Bad Best Friend by Rachel Vail

Author:Rachel Vail [Vail, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2020-03-24T00:00:00+00:00

21

BREAKING NEWS: TREES have individual leaves.

I just want to spend the rest of my life looking at things. That’s my big new ambition. The outlines of things, the separateness of each thing from every other thing in the whole universe. It wasn’t even an insight (ahahahahaha insight because sight OUT into the world, everything is suddenly IN SIGHT) I could legit describe to my father, who was like, Niki, are you okay?

How do you answer without sounding like Looney Tunes when your entire thought is WOW is THIS what everybody’s been seeing all this time? All these sharp edges and OH MY GOD YOUR FACE IS SO SPECIFIC, you have individual eyelashes!

“I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Want some ice cream?”

“Ice cream,” I echoed. I didn’t even care, didn’t know if I could handle any more sensory input than holy crap there are specks of color in the sidewalk.

Dad was a few steps in front of me. I was watching my shockingly detailed sneakers swing into my field of vision beneath me on the sidewalk, heading toward Scoops. Field of vision. Like it’s a field, anywhere you look. Everything is a field, with individual blades of grass each waving around trying to attract your attention and let you know they aren’t just a blur of generalized field but each is an individual, singular green pillar, unique in all the world, bold and extraordinary. Hello, I am a particular blade of grass in your field of . . .

“Niki?” Dad was asking.

I looked up. He has nubs of black hairs poking through his face skin where I thought he had a rub of shadow. Does everybody see all these details all day long, and still function?

I am so impressed with everybody, how well they handle all this information coming at them all the time. I’ve had these magical glasses pressing heavily down on my nose for five minutes and might need to sleep for eleven hours straight from the intensity.

Dad was holding open the door of Scoops, letting all their cold air out into the humid stillness. I walked in. “Thanks.”

“Getting used to the glasses?” he asked.

“Um, no! Not yet.”

“I remember being completely shocked by how chalk looked on the chalkboard in my third-grade classroom, the day I got mine,” Dad said. “The texture. The unevenness.”

“Oh man,” I said. “I just, I want to look at everything.”

He put his arm around me. It was warm and heavy, reassuringly solid.

I looked around the shop. We were the only two customers. Behind the counter were two servers: Isabel’s older sister Kallista, and a guy over six feet tall and broad, who was rocking slightly on his feet and humming to himself. His hair was standing up in clumps and his eyes were down. His humming was getting louder, and a few grunts slipped in.

“Hi,” I said to Kallista.

“Niki!” she said. “Hi, Mr. Ames.”

“Hi,” my dad said.

“New glasses?” Kallista asked. She graduated from high school last spring, and Isabel said she’s working here at Scoops and also tutoring for this whole year to make money for college.

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