Adam by Ariel Schrag Page A

guy?
    â€œUhhhn,
brutal
,” said Jimmy, as a skater wiped out. The skater had bit it on a rail slide. “You know that’s gotta hurt.” Jimmy grabbed his crotch.
    Boy Casey handed out beers. He sat down on a sofa chair and patted his lap for Casey. Casey perched on his knee. Adam could tell she was uncomfortable but didn’t know what to do. Ethan took the other free chair, and Adam and June sat down on the floor.
    â€œYo, Jimmy, kill the TV,” said Boy Casey. “Put on some tunes.”
    â€œMan,”
said Jimmy in a whiny voice. He did some things with the remotes, and emo music started playing.
    â€œMan, I had a shit day,” said Boy Casey, taking a swig. “What have you guys been up to?”
    â€œJust work,” said Casey. It was awkward because she turned her head to answer his question, but her face was already right next to his.
    â€œI’m at Cooper Square Comics,” said June.
    â€œI need some new comics,” said Boy Casey.
    â€œCan you hook us up?” asked Jimmy.
    â€œWell, not really . . .” said June. “We don’t get, like, a discount . . . but you guys could come say ‘hi,’ if you wanted. I work Tuesdays, Thursdays, and—”
    â€œWork’s a cunt,” said Boy Casey. “I hate my job.”
    â€œI thought you liked the MoMA?” said Casey, turning her head at that awkward angle again.
    â€œI like
art
,” said Boy Casey. “I don’t like people.”
    â€œWhere do you work?” Schuyler asked Casey.
    â€œAt the YMCA day camp in Bed-Stuy,” said Casey. “Oh my god, today this little girl—it was the sweetest thing. I was working with the kindergarten group, and everyone was doing free play—just drawing or playing with whatever game they wanted. And this one kind of pudgy girl, Elizabeth, had this handful of shells, and she kept walking around to every group of kids saying, ‘Who wants to play with shells? Who wants to play with shells?’ But nobody wanted to play with shells. I almost died.”
    â€œI hated camp when I was a kid,” said Boy Casey. “Capture the Flag! Red Rover, Red Rover! That shit was not for me.”
    Adam and Ethan exchanged a glance. Adam looked down and smiled to himself. He wished he and Ethan could talk telepathically:
Ten dollars says Boy Casey can’t go two minutes without bringing the conversation back to himself.
    â€œWhat do you do?” June asked Jimmy.
    â€œI sell weed. Four years of college, stamped on that ass, and I’m sellin’ weed.” Jimmy grinned and slapped himself on the ass.
    â€œLet’s get that shit going,” said Schuyler.
    â€œY’all a bunch of fiends,” said Jimmy. He rummaged in his pockets.
    Fuck. Why did everyone always want to smoke weed? Adam seriously could not tell what anybody saw in it.
Hey, wanna get totally paranoid and make everything you say sound stupid and fake? Awesome!
He looked over at Casey and could tell she was nervous too.
    Jimmy packed a pipe and lit it. He passed the bowl to Schuyler, who took a hit and passed it to June on the floor. June inhaled greedily.
    â€œThis isn’t bad,” she said, exhaling. “I’ll have to get your number. All the weed I’ve smoked in New York sucks.” She passed the pipe to Adam. There goes the evening.
    â€œWhere’re you from?” said Jimmy.
    â€œIndiana,” said June.
    Jimmy laughed as if June had told a joke.
    â€œYou’re from California, right?” Schuyler asked Casey. “
That’s
weed.”
    â€œYup,” said Casey.
    Adam exhaled and passed the pipe up to Ethan.
    â€œYou guys from L.A., the Bay, or what?” said Schuyler.
    â€œWe’re from San Francisco.”
    San Francisco?
    â€œWe live in Piedmont,” said Adam.
    Casey glared at him. “Nobody knows Piedmont. We’re from the Bay Area—people know San