Lucky Caller by Emma Mills

Author:Emma Mills [Mills, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250179654
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 2020-01-13T18:30:00+00:00

33.

THAT NIGHT, I CLOSED MYSELF in our room and popped Conrad and Mickey: The Supercut into the tape player, plugged in my headphones, and pressed play.

It took me … a while to realize the tape needed to be rewound. But once I figured that out, a voice—familiar but slightly altered—filtered through. It was my dad.

“This is Z 99-5, and we’ve got someone on the line here … What’s her name, Producer Shoebox?”

“Michelle.”

“Okay, Michelle. Are you there? What’s up? Or should I say, wazzup?”

[chorus of wazzups]

“Don’t do that,” the caller said. “No one likes that. Everyone is sick of it.”

“So did you call just to give us feedback, Michelle?”

“I’m calling because we’ve got beef.”

“You and me?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Conrad, maybe Michelle wants some of your beeeeeef.” [siren sound] [cash register sound] [woman moaning]

“No one likes you either, Producer Shoebox. Okay? I listen to this show every day, and no one likes you, just so you know.”

[sad foghorn] [high-pitched female voice saying nya nya nya]

“Do you realize how sexist your soundboard is? Like, where are the sounds for when men complain? Where are the male sex sounds?”

“I’m sorry, Michelle, Producer Shoebox can only express himself through the magic of sound and innuendo, but we will be sure to load up some male org—Can we say that, Shoebox? I’m gonna say we shouldn’t. We will load up the male happy fun time sounds just for you, Michelle. So what’s our beef about? Or did that pretty much cover it?”

“Oh, we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it. What’s your main issue? The real, uh, heart of the beef.”

“Whenever I call in for tickets, you always pick up, but then you just say keep trying and hang up on me.”

[nya nya nya]

“I swear to god, if you don’t knock that off—”

“Sorry, Michelle. Producer Shoebox, cool it, okay? For like one second?” [pause] “I see your finger on that button, and if you play a foghorn stinger, we’re not friends anymore.” [pause] “Steve.” [pause] “If you press that button, you’re leaving the booth. You won’t be allowed in here anymore.”

[pause]

[sad foghorn]

“Out. Right now. I’m not even kidding.” [scrambling] “Sorry, you still there, Michelle?”

“Honestly, whatever they pay you guys, it’s too much.”

“We got you listening, didn’t we?”

“I like the music. And the contests. Which takes me back to—”

“The beef, yes, right. Okay, but you know that’s sort of how these call-in things work, right? You gotta keep trying if you want to be the lucky caller.”

“I’m lucky enough that you pick up the phone, but not enough to be the winner! It’s rigged!”

“Rigged specifically against you?”

“Why do you always pick up?”

“Maybe I like the sound of your voice.”

“Then why don’t I ever win the tickets?”

“I mean, I can’t give tickets away to every girl whose voice I like.”

My mom made a sound like eughfhfh and hung up.

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