Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘What are you doing now?’ I said.

‘Now I’m enjoying myself.’ Digby’s eyes opened. ‘Strictly speaking medically, you could’ve just sat on me sidesaddle. Bump on a log style would’ve worked. This sexy cowgirl stuff’s a nice bonus, though.’

‘You’re gross.’ I climbed off. ‘What the hell was all that?’

‘Oh … it’s just an anxiety attack. I get them sometimes.’

‘Uh, “just” an anxiety attack? Shouldn’t you see a doctor?’

‘I have. I’m supposed to take Paxil for it.’

‘Supposed to? Does that mean you don’t?’

‘I don’t like them. They mess with my taste buds, my sleep … it seems crazy to take a pill every day to head off something that happens, like, once a month max.’

‘Wow. I don’t think medicine works like that, Digby.’

‘Besides, I have these triggers, and if I avoid them, I’m all right. I slipped a little today. Looked at something I shouldn’t have. My thoughts started cascading … that’s all. It’s nothing.’

‘Doesn’t sound like nothing,’ I said. ‘What do you do when no one’s around to sit on you?’

‘I ride it out. Remind myself that it’ll end,’ he said. ‘But the real trick, Princeton, is that after each one of these, I got to pick myself up and not constantly dread it happening again, which of course it will, but you know … I got to live.’

‘See, that whole thing you just said is basically the entire argument for staying on your medication,’ I said.

Digby stood up and dusted himself off.

‘What are you doing here, anyway? Not going to classes, I know that much,’ I said.

‘I went to see Steve.’

Please-Call-Me-Steve, as the faculty advisor assigned to us, had been e-mailing me for the last week about meeting to talk about our project. Our fictional, nonexistent project. That was due in five weeks. I’d been avoiding him for a while, putting him off with a series of excuses that were escalating in their BS factor. I’d almost reached my limit and just the day before, he’d e-mailed me that he’d track me down in class if I didn’t come to see him.

‘Now it’s my turn to have an anxiety attack. What did he say?’ I said.

‘He said my oral progress report was great. He’s looking forward to reading it,’ Digby said.

‘Reading what? We haven’t written a single word. What are we going to turn in?’

‘Oh, relax, Princeton. I’ll take care of it. It’s weeks from now.’

I heard the gym teacher’s whistle. ‘I got to go finish my race. See you tonight?’

Digby nodded. ‘What’s for dinner, honey?’

I kept up my end of the fifties housewife routine. ‘A roast with all the fixin’s, dear.’

Digby broke character in surprise. ‘Whoa. Really?’

‘What? No, not really. More like chicken nuggets, Tater Tots, and bag salad.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

I jogged off.

‘Hey, Princeton. What would happen if I were just a normal guest tonight? Like, while Liza’s there? I mean, I know she doesn’t exactly love me, but she knows I come over and it’s not like we’re up to anything weird.’

I stopped. I didn’t have an answer for him.

‘No, no … you’re right. I’ll wait until she leaves,’ he said.

He had a point, though. It had been almost a month since Mom told us she knew he was coming over, and I had no idea why we were still sneaking around.

After school the next day, I got another one of Digby’s abrupt summonses: ‘Mall in 20,’ it said. I messaged back about a dozen times and when he didn’t answer, I considered myself warned. I suited up in a face-obscuring hoodie and baseball cap combo and took the bus.

When I got to the mall, I checked some of Digby’s usual hangs: the shrimp place, the comic book bar at the record store, and the frozen yogurt shop where the makeup counter girls liked to take their breaks. No joy.

I was just paying for my yogurt when Digby sauntered in and laid a twenty on the counter.

‘Whoa,’ I said. ‘Whaaaat is happening?’

‘Yeah, that’s right, Princeton. It’s on me today,’ Digby said. He was dressed in his Suzie Bear tutu costume with the head removed and tucked under his arm.

‘I just have to check. You didn’t rob anyone, right?’

‘What? Of course not. I got this money for legit work. Well, I guess technically, it’s an advance on some legit work I’m going to do,’ Digby said. ‘Well, if you want to get really technical … the work is legit-ish. I mean, I wouldn’t go chat with the police about it or anything.’

‘That’s not why you called me here, is it? To help you with your legit-ish project that we can’t tell the police about?’ I said.

‘No, I have that whole thing under control. Wait, is that why you dressed all Bangarang?’

‘Don’t act like I’m crazy for thinking something was up.’ I passed him my phone with his terse message pulled up.