You, Maybe Read Free

different; the Carson Gold thing was just a weird, fun aberration. All through my morning classes I wrote and crumpled up song lyrics: indentation on my couch pillow, a souvenir of you. . . . No. It wasn’t meant to last, but at least I have my souvenirs. . . . No. Postcards fading on the wall, the summer dimming into fall, we didn’t know we had it all . . .
    I got to lunch humming the bridge part, still not satisfied. Zandra and Tru were already at our table. “Michael was just in here, looking for you,” Zandra told me. “I told him he could hang with me but he took off. Does he hate me?”
    “You know he doesn’t.” I unwrapped my lunch.
    “What is it then?” she asked. “Do I have boy-repellent on?”
    Tru said, “They sell that?” and picked up her book. She’s determined to read every book on the American Library Association’s Top 100 Books before she graduates high school, without missing a single week of People magazine. It’s like a double major.
    “I think my mother secretly mixes it into my shampoo,” Zandra said, and continued scoping. “I haven’t hooked up with anybody in two weeks. I may have to dye my hair again, to overcompensate for my unfulfilled horniness.”
    Zandra is planning to dye her hair every color of the rainbow during her high school career. She’s done red and orange already and is currently on yellow, a very pale yellow that was almost white, which I think is her best so far. “Your mother is freaking out now,” I said. “I can’t wait to hear her reaction to the green.”
    “It will be a thing of beauty,” Zandra predicted. “I think she secretly loves me, though, despite how she acts.”
    Without looking up from her book, Tru put her hand on Zandra’s shoulder.
    Michael slipped into the seat across from me. “Looking for you. How’s it going?”
    “Not there yet,” I said.
    “I had a different idea for the beginning,” he said. “So don’t—it’s more of dee-da-da, dum-dee-dee-da-da . . .”
    “Okay.”
    He shook his head and put his ear things back in. He closed his eyes and his face relaxed completely. I smiled at him and started to eat.
    Zandra gave me a hard elbow in my side.
    “Hey,” I complained, but then I looked up and saw Carson Gold looming above us.
    “Hey,” Carson said back.
    I chewed and swallowed. How does he always catch me with my mouth full?
    “What are you doing seventh?” he asked, with that killer smile.
    “A friend,” I answered, with my mouth still slightly full. I swallowed again. “A favor for a friend.”
    He looked shocked. “Really?” he asked.
    “Really,” I said, and wiped my mouth on my napkin.
    “You’re mad I didn’t call last night. I just . . .”
    I gave him a look. “No.” As if I would ever be that fool girl chasing him around screaming Call me! Don’t you love me? I love you!
    “So then why don’t you want . . .”
    “I just have other plans today.” I took a sip of my water and noticed Zandra, beaming up at him. “Do you know Zandra? And this is Tru.” Tru looked up from her book, surprised. “This is Carson.”
    “Hi!” Zandra said. Tru didn’t make a sound, just kept staring at him.
    Carson didn’t look away from me for a second. “You sure?”
    “Maybe tomorrow,” I said. Luckily Michael still had his eyes closed and his music on. Not that he would’ve cared, really—we have no commitment to each other or anything, of course—but still. Even though we always tell each other who we hook up with, because it truly has nothing to do with our friendship, I don’t know. We don’t shove it in each other’s faces. And I hadn’t told him yet about Carson Gold. “Okay?”
    “Yeah, tomorrow.” Carson smiled. “Maybe,” he added, and walked away. So he had the last word. Well, hooray for him, he got to end it.
    “Are you crazy?” Zandra asked.
    “I had plans,” I said, continuing to eat.
    “Why not, you know, rain-check the old standby?” Zandra whispered.
    “What,” I