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Authors: Laura Kasischke
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“Somebody better go fuck those Omega Theta Tau sluts !”
A porch light snapped on.
The front door opened.
A slim silhouette with cascades of hair stepped out and stood under the light in the doorway, looking in their direction.
Craig unscrewed the flask and tipped it into his mouth, leaning his head back. Perry turned and left them there just as Lucas was taking another deep breath to shout at the house again.
“A re you having fun there, honey?” his mother had asked Perry on the phone that afternoon.
He’d said yes.
She’d asked if he’d gotten the cookies she’d mailed.
He had, a few days before, but had eaten only one before Craig and Lucas finished them off in a stoned frenzy on a Wednesday night. Standing over them with the empty wax-paper-lined shoebox in his hand, he’d said, “You fucking assholes.” They’d looked up at him from the floor, where they had a chessboard without enough pieces on it between them. Their eyes were so bloodshot Perry had to look away. They’d fucking eaten his mother’s cookies. Fucking assholes.
To be fair, they both apologized profusely then. Stammering, ashamed. “We are assholes, man. You should kick our asses.”
Lucas, especially, seemed horrified by his own actions, but Craig, looking into the empty shoebox, also appeared appalled. “This is unforgivable,” he said, without irony. Getting stoned seemed to rinse the irony right out of Craig, although it made him a jerk in about a hundred other ways.
Perry had tossed the empty shoebox down between the two of them, taken the towel off the hook inside his closet, and gone to the shower. By the time he got back, both Lucas and Craig were gone. Craig returned a few minutes later with a package of Chips Ahoy, handing them over to Perry.
“You like these, don’t you?” he asked.
Perry held the package, shaking his head wearily.
“We fucked up,” Craig said. “We were only going to eat one, I swear.”
“Do you always smoke so much dope?” Perry asked.
Craig seemed to think about that question for a long time, his eyebrows knitted together. But, apparently, he forgot what he’d been asked; he stripped off his clothes and got into bed without ever answering.
Talking to his mother on the phone, Perry could picture her in their kitchen at home. She’d be wearing one of her heavy, old sweaters. Jeans. She never wore shoes in the house, and didn’t like slippers, so he could see her polka-dotted socks. Or the green wool ones. It would be colder up there than it was down here. In the distance, if the window was open a crack, you would be able to hear Lake Huron churning in the wind. An undulating static. There would be the smell of fish and seaweed and the metallic air that skimmed for many miles across water.
She said, “Dad and I are taking Grandpa to Dumplings tomorrow. We’ll miss you.”
“Have a strudel for me,” Perry said. “I’ll miss you guys, too. Tell Grandpa hi.”
“Do you ever see Nicole Werner down there? I saw her mom at the grocery store the other day, and she said Nicole was liking school.”
“Yeah,” Perry said. “I see her all the time. She lives one floor down, and we’re in a study group. With our roommates. She’s fine.”
“Any other girls there, sweetie?”
Perry cleared his throat. “Well, there are a lot of other girls here, Mom.”
Perry’s mother laughed softly. “Ha, ha, smart aleck,” she said. “You know what I mean.”
Nicole’s roommate, Josie, flashed through his mind—the kind of girl he didn’t like. When she looked at you, she started with your shoes before deciding whether or not to bother with the rest of you. And why she was bothering with their study group, Perry didn’t know, except that maybe she was interested in Craig. Every one of her classes was something she’d already taken at the private high school she’d attended in Grosse Isle. She just rolled her eyes at her textbooks when she opened them, and said, “ This
A porch light snapped on.
The front door opened.
A slim silhouette with cascades of hair stepped out and stood under the light in the doorway, looking in their direction.
Craig unscrewed the flask and tipped it into his mouth, leaning his head back. Perry turned and left them there just as Lucas was taking another deep breath to shout at the house again.
“A re you having fun there, honey?” his mother had asked Perry on the phone that afternoon.
He’d said yes.
She’d asked if he’d gotten the cookies she’d mailed.
He had, a few days before, but had eaten only one before Craig and Lucas finished them off in a stoned frenzy on a Wednesday night. Standing over them with the empty wax-paper-lined shoebox in his hand, he’d said, “You fucking assholes.” They’d looked up at him from the floor, where they had a chessboard without enough pieces on it between them. Their eyes were so bloodshot Perry had to look away. They’d fucking eaten his mother’s cookies. Fucking assholes.
To be fair, they both apologized profusely then. Stammering, ashamed. “We are assholes, man. You should kick our asses.”
Lucas, especially, seemed horrified by his own actions, but Craig, looking into the empty shoebox, also appeared appalled. “This is unforgivable,” he said, without irony. Getting stoned seemed to rinse the irony right out of Craig, although it made him a jerk in about a hundred other ways.
Perry had tossed the empty shoebox down between the two of them, taken the towel off the hook inside his closet, and gone to the shower. By the time he got back, both Lucas and Craig were gone. Craig returned a few minutes later with a package of Chips Ahoy, handing them over to Perry.
“You like these, don’t you?” he asked.
Perry held the package, shaking his head wearily.
“We fucked up,” Craig said. “We were only going to eat one, I swear.”
“Do you always smoke so much dope?” Perry asked.
Craig seemed to think about that question for a long time, his eyebrows knitted together. But, apparently, he forgot what he’d been asked; he stripped off his clothes and got into bed without ever answering.
Talking to his mother on the phone, Perry could picture her in their kitchen at home. She’d be wearing one of her heavy, old sweaters. Jeans. She never wore shoes in the house, and didn’t like slippers, so he could see her polka-dotted socks. Or the green wool ones. It would be colder up there than it was down here. In the distance, if the window was open a crack, you would be able to hear Lake Huron churning in the wind. An undulating static. There would be the smell of fish and seaweed and the metallic air that skimmed for many miles across water.
She said, “Dad and I are taking Grandpa to Dumplings tomorrow. We’ll miss you.”
“Have a strudel for me,” Perry said. “I’ll miss you guys, too. Tell Grandpa hi.”
“Do you ever see Nicole Werner down there? I saw her mom at the grocery store the other day, and she said Nicole was liking school.”
“Yeah,” Perry said. “I see her all the time. She lives one floor down, and we’re in a study group. With our roommates. She’s fine.”
“Any other girls there, sweetie?”
Perry cleared his throat. “Well, there are a lot of other girls here, Mom.”
Perry’s mother laughed softly. “Ha, ha, smart aleck,” she said. “You know what I mean.”
Nicole’s roommate, Josie, flashed through his mind—the kind of girl he didn’t like. When she looked at you, she started with your shoes before deciding whether or not to bother with the rest of you. And why she was bothering with their study group, Perry didn’t know, except that maybe she was interested in Craig. Every one of her classes was something she’d already taken at the private high school she’d attended in Grosse Isle. She just rolled her eyes at her textbooks when she opened them, and said, “ This
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