A legitimately scary team-up.
There’s a tap on my bedroom window.
I yelp, and look up. It’s Nina, who disappeared seven days ago.
She’s sitting perched at the edge of the window-mounted flower box, facing out into the night. You couldn’t get up there without a ladder, but I don’t see one.
I push the window open.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hi,” I say. “Are you okay?”
“Totally,” she says.
“Do you want food or, like, a blanket—”
“Liz,” she says, “it’s cool. This isn’t a distress thing, and I’m not coming back, I just thought I would come say ‘hi.’”
“Hi!” I say again, like clip-art of a happy person.
Then I start crying.
“No, don’t, I’m fine,” she says. “I’m so fine, I’m better than fine!”
“Okay,” I say. Then I stop crying. I make myself.
“I have seen such creepy shit in the last little while,” she says, “but nothing as creepy as the fact that you can just stop crying on a dime like that.”
“Can I put that on a college application? Like under special skills,” I say. “That’s got to be some kind of achievement, right? ‘One time I creeped out a witch.’”
“Sounds like you could get an essay out of that,” she says, “but if there’s one thing I’ve never worried about, it’s your ability to get an essay out of something.”
There are many, many things Nina always seemed not to be worried about. She projected an emotional wall of not-worried-about-it ten feet high, and behind the wall were the kind of worries that apparently can drive you to exchange your life in human society for one I cannot even begin to understand.
“Aren’t you cold out there?” I say, thinking that by “out there” I mean “sitting outside my window in the middle of the night in early November,” but realizing I actually mean “the world.”
“No,” she says, “but thanks for asking.”
There’s a golf course across the street from our school, and next to it there’s a walled-in bunch of above-ground pipes and meters that probably do something like regulate the golf course’s sprinkler system or the water level of its man-made lake. There’s this alley between one of the walls and some fenced-in power lines where kids from our school go to smoke. I went out there with her a few times between finishing our food and the lunch bell ringing.
At first it was cool, and I didn’t smoke, just got a buzz from the totally acceptable amount of risk involved in leaving school grounds during the day despite not being Seniors. The kids were mostly older and pretty nice, and they liked the same music as Nina. I stopped going with her once I realized it wasn’t just for the companionship of cool kids who agreed with her about what was bullshit, she had a chemical need to go out there and smoke. Once she started having her own cigarettes. I thought not going would be a good way to get her to stop, but it wasn’t. And not long after I stopped, this guy who didn’t go to our school started hanging out back there.
“People are gonna say, oh, she got seduced by that guy and wanted to become a monster, like Twilight or something, but I’m not even attracted to him. There’s nothing less sexy than a guy who’s actually a thousand spiders.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s literally a thousand spiders inside of a human skin.”
“Oh. Wow. Umm… Cool?”
I’m up all night to go Interstella 55555.
Some of you are asking if I am done with this blog! THE ANSWER IS OF COURSE NOT, YA DINGDONG!!!
I am writing a book called SCIENCE…FOR HER! that will be published by Scribner in summer/fall 2014. It is a science textbook SPECIFICALLY tailored to a woman’s small brain/weak hands. It…
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