Pass It On by J. Minter

Author:J. Minter
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Published: 2005-11-12T22:00:00+00:00

arno has to make a sudden choice between friends and lovers

“I think Mickey’s going to meet us there,” Arno said.

It was Thursday night and he was with Liesel. They were headed to a party at Spice Market, on Thirteenth Street. There’d been an opening at Arno’s parents’ gallery for a new artist called Bolander Berkman, who Arno liked, but Liesel had nixed going. She’d said she wasn’t into art, probably because her parents were.

“Mickey?”

“Yeah, my friend. You didn’t meet him yet. He just broke up with his girlfriend again last night, and he’s pretty upset.”

“Oh. Well I hope he doesn’t make the whole night mopey.”

Arno had taken to wearing a long black cashmere trenchcoat and he had his hands stuffed down low in the pockets. They walked in front of a huge poster for a new play at The Public Theater and Liesel glanced at it without seeming to comprehend what it was.

“I saw Topdog/Underdog at The Public with my parents,” Arno said.

“What’s that?”

“A play.”

“Oh. I hope Nina Katchadorian is here tonight. She’s awesome.”

“What’s awesome about her?”

“You have to meet her. She’s so funny.”

“Why?”

“OH, SHUT UP!”

Arno stared at Liesel. He wasn’t shocked at all—she loved to yell in the middle of the street. She loved it when people stared at her. She started laughing hysterically, and ran ahead of him. God she was annoying. And then Arno opened his eyes wide—he’d never quite put it to himself like that before. Uh-oh. In a flash he realized that here he was, headed in girlfriend direction with someone he kind of couldn’t stand.

“Hurry,” she yelled. So they ran ahead. When they got to Spice Market, Mickey was in front of the restaurant straddling a motorcycle. Even though it was freezing out, he was wearing nothing but a black Joy Division T-shirt, torn white shorts, and white combat boots.

“Dude,” Mickey wailed, and threw his arms around Arno. Liesel watched from a few feet away.

“I’m Liesel,” she said. Then louder, “I’m Liesel.” But nobody was paying attention to her.

“I blew it with Philippa.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry.” Arno kept an arm around Mickey. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Then Liesel said, “I’m not sure you can get in here dressed like that.”

The two boys stared at her.

“It’s like, winter and nighttime,” Liesel said. “And you’re dressed for summer and daytime.”

“So?”

“You look like one of the guys who fixes my parents’ mopeds at our estate in Jamaica.”

Mickey turned to Arno. Mickey was bleary-eyed and at the point of crying. Arno tried to shake his head, to convey, like, stop, no. I know she’s annoying. But I only figured it out about a minute and a half ago.

“I mean, I’m not sure I want to be seen with you,” Liesel said.

“Let’s just go in,” Arno said. Liesel shrugged and glared. A doorman swept them inside. They were immediately plied with champagne and little crackers with chunks of raw tuna on top, covered with caviar. Arno and Mickey stood there, munching.

“NINA!” Liesel yelled and ran across the room and embraced a short girl who was wearing sunglasses that almost entirely hid her face.

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