sleeve across her snotty nose.
Shar pressed her cigarette into the plate she’d perched on the windowsill, snapping it in two.
Finally, because I had no idea what else to do, I popped up from my place on the floor, declaring, “I’m going to get you a tissue.”
Outside, I took another long look down the hall, listened for the sound of other people, the sound of someone, anyone, with a vested interest in helping the crying girl in Shar’s room.
Nothing.
I walked as slowly as I could to the bathroom, weighing each step, thinking, or hoping, that by the time I got back Rattles would have obediently disappeared.
I was standing with one hand on Shar’s doorknob, a wadded-up handful of toilet paper in the other, whenI heard a splintering noise, like the sound of a foot going through a brittle floorboard.
When I pushed open the door, Shar was sitting on her bed, hairbrush in one hand, sleeve pulled back to display a red welt on her forearm.
“See?” she said, rubbing her fingernail over her raised skin. “No big deal.”
Rattles seemed transfixed.
“Right, Allison?”
Before I knew it, Shar was up and had my arm in her grip, the brush raised. I could feel Rattles watching us, hear her raspy, post-crying breathing.
“Right, Allison?”
Truth or dare.
Which, like I said, I’d never played. Until Shar.
“Right?”
Her eyes still focused on me, Shar tightened her fingers around my wrist. She was pulling, a little, and smiling this familiar smile, like the smirk girls give each other when they’ve just said something mean about someone else, like the sly, no-tooth grin girls use when they’re playing a game, a trick. It’sthe look of an accomplice. The look you give to your accomplice. Me.
“Right,” I breathed.
Right answer.
SMACK!
I jolted. Shar held her grip firm for a moment as the sting spread across the flesh of my forearm.
I pulled my arm away and looked down to see Rattles hiking her grubby sweatshirt sleeves up.
Seeing Rattles’s arms bared, Shar let out a sharp laugh, tossed the hairbrush on the bed.
“Or, yeah, you know? Or you could just study and take the exam I guess,” she chuckled.
Rattles had gone stone quiet. She opened her hand, flicked the pills still stuck there onto the floor. “I should go,” she said.
No one moved.
“Okay then,” Shar chirped. “Good luck with your studies!”
“How many times,” Rattles whispered thoughtfully, “do you think … Like, to actually miss an exam. How many times would you, like, do it?” things I needed to be doingened me
“Theoretically,” Shar added.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe twenty-five?” Shar’s voice was smooth and level. “What do you think, Allison? Theoretically?”
“I don’t know,” I stuttered. “Like ten?”
“Ten?” Shar coughed incredulously.
“Fifty?”
Shar raised an eyebrow, lit another smoke, and took a long inhale. After a few drags she rested her cig on the plate and walked toward Rattles, who was clearly lacking in momentum. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”
They were gone for a while, especially considering that Rattles lived next door. It was long enough for me to open my textbook and take up a purely aesthetic pose, “studying” what from a glance seemed an impossibly long list of all the languages spoken by “Chinese” people.
At one point I thought I heard Shar tell Rattles to stop crying. It was hard to hear, though. And I kind of didn’t want to listen.
Shar slid back into the room just as I was tracing my finger over a line about the Mongols, which I had clearly at some point thought was interesting enoughto highlight with neon pink. She walked up behind me and stabbed the tip of her toe into the small of my back.
“Fifty! What are you, some kind of monster? Man! She’s going to break her arm!”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re terrible, Allison.” She said it like she was describing a rock star, or something sweet and fattening. You’re TERRIBLE,
Shar pressed her cigarette into the plate she’d perched on the windowsill, snapping it in two.
Finally, because I had no idea what else to do, I popped up from my place on the floor, declaring, “I’m going to get you a tissue.”
Outside, I took another long look down the hall, listened for the sound of other people, the sound of someone, anyone, with a vested interest in helping the crying girl in Shar’s room.
Nothing.
I walked as slowly as I could to the bathroom, weighing each step, thinking, or hoping, that by the time I got back Rattles would have obediently disappeared.
I was standing with one hand on Shar’s doorknob, a wadded-up handful of toilet paper in the other, whenI heard a splintering noise, like the sound of a foot going through a brittle floorboard.
When I pushed open the door, Shar was sitting on her bed, hairbrush in one hand, sleeve pulled back to display a red welt on her forearm.
“See?” she said, rubbing her fingernail over her raised skin. “No big deal.”
Rattles seemed transfixed.
“Right, Allison?”
Before I knew it, Shar was up and had my arm in her grip, the brush raised. I could feel Rattles watching us, hear her raspy, post-crying breathing.
“Right, Allison?”
Truth or dare.
Which, like I said, I’d never played. Until Shar.
“Right?”
Her eyes still focused on me, Shar tightened her fingers around my wrist. She was pulling, a little, and smiling this familiar smile, like the smirk girls give each other when they’ve just said something mean about someone else, like the sly, no-tooth grin girls use when they’re playing a game, a trick. It’sthe look of an accomplice. The look you give to your accomplice. Me.
“Right,” I breathed.
Right answer.
SMACK!
I jolted. Shar held her grip firm for a moment as the sting spread across the flesh of my forearm.
I pulled my arm away and looked down to see Rattles hiking her grubby sweatshirt sleeves up.
Seeing Rattles’s arms bared, Shar let out a sharp laugh, tossed the hairbrush on the bed.
“Or, yeah, you know? Or you could just study and take the exam I guess,” she chuckled.
Rattles had gone stone quiet. She opened her hand, flicked the pills still stuck there onto the floor. “I should go,” she said.
No one moved.
“Okay then,” Shar chirped. “Good luck with your studies!”
“How many times,” Rattles whispered thoughtfully, “do you think … Like, to actually miss an exam. How many times would you, like, do it?” things I needed to be doingened me
“Theoretically,” Shar added.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe twenty-five?” Shar’s voice was smooth and level. “What do you think, Allison? Theoretically?”
“I don’t know,” I stuttered. “Like ten?”
“Ten?” Shar coughed incredulously.
“Fifty?”
Shar raised an eyebrow, lit another smoke, and took a long inhale. After a few drags she rested her cig on the plate and walked toward Rattles, who was clearly lacking in momentum. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”
They were gone for a while, especially considering that Rattles lived next door. It was long enough for me to open my textbook and take up a purely aesthetic pose, “studying” what from a glance seemed an impossibly long list of all the languages spoken by “Chinese” people.
At one point I thought I heard Shar tell Rattles to stop crying. It was hard to hear, though. And I kind of didn’t want to listen.
Shar slid back into the room just as I was tracing my finger over a line about the Mongols, which I had clearly at some point thought was interesting enoughto highlight with neon pink. She walked up behind me and stabbed the tip of her toe into the small of my back.
“Fifty! What are you, some kind of monster? Man! She’s going to break her arm!”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re terrible, Allison.” She said it like she was describing a rock star, or something sweet and fattening. You’re TERRIBLE,
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