Going in Circles by Pamela Ribon Read Free Book Online Page B

me to go camping. We were in some spot outside San Diego, a city where I would have been much happier in a hammock near a swim-up bar, but he wanted to show me how fun it could be to “sleep under the stars.” I know this because I remember asking him then, “Isn’t that why people live in Hollywood?” and he has still not given me the proper amount of accolades I feel that joke deserved, considering my response time.
    There were a lot of things I didn’t like about not having shelter for an entire weekend. It’s pointless to list them, as they were the things that any normal human being would crave during the course of a day. I don’t really understand why people would willingly wander away from plumbing or pillows. But I did like the sense of discovery, imagining we were exploring a brand-new world. I think I only truly enjoyed it because I pretended Andy hadn’t already been here before and didn’t know every step of the trail we were hiking. It made me able to get into the spirit of things while still knowing in the back of my mind that absolutely nothing unpredictable was going to happen. Like bears or coyotes. Or bears
and
coyotes.
    At one point Andy led us to a private swimming spot where we could splash and play in the dark. Whenever I was out of the water, I would shelter my body with my hands,trying to be modest, until Andy said, “Don’t worry. You do nothing for me.”
    â€œThanks.”
    He was floating on his back, staring down at his tiny toes jutting out of the water. “It’s not that you’re not pretty,” he said. “But I think of you as my sister.”
    I swam over to him, touched that he felt that close to me. As an only child, I’d always wanted a sibling, someone closer to me than anyone else who would be stuck with me forever. A twin would have been perfect.
    â€œYou really think so?”
    Andy nodded. “Mostly because you look like my brother.”
    I grabbed the top of his head with both hands, trying to push him under, but he was stronger and ducked out of my grip.
    â€œYou kind of even have the same mustache,” he continued, his laughter echoing off the cliffs, bouncing around us in the dark.
    Andy dates lots of girls. They rotate in, they rotate out. The only thing I can find in common about them is that they all have voices like singing mice. I’ve made him promise not to introduce me to another one unless he’s sure she’s The One. Like, they must already have wedding invitations in the mail.
    But who wouldn’t fall for Andy? He’s got that dark and broody look without the accompanying dark and broody personality. He’s one of those freaks who actually likes working out. He also takes advantage of the parts of California one usually enjoys only in theory (hiking, surfing, tai chi in the park). Most people never actually do these things because it’s hot and sunny and tai chi is boring. But Andy will throw himself into anything that might involve taking off some or all of his clothes, as he thinks a body as nice as his shouldn’tstay under wraps. It would be a crime to cover such hard-earned perfection, and quite frankly rather unfair to people who have working eyeballs. Being familiar with the mostly naked version of Andy, I have to say he’s got a point.
    I’m so glad I’ll never be Andy’s girlfriend, because if I gained even three extra pounds I’d feel like a monster next to him. It is hard for Andy to find women who don’t feel at least slightly physically insecure next to him, so he tends to end up with the most vacuous pretty girls in this city. Although I might be giving him too much credit here. He could be dating the most vacuous pretty girls in this city because there’s no shortage of vacuous pretty girls in this city. Girls you wish you could hold down with one hand while you slice open their foreheads and jam some brains in with the