Mrs. Fletcher(36)

“Too much work,” I said, holding up my book so she could see I was reading about climate change.

Even though she was out of formation, she raised her hands and shouted along with the others, begging the invisible cops not to shoot. She was wearing sweats and a hoodie, and I noticed again how strong she looked, with those linebacker shoulders, and how pretty she was, blond hair and blue eyes and farm-girl freckles, her cheeks all flushed with excitement.

“It’s terrible what happened in Ferguson,” she told me. “This shit’s gotta stop.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The more I heard about Michael Brown the more confused I got. Was he minding his business or had he robbed a store? Was he surrendering or trying to grab the cop’s gun? I’d heard different people say different things, and didn’t know what to believe.

“It’s fucked up,” I said. “That’s for sure.”

Amber smiled, like I’d passed some kind of test. She held out her hand, like she was asking me to dance.

“Come on,” she said. “We need your voice.”

*

I was shy at first, and worried about my backpack, which I’d left at the table.

“Hands up! Don’t shoot!”

“Come on!” Amber told me. “Say it like you mean it!”

Some people heckled us, but others got up from their seats and joined the conga line as we moved through the library. We marched past the circulation desk and snaked through the stacks to the Computer Commons.

“Hands up! Don’t shoot!”

It got easier the more I did it, and a lot more fun. Some people were swaying and others started raising the roof. For a little while Amber and I were holding hands, our arms aloft like we’d just won a medal.

“Hands up! Don’t shoot!”

We did three circuits of the main floor and then exited through the metal detector, chanting the whole time. It felt great to step out of the library into the chilly October night, everybody high-fiving and congratulating everybody else, the moonlight shining on Amber’s hair as she hugged me.

*

When I got back to the room, Zack was lying on his bed with these huge DJ headphones clamped over his ears. I wanted to tell him about the protest, but he yanked off the headphones and sat up before I’d even had time to shrug off my backpack.

“Dude,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Would you ever hook up with a fat girl?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “That’s not really my thing.”

“Yeah, but what if there’s a fat girl you really liked? Would you hook up with her?”

“Is this for a class?”

“No, I’m just curious.”

“Depends.” I sat down on my bed, directly across from him. “If she’s one of those plus-sized models I might.”

“Not a model. Just a regular fat girl. But she’s pretty and has a great personality.”

“Are you trying to set me up with someone?”

“Dude, I’m asking you a simple question.”

He sounded annoyed, which was a little unfair, since I’d already answered him twice.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll hook up with her. Why not, if she’s as great as you say?”

Zack nodded approvingly, like I’d finally given the correct answer.

“Okay, so you hook up with this girl a couple of times and it’s fun as hell, but totally casual. No strings. But then one night she starts crying, and you’re like, What’s wrong? And she’s like, Why don’t we ever go out in public? Are you ashamed of me? Is it because I’m fat? What do you say then?”

It was all so obvious, I almost laughed in his face.

“Dude, are you hooking up with a fat girl? Is that where you go at three in the morning?”

“No,” he said, in that same put-upon tone. “This is a completely hypothetical scenario.”

“All right,” I said. “Speaking hypothetically, I’d probably say, Bitch, maybe if you dropped a hundred pounds we could go to the movies. In the meantime, could we get back to the blowjob you were giving me? I’m tired and I have to meet my asshole roommate for breakfast in the morning.”

“Dude, that’s so mean. She can’t help it if she’s fat.”

“Not my problem, bro.”

“Wow.” Zack looked impressed. “You’re an even bigger dick than I am.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You wanna get baked and watch some Bob’s Burgers?”

“I could go for that,” he told me. “But I can’t stay up too late. I’m tired and I gotta meet my asshole roommate for breakfast in the morning.”

“That’s funny,” I said. “So do I.”

We bumped fists and Zack broke out his weed, and pretty soon we were lit and laughing our asses off, talking shit about my hypothetical ex-girlfriend, the fat girl who’d been fun for a while, until she turned all weepy and started getting on my nerves.





The Confident One


When Eve invited Amanda out for a drink, she hadn’t meant it to be a date. It was a casual social thing, two colleagues hanging out after work, getting to know each other a little better. And it wasn’t even Eve’s idea. All she’d done was belatedly accept an invitation that Amanda had extended more than once, and that she herself had felt guilty about declining. There was no hidden agenda; she was just being polite, making amends, and giving them both something to do on an otherwise empty Friday night.