Holding Up the Universe(16)

“What if I build you something else, then? What’s one thing you’ve always wanted? Sky’s the limit. Heart’s desire.”

“A Lego robot.”

“One that can do your homework for you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got that covered.”

I lean back in my chair and rub my jaw like I’m deep in thought. “Okay, you probably want one that can do your chores.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Maybe a drone, then?”

“I want one that can be my friend.”

It’s like a kick to the gut. I almost lose it right there, but instead I nod, rub my jaw, empty my glass. “Consider it done.”





After dinner, Dad and I sit on the couch and I show him the most recent Damsels video, filmed two weeks ago at a festival over in Indianapolis. Sequins flashing, stadium lights blaring, crowd cheering. All that color. All that life. I’m not sure anyone else on earth appreciates it as much as I do.

He says, “Are you sure about this?”

“No. But I’m auditioning anyway. You can’t protect me from everything. If I fall on my face, I fall on my face, but at least I’ve done it.”

I hand him the application, which he flips through. He reaches for the pen that lies on the coffee table and signs his name. As he hands it back, he says, “You know, having you out in the world again is harder than I thought.”





I’m in the basement, which is like a warped version of Santa’s workshop, cluttered with cars and dump trucks, Mr. Potato Heads, walkie-talkies, and all things Fisher-Price. Discarded toys, but other stuff too—car parts, motorcycle parts, motors, fragments of lawn mowers and appliances. Anything I can turn into something else. Some projects are finished, but most are works in progress, the guts pulled out, pieces everywhere. This is where I take things apart and put them back together in new and stupefying ways. The way I wish I could do with myself.

The phone buzzes and it’s Kam. “I ran all the way to Centerville, man.”

I laugh the laugh of someone brave and manly. “Did the mean girl scare you?”

“Shut up. She was so fucking fast.”

“Are you okay? Do you need to talk about it?” I use the voice Kam’s mom uses when she’s speaking to his little sister, the one who’s always crying and slamming doors.

“That’s it, dude. The golden ring.”

“What?”

“Her. She’s the prize. Or at least, the goal. Whoever can hold on to that one, wins.”

“Wins what?”

But I already know what he’s going to say.

“Fat Girl Rodeo.”

The walls of the workshop start to close in around me.

“Mass?”

“Maybe I’m not so into this game.”

“What do you mean you’re not into it?”

I mean I don’t want to have this conversation because I don’t like where this is going.

“It just seems kind of lame. I mean, dude, Seth came up with it.” When in doubt, always, always throw Seth under the bus.

“He didn’t come up with it. He told us about it. A different animal altogether. Besides, it’s fucking hilarious. What’s wrong with you? She almost ran me over.”

“Seth’s a moron.” More bus throwing as I try to think of a way to stop this before it ends in the humiliation of every heavy girl in school. They don’t deserve it. The girl who hurdled that fence like a gazelle and chased Kam down the street doesn’t deserve it. I say, “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Jesus, you mad fucker. It’s like you want to take her to prom. Should I order the limo now?”

“I’m just saying we can make better use of our free time senior year. Have you seen the freshmen girls?” When in doubt, mention girls.

“Since when are you such a pussy?”

I stop talking. My heart pounds like a drum. Say something, douchebag.

“We’re doing this with or without you, Mass.”

Finally I go, “Whatever, man. Do what you want.”

“Thanks so much, I will. As long as we have your approval.”

“Dick.”

“Douche.” Our pet names for each other. The ground between us feels a little more solid, but the rest of the world shakes, like it’s built on a high wire miles above the earth.





What I Stand to Lose if I Tell My Friends to Fuck Off


by Jack Masselin




1. Kam and Seth. They may not be the greatest friends in the world, but they’re the only ones I can reliably recognize on a semiconsistent basis. Maybe it’s because I’ve known them longer than anyone else, or maybe it’s because their identifiers are so easy to pick out in a crowd. For whatever reason, they stick. Which is probably why I became friends with them in the first place. Imagine moving to a town where you only know two people and will only ever know these same two people, no matter how many other people you meet.

2. The carefully constructed world I’ve built for myself within the walls of Martin Van Buren High School. I did not get to be Jack Masselin by pissing people off. And even though I may not always like Jack Masselin, I need him. Without him, I’m just some screwed-up kid with a screwed-up family and a questionable future. And if I know anything about high school, it’s this: if you give people an excuse, they will feed you to the wolves. (Luke Revis, I’m looking at you.)