We Could

“If you want to graduate, you need to get your act together.”

I knew this already. It’d been my parent’s mantra for the entirety of my high school career. I’d gotten pretty good at tuning them out, usually by turning my mind to my weekend plans, like Jamia’s party on Saturday night and Amanda’s “girl” day on Sunday. Dreaming of what to wear was enough to get me through another parental lecture.

Dad kissed my cheek and left for work, Mom sighed heavily and left me alone so she could do the breakfast dishes. With a quick eyeroll, I pulled my phone from my brastrap and checked my messages. One from Frank – he’d be my ride for Jamia’s party. As my best friend, he and I were inseparable – and my Mom loved him.

I answered his message and jammed my phone back into my bra, then shuffled upstairs to change out of my pajamas. Skinny jeans, white v-neck, flip-flops – a true fashionista, if I do say so myself. Frank would be here soon with his mom’s car, and we’d go out and do something for the day, as per usual.

On my desk was my schoolwork – specifically Art History. With my parent’s warnings fresh in my mind, I waved a hand at the pile of papers and went about my business. I know I needed the class to be able to graduate, but it was at the bottom of my priorities. I had more important things to worry about, like Frank laying on his horn in the driveway.

“I thought maybe you died in there, you shit,” Frank commented, punching my knee as I climbed into his car. I punched his arm back twice as hard, and we started off down the road. Frank had been my closest friend since the end of eighth grade. He’d been my boyfriend on-and-off for a few years, but we eventually called it quits and that was that.

While I had a brown pixie cut and wore name-brand clothing, Frank had piercings and crazy-colored hair. We were total opposites, which was fine by me. Frank and I got into a lot of trouble together, it was always fun.

“I think I might be able to stick it in Jamia tonight.”

“She swings for chicks, dummy. Unless you grow a vagina, I doubt it.”

“Jamia’s the girl of my dreams, love always prevails,” I rolled my eyes and leaned against the door so I could face him. He had a dopey grin on his face, a common sight when he had Jamia on the brain. It had been love at first sight for him, not so much for her.

“Here I was thinking you were into men. Wow, my whole life’s been a lie.”

“Shut the hell up. I love titties. How long was the lecture this morning?”

I turned forward, kicked my shoes off and propped my feet on his dashboard, “Twenty minutes, I think?”

“I think I know someone who could help you out. He’s a little weird but-“

“I’m desperate. Nothing could be worse than letting Carl take me out on a date in middle school so he would do my math homework.”

“It might be worse,” Frank’s warning seemed ominous, but I tried to ignore it and focus on the fact that tonight I would be able to forget all this mess.



Jamia’s father died in second grade. Her mother often travelled to the City for work, leaving Jamia with a big house ripe for the pickings. Her parties weren’t legendary, per se, but for $5 at the door you could get a solo cup and fill it with drinks until you passed out. That was enough to bring in every Tom, Dick and Harry within a 20 mile radius.

Frank and I paid up and got our cups, then made for the kitchen arm-in-arm. After my cup was filled, Frank halted our progress in the middle of the living room, and scanned the outside walls. He seemed to have found what he was looking for, because he set off to the far corner next to the television with me in tow. 3 guys were standing there, and they all gave the two of us the stink eye when we approached. The one with the big hair gave the skinny boy a slap on the back before ducking away.

“Hey Mikey, Gerard. Didn’t think you two would show up.”

“Yeah, Jamia told me to come and drag Gerard, too. Something about him needing socialization or he’ll wither and die,” The skinny boy, I assume that would be Mikey, spoke mostly to Frank before turning to me.

“Carly, right?”

I shook my head, “Van is better. Mikey Wait?”

“Way, close enough. This is Gerard,” He gestured to the dark-haired guy leaning in the corner, who was staring me down with an unusual look. I offered him a wave, but I already knew who he was. Gerard and I had been classmates since Pre-K, we didn’t cross paths too much, but I distinctly remembered the Valentine’s Card he hand-made for me in fourth grade. He’d given it to me after school and ran off, leaving me with no way to respond until the next day.

I don’t think I actually said anything about it.

Gerard hadn’t changed much – he’d always been a bit of a doughball. He’d lost a few pounds since Junior year, but he still looked like he would get out of breath trying to put his own shoes on. In middle school, Gerard had been the butt of a few jokes, but he spent so much time keeping to himself that those instances were few and far between.

“Oh, right! Van, Gerard is the one I told you about, the one that might be able to help you.”

“With what?” Gerard piped up, his voice sounding a bit raspy and disused. I tried not to make eye contact, but I realized that Mikey had walked off after introducing him, and Frank had conveniently ducked out. Probably to go find Jamia – she would reject him again tonight, and the two of us would drunkenly go to Taco Bell at midnight and cry over our cheesy gordita crunches.

“With what, Van?” He asked again, and I jumped, sloshing beer onto my hand. I brought my wrist up to slurp it off before wiping the rest on my pants.

“I uh… I may or may not be failing Art History? I need it to graduate.”

“You want me to do your homework? Not gonna happen-“

“No, I just need help catching up is all,” I suggested, and he sent me a weird look before shrugging and crumpling the cup in his hand. I guess he was done drinking for the night.

“I don’t know. Probably not. See ya,” he dropped the cup to the carpet and slid sideways past me, leaving me facing the corner and wondering what the hell just happened.



"So?"

"So, what?" I grumbled around the food that I was shoveling in my face. Frank had more down his chest than he did in his stomach, but we were both plastered and I probably didn't look much better. He took a gulp of his drink before responding.

"So, what did Gerard say?"

"He basically told me no. Whatever, I'll figure something out, probably. I always do."

"Still, he would make it a lot easier. He's probably the biggest Art nerd ever, he's got more art awards than he knows what to do with," I chose not to respond, in hopes that Frank would just let it go. Fortunately, his gordita crunch was a bit more interesting than me trying to pass Art History, and he continued to stuff his face. His left eye was bruised and swollen almost completely shut, and I couldn't help but laugh at this fuckin' idiot.

"How bad did Jamia turn you down tonight?"

"She called me dickless, and then I asked if that made me more attractive to her. Then she punched me in the face."