Night in the Ruts

Bad Trip - Charlie

I feel like I should tell you: my name isn't Shar or Charle.  It's Charlotte.  And Shar is pronounced like the beginning of Charlotte, because Charlotte is my real name.  My dad nicknamed me Charlie when I was little, and it stuck.  Charlotte Grace Taggart.  I'm farthest from grace, though.  Honestly, I trip over a flat surface.

--

Anyway, to sum things up for you, the rest of the summer went well.  I decided to try to forget about him and me together.  I wasn't going to stop thinking about him because he's so perfect, but... Yeah, just stop thinking about the two of us.  I don't want that, do I?  Of course I do, but I can't have it; I'm seventeen for crying out loud!  He's like, twenty-something.

        I put on some records, turned it up loud, grabbed my guitar, and I went up to the roof (I could get there through my bedroom window).  I sat up there, listening to the Doors float through my window.  Another great thing to happen to this world: Jim Morrison.

--

The good news is: the Walrus didn't call.  The bad news: I couldn't stop thinking about him.  I was a nervous mess every time the phone rang.  I hate lying to people.

        It was about three weeks before school was due to start.  Mom had called us to dinner.  "Charlie, call your sister up, honey," Mom ordered.

        I went to the basement stairs and yelled, "Jess!" several times.

        She flew up the stairs.  "Listen," she whispered to me seriously.  "You gotta call him at some point.  He's been interrupting my phone calls."

        "He's been calling?" I blurt with a smile I immediately try to hide.

        Jess shushes me.  "Yes!" she hisses.

        Oh my God.  He's been calling.  He still wants to talk to me.

        "What's for dinner?" Jess asked at a normal volume.

--

So that night, I went down to Jess's room.  Jess has her own phone line.  She was already using it, though.

        Her face, for once, lit up when she saw me.  "Charlie!  C'mere!"

        I approach her warily, sitting in the beanbag chair next to her bed.  She hands me the phone.  I don't take it.  I don't speak either.  "Hello?" asks the voice on the other line.  Of course it belongs to no other than the goddamned Walrus.

        I can't hide the smile and the blush.  Jess tries not to laugh at me.  Me plus boys equals bad news.  Two years ago I wasn't able to speak to them (only the cute ones), look at them or anything like that.  Yeah, it sucked.

        "Miss Penny Lane," he says sweetly, like he's about to make a speech or something.  But that's all he ends up saying.

        Silence.  Then, "Is this the Walrus?" I ask, still feeling quite ridiculous for not knowing his real, actual name.

        He laughs.  Why?  I'm not funny.  "Um," he begins, clearing his throat, "no.  Well, kind of."  I can tell he's smirking.  "This is Steven."

        Steven.  I like that a whole lot better than The Walrus.  "Walrus Steven?" I ask.

      "You're a flirt," Jess whispered, beaming triumphantly like, I've taught you well, young grasshopper!

        I scowled.  I'm not a flirt.  I'm sarcastic.  Witty comments in awkward situations.  That's all.  But whatever she thinks...

        Steven laughs at my comment again.  Not like an, oh she's stupid... Laugh at that loser.  But like a, That was a nice, witty, not-flirt-like comment.  I'm gonna laugh at that!  "Uh, no.  Just Steven."  He was smiling when he said that last part.