From What I Remember

Charlie’s dad said there are Starbucks in China now. All those old Chinese ladies who used to squat outside their homes, sipping tea, are now going to Starbucks and ordering up Mistos. Depressing. The whole world is one big strip mall, separated by large bodies of water. What is there to see if everything looks the same? Gaps, Starbucks, Panera. At the very least, it makes me feel better that I never seem to get out of La Jolla. But does that make me a part of the problem?

I’ll give Kylie two more minutes and then I’m out of here. It’s the last day of high school and I’m stuck at Starbucks waiting for Kylie Flores. I should be in the quad right now, hanging with Charlie and Lily. I should be carving my name into the palm tree on the Great Lawn, which is one of those stupid Freiburg rituals that has gone on for, like, eighty years. I swore I wouldn’t participate, because it’s kind of pathetic, but now I’m feeling kind of sentimental about the whole thing. I want to leave my mark just like all the other seniors.

Okay, where the hell is she? I’ve lost all interest in being a good guy. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have blown the whole thing off. I’m supposed to be kicking back. I’ll have enough to do next year at UCLA, between Lily, squash, and classes. It’s my fault for taking pity on her. Nice guys totally finish last.

I get up and head for the door, which is when Kylie literally walks into me. Her backpack falls to the ground, smashing my foot.

“Shit. What do you have in there?”

“Just…stuff. Sorry. You okay?” Kylie asks me.

I don’t say anything. I mean, it hurt, so, no, not really.

“Anyway, sorry I’m late. I had to get my brother to school, and it, uh…just took longer than usual today.”

“It’s cool,” I say. But I don’t mean it. I’m over it. She’s late. She hurt my foot. It’s easier to be an asshole. “You wa

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right back,” Kylie says.

As Kylie gets into the line, I take a seat at a table and see Lacey Garson and Sonia Smithson walking over. They’re both wearing green and blue, Freiburg’s colors, which is another last-day tradition. Unlike carving my name on the tree, I’m not warming to this one.

“Hey, Max. Can we join you?” Lacey asks.

“I’m kinda here with someone,” I say, feeling weird because it’s Kylie.

“Oh, right, Lily…” Sonia smiles at me. “We’ll give you your privacy.”

“Actually, I’m here with Kylie Flores. We’re doing Murphy’s assignment,” I add quickly.

“Seriously?” Lacey says. She and Sonia laugh.

“I know. Kylie wouldn’t stop hassling me until I agreed. She’s doing both papers.”

“I’m sure she just wanted to hang with you,” Lacey says, winking at me. Lacey is always winking at me. It’s kinda freaky. It looks more like an eye tic than anything sexy. Lacey has had a crush on me since seventh grade. I considered making out with her once, in ninth grade. I was pretty buzzed, but still couldn’t pull the trigger. There’s just too much going on with all that dyed blond hair, makeup, and jewelry. And all she ever talks about is clothes.

Kylie returns with coffee. Lacey and Sonia walk off, ignoring Kylie completely. They whisper to each other and giggle as they stand in line, glancing over at us. It’s obvious they’re talking about Kylie. Man, girls can be brutal.

Kylie looks uncomfortable. She lives somewhere around the seventh layer of social hell. It’s got to be a drag.

“You know what I don’t get about Lacey and Sonia?” Kylie asks me.

“What?”

“Lacey must spend more time with personal grooming than any other girl at Freiburg. Her hair is bleached to within an inch of its life. Her makeup is caked on so thick she probably has to remove it with an ice pick. So you’d think she would have turned her attention to Sonia and plucked that animal tail between her eyes.”

I bust out laughing. Kylie nailed it. Sonia does have a freaky unibrow.

“Okay. Let’s get started,” Kylie says, suddenly all business.

She pulls out a notebook and pen. I don’t take out anything. This is her show.

“So, uh, the book that most impacted you?” Kylie says. I can tell by the look on her face that she’s not expecting much from me.

“I guess, maybe Catcher in the Rye,” I say, though I don’t mean it. It’s just an easy answer.

Kylie smiles, biting her lower lip, like she’s holding back laughter.

“What?” I say.

“I just figured you’d say something like that.”

I’m not loving the smirk on her face or the condescension in her voice. She thinks she knows me. She doesn’t have a clue.

“And I figured you’d say something like that,” I respond, looking her in the eye. “Actually, it’s not really true. I just said it so we could be done. That was the first thing that came to mind.”

“If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. I mean, we’re here.”

She’s right. Why am I hedging? Because I don’t do books with people. It’s not my thing. I talk sports and shit. It’s who I am. It’s what people expect from me. No one cares what I think of T. S. Eliot. Even though the truth is, I like him. I just don’t really want to talk about it.

“Pick something else. Impress me,” Kylie adds.

Yeah. Right. She should try impressing me. Like I need to prove something to her. And yet, here I am, thinking about what I’m going to say. Fine. Let’s play.

“‘Death is always the same, but each man dies in his own way.’ You guess the book,” I say. “C’mon, impress me.”

Kylie doesn’t say anything for a minute. I’ve totally stumped her. She looks so shocked, I have to laugh.

“What?” She says.

“You don’t have a clue and that’s kinda fu

“Why’s that so fu

“I don’t know. It’s just, you usually have all the answers in English, so I would have figured you’d know this.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.”

Kylie’s not used to being caught off guard like this. She’s used to being the smartest person in the room. She’s not amused.

“Maybe I’m not as predictable as you thought,” I say.

“Okay. What I said before was bitchy,” Kylie admits.

“Yeah, a little.”

“So, what’s the book?”

“Clock Without Hands by Carson McCullers.”

“Wow, I could barely make it through that book. I thought it was really depressing.”

“I liked it. I thought it was…hopeful. In a weird way.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know.…I guess because it’s about coping with, you know, dark shit, stuff no one wants to talk about. The lies we tell ourselves to get by.” It’s stuff I can relate to. But I’m not going to admit that to Kylie. She doesn’t need to know my business. Instead, I just say, “Yeah. I guess it’s depressing. But, you know, we gotta deal with it. None of us are getting out alive.”

“That’s deep. Did you steal that line from Taylor Lautner?”

“Actually, Clint Eastwood. Give me a little credit. Taylor Lautner?”

Kylie laughs. “Good point. Too deep for Taylor. But I still don’t get it. What’s the hopeful part?”

“I guess just that there’s dignity in death. That if you live your life right, maybe it makes the dying part not so bad. It’s comforting, somehow. It made me less afraid of death.”

“Intense. I never figured you for a Carson McCullers fan,” Kylie says.

“Why? Because I’m a dumb jock?”

“I’m not saying you’re a dumb jock. I don’t even really know you. It’s just, you don’t say much in English. I assumed you weren’t into reading. But you obviously got more out of the book than I did. I mean, I didn’t get any of that.” Kylie grins. She’s got a sexy smile with her big, full lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile in school. “It’s just…not what I expected you to say. At all.”

People are rarely what they seem, babe.

“This is great. I figured I was going to have to do all the heavy lifting, but you gave me some stuff to work with. The only thing I remember about Carson McCullers is that her best friend was Truman Capote, which is the coolest thing ever. That guy had more style and wit than anyone, ever,” Kylie says.