’s an asshole but doesn’t know it. She’s definitely sturdy but not enormous. I think she’d actually be very pretty if she wasn’t so heavy.”
“Is that what you think?” I say. “Skinnier is prettier?”
“No. You know what I mean. Well, okay, maybe you don’t. The point is, there are girls who are crazy pretty who end up going to Hollywood and never pay for anything the rest of their lives. Sometimes they get really heavy and aren’t as pretty anymore, but you can still tell by looking at them that if they lost the weight they’d be gorgeous. Bone structure, I guess. I think that might be Molly.”
“Okay, this is getting weird.”
“Oh? Since when do you not like this kind of conversation?”
“Who said anything about not liking it? But you know I don’t care what people look like unless it affects what they are like.”
“Maybe that’s true for Molly. I don’t know her well enough. She’s a tough read.”
“So are you, Sarah. So are you.”
“Well, some of us have to balance out you broadcasters.”
“Moving on…”
“Okay, who’s Jason?”