She Dims the Stars(2)

He stands in the middle of the room and scratches his neck, probably because he’s trying to grow a beard, but it’s patchy, like, even his body thinks it’s a bad idea. I have no clue how he lived in this tiny bedroom for so long before college. He isn’t a small guy, and his head almost touches the globe on the out-of-date ceiling fan. It’s as if his body takes up two-thirds of the available space.

“Mom’s not getting back until later tonight from her shift. What do you want to do?”

I’m staring back out the window, watching as a black Honda pulls into the driveway across the street. Cline crosses the room in two seconds flat and yanks the dusty blinds down.

“Seriously, Elliot. Can you get it together long enough to survive this weekend? She was awful. I always hated her. She laughed like a donkey, and her Keds smelled up your room all the time. Also? I saw her bra on the floor once, and she wasn’t even trying, if you know what I’m saying.”

It was true. I hated her plain beige bra. And her laugh. I liked other things, though.

“It’s not even about her. It’s about Ireland.”

He raises a hand toward the window and shoots me a look. “You see that? That’s called sunshine. It’s mandatory for good health or something. Being in a place where it rains all the time with a girl who smells like Fritos is not my idea of a fantastic summer. Suck it up.” He leans against the wall and mutters under his breath before speaking louder. “I’m getting beer. You’re going to stop bringing me down even if I have to get you black-out drunk to do it.”

“It doesn’t rain all the time there.” I mumble in response. I flop back onto his bed and pull a pillow over my face until the smell hits me, and I throw it across the room while trying not to gag. Beer would be good. Beer and video games and maybe a little hacking into Chelsea’s Facebook page to tag her in some really unflattering pictures from her sorority parties she was always so quick to delete herself from. She really is only photogenic from the left, anyway.

I must have fallen asleep, because the sound of something at the window makes me shoot straight up in a panic. I listen, the quiet of the house causing my heartbeat to sound a thousand times louder in my ears. Thinking it is a fluke, I go to lie back down when I hear the noise again. There is a ping against the pane, and I slip off the mattress and slide over to the curtains on my knees, pulling two of the blinds open with my fingers. I can’t see anyone from my position, but when the next rock connects with the glass, it hits right in front of my face. I jump a little, and my fingers get stuck in the slats, causing them to pull away from the wall and come crashing down on my knees while I try to scramble away.

Silence fills my ears, and I stand, embarrassed and disoriented until another rock makes contact. There is no way the person below didn’t hear or see that. The window pane is stuck, and I have to push as hard as I can before it gives way and I am looking down at the lawn where a girl is staring back at me, her right hand filled with pebbles.

“You’re not Cline.” Her head tilts to the side, and she squints up at me. “Did he move?”

“No.”

“Huh. Are you … a friend?”

The way she says it makes me tip my head to mirror hers. “Yeah. Wait, what kind of friend? I’m his roommate.”

Her eyebrows lift. “So you live together.”

“I’m sorry. Was there a reason you were throwing rocks at the window?”

She nods, the mass of hair sitting on top of her head bouncing in the process. “I was going to ask if Cline wanted to come out to a party at the lake house tonight. But if you have other plans ...” She starts to back away and drops the rocks to the ground at her feet.

“I don’t have any plans.” I lean farther out the window and brace my arms on the sill. “My ex-girlfriend is going to Ireland without me over break, so I am completely plan-less.” I really suck at coming across as cool or collected.

She stands in place for a second and then shrugs. “Then ask Cline if he wants to come. We’ll be there at seven.”

“Okay. But who are you?”

The way she smiles makes her look like she has a secret. “I’m Audrey.”

She is halfway to the driveway across the street when I yell after her. “I’m Elliot, by the way!”

The only response she gives is a hand raised in my direction.



“No.” Cline places the bag on the counter and shakes his head. “No. Just no.”

“What else do we have to do?”

“There’s plenty of stuff to do. We can play video games. Or … eat. Or play video games and eat. We can do anything other than go hang out at the lake with Audrey Byrd.”

“What if you meet a chick?”

“No.” He pulls the beer from the bag and sticks two in the freezer.

“What if I meet one?”

He pauses, fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Maybe. It could certainly help your perpetual state of puss-itis.”

I ignore his attempt at getting under my skin and counter with, “What if you get laid?”

He hangs his head and presses his face to the door while it closes. “Fine.”

The bottles go back into the bag, and the two of us get into the car. One short stop at a store to buy some more beer, and we are on the road for the hour-long ride to the lake.