Anything You Can Do by R.S. Grey

Author:R.S. Grey [Grey, R.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-02-02T06:00:00+00:00

HOUR 3

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“What everyone does in these situations—I’m turning inanimate objects into friends. Tom Hanks had Wilson, and I have Gary.”

I hold up the blue nitrile glove I craftily stuffed with cotton balls. With a Sharpie, I drew Gary a face.

Lucas smiles for a fraction of a second before turning and shaking his head.

“We saw that,” Gary and I say.

HOUR 6

Lucas is napping and I’m going through his things. I’m not normally a snoop, but I’m so bored. I was counting the freckles on my arm when I looked up and noticed the pile of his things sitting on the counter. Car keys. Stray coins. Wallet.

The wallet was too tempting to pass up.

The leather is smooth and worn; I guess he’s had it forever. All the sleeves and pockets are full, and I take my time going through each one, checking over my shoulder every few seconds. He’s still asleep on the cot.

There’s a little bit of cash, a few stray business cards, a punch card from Hamilton Brew. All very typical. I pull out his driver’s license and silently laugh at the old photo. Comparing the Lucas in the photo with the one asleep in the corner, I can admire how the features I once ignored have been etched and sharpened by time. I try to shove the card back behind the vinyl sleeve, but something blocks it from sliding in smoothly: a small, folded piece of paper. I tug it out and realize it’s a photo.

The faded lines from the picture’s creases don’t dull the shock of recognition. It’s one of my school photos. Seventh grade. The worst school photo I’ve ever taken. Even now, I cringe. Let me describe it: my blonde hair is frizzy and wild. I sport large eyes, desperate for the rest of my face to catch up. My freckles feature prominently across my nose and cheeks. Braces have turned me into metal mouth and my eyebrows are out…of…control.

I thought I’d confiscated and burned every copy of this photo, but apparently Lucas got his hands on one. He’s probably saving it for my funeral, where he’ll have it enlarged and propped up with daisies beside my casket. I’m half-tempted to rip it into a million tiny shreds, but I don’t want him knowing I rifled through his things.

I hear rustling behind me and replace the photo and his license with superhuman speed. The wallet is right where I found it when I hear his feet hit the ground.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t turn around.

“Nothing.”

My voice says differently.

He laughs wistfully. “Do you even know what it feels like to tell the truth anymore?”

Truth: have you fantasized about our kiss in the hallway?

He walks over and yanks his stuff off the counter. My gaze is pinned on the floor. “That’s what I thought.”

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