time and Robin wondered how these bits of nothing, like dust, kept the two of them tied up with each other for so long. Soon they wandered away, and Robin realized that if she just sat here, in the corner, on the arm of the couch, she’d be all right.
A girl across the room who had been furiously whispering with two other girls veered toward Robin’s couch and plunked down. She looked like a fly. She had short black hair that hugged her head like a helmet and heavy eyelids, and Robin had often seen her zipping down the halls at school. She now turned to Robin and said in a low voice, “Would you be friends with someone who called you an asshole for no reason?”
“I definitely wouldn’t,” Robin said, elated. Sheslid off the arm of the couch to sit beside the girl.
“Well, I wouldn’t either…but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Who called you an asshole for no reason?” Robin whispered into the girl’s ear, which wasn’t very clean.
“It’s very discouraging,” the fly went on, “when you’re the type of person who goes out of your way to do nice things for your friends and you learn that one of them doesn’t even give two little shits about your feelings. I call that very discouraging.”
It sounded very discouraging. Maybe she and this fly could be friends, Robin thought. “I bet it was the redhead,” Robin whispered. “She looks like a creep.”
The fly turned to her head-on. “Not
her
. The
other
one.”
“Oh,” Robin said.
“It’s very discouraging to hear you call my very best friend creepy.” The girl gave her a fishy look, popped off the couch and returned to her little circle.
Robin sat there, trying not to stare at anyone and hoping no one was staring at her. Then George from her geometry class joined her on the couch, tapping his foot to Nirvana. He had the bluest eyes, so blue you couldn’t help but think he was a nice person, even if he was stoned most of the time. “Robin!” he said and smiled. She smiled back. He held out his hand, fingers splayed, and for a panicky second she didn’t know what he wanted her to do. He didn’tseem to be looking for a high five. Did he want to shake, or what? He was stoned, she could see that. He had a rubber band around his wrist. She had the urge to flick it. A little flick. She would’ve liked to do that, but somehow couldn’t. He took back his hand and looked at her funny, and then he was tapping his foot again, and the moment was gone. George bounded off the couch and disappeared into the room.
Well, Robin thought, that was three, sort of: the guy who asked her if she was sleeping, the fly, and George from geometry. She headed downstairs where it was darker, louder, and more crowded and stood next to Janet, who was talking to Nolan Fry. Nolan Fry was the prettiest person in the entire school. He had smooth pink skin, a flop of dirty blond hair hanging over his forehead, and he was very tall. Every feature—his thin nose, full lips, heavy eyelashes—was perfect in and of itself, but, as Janet had often said, all together on the same face was almost a crime. It was hard, Robin decided, to look at him head on. Worse yet, he knew
how
to be pretty. He wore his prettiness like a smart jacket. Janet was staring up at him as if in a trance; her eyes had gone soft and she wore the faintest smile while Nolan talked to the air above her head. Neither one of them looked at Robin, but when she reached for the wine bottle Janet released her grip. Robin gulped and when she handed it back, Janet’s fingers expertlyclosed around the bottle. Robin wished she knew how to be pretty the way Nolan did. She’d only recently become pretty and often needed to look in the bathroom mirror to be reminded. She slipped through the sliding doors into the cold air, where she got on her bike and raced home.
They had a drug problem at school. Lots of kids smoked pot, but it seemed they also had some sniffers who inhaled stuff like Drano and paint
A girl across the room who had been furiously whispering with two other girls veered toward Robin’s couch and plunked down. She looked like a fly. She had short black hair that hugged her head like a helmet and heavy eyelids, and Robin had often seen her zipping down the halls at school. She now turned to Robin and said in a low voice, “Would you be friends with someone who called you an asshole for no reason?”
“I definitely wouldn’t,” Robin said, elated. Sheslid off the arm of the couch to sit beside the girl.
“Well, I wouldn’t either…but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Who called you an asshole for no reason?” Robin whispered into the girl’s ear, which wasn’t very clean.
“It’s very discouraging,” the fly went on, “when you’re the type of person who goes out of your way to do nice things for your friends and you learn that one of them doesn’t even give two little shits about your feelings. I call that very discouraging.”
It sounded very discouraging. Maybe she and this fly could be friends, Robin thought. “I bet it was the redhead,” Robin whispered. “She looks like a creep.”
The fly turned to her head-on. “Not
her
. The
other
one.”
“Oh,” Robin said.
“It’s very discouraging to hear you call my very best friend creepy.” The girl gave her a fishy look, popped off the couch and returned to her little circle.
Robin sat there, trying not to stare at anyone and hoping no one was staring at her. Then George from her geometry class joined her on the couch, tapping his foot to Nirvana. He had the bluest eyes, so blue you couldn’t help but think he was a nice person, even if he was stoned most of the time. “Robin!” he said and smiled. She smiled back. He held out his hand, fingers splayed, and for a panicky second she didn’t know what he wanted her to do. He didn’tseem to be looking for a high five. Did he want to shake, or what? He was stoned, she could see that. He had a rubber band around his wrist. She had the urge to flick it. A little flick. She would’ve liked to do that, but somehow couldn’t. He took back his hand and looked at her funny, and then he was tapping his foot again, and the moment was gone. George bounded off the couch and disappeared into the room.
Well, Robin thought, that was three, sort of: the guy who asked her if she was sleeping, the fly, and George from geometry. She headed downstairs where it was darker, louder, and more crowded and stood next to Janet, who was talking to Nolan Fry. Nolan Fry was the prettiest person in the entire school. He had smooth pink skin, a flop of dirty blond hair hanging over his forehead, and he was very tall. Every feature—his thin nose, full lips, heavy eyelashes—was perfect in and of itself, but, as Janet had often said, all together on the same face was almost a crime. It was hard, Robin decided, to look at him head on. Worse yet, he knew
how
to be pretty. He wore his prettiness like a smart jacket. Janet was staring up at him as if in a trance; her eyes had gone soft and she wore the faintest smile while Nolan talked to the air above her head. Neither one of them looked at Robin, but when she reached for the wine bottle Janet released her grip. Robin gulped and when she handed it back, Janet’s fingers expertlyclosed around the bottle. Robin wished she knew how to be pretty the way Nolan did. She’d only recently become pretty and often needed to look in the bathroom mirror to be reminded. She slipped through the sliding doors into the cold air, where she got on her bike and raced home.
They had a drug problem at school. Lots of kids smoked pot, but it seemed they also had some sniffers who inhaled stuff like Drano and paint
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