“Definitely.”
november
16
garrison abbey
Mom: Happy 18th Birthday! Do you want anything special for dinner tonight?
I briefly look up from my cellphone. On a Sunday afternoon, the mall is packed with families. Babies cry in their strollers, and parents holler at wandering toddlers. I loiter next to a retro arcade called Galactica Arcadia and text my mom a simple reply.
Something like: I don’t want anything for my birthday. Don’t worry about it. I already have plans for tonight.
I basically just told my mom that my plans don’t include her—which they don’t. Guilt should strike me. My mom is nice.
Nice but completely…I shake my head, not wanting to touch any of this. Not wanting to spell out any more words relating to my parents.
While I wait for a certain someone to show up, I log into Tumblr and start digging through Willow’s latest questionnaire. She tagged me in one, and I promised Willow the answers if she bobbed for apples during Halloween.
More than anything, I’m curious what questions she actually wants me to answer. It’s different than the first one. Here, she’s actively choosing which questionnaire I’ll fill out. Whereas the first one, there was no initial intention that some guy from Philly would appear and ask for her username and yada, yada, whatever.
The past is already written, isn’t it?
So here I am. In a noisy mall, filling out the new questionnaire with one hand stuffed in my leather jacket, the other gripping my cellphone.
Rules: Complete the form by answering each section truthfully. Once you’ve finished, tag other users to complete the task. Begin by sourcing the person who tagged you.
I source Willow using her new Tumblr account name: @vegablaze33. Here we go…
Name: Garrison (It’s an alright name, I guess.)
Age: 18 and surprisingly still alive
Zodiac Sign: Scorpio
Dream Home: anywhere but the suburbs.
Favorite Band: Interpol
Favorite TV Show: Supernatural. Sometimes American Horror Story.
I check my browser history for the next question.
What was your…
Last Google Search: porn. Jk, I was reading a tv recap for AHS.
Last person you told you loved: I can’t think that far back.
Last time you felt jealous: not computable at this time.
After Lily Calloway said that Superheroes & Scones needed a couple more staff members, Maya hired a new employee during the Halloween weekend. One of which goes to Dalton Academy. Ace Davenport. Never seen him in my life—though he said he heard of me.
I couldn’t really tell if he hated or liked me. Maybe he’s just indifferent, but the moment he saw Willow fumbling with a rack of comics, he crouched next to her and helped re-shelve them.
They exchanged smiles.
I had a flashback.
Of me doing something kind of similar. Helping Willow pick up fallen cash from the register. It was the beginning of our friendship.
My stomach roiled at the thought of the beginning of theirs. I stewed silently, and Maya must’ve seen my irritation. She gave me a look like, don’t do anything bad. “He’s very valuable to our team.”
Valuable. “How?”
“He’s a walking Marvel encyclopedia. He knows every character, every comic line, unlike other employees.” Unlike me. I probably won’t ever be Maya’s favorite, not after making her job as store manager harder, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to her.
I didn’t even complain when she gave me toilet duty this week. And the bathrooms were so shitty. Pun intended.
I push Ace to the back of my brain and focus on the questionnaire again.
Last time you screwed up something important: probably yesterday. Every day. Story of my life.
Currently…
What turns you on: girls with glasses.
My lips start to rise, a little surprised she asked this one.
What turns you off: anyone who’s “mean” to girls with glasses.
Are you pissed at anyone: pick a brother.
Have you ever…
Been scared of the dark: never.
Cried in front of your parents: only when I was a baby
Kept a journal: nah
What do you like…
Love or Lust: only ever known lust.
Text or Call: text most of the time.
Nerds or Geeks: geeks, definitely.
Done. Not tagging anyone else, I slip my phone in my jeans pocket and then loosen my leather bracelet that digs into my wrist bone. A pack of cigarettes sits heavy in my leather jacket, but I can’t really smoke inside the mall. Not to mention, I’m trying to curb the habit.
I retie my black Converse shoes for something to do, and when I look up, I see her.
Down the stretch of mall hallway, Willow spots me too, and she waves sheepishly—and her awkward smile causes my lips to curve higher than before. I skim her head-to-toe. Like I didn’t just hang out with her yesterday at Superheroes & Scones.
She wears a mustard yellow shirt beneath saggy, faded overalls. Not especially trendy or something people would “like” on Instagram. Just…geeky. No makeup, but she rarely ever wears much more than eyeliner. Her light brown hair is twisted in a sloppy braid. Flyaway pieces escape, and baby hairs stick up by her forehead.