Hung Up (4 page)

Lucy:
I will.

James:
I bet you get at least a C.

Lucy:
Thanks for your show of confidence.

James:
And I take back what I said about you being totalitarian.

Lucy:
It’s about time. That term doesn’t really suit me.

James:
I know. You like flirting too much.

Lucy:
Totalitarians aren’t flirts?

James:
Historically speaking, no.

April 7, 6:42 a.m.

Lucy:
What are you doing?

James:
Getting ready for school.

Lucy:
Me too.

James:
Are you calling because you want to know what I’m wearing?

Lucy:
No, James. I’m calling because I woke up thinking about Nan and Jairo and it made me feel bad. And it also made me want to call you.

James:
Thanks. I hadn’t started thinking about those two yet.

Lucy:
Now I feel terrible for calling.

James:
As well you should.

Lucy:
But I was calling to tell you that it’s going to be okay. High school is like a battleground, and this kind of drama crap happens, you know. And we move through it and go off and have great lives anyway. Become presidents. Actors. Train conductors. Professors.

James:
I guess. But train conductors?

Lucy:
Due to our crumbling highway system, I foresee a lot more trains in our country’s future.

James:
I never thought of my teen years as a battleground period.

Lucy:
That’s exactly what it is. Pure combat. During our teen years, things happen and we’re basically put through emotional torture. Really, childhood in general is part of this too. These years test our mettle. They shape us, and then we go off toughened by our experiences. We go into the world better people. We’re deepened by our traumas.

James:
I didn’t really think of Nan and Jairo as a trauma. I think of a brain aneurysm or falling off a tall building as a trauma.

Lucy:
Trust me. Your best friend dating your ex-girlfriend is a trauma.

James:
Well, thanks for calling to cheer me up. I’m going to go shoot myself in the head now.

Lucy:
Don’t even joke about that.

James:
I know, I know. That wasn’t funny. I don’t have a good feel for humor at the crack of dawn.

Lucy:
James, I want you to have a good day, despite those weasels.

James:
I’ll do my best, Lucy. Hey, I don’t know your last name.

Lucy:
Why do you want to know my last name all of a sudden?

James:
What do you mean, “all of a sudden”?

Lucy:
There’s no hidden meaning in that statement.

James:
Well, we’re friends. I’m only asking for your last name. Why do you sound weird and defensive?

Lucy:
Do you call all of your friends weird and defensive?

James:
What? Are you on the lam, Lucy? Should I go to my post office and check out the FBI most-wanted list?

Lucy:
It’s Villaire. Lucy Villaire.

James:
That’s nice. Now I see why you made fun of the surname Howie.

Lucy:
I shouldn’t have done that.

James:
We’re in high school. I can’t think of a more appropriate time to ridicule our peers’ names.

Lucy:
You were wrong. You
are
funny at the crack of dawn.

James:
I’m hit and miss.

Lucy:
Call me tonight.

James:
I’ll try, Lucy Villaire. I’ll try.

Lucy:
Hey, I’m wearing a skirt to school.

James:
A short one?

Lucy:
Short enough to show my kneecaps.

James:
Nice.

April 7, 10:55 a.m.

James:
Just wanted to see how that short skirt was working out. You know, you need to make sure CeCe walks behind you when going up staircases. And stick to the center of the stairs, or else you leave yourself vulnerable to peeking from below.

April 7, 11:06 a.m.

Lucy:
You know a lot about how to look up a girl’s skirt. No worries. I’m wearing black opaque tights. By the way, wardrobe composition is not my favorite subject. Next time we talk, I want to hear all about your favorite classes. Recent classes. Not what you liked about kindergarten or anything. I’ve never really gotten inside a guy’s head before.

April 7, 2:55 p.m.

James:
Never gotten inside a guy’s head before? Lucy, you make me feel like a test subject. Like an experimental rat.

April 7, 3:10 p.m.

Lucy:
I can’t be responsible for your feelings, James. A very wise talk-show host once said, “Nobody can make you feel anything about yourself that you don’t want to feel. You’ve got to give your permission.” And I believe that. Also, where did you go? You just called. Okay, I’m driving home. And I always turn off my phone when I drive. Because I’m into safety. Big-time. Please don’t mock me. I realize that sounded weird.

April 9, 5:38 p.m.

James:
So you want to hear about my most recent favorite classes?

Lucy:
I do.

James:
I’m a studious type of person, so that’s an easy question. My freshman year I loved a class I took called Narrative Patterns. We read
A Day No Pigs Would Die
and
The Miracle Worker
.

Lucy:
Isn’t
The Miracle Worker
about Helen Keller?

James:
Yeah.

Lucy:
You like Helen Keller?

James:
I don’t have a poster of her on my wall or anything, but I like her story. I like reading about people who overcome obstacles.

Lucy:
Like men who get trapped inside coal mines and have to dig their way out?

James:
I’ve never heard of anybody digging their own way out of a mine collapse. They’re always rescued by outside digging. That’s different. I like the stories best where people save themselves.

Lucy:
I’ve heard about people digging their way out of avalanches. Did you hear about that guy who was out hiking and he got his arm trapped underneath a boulder, and he had to cut it off with his own pocketknife and stagger for miles to safety?

James:
No.

Lucy:
It was a pretty good story. And it got turned into a movie. He lived.

James:
What about his arm?

Lucy:
I told you. He cut it off with a pocketknife.

James:
Do you want to hear more about my classes or what?

Lucy:
Sure.

James:
Right now I’m taking a class called the Broader World of Ideas II. We’re reading a lot of
National Geographic
magazines. Next week we’ll dig in to
Othello
.

Lucy:
It sounds like you really like English.

James:
I do. But my favorite class doesn’t have anything to do with English.

Lucy:
Is your favorite class Spanish?

James:
No. My favorite class is Clay as an Art Form.

Lucy:
Are you being serious?

James:
Absolutely.

Lucy:
So what are you making in there?

James:
Well, a lot of my immature peers are creating art pieces that clearly have sexual origins.

Lucy:
Lots of phallic pieces?

James:
Oh no. My clay-sculpting peers are equal-opportunity offenders. Both male and female genitalia are being examined.

Lucy:
Are they abstract pieces?

James:
I wouldn’t say that.

Lucy:
What would you say?

James:
They are what they are. And some are pretty ambitious.

Lucy:
Your class sounds horny.

James:
That’s a good assessment.

Lucy:
But what are
you
making?

James:
The teacher encourages you to make utilitarian pieces as well as explore sculptural work.

Lucy:
So I ask you again. What are
you
making?

James:
In January I was all about making the perfect mug.

Lucy:
I thought you didn’t drink coffee.

James:
Mugs can be used for all sorts of things. Tea, soup, ice cream. But after my mug stage, I kept with my utilitarian impulse and pursued plate making.

Lucy:
How big were your plates?

James:
They were plate-size.

Lucy:
I see.

James:
After my plate period, I moved on to sculpture. I’m currently making pieces intended for wall hanging. They reflect my interest in fly-fishing, dogs, and pie eating.

Lucy:
Fly-fishing, dogs, and pie eating?

James:
I fly-fish with my Grandma Rusher. She lives in Michigan. I suck at it, but she’s pretty good. We go every summer. And I like dogs. All dogs. They’re loyal. Pies make me happy. Even bad pies.

Lucy:
I’ve never met anybody who could sum up their artistic influences using the words “dogs,” “pies,” and “fly-fishing.” And does your grandpa fish too, or is it your grandma who wears the waders in that relationship?

James:
Well, my grandpa did fish. But he died.

Lucy:
I’m so sorry.

James:
It’s okay, Lucy. It happened a long time ago. He was killed in a hunting accident.

Lucy:
He got shot? Guns are so dangerous.

James:
No. That’s not what happened. Don’t turn this into a debate about that sort of stuff. He fell down a cliff. I don’t want to talk about it. These things happen. It’s like what you said a few phone calls ago about things happening to people beyond their control. It happened. It shouldn’t have. I wish it wouldn’t have. But it did. Let’s get back to clay.

Lucy:
Right. Your plate-making period. What do these art pieces look like?

James:
Sort of like plates. But bumpier.

Lucy:
You’re so funny.

James:
That wasn’t a joke.

Lucy:
It doesn’t matter. Okay. I feel like I’m finally getting to know the inner James Rusher.

James:
That makes me feel exposed.

Lucy:
Calm down. So what was your favorite class last semester? And I want your answer to be told in the form of a story.

James:
Okay. Once upon a time, last semester, I took a course called International Foods. I did this because I liked the idea of eating at school, and also learning in a room that had ovens. They were electric ovens, so that was a tad disappointing. I like flames. Anyway, while taking this course, I fell madly in love with a girl named Valley. Valley didn’t seem to notice me too much. But I sure noticed Valley. She had long dark hair and she sat in front of me. Each class, I had an urge to reach out and touch her hair. When she leaned forward, her hair rose up her back. And when she sat up straight, it draped longer down her chair. It was like watching a water line climb and fall. I learned a lot that semester. Because International Foods wasn’t a class just about food. We also studied food issues. Diabetes. Veganism. Hunger. Finally, things were winding to a close. Of course, it being a food class, the semester culminated with a buffet. I brought churros. They were good. My mother helped me. I’d never worked with that much hot grease before. Anyway, from across the room, I watched Valley bite into my churro, and then her face twisted into this awful
expression and she spit it into her napkin. I saw her mouth ask the question “Who made these?” Well, Lucy, I liked Valley a lot, but I am also a guy who’s equipped with a fair amount of culinary pride. I knew my churros were excellent. If she didn’t like them, it said a lot more about her palate than it did about my churros or flash-frying skills. I saw her ask her friend again, “Who made these?” So I waved. Then she pointed to some puff pastries that involved spinach and strong cheese. I believe her dish represented Algiers. She thought her food item was superior to my churros. I watched her throw her napkin away and roll her eyes. She shook her head and flicked her hair over her shoulder and laughed.

Lucy:
How rude.

James:
Well, that’s Valley. She has a mean streak.

Lucy:
Why would you want to fall in love with somebody like that?

James:
It just happened.

Lucy:
I don’t think it was love, James. I think you might have a hair fetish.

James:
Maybe.

Lucy:
How do you feel about Valley now?

James:
I don’t feel any way about her. I hardly see her.

Lucy:
Well, then that definitely wasn’t love.

James:
You say that like you’ve been in love before.

Lucy:
I was in almost-love. Once.

James:
What was his name?

Lucy:
Why?

James:
Because I want to know his name.

Lucy:
I’d prefer to give him an alias.

James:
Why? Do I know him? Does he go to Burlington?

Lucy:
No. He goes to Montpelier. He plays basketball.