When the Lights Go Out
One.
Maddie laid upside-down on the bed, bare knees bent towards the dark wood ceiling. Her head hung over the edge, silky wisps of ebony hair kissing the floor as the vintage tin rang in her ear.
“Y’ello?”
“I just realized something.”
“You did?”
“Shut up. You’re a jerk.” The tension in her face relaxed at the other girl’s teasing words.
“You’re used to it. What’s up?”
Her face fell, mirroring the purple-smudged lids that had just sunk to half mast. “We can’t do our girl’s night Thursday; the banquet’s that night.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Oh my god, seriously? Holy crap.”
“My reaction exactly.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know – I forgot it was so soon.”
“No, that we had the same reaction.”
“…What?”
“Kidding.”
“April!”
“Kidding!”
Maddie pulled herself upright, touching her head to suffocate the dizziness that always pursued a change in orientation.
“Totally kidding. But seriously, I forgot. I can’t believe were almost done! That’s crazy!”
“I know. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I’m too immature to be an adult."
"Wheelchair races. Just remember."
Maddie rolled her eyes at the long-time joke. "Anyway. What time does the picnic for the seniors end Friday?”
“I have no idea.”
Maddie groaned accusingly.
“Hey, I’m not the only senior here! You should know, too!”
“I’m not going to the senior picnic.”
“Oh right, because you’re a loser.”
“Oh right, because you’re so cool.”
A high-pitched gasp filled the line. “I’m so glad you’ve finally accepted that!” Maddie could feel the cheesy grin oozing through the phone.
She pursed her lips. “Oh my god. Moving right along.”
April laughed. “Alright. Well we can just so something during the day. It’s not like we’ll have school.”
Maddie grumbled silently. She’s gonna make me get up early on my first day as a free woman.
“Actually, no, we should do it Friday night,” April reconsidered, “because our entire senior class is going to the movies Thursday, and I really dislike them.”
"You've gone to school with these people for four years, and there's isn't one of them you even remotely like?"
"Nope."
"Oh. Well then."
"You don't like them either," she said.
Maddie frowned. "Oh yeah, I forgot."
"Glad to be of service."
“I’m eighteen, and I already have Alzheimer’s,” Maddie said staring blankly ahead, eyes glazing over in thought.
“Hey, you and me both. But really. I hate them. Let’s go Friday,” she urged.
Maddie laugh, “Alright, I’m looking up movie times. Hang on a sec.”
The computer on the desk in the corner was almost always on. Living on the edge of the woods so far from everyone else the offspring of two flower-children kept as many social networking devices up and running as possible.
She bent over the chair and touched the track mouse to clear the bubbling screensaver. She couldn’t explain what it was, but the click-click of the keys as she typed into the search engine with her free hand was one of her favorite sounds in the world.
“Got your costume together?” Maddie asked.
“For the banquet? Yep. Captain Hammer’s really simple.”
“I will take your word on that.”
“Did I mention that this friendship can’t continue if you don’t educate yourself on the cinematographic masterpieces of our day?”
Maddie smiled. “Yes.”
“Because I will put an ad in the classifieds if you don’t.”
“Yes.”
“Good. How ‘bout you? Got all your fishiness together?”
Fishiness. “I need to stop by the party supply store and grab some sequins, but otherwise, yes. I’m excited.”
The computer screen blacked.
“She’s excited to dress up like a fish, but not to graduate. What’s wrong with the people I—do I just attract freaks?”
Maddie paused, mistrustfully eyeing the computer, and looked around its sides.
“I mean, not that I don’t love you and all, but ser-” The phone went dead.
Maddie straightened. “April?”
The silence made the absence of the dial tone even louder.
“Hello? Hello?”
“...”
Her eyebrows rose as she pulled the phone away from her face. “Great.” She threw herself down on the bed with a groan, arms and legs sprawled, phone sliding out of her grasp and off the side of the bed. She looked at the milky white sky outside.
It wasn’t uncommon for the power to cut out, but that didn’t make it any less obnoxious.
“Damn these scruples,” she murmured with a sigh.
“Y’ello?”
“I just realized something.”
“You did?”
“Shut up. You’re a jerk.” The tension in her face relaxed at the other girl’s teasing words.
“You’re used to it. What’s up?”
Her face fell, mirroring the purple-smudged lids that had just sunk to half mast. “We can’t do our girl’s night Thursday; the banquet’s that night.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Oh my god, seriously? Holy crap.”
“My reaction exactly.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know – I forgot it was so soon.”
“No, that we had the same reaction.”
“…What?”
“Kidding.”
“April!”
“Kidding!”
Maddie pulled herself upright, touching her head to suffocate the dizziness that always pursued a change in orientation.
“Totally kidding. But seriously, I forgot. I can’t believe were almost done! That’s crazy!”
“I know. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I’m too immature to be an adult."
"Wheelchair races. Just remember."
Maddie rolled her eyes at the long-time joke. "Anyway. What time does the picnic for the seniors end Friday?”
“I have no idea.”
Maddie groaned accusingly.
“Hey, I’m not the only senior here! You should know, too!”
“I’m not going to the senior picnic.”
“Oh right, because you’re a loser.”
“Oh right, because you’re so cool.”
A high-pitched gasp filled the line. “I’m so glad you’ve finally accepted that!” Maddie could feel the cheesy grin oozing through the phone.
She pursed her lips. “Oh my god. Moving right along.”
April laughed. “Alright. Well we can just so something during the day. It’s not like we’ll have school.”
Maddie grumbled silently. She’s gonna make me get up early on my first day as a free woman.
“Actually, no, we should do it Friday night,” April reconsidered, “because our entire senior class is going to the movies Thursday, and I really dislike them.”
"You've gone to school with these people for four years, and there's isn't one of them you even remotely like?"
"Nope."
"Oh. Well then."
"You don't like them either," she said.
Maddie frowned. "Oh yeah, I forgot."
"Glad to be of service."
“I’m eighteen, and I already have Alzheimer’s,” Maddie said staring blankly ahead, eyes glazing over in thought.
“Hey, you and me both. But really. I hate them. Let’s go Friday,” she urged.
Maddie laugh, “Alright, I’m looking up movie times. Hang on a sec.”
The computer on the desk in the corner was almost always on. Living on the edge of the woods so far from everyone else the offspring of two flower-children kept as many social networking devices up and running as possible.
She bent over the chair and touched the track mouse to clear the bubbling screensaver. She couldn’t explain what it was, but the click-click of the keys as she typed into the search engine with her free hand was one of her favorite sounds in the world.
“Got your costume together?” Maddie asked.
“For the banquet? Yep. Captain Hammer’s really simple.”
“I will take your word on that.”
“Did I mention that this friendship can’t continue if you don’t educate yourself on the cinematographic masterpieces of our day?”
Maddie smiled. “Yes.”
“Because I will put an ad in the classifieds if you don’t.”
“Yes.”
“Good. How ‘bout you? Got all your fishiness together?”
Fishiness. “I need to stop by the party supply store and grab some sequins, but otherwise, yes. I’m excited.”
The computer screen blacked.
“She’s excited to dress up like a fish, but not to graduate. What’s wrong with the people I—do I just attract freaks?”
Maddie paused, mistrustfully eyeing the computer, and looked around its sides.
“I mean, not that I don’t love you and all, but ser-” The phone went dead.
Maddie straightened. “April?”
The silence made the absence of the dial tone even louder.
“Hello? Hello?”
“...”
Her eyebrows rose as she pulled the phone away from her face. “Great.” She threw herself down on the bed with a groan, arms and legs sprawled, phone sliding out of her grasp and off the side of the bed. She looked at the milky white sky outside.
It wasn’t uncommon for the power to cut out, but that didn’t make it any less obnoxious.
“Damn these scruples,” she murmured with a sigh.