it as an either/or scenario.â
âWell, it is, you know? The only reason Sophie thinks youâre a bitch is that you never talk to her.â
âShe said that?â
Addison shrugged. âWell, yeah.â
âAnd what did you say?â
âWe were eating lunch. I probably said, âPlease pass the salt substitute.â Greer, Iâm not your press agent.â
âIâm not asking you to ââ
âYou are, though. I know you have plenty to say. But listen, you canât come at Sophie now, all angry and offended. Thatâs only living up to her mistake about you.â
âSo what am I supposed to talk to her about?â
The pathetic part was that I started most conversations with Addison. Iâd ask, âHave you seen Addison?â Or âYouâre in Addisonâs Latin class, right?â It took a week and a half of practice before I tracked down Sophie and said, âIâm planning a surprise for Addisonâs birthday.â
âI donât do threesomes.â
âWhat?â Things were not going according to plan. âNo, weâre going bowling.â
She raised her eyebrow and the metal rings caught the light. âSounds kinky.â
I forced myself to breathe deeply. I warmed my voice. âI asked permission from the dean of students, and Ms. Lingagreed to chaperone already.â Sophie grimaced and I said, âI know. But it was the only way. I got them to think of it as a practice for Addison to be out and about on his own.â
âTherapeutic.â
âExactly.â
âOkay.â
âYeah?â I must have sounded too excited. She shrugged. âCan you help me figure out who else to ask?â She looked dubious. âI just donât want to miss anyone.â She reached out for the list Iâd scrawled out during nutrition.
âSo are you guys together? Officially? This is very wifely of you, Greer.â I felt the few licks of anger flame up.
âIâm crazy about him.â Itâs all I said. And then held my breath and waited. It was my last try, I told myself. After that, I could rip the rings out of her face.
âYeah, thatâs apparent.â I looked up, ready to unleash. But Sophie kept talking. âHeâs crazy about you too.â
âYeah?â
âYeah, itâs pretty adorable.â She laughed. âRevolting. But adorable. You guys are like the two-headed kitten of campus.â
We talked for a while then, first about Addison, and then about home. Sophie had found McCracken Hill on her own, after sheâd gotten tossed out of her Quaker Friends school for failing three drug tests. âIt was this or military school,â she told me. âI chose to serve my time with the broken people.â
I didnât argue, and later that week, on Friday, when we all had gathered at the far lane of the Strike & Spare to wait for Addison to show, I realized Sophie was right â we were a collection of damaged goods. Teenaged angsters and addicts. Disordered borderline personalities. Almost fatalities. But Hannah Green showed up. Sheâd even baked cupcakes intoice-cream cones. Addisonâs roommate, Wes, was there, along with the bench-press bros he worked out with each morning. We totaled twelve people, counting Ms. Ling; considering not all of us were usually even allowed off campus, it qualified as a good showing.
When Addison walked in and looked around for me, the guy who ran the lanes made all the computer scoreboards flash, SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ADDISON!
He scooped me up and swung me around and whispered, âI canât believe you,â into my neck. And then he made his way around, grabbing hands and hugs. Weâd almost bowled a full game when he called over, âHey, whenâs Joshua coming?â
Iâd been standing at the ball drop, waiting for the lightweight, lavender one to come hurtling up to the surface.
Learning to Kill: Stories