The Broken Teaglass: A Novel by Emily Arsenault

Author:Emily Arsenault [Arsenault, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0553386530
Amazon: B002PXFYA6
Goodreads: 10382578
Publisher: Delacorte Press
Published: 2009-09-21T00:00:00+00:00

“This one follows that ‘eek’ one directly, I think,” Mona said.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t say much that’s new. She didn’t call the police. We already knew that.”

“But there’s at least some continuity here. We’re filling in the pieces. We see that there was a situation in which the police would normally be called, and she’s rationalizing why it didn’t happen.”

“Hmm …”

“And she doesn’t think much of football players.”

“That’s perhaps the most important piece, yes,” I said, rubbing my chin.

“Does her characterization offend you?”

“Why would it?”

“Didn’t you used to play football?”

“Just in high school. And I wouldn’t say that defines me. It could’ve just as easily been another sport. People just sort of assumed I’d try football because of my size, so I did. And I liked it as well as any other sport, so I went with it.”

“I ran track myself,” Mona said. “I was a sprinter.”

“Sounds about right,” I said. I could imagine Mona in a bright blue track uniform, hopping forward at the sound of the gun, leaving all the other ponytailed girls in the dust.

Mona hesitated.

“Did you like high school?” she asked.

“Who really likes high school?” I countered.

“I know, but … I mean, were you one of those people who was generally happy in high school?”

I thought about her question. No suicide attempts. No drug overdoses. No one sticking my head in a toilet bowl.

“Yeah, sure. I guess so. For most of it, anyway. I always felt like I was inexplicably lucky.”

“How’s that?”

“Things were fairly easy, that’s all. I mean, I didn’t like school, exactly. But I didn’t find it difficult, and I knew that if I put in a decent effort I’d get more than passable grades. And I looked forward to sports after school. It wasn’t a hard life.”

Mona shifted in her seat.“What about angst?” she asked.

“What about it?”

“Didn’t you have any?”

“Not much. I don’t know if this is going to come as a great surprise to you, but I wasn’t a very deep man in high school.”

“So when you say you felt lucky in high school … what does that mean?”

“Well … this is going to sound a little, I dunno, mundane … but the best example I can think of is when I was slow-dancing with this girl at the sophomore formal.”

“Good Lord. I can already tell this is gonna be good.”

“May I continue?”

“Sorry. Please do.”

“Thank you. First of all, I had a date. And if you asked me how that happened, I wouldn’t really be able to tell you. And I looked up while I was dancing with this girl and I realized that there were lots of kids just hanging out. Sitting at the tables, or standing along the wall. Most of them looking kind of wistful, you know? And I realized I’m one of the kids who’s dancing. I’m not standing against the wall wishing I had someone to dance with. I couldn’t figure out what separated me from those kids, and I didn’t think it was fair, whatever it was. And I like to think I didn’t consider myself any more deserving.

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