Growing Up and Other Tall Tales

Chapter 10

"Lyra," Nick whispers conspiratorially and I try to stifle a groan. "Where's the room again?"

I feel like Nick is being clingier these days after the car accident. I had gotten away with a couple of scratches, a dislocated shoulder and a twisted ankle. Nick, on the other hand, went through two heart attacks and three ulcers worrying over me so much.

Even if it has been over three weeks since I've been cleared by the hospital.

"You know," I glare at the wall that is so unfortunate to be positioned in front of me, "Humans are an evolutionary wonder. We are at the top of the food chain, capable of comprehensive analysis and higher thinking. We have opposable thumbs. And you can't open the text I've sent you on your Iphone Z 200."

"It's an iphone X, thanks. It's not my fault your grasp of technology is so flip phone."

"There are so many things wrong with that sentence. Grammatically and spiritually." I close my eyes wearily

Five minutes into the meeting—and by "meeting" I mean Angry Thespians Attempts (successfully) Fear Mongering—is when I resume scrutinizing my life choices.

"This isn't a welcome party," says the teacher in charge of the Drama club with at least three lifetimes of agendas under his eyes. "There isn't going to be a welcome party. This is a goddamn initiation and you're all going to work for the right to be here."

The title slide of the presentation says WELCOME TO THE STAGE in Comic Sans with a bunch of emojis. Hopefully for irony. Hopefully to facilitate my death.

"Looks like someone is going a little easy on the intros," Minhyuk quips, amused, from the computer podium that's too low for his height to look anything but awkward.

Mr. Young looks ready to both cry and butcher him and move on so he just moves on. "We run a first-class establishment, folks—"

Proceeding a little more obligatory bloodcurdling dialogue and a general overview of the school production and Nick bouncing his knee throughout the whole thing making me pinch him, Mr. Young runs through a list of rules:

1. Fifteen minutes early is on time, on time is late, and late is intolerable and punishable by arbitrary flogging (as of 2017, replaced by intense silent treatment).

And I stopped listening after that because Amy inches into the empty seat next to me. Nick's ability to keep his lower jaw still attached to his skull is highly commendable to be honest. She doesn't even look at Nick but she smiles at me and I raise my index finger to my temple in greeting. You find friends in the strangest of people when you have to do AP Chem together.

3. Never, ever forget to—

It finishes relatively painlessly after that. The girls in front of us start talking about universities and their tragic separations with boyfriends and family. Liam sits next to Nick and they start something that started with "Honestly bro, fuck Coach—" and that was my cue to leave. Amy and I fall into easy conversation about the gleaming and looming darkness that stands tall in our future.

"Seriously, fuck the way this country works. You either have to be below the poverty line or have a sugar daddy." says Amy, running fingers through her short hair.

"I don't even know where I fall on the spectrum," I echo a little helplessly. "What do you want to do?"

"Environmental Science." It's whisper with a mixture of pride and a fear for her financially-stable acceptance. "Yeah, yeah, it's romantic, I know. My sister did a snakey one though. Finance." She grimaces

I nod affirmatively.

We go onto talking about what others want to study and judging them because we are surprisingly gossipy together.

"Y'know what? As if Andrew can judge me," she blazes on looking like she wants to get up on her feet and dramatically shake her fist at the horizon. "He's in comp sci. What a dick, right? I mean, in this day and age, how can you get any snakier than that—"

"What are we talking about?" Nick's chin digs into my shoulder. Careful to avoid the injured shoulder. I smile a little at his considerateness. Amy stares at him reluctantly but at my shrug fills him in.