by Adi Alsaid
As the beautiful harmonica hook rang out, Dave put his hand on Julia’s forehead, right above her temple. “My mom used to do this to me to get me to fall asleep,” he said, starting to run his fingers gently in a circle.
Julia sighed. “I can see why. That feels nice.”
She seemed to sink deeper into his stomach. Beck’s honey-coated voice sang into the perfect California air, Dave mouthing the words. “You’ll find out just who was your friend.”
Dave glanced back at Gretchen and her circle of friends one last time before closing his eyes and putting her out of his mind.
o o o
When school let out that day, there was a palpable sense of happiness in the air. Dave knew that there were still interminably boring days to come. But for now they were forgotten.
Dave met Julia by her locker, though she didn’t bother replacing any of the books in her bag. They ambled to Julia’s Mazda, for once in no rush to leave. “That was actually nice. This even feels like a nostalgic walk down the halls,” Dave said. He pretended to choke up, “I’m gonna miss it so much!”
“Maybe that nap in the sun fried my brain, but I can see myself looking back fondly on some parts of high school.”
“You mean homecoming football games?”
“And the Kapoor parties.” She reached out her hand and brushed her fingertips against the lockers they passed by. “I mean things like that resolution we wrote for Model UN last year where we blamed Disney for all the world’s ills, or having class outside. That group video project for French where I convinced everyone that we should do an infomercial for tampons. I’ve been noticing lately that I laugh a whole lot more in class than I ever realized. I kept track today. Guess how many times someone laughed in class?”
They turned a corner and pushed open the doors that led to the parking lot. A few stringy clouds had shown up, the kind that really took hold of color during sunsets and lit up the sky in a way the sun just simply couldn’t on its own. “I don’t know. Six.”
“Twelve on average per period.”
“Twelve?”
“Twelve!” Julia said, slipping out of her moccasins as soon as they were off school grounds. “I know school in general can kind of suck, and a lot of people here haven’t had an original thought their entire lives, but this place isn’t always awful.”
“Speaking of awful,” Dave said, pointing out Marroney walking to his car, this time not feeling a pang of jealousy at all, but an appreciation for Julia, for how long she’d been in his life, for everything she brought into it. “Seduction, part deux?”
“His shirt is the exact same color your hair was.”
“I’m kind of surprised he isn’t constantly being seduced by someone.”
“David Ruth Gonzalez, I detect a hint of sarcasm in your voice, and I’m telling you I won’t have you insulting the love of my life.”
“He’s not the love of your life yet.”
He grabbed her car keys from her hand. “I’ll make us a playlist to listen to as we drive around, enjoying the beautiful day and talking about our strategy for my prom king campaign and how to get your mom to come down and see it all happen. But first, you’re going to go over there and awkwardly court your math teacher. Try not to tickle him this time.”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘awkward.’” She removed her hair tie and slipped it on her wrist, then mockingly whipped her hair around. “Careful, it’s about to get sexy in this vicinity.”
“Eww.”
“Sticks and stones, Gonzalez. Sticks and stones.”
“It’s Gutierrez. Go take your awkward womanly charms to that strange little man over there before he gets away and I puke all over the place.”
Julia beamed a big smile at him, the kind of smile that had been making his day for years. There was love in the way she looked at him. Maybe not the particular shade of love that would suit him best, but he’d be a fool not to take as much of it as he could get.
He leaned back against Julia’s Mazda and watched her sneak across the parking lot toward Marroney, crouching behind cars and rolling clumsily over their hoods in action hero/ninja fashion. A preppy kid yelled at her to get off his car, alerting Marroney to Julia’s approach. He sped up, jiggling his keys when he got to his car door like the victim in a horror movie, escaping right before Julia could get her hands on him.
VIRAL
“IN ALL THE years you’ve known me, have I ever even hinted at the possibility that I could perform a double backflip off the roof and land safely on my feet?”
“There’ve been some hints.”
“No, Julia.”
“Well, I don’t hear you coming up with any ideas, baldy. All we have right now is ‘Hi, I’m Dave Gutierrez,’ which isn’t even your real name. If we don’t add some excitement, this promotional video is only going to promote how uninteresting you are.”
“That hurt,” Dave said, plopping down on his bed. “Why don’t we just make some really badass posters?”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. And there’s no such thing as badass posters. A poster’s not gonna win you the crown. The people want sexy viral videos, and sexy viral videos we will give them.”
Dave picked up a little stuffed soccer ball that he’d had since he was little and had never thrown away because his mom had gotten it for him. He tossed it up a few times, trying to get it to graze the ceiling. “Why don’t we switch? You run for prom queen and I’ll try to seduce a teacher.”
“You’re not stealing Marroney away from me.” Julia took a seat at Dave’s desk and searched the Internet for some more prom king campaign videos. “So far, the basic trend I’m seeing here is a halfhearted attempt at being funny and low production value. Pop culture references, pop music, friends that are really bad actors. The occasional ‘cool’ teacher cameo and school inside jokes.” She spun around to face Dave and propped her feet up on the corner of his bed, placing his computer on her lap. Her soles were permanently gray and callused and Dave loved the sight of them, even if they were, objectively speaking, gross. “Some of these are seriously awful. If ours is this bad I don’t care how many people vote for you, we’re committing seppuku at graduation.”
“That might be an overreaction.” He sat up, his back against the headboard, rolling the soccer ball back and forth on the bed until a bad spin caused it to fall to the ground. “I hate to admit it, but we might need Brett’s help.”
“Now you’re talking. To think like them we have to associate with their kind.”
“Your word choice has been concerning lately. You sound vaguely fascist.” Julia stared him down and Dave sighed. “Throw me my phone, I’ll see if I can bribe Brett with pizza to get him to help us out.”
Julia reached for his phone on his desk and tossed it at him, then turned her attention back to prom campaign videos. He wasn’t quite used to the pink hair yet, but her face was still as beautiful as it always had been. Sometimes, Dave wondered if maybe he saw more beauty in it than others did, if it was love alone that attracted him to her. Why other guys weren’t constantly chasing after her was impossible to understand, though it wasn’t something he questioned either. Sure, she’d seen a couple of guys over the last few years. But she did not receive the kind of attention he thought she deserved.
“How many times do you think I can use ‘bro’ in one text without him thinking I’m making fun of him?”
“Two, tops.” She brought her index finger to her mouth and absentmindedly chewed on her nail. “Actually, he might get offended if you don’t ‘bro’ him a few times.”
“‘Hey, bro. Julia and I are doing this prom king stuff and need your help, bro... .’ Ugh, I already want to punch myself in the face.”
He deleted the message, checked his e-mail and social media, then opened up the text function again and r
etyped the message as it was. “Wouldn’t it be interesting if every text message you received told you how many times it’d been edited before being sent?”
Julia shivered. “Don’t talk about that stuff. It makes me get existential.”
“How do text messages make you feel existential?”
“I start thinking about exactly that: how people can edit a thought before sending it out to the world. They can make themselves seem more well-spoken than they are, or funnier, smarter. I start thinking that no one in the world is who they say they are, then my mind goes to how I also edit myself, not just online but in real life, except for those rare instances like right now where I’m ranting—even though that’s a lie because I’ve had this train of thought before and damned if I didn’t tweak it in my head a few times to make it sound better—and then my mind starts racing so furiously I can’t control my thoughts, and I start thinking about robots and wondering if I’m even a real person. Then I have to watch cartoons to shut my brain off.”
Dave blinked at Julia. “Sometimes I forget how truly insane you are.”
“That’s what I’m saying! Sometimes I wonder why I’m so popular at school.” Julia clicked a few times on the computer. “There are far too many prom king campaign videos that involve white kids rapping.”
“White kids are allowed to rap.”
“Not like this,” Julia said.
“Speaking of popularity, have you noticed people being more talkative with you in class since the Kapoor party? It’s like we accidentally initiated ourselves into a higher level of acceptance just by showing up there.”
Julia glanced up at him over the top of the computer. “Maybe with you, flip-cup champion. People still avoid me like a slightly more contemporary version of the plague.”
“You sure you aren’t insulting people somehow? Giving off a closed-off vibe by, I don’t know, puking on them or something?”
“Puking on people is not an insult.”
Dave stood from the bed to go retrieve the stuffed soccer ball. While he was up the doorbell rang, not that pleasant one-two chime that other houses had but a horrifying singsong melody that stretched out far too long. Dave ran out his bedroom door before whoever was there had a chance to ring again. He jostled down the stairs, steadying himself with the handrail in case his socks and the hardwood floors decided to conspire against him.
When he reached the door he took a second to catch his breath, chastising himself for being out of breath from going down the stairs. Why wasn’t exercising on the Nevers list? He swung open the door, expecting Brett to have forgotten his keys.
“Hi,” Gretchen said. She was in her soccer uniform, a grass stain on her knee. Her face was flushed. “Your house was on the way,” she said, looking down the street from the direction she came. The wind whipped her hair in front of her face. “I thought after we ran into each other at the mall you might try to do more than just say hi at school. I thought you might...” She looked down at her soccer cleats and shifted the weight of her backpack, which was black with a white scuff mark across the bottom and a red button pinned on the right shoulder strap. “Anyway, since you live so close, I figured I’d come by and tell you that I want us to talk more.” She looked back up but only met Dave’s eyes for a second before glancing away. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, like it had when she had tried making a joke at the Kapoor party. “You’re easy to talk to. And you’re nice. And you make me laugh a lot.” A strand of hair had blown across her face and into her mouth, and she laughed and pulled it back behind her ear. “You seem great, Dave. And I thought that maybe you might be thinking the same about me, but...”
A car rolled past the street behind Gretchen, blasting Mexican ranchera music. Dave realized he’d been smiling for a while, and he felt himself blush just at the realization. His T-shirt was dotted with yellow stains from the Thai food he and Julia had had for lunch. It was only yesterday that he’d given up on the prospect of anything but friendliness with Gretchen, and now he felt a giddiness rising so quickly it was useless to deny that it was there. Dave leaned against the open door. “I’m glad you came. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with a bag full of human hair. Any ideas?”
Gretchen smiled, her big brown eyes lighting up. Her smile made him feel like she’d just handed him a tray of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.
“Dave, I have an idea!” Julia called out from inside the house. He turned around to see her coming down the stairs, his laptop in her hands. “We might have to hire hundreds of people to help make it happen, but with Brett’s help we—” She stopped on the stairs when she noticed Gretchen at the door. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi, Julia,” Gretchen said, offering a shy wave. She looked back at Dave. “Think about what I said. I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah.” Dave nodded. Gretchen gave him one last smile and then turned away, taking the steps at the front of his house with a little hop. Dave closed the door and turned to face Julia, his heart pounding. For some reason he felt like he’d been caught at something. At mingling with the clichés, at hiding a crush.
“Getting in with the popular kids,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Savvy political move.”
“Thanks,” Dave said, stuck by the door, waiting for his heart to quiet down. His hands were shaking.
Julia lingered at the stairs, and Dave wondered if she could tell that political savvy was the furthest thing from his mind. Then she came down and joined him by the front door, showing him the computer screen. “Check this out. We can hire an explosives expert for only three hundred dollars an hour, plus supplies. That’s cheaper than a lawyer or a therapist! A bake sale for charity isn’t on the Nevers, but maybe we can whip up some cupcakes with the PTA and raise money for some dynamite.”
The rest of the evening, Julia rattled on about how blowing stuff up was the sure way to win the public’s heart. She found epic music for the video’s soundtrack, looked up junk cars on eBay, searched Google Maps for nearby fields where they could blow up a car without anyone getting hurt. She even started writing a script for the video, chock-full of references to movies released in the last five years. She took over his phone and started texting Brett about what he would need to see get blown up in exchange for his vote for prom king. She was funny, and charming, and energetic, and yet all Dave could think about was Gretchen.
SOLVE FOR X
DAVE, JULIA, AND Brett were at one of the tables outside Fratelli’s, the tangy smell of pepperoni thick in the air. Brett and Julia were discussing the viral video, but Dave was lost in his thoughts.
Ever since he reached the right age for it, basically since he met Julia, he’d considered himself a romantic, an advocate of love, of people getting tangled up in each other. He liked hearing about people hooking up because it was just more evidence of human chemistry, that sparks occurred and brought two people together, if only for a moment. But because he’d only ever loved Julia, and only ever in that particular way that he loved her, he’d never experienced getting tangled up firsthand.
He’d kissed exactly one girl in his life: his cousin’s friend sophomore year when he’d gone to Fresno for a family reunion. That kiss had happened only because the girl was deceptively quick and, despite her awkwardness, had aimed really well when she’d nosedived at Dave’s lips. It’d been a strange first kiss for someone who’d romanticized them for so long, and Dave had fled as soon as he could. Since then there’d only been the constant longing for Julia. He’d never pursued anyone else because there wasn’t anyone who could ever pull his interest away from her. In the process, he’d missed out on a lot of normal high school experiences, clichés that even Julia hadn’t avoided: crushes; first kisses; the slow, stumbling, eager approach to sex, with various successes or failures. He’d reserved all of it for Julia, never admitting to himself that it might not come. Rather, never admitting to him
self that it wouldn’t, that Julia loved him in a completely different, yet faultless, way. That she loved him, she always had, just in a way that shouldn’t be interfered with.
Maybe, finally, it was time to pursue. He pulled his phone out and went to his contact list. At the Kapoor party, Gretchen had grabbed his phone and entered her name as Section 16520 of the Family Code. He clicked on her name and went to the message screen. Nothing had been said yet between them, and it was a little intimidating to know where to start. Just hi? Ask her out? A knock-knock joke? He held his thumbs over the keyboard, waiting for something to sound right in his head. Then he realized he’d been ignoring Brett and Julia for a long time and resolved to text Gretchen later that night.
“Look, I’m all for blowing shit up,” Brett was saying, sprinkling, as usual, way too much Parmesan cheese on another slice of pepperoni-and-mushroom pizza, “and to be honest I didn’t think an artsy girl like you would have such a badass idea. But the prom committee would probably disqualify you for it.”
“There’s a prom committee? People care that much?”
“Says the girl who’s buying me pizza in order to get her friend voted onto the ballot.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend the Man Formerly Known as Prom King by implying that prom is not important enough to necessitate a committee? And I can repeat all of that in monosyllables, if you like.”
“Don’t use a five-dollar when a fifty-cent word will do. Your boy Mark Twain said that.” Brett was only a couple of years older than Dave, and though he sometimes acted like he was still twelve, he looked much more grown-up, his features aged by all the time he spent in the sun during his construction jobs, by losing his mom at eleven and having to look after his little brother.
