by Amy Spalding
“We could walk over to that pet store on Hillhurst,” I say, nodding in its general direction.
“Sure.” He perks up as we’re walking over. “Girls like dogs, right? Like maybe I’ll get attention from girls if I’m walking Peabody?”
“Maybe,” I say, “sure.”
“Are you going to the Andrew Mothereffing Jackson show at the Satellite on Thursday?” I ask.
“Maybe,” he says. “If I can find a girl to go with me—which I think I can.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Girls Who Might Go Out with Me, Post-Fall Formal, by Reid
Erika Ennis--all but said she’d go out with me, so she’s a sure bet.
Jennie Leung--hasn’t said anything per se, but she’s as sure of a bet without actually being a sure bet as someone could be.
Madison Price--said “we should hang out sometime, Reid,” so I’m as good as in there.
Sierra Myers--told me I looked cool onstage--as good as in!
Diana Ruiz--found random excuses to talk to me in the hallway and in the cafeteria, which she’s never done before. As good as in!
Katelyn Foster--see number five.
Brianna Bennett--see number five.
Natalie Garcia--see number five.
Sophie Chang--see number five.
Michelle Howard--was just kind of staring at me a lot during sociology and Western civ, but when I sort of caught her and made eye contact, finally she smiled at me. As good as in.
CHAPTER FORTY
I’m early for our next practice, which is on Wednesday night this week only to accommodate the Andrew Mothereffing Jackson show. In the old days, I showed up early all the time, so I hope Lucy won’t make anything significant of it. I’m relieved when she just lets me inside the house and asks if I want snacks. Who doesn’t want snacks!
“I told Reid to bring his dog to practice, but I don’t know if he’s going to,” she says. “I really want to meet him, though.”
“He’s an awesome dog,” I say. “You’ll love him. I wish I could have a dog.”
“Me too,” she says. “I’d love that.”
“At least you have a cat! The United Front is totally anti-pet, period.”
My phone beeps, and I dig it out of my purse to check it. It’s from Milo, and it’s awesome. secret coyote dreams show tonight @ echoplex - b there? I text back immediately because the newest Coyote Dreams album is seriously awesome. when??? i have practice but could come after!!!!
Lucy watches me text but doesn’t say anything.
My phone beeps again. 9 - can u make it? I can, so I respond in a happy affirmative manner and shove the phone back into my bag. Reid arrives—sans Peabody—and I point toward the garage, even though Nathan’s not here yet. “Should we go get started?”
“We should wait for Nathan,” Lucy says, of course. “You guys are both going to the Andrew Mothereffing Jackson show tomorrow, right?”
“Yep,” Reid says with a nod and a smile. “I am, at least. With Madison Price.”
“Really, Madison Price?” Lucy asks, as I accidentally say “Ew, no” aloud. But ew, no. Madison Price is seriously the worst type of person. Well, not compared to murderers and rapists and tax evaders or whatever, but besides that, yes. She dresses like she only shops in the little boutiques on Sunset in Silver Lake and Echo Park, like an American Apparel explosion, and she wears this stupid feather earring all the time. I guess in truth she looks cool, but what I hate about her is that she constantly walks around with this bored expression like she’s too good for life. Listen, Madison, no one’s too good for life. We’re all living it; get over yourself.
“Why ‘really’?” Reid asks Lucy. “Does it seem like I couldn’t go out with her? Do you think everyone’s going to think that?”
“Reid, that isn’t what I mean,” she says as Nathan walks in. “She’s just so—”
“HORRIBLE!” I say—again, accidentally. “Her face is the worst.”
“Who?” Nathan helps himself to a soda from the refrigerator.
Wait, he lets himself in AND gets his own beverages? Is this what happens when someone has sex with you?
“Madison Price,” Reid says.
“Oh, right,” Nathan says, and makes the bored face. Lucy and I both lose it. “She’s actually not that bad.”
“Guys, I know, but…” Reid looks defeated. “She’s—”
“Really hot,” I fill in, because what else is she? Popular. Okay. “Can we please start? I have a lot I need to do tonight.”
“I bet you do,” Reid says.
“I bet you do,” I chipmunk back.
Then we both laugh, and we head to the garage to practice. Since “Tease,” “Garage,” and “Incandescent” are pretty polished by this point, we spend a lot of time on “Riverside Drive,” “Screwed Up Again,” and a few covers. It’s an easy practice, and I am ready to get on with my night, but I should have known a certain topic had not been shut down forever.
“Have you guys thought any more about cutting an EP?” Nathan asks as he gently packs his Rickenbacker in its case.
“Nope,” I say, attempting to set a new speed record for packing up my drums. “Remember, no money.”
“Severe no money,” Lucy says.
“Eh, less severe no money,” Reid says. “But still no money.”
I head to the door. “See you guys tomorrow.”
“Riley, hang on,” Nathan says. “Can we seriously discuss this?”
“I thought we were seriously discussing it,” Lucy says with a smile. “I want to focus on getting better and writing more songs.”
“And getting seen,” Reid says. “We get seen by enough people, we won’t have to finance something on our own.”
“Guys, I have to go.” My voice comes out sounding like Ashley whining to stay up late so she can NON-IRONICALLY watch another episode of Toddlers and Tiaras. “Sorry, I just have plans.”
Reid walks me out. “Garrick?”
“Milo. Secret show at the Echoplex. Coyote Dreams.”
“Nice,” Reid says.
I start to tell Reid that I’ve ended things with Garrick, but I haven’t brought up Ted yet. And at this point I know I should, but it feels like a longer conversation than I have time for right now, and I don’t feel like getting the inevitable dozen follow-up texts while I’m seeing Coyote Dreams. So I just say good-bye and go.
Milo has already staked out a prime spot in line when I arrive, which is great because every single show at the Echoplex ends up with a line snaked down the block. He gives me a tight hug when I walk up. “You made it. How was practice?”
“Semi-good, semi-annoying. So, the usual.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how every Arcade Fire practice goes.”
“Nathan wants us to record an EP, which would be great, except that it costs money we obviously don’t have.”
Milo nods.
“Except Nathan actually has all this money because his parents are rich, so he’s all, oh, I’ll just pay for it, no big deal,” I say. “But it’s like if we let him just do that—”
“He has the power in the band,” Milo finishes for me.
“Exactly! And that would be bad enough, but Nathan’s practically a dictator as it is. He’s so bossy about everything and is always, like, hey guys, let’s be really serious about things, the way I am.”
It’s possible I’m making Nathan sound even assier than he actually is, but I’m comfortable with it because it still feels like I’m conveying the truth.
“I could beat that guy up for you,” Milo says, and I think he’s kidding, but I also think he actually could. I devote a moment or five to imagining that beatdown.
Milo nudges me, but in a suave not-trying-too-hard way. “What are you smiling about?”
I don’t think Milo should know I’m fantasizing about his beautiful fists landing on Nathan’s—fine, also beautiful face. “Oh, uh, something unrelated, completely. So you’re going to the Andrew Motheref
fing Jackson show tomorrow, right?”
“Tomorrow’s actually a game day,” he says. “I’ll be marching my magnificent beast of a tuba across the field in South Pasadena. But you can come watch if you want.”
I make a face without meaning to, but luckily Milo laughs right away.
“Trust me, no sane person would have taken me up on that offer,” he says. “But it was fun seeing just how horrified that made you.”
“Not because of your tuba,” I say. “I’m sure it’s super-magnificent, like you say. Just—they’re one of my favorite bands. I can’t miss them.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to.” Milo grins at me. “Especially for my tuba.”
* * *
Ted’s waiting at my locker the next morning. “Hi, Riley.”
He’s wearing a Dinosaur Comics shirt, which honestly makes me a little weak. Cool T-shirts work a number on me like fancy cologne probably does on other girls.
“Hey,” I say.
“I don’t have to intern tonight,” he says. “Or work.”
I wait for what feels like the obvious asking-out that’s going to occur. But it’s just a long pause. Ted! We have kissed! We have kissed on two separate occasions! Why aren’t we at the witty-banter stage yet, Ted?
“So do you want to hang out?” I ask.
“Yes,” Ted says as a smile takes over his face. Maybe Ted’s just as unsure as I am? “Meet me at my locker at the end of the day?”
“I’ll be there with bells on,” I say for some reason, even though I normally steer way clear of old-timey phrases. Ted! Why do you bring out the dorkiest in me?
“You don’t have to go that far,” he says, still smiling, and waves before heading off down the hallway.
Later at lunch, while Lucy and Nathan are having an intense discussion about whether or not the Dunlop Cry Baby guitar pedal is overrated, I turn to Reid.
“So… things ended with Garrick,” I say.
“Really?” he asks. “Why?”
“Garrick’s in love with Sydney again. And also… I kissed Ted.”
“Just now?” Reid looks around like maybe Ted’s under the table.
“Friday night. After our set.” I take a long sip of water to buy me a moment. “And Monday, too. Like, things are happening.”
“Okay,” Reid says. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Just because of… stuff with… Jane? I didn’t want to make you feel worse.”
“So, wait, you thought I couldn’t handle hearing about it? That I have to be protected?”
Reid’s volume goes up enough that even the Dunlop Cry Baby can’t keep Lucy and Nathan from looking over.
“No, not protected. I was just trying to be nice,” I say.
“I don’t need you to be nice, Ri,” he says, and I don’t argue that, even though I feel like Reid needs that more than he needs a lot of things.
“Do you want some pretzels, Reid?” Lucy holds out a little bag of Rold Gold to him.
“No, I don’t want pretzels, and I don’t want to be protected, and I don’t want you to be nice. I’m doing great!”
Lucy and I exchange whoa-he’s-deluded looks. And I take some pretzels if Reid isn’t going to.
“I’m going to talk to Madison,” he says, and gathers all his stuff. He has notebooks and textbooks and a Craig Thompson graphic novel and his iPod out on the table, so the gathering is a pretty extended activity. We all watch like it’s a spectator sport.
After school, I meet Ted by his locker. Reid’s still avoiding me, and that’s fine. I mean, it’s not great, but I don’t have time to dwell on specifically where it falls on the annoyance scale. I am hanging out with Ted Callahan!
“Where do you want to go?” I ask Ted.
“Wherever.” He shrugs as he gets books off of the little blue plastic shelf in his locker. It doesn’t come across with any particular enthusiasm, but I decide that’s just Ted.
“Fred Sixty-Two?” I ask because it’s my default, and so I can get a waffle. Ted agrees, and we’re off. Rain has begun dripping down from the gray sky, and parking is terrible. But Ted has an umbrella with him (!!!) to shelter us. We have to walk close together to use it, and we bump into each other a few times. Unfortunately, nothing sexy like hand-holding happens.
I grab a booth in the back and pretend to browse the menu because maybe Ted won’t think it’s hot that I’m a girl so sure of waffles. Ted’s very intent on his menu, so when he closes it, I’m hopeful we’re going to have some amazing conversation. But Ted is so just… Ted. Despite that we have had Real Significant Moments, he’s quietly glancing down at his place mat and then checking his phone and then all attention back on the place mat once again.
“I like your shirt,” I say because it’s too quiet but also because I do.
Ted smiles before he even looks up. “Thanks. I like yours, too.”
I’m not even wearing a cool T-shirt, so it feels like an extra-nice compliment.
A waiter takes our orders, and even though Ted orders a perfectly reasonable club sandwich, he does not raise his eyebrows at my waffle order. It’s definitely a quality I need in a guy: nonjudgmental of waffles. Also, obviously, good hair and good taste in music. Ted is perfect. Ted, you’re perfect! I am a hopeless case of love. Wait, love? Am I really thinking this is love? It’s Something, and maybe turning into Something More, but love is probably getting ahead of myself.
“Did you do anything last weekend?” I ask Ted, who is drawing a sketch of a robot on his place mat instead of making scintillating conversation with me.
“I worked and helped my mom run some errands.” He adds antennae to the robot’s head. “And did homework. Pretty boring. What about you? See ten secret shows?”
“I wish! Mainly just band stuff. We’re trying to work really hardcore to focus on getting as strong as possible.”
He’s still drawing. “Well, you’re in really good shape already.”
There is no way to pack in how much I love him saying that into one word, but I try anyway. “Thanks.”
Ted adds some text to the robot (I HATE MAGNETS!), and I stare at the words for a few moments. I have seen this handwriting before.
“You made me that mix CD.” It flies out of my mouth like an accusation, so I try to soften my tone. “I mean, you did. Did you?”
Ted looks confused. “The one I gave you on Monday, you mean?”
I’m back to thinking maybe Ted has the best taste in music of anyone I know. Would it be weird to ask him to the Andrew Mothereffing Jackson show tonight? Is that Too Much Riley at Once? “Yeah. Someone left me this awesome CD, and I had no idea who.”
“I put a note on it!” he says. “It wasn’t supposed to be anonymous.”
“The note said, ‘To Riley’! That’s still anonymous!”
Ted laughs. “I meant to sign it. I didn’t intend any mystery.”
“Good, because I solved it pretty quickly.”
“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say. “It’s a really good CD.”
“I did a lot of research,” he says. “On bands that have good drummers. And I checked with my cousin, and he helped me, too.”
Okay, so Ted is no musical genius. Ted’s mix CD required the Internet and his cousin. But that probably took even more effort than if he’d just had perfect taste, and he used all that effort on me. I feel like crawling under the table and joining him on his side of the booth for a big hug and some cuddling and the sharing of our forthcoming food.
I manage to stay put, though. Despite how it feels to have someone good and pure and of course completely hot like Ted do something like that for me.
I haven’t written anything about Ted in the Passenger Manifest. I know I’m not required to, but it was easy with Garrick, and it’s been easy with Milo. And it’s not at all about hurting or not hurting Reid’s feelings. It’s that right now, Ted is just for me.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Th
e Madison Thing, by Reid
Madison Price was one of the first people to say something nice to me after the fall formal. So it seemed like I had an in with her, and then she asked me if I was going to the Andrew Mothereffing Jackson show. She just asked me like it was a normal thing we talk about, and not like up until then we never spoke at all. (Well, a couple times in geometry last year she had to borrow paper from me, but it didn’t ever seem like it could progress past that.)
So I waited for a good moment (she walked up to me in the hallway and said hi and actually stopped, didn’t just keep walking like someone who’s not interested would probably do) and straight-out asked her if she wanted to go with me. After everything that happened with Jane I’m not going to get all mixed up in something weird and hopeless again.
Luckily and amazingly, Madison said yes! She gave me her phone number and email address and said we should hang out first. I didn’t want to seem desperate or weirdly eager so I waited a day to call her, and when she answered she said, “Reid, FI-nally.”
We didn’t actually talk for very long but she said she’d see me tomorrow, like it’s a special thing instead of us just seeing each other at school like we always do, and for a minute--well, more than a minute--I worried it might be some weird prank, but the next morning she was hanging near my locker and then talked to me until we had to get to class.
I kinda figured when I had my pick of girls after the dance I would ask out Erika or Jennie, but Madison just made it really easy, and I never really thought I could get anyone as popular as she is, so if I’d known, maybe I would have put her in my top three anyway. And now I’m not going to fall in love with a girl only to have my heart pulverized, so this is a great solution.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Since Milo can’t set aside his tuba, and since I’m not sure if Ted and I are at Seeing Each Other Multiple Times on the Same Day level yet, I have no guy to accompany me to the Andrew Mothereffing Jackson show. I used to go to shows all the time without guys—Reid doesn’t count—but tonight is another story. Because I’m now at the Satellite with LucyAndNathan and ReidAndMadison.
