Misfit Theater Company (Wattys Winner 2018)

16. Real Weird, Real Fast

"Yeah, that could work," I say, turning back around to the group, four little plates in my hands. My eyes meet Thatcher's first, but I can't read them. No surprise there. I can't tell if he's sad or just confused, waiting to see how this will all shake out.

"This is going to be dope, guys," Moth says. "Janie, are you cool being my date to Snow Ball?"

I swear I can feel Patti's pain when Moth asks me that. Well, I really can, because it's the same pain I felt when Patti asked Thatcher out of fear. I guess we're all scared after all. Except Moth. That guy is on a whole other level.

"Yeah, that'll be cool," I say.

And now he's my Snow Ball date. The first date I've ever taken to a dance: perhaps the biggest stoner in the school. Nothing about any of this makes sense.

It's not Moth or even Patti, but I'm suddenly overcome with anger and all I want to do is kick them all out so I can go scream in a pillow somewhere. But any time with Thatcher is good, so I force a smile and suggest we all eat pizza and cupcakes at the table.

Lucky for me, Moth has no idea that anything awkward went down, and spends the rest of our time at the table telling us funny stories about weird stuff that's happened to him. I learn that his parents must be loaded, because it sounds like they've traveled pretty much everywhere. In Paris, he got on the subway and stepped in human poop. They had to wash his shoes out in the Seine and then he walked around in soggy shoes the rest of the day, which, of course, made it sound like he was farting with every step. In Costa Rica, he lost his Ray Ban sunglasses to a monkey that stole them off the top of his head and then scurried up into the tree while another monkey stole the packed lunches his mom had prepared for the family from his backpack. In California, someone—obviously someone very stupid—confused him with Leonardo DiCaprio, despite the huge age difference, and asked for pictures and an autograph, which he went along with.

The stories slowly pull me out of my funk—and quickly pull Patti out of hers, since it's Moth who's telling them—but Thatcher seems off somehow. He smiles and laughs with us, but it doesn't seem genuine. And then right around the time Patti suggests we watch some TV to help us digest, Thatcher tells us that he's going to head out.

"What's the rush?" Moth asks.

Thatcher shakes his head. "It's been a long week, I'm exhausted. But it was fun, guys." This guy is one of the best actors our high school has, and he couldn't even sell that. Something is up with him, and as I run through the events of the night, I can't tell if he was always in a strange mood or if it was only since Patti asked him to Snow Ball. "Janie, tell your mom thanks for having me," he says.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay and hang out? You can sleep in tomorrow," I suggest.

He shakes his head again, this time squinting like his eyes are too tired to stay open any longer. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though. Alright, well, I'll see you guys Monday." He takes his coat from the rack and opens the door to leave. It's all the quick that I feel like maybe he's mad at me. He turns back around to wave goodbye to the three of us, and then walks out.

My stomach turns as I try to replay the entire night, looking for the reason why he'd leave so early. He's either upset he's going to Snow Ball with Patti or he's mad at me for going with Moth or he's mad at all of us for going at all. Or maybe he's really just tired. But my brain won't let me believe that.

"Is it still cool if we hang out a little longer?" Moth asks. "It's only 9:30."

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine," I say, snapping out of my thoughts and joining them on the couch. We're all spread out to allow for each other's personal bubbles, and Moth takes the remote to choose a TV show on Netflix. He lands on one called "Arrested Development," which he claims is hilarious and way under appreciated. He and Patti laugh through the whole first episode, but all I can think about is Thatcher.

I have to message him.

I open my phone and see there's already a message from him waiting for me to read. I click on it to see what it says.

"Scale from 1 to 10, how likely would you be able to sneak out tonight and meet me at my shed? Just you. Things got real weird real fast, right?"

I smile to myself. He's not mad at me. One of these days I'm going to have to learn that not everyone's first response to me is going to be anger, like Gina's always was.

"1," I type. "My mom would catch me."

He sends me the frowny face emoji.

"But I'm free to hang out tomorrow," I write.

The three dots appear as he types.

"Darn. I really wanted to debrief tonight. Tomorrow will have to do. My brothers and I see our grandma during the day on Saturdays, but we will be home by dinner time. Post-dinner meet up?"

"Yeah." I accompany my message with a smiley face.

He sends a thumbs up. "I'll message you when we're home."

"Talk to you then."

I set my phone down and breathe a sigh of relief. I don't even realize I'm smiling until Moth looks at me and asks, "Isn't this a great show?"

"Uh huh," I reply. He can believe my smile is about the show. No need to add any more drama to an already dramatic night, especially now that I finally feel good about it. I relax and join my friends in watching the show. Fake drama and hijinks are all I can handle right now.