From What I Remember (8 page)

They’re taking the cool old buildings down and replacing them with big brown boxes.

This one used to be a run-down little doughnut shop with the best coffee ever. It was a stumpy, two-story, red brick building. I used to come in once a week to check out the crowd and take some pictures. All kinds of people came in for coffee, from cops to football players, from Westview High to homeless people. The old guy who owned it weighed, like, three hundred pounds. He had long dreads and a goatee. I took some pretty awesome photos. But then Starbucks swooped in, offered him cash, and leveled the place to make room for the caffeine heads. Like they didn’t already have enough places to go.

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 wanna get some coffee or something?” I ask, hoping she’ll say no and we can get on with it.

“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 funny.”

“Why’s that so funny?”

“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.

I’ve actually read Truman Capote. I loved
In Cold Blood
. But I’m not going to mention it. That could take up a whole lot of time. Kylie seems a little too eager to talk about books. We don’t need to start bonding all over the place. I’m just here to get the job done.

“So, one more book,” Kylie says. “And then you never have to talk to me again.”

“Promise?” I’m just messing with her.

“Trust me, I’m as psyched about it as you.”

“
Infinite Jest
,” I say, without pausing to think.

“Okay. Why? I haven’t read it.”

“It’s about addiction, tennis, escaping life. I don’t know. I can relate.”

“Why would
you
want to escape life?” Kylie asks.

“No one’s life is perfect,” I say. I want to leave it at that, but Kylie looks like she’s dying to ask me more questions. “I have my stuff, like everyone else. Anyway, those are my books. That’s my deal. Are you still cool with writing both papers?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure…I’ll just do it during study. I should be able to get them both done by class today. I guess…” Kylie doesn’t seem super into it anymore, but it was her idea. I’m sure not writing the paper. I’m already in deeper than I need to be. It’s time to get back to the last day of school.

I stand up, ready to blow out of here, when I see Kylie looking up at me, all puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t you want to know what book had the biggest impact on me?” she asks.

Not really. I thought we were done. I was walking out the door, in my mind. “Uh, sure.” I sit back down, not wanting to be a total dick.

“Well, if I had to choose…” Kylie looks like she’s about to give some kind of major speech. I’m wondering what Charlie and Lily are up to. Doughnuts and coffee on the front steps? Frisbee on the lawn? “It’s a hard choice, but I guess I’d say
The Stranger
by Camus, because it felt so true to me. It’s about understanding that no one cares, but once you accept that, you can actually move on and be happy.”

“That’s depressing.”

“Right back at you.”

Girl’s got a point. We both like bleak shit. Who’d have thought I’d have anything in common with Kylie Flores?

“And then I loved this book
Disgrace
, by a South African author named Coetzee. I read it last year. I think it’s the most perfect book ever written. Every single word in that book should be there. It’s so honest. And real. It’s about racial oppression, which I don’t think we ever escape.”

I can’t believe we’re still talking about books. I’ve never talked about books with anyone outside of class. It’s weird. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say next. I don’t really have the time or the interest to get into a whole long thing about literature. I’ve got places to go. People to see.

“Anything else you need from me?” I ask. I’m feeling kind of bad, but what am I going to do, offer to write it myself? Miss out on the last day of school? No thanks.

“I think I have enough,” Kylie says.

I stand up again. “Okay, then, I guess we’re good to go.” I’m about to head out when I realize that Kylie is looking around in a panic. Oh no. Now what?

“What’s up?” I ask her.

“My backpack’s gone.…” Kylie jumps out of her seat and races toward the exit, nearly knocking down two old women in the process.

I rush after her because…well, I’m not really sure why. I feel like I should, somehow.

Kylie bolts out the door and runs down the street. I’m right behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“That guy stole my backpack.” Kylie points to a small figure in a black leather jacket racing down the sidewalk a few feet in front of us.

“Don’t follow him,” I pant as I try to keep pace with Kylie. “He’s a criminal. Why don’t we call the cops?”

“No time. I need my computer.…It has my life in it.” And with that, Kylie sprints around the corner, chasing some thug who most likely has a gun. I stop and watch her go. While death may be part of life, it has no part in mine at the moment.