Mike sat upside down on a plush neoclassical couch. His legs stuck straight up against the back, his lower abdomen slumped over the cushions, and his blonde head dangled just above the chestnut floor. He fiddled with a keytar in his hands.
"That's quite a couch," Ed sat across the apartment's living room on a wooden Early American-style chair that had been painted dark green.
"Yessica's been watching too much HGTV again," Mike played a familiar chord, "she took this online test and found out her 'design style' is eclectic."
"I see," Ed took a sip of his lemonade. He had no idea what was meant by an 'eclectic design style.'
"We got this one because she said it made her feel like she was living in a Jane Austen novel," Mike grinned, "which would make me her Mr. Darcy."
"Who?"
"Pride and Prejudice, bitch," Mike played a few notes of Mozart's sonata no. 11. "He's the douche that bags Keira Knightley."
"I really wish you wouldn't use bags in that context-"
"You're killing me with the newspeak, bro."
"It's not newspeak. You're just being creepy." Ed peered across the living room's half wall into the kitchen. "Where's Yessica, anyway?"
"She's at Ethan Allen, looking for a 'distressed' dresser that can double function as a table," Mike threw up finger quotes with his free hand. "The nesting instinct has kicked in. Women, amirite?"
"What are you working on?" Ed tried to change the subject before Mike could ask him about Audra. He knew Mike was working on something, as he only ever assumed the upside-down, instrument-in-hand position if he were struggling with writer's block.
"There's been this bridge stuck in my head all morning, but I don't have the rest of the song yet. I woke up with it, so I can't tell if I'm ripping something off subconsciously or-" Mike narrowed his eyes, "you've ever heard this before?"
He played the bridge on his keytar.
"Sounds original," Ed said unconvincingly, "why the keytar?"
"I can't play my piano upside down, genius," Mike studied Ed's face. "You're upset about something."
"Nope," Ed smiled a wide, fake smile, "I'm fine."
"I wasn't asking," Mike flipped himself right side up. "Things not going well with Audra?"
"There aren't any things with Audra," Ed said. "She rejected me. It's over."
"I thought you already bought the prom tickets, though?"
"I did," Ed felt a little stupid as he said this, "Emily keeps texting me that it's no big deal, but it's pretty much a mess. Dad's forcing me to pay back mom, or go with someone else."
"That's actually a good idea," Mike set the keytar on the couch next to him. "The best way to get over someone is to get under somebody new. Assert your dominance."
"Isn't that the opposite of what you're supposed to do?"
"Nah, brah, this is sage advice," Mike said. "You got any other bitches you're interested in?"
"Have you even broken up with anybody, ever before? You've been with Yessica for ten years."
"I know what I'm talkin about," Mike insisted, "every break-up is a game. In order to win, you need to demonstrate your continued desirability."
"We didn't 'break up.' You can't break up if you weren't ever together."
"There has to be some other bitch you got your eyes on, right?" Mike stroked his stubbly chin, "You talking to anybody?"
"I haven't even been liking anybody else's Instagrams," Ed said. "I checked out of the game a while ago."
"A good way to level up is to ask one of her friends."
"Are you crazy?"
"Why not?" Mike shrugged. "Your mutual friends say she thinks it's no big deal, so she shouldn't care if Dad is forcing you to go with somebody else, right?"
Ed considered Mike's logic.
"Who would I even ask? Emily and Katie have boyfriends, and aside from them and Audra, that's pretty much our friend group-"
"What about the witchy one?"
"Gina? Che wouldn't go to prom," Ed took another sip of his lemonade, "and one of her policies is to never do anything Che wouldn't do."
"Bribe her with a Stevie Nicks album," Mike suggested. "I got this one on vinyl-"
"Stevie Nicks?" Ed scrunched up his face. "Like, from Fleetwood Mac?"
"Her solo stuff," Mike walked over to a cardboard box of vinyl records resting on the living room floor. "For all you know, she and Gina might be part of the same coven."
"Gina's not a witch," Ed watched Mike rifle through his vinyls and pick one up. "She's a conspiracy theorist."
"Fine," Mike dropped the vinyl back into the box, "buy her the latest Alex Jones 'documentary.'"
"I'm definitely not going to do that," Ed frowned. As if Gina needed any more encouragement. What have I been reduced to, bribing a lunatic with the work of another, more-famous lunatic, just to avoid wearing a chili-pepper suit?
"Well, you could always pay off the six hundy," Mike paused for theatrical effect, "at El Gringo's."
Ed swallowed dry.
***
Saturday detention, in practice, was not like The Breakfast Club.
Ed sat in the fifth row of the humanities center's densely-populated amphitheater, struggling to focus on his Calculus homework, and trying very hard not to make eye contact with the intimidating, greasy-haired kid in a trench-coat staring up at him from the third row. Forty minutes in, Ed gave up on his derivatives and pressed his head onto his desk. Just as he started to see visions of chili peppers and enchiladas, he was shaken awake by a cool, small hand.
"Dude, if they catch you sleeping, they'll give you another one," Five fingernails dug into Ed's neck.
"Are you trying to draw blood," Ed yanked up his head and wiped at his wounds. "Gina?"
"Yo," Gina gave a two finger salute and slunk into the seat next to him.
"How long have you been here?" Ed searched the amphitheater for her Jack Skellington book bag or her oversized purple fuzzy jacket, or any other clues to her arrival.
"Since the beginning," Gina tilted her chin so that her already deep-set eyes seemed to sink further into her face.
"Don't be a creep."
"What are you even doing here?" Gina asked. "Aren't you supposed to be like, eating your vegetables and flossing your teeth, and saying please and thank you like the normie you are?"
"A hall monitor caught me skipping class on Monday."
"Oh, after the incident," Gina nodded. "Understandable."
"What are you in for?" Ed lifted an eyebrow. "You kill somebody's cat or something?"
Gina hissed.
"I'm not a Satanist. That idiot pawn decided I had too many 'late arrivals.'"
"You mean Mrs. Durante?"
"She thinks she's Linden's grand poohbah, but the next school board election and," Gina drug her left hand across her neck, "we'll be on to the next. Principals are pawns of the educational-industrial complex."
"Mhmm," Ed peered up at the clock on the back wall.
"We've got ten minutes," Gina said, "wanna get Dunkin after?"
***
"You like Stevie Nicks?" Ed figured there was no good way of asking Gina to prom. At least this was a start.
"Who's he?" Gina ripped apart her donut.
"Never mind," Ed looked out the window beside the table at which they were sitting. "Mike said that-"
"Your brother Mike?" Gina sucked the jelly out of one half of her donut.
One of the things Ed hated most in his life was Gina's weird crush on Mike. He probably shouldn't have brought Mike up at all. Still, Ed reasoned that Gina might accept the Stevie Nicks album just because it once belonged to Mike. Ed could live with the idea of Gina sleeping next to that vinyl every night, if it would get him out of working another shift at El Gringo's -and the dreaded Cinco De Mayo promotion.
"He has a Stevie Nicks album on vinyl he didn't want."
"Is he still dating that girl?"
"You mean Yessica, the woman he's basically married to?" Ed took a sip of his iced coffee. "You're never gonna get with my brother. Just give it up."
Gina sucked the jelly out of the other half of her donut.
"Do you have to eat them like that?" Ed handed her a napkin.
"I like to pretend I'm a spider, ingesting the gelatinous viscera of my prey."
Ed grimaced.
"Oh don't be a baby."
Ed realized that Gina seemed completely uninterested in receiving any potential Stevie Nicks album, whether it had belonged to Mike or not. Better change approaches.
"Look," Ed decided to bite the proverbial bullet, "my dad's pissed that my mom paid for my prom tickets-"
"Why?" Gina ripped the halves of her now jelly-less donut into smaller pieces.
"Some psychological war game that divorced people play."
"My parents are divorced," Gina nibbled on a donut piece, "but they're still best friends. We all went to a baseball game last week-"
"Would you just let me finish?"
"Okay, okay. What's up?"
"My dad wants me to ask somebody to prom so I don't waste the tickets," Ed exhaled. "I was wondering if you'd like to go as friends?"
Gina snorted.
"Well?" Ed probably seemed desperate, but he didn't care. He was desperate. And Ed was nothing if not honest, right?
"Can't do that," Gina said like the bored secretary of a government bureaucrat. "Even if I was willing to renege on my pledge to Che (which I'm not), I literally can't. I already committed to an anti-prom."
"An anti-prom?"
"My friend Pax is throwing it," Gina explained. "It's a party that happens at the same time as the regular prom, but you wear sweats or pajamas."
"Is he the shoe-gazer that plays at the Secret Art Space all the time?" Ed tried to attach a face to the name. "You snapped me a bunch of videos of his concerts?"
"Pax is the essence of the Secret Art Space," Gina spoke with reverence, "It wouldn't exist without him."
"It's a shitty music venue," Ed snarked, "it's been around since before my brother was a teenager."
"Pax brings it new life."
"Do you have a date to his party, then?" Ed didn't know why he bothered to ask. He wasn't looking to join Gina at the anti-prom. Curiosity, maybe?
"Craig-the-tuba-boy wanted to take me," Gina stuck out her tongue, "I told him that I was deliberately going stag as a statement on alienation in sexual relationships."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"We have dating apps to shop for people!"
"We're not even old enough to use them, though," Ed countered.
"I'm talkin' as a society. We're afraid to interact with anyone outside our own socio-economic tribes," Gina continued, "and we numb ourselves from the loneliness with memes."
"With memes?" Ed stifled his laughter, "you're kidding?"
"Craig bought it," Gina popped another piece of donut in her mouth, "so that's what I'm sticking to."
***