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LYNN
I felt the click of the machine in my pocket, telling me it reached the end of the side. I wiped my eyes. Some time must have passed, because the crowds had cleared. I checked my watch. Darn. I'm late for Sociology. I pulled out my Walkman and just held it in the air, thinking. Darn.
Why would I want to go to class right now? I don't want to do anything.
I turned and faced the building behind me, and my eyes unfocused. I don't think I'll go. I'll just hang out here, instead. What do I care about class, anyway? I shuffled into the Union with my shoulders hunched, looking down, letting my hair spill over my forehead and tickle my nose.
Inside, like the street, it was still quiet. I turned left and walked through the doors, making a beeline for the corner of the spacious room with couches. The central area was taken up with the tables for the sororities and frats, and the neon-orange cubes. It's still so obnoxious, just like before when we were planning our trip to the record store. Things were great then. Fun. Easy.
Now they just suck.
I flopped down on an empty lounge and dropped my bag, still holding my walkman in my hand. There's no one around here to care if I veg out, so I leaned back and lay my entire body down on the couch, feet up, and glanced at the stippled concrete ceiling before closing my eyes.
Well, I messed things up this time. Why is Angie mad at me? She just stormed off!
And Jim. Oh boy. He was mad. Why? Is he mad 'cause I went to a bar? Nah, I don't think so. He behaved so, so much worse when he was younger. I mean, he was arrested once! At least, I remember the story that Mom told me about it. He was the one who got mixed up with some bad folks and got caught with them, stealing. Then one of the other kids had a gun in his bag, so he ended up locked up for a few weeks at Rikers while she and the other lawyers sorted things out. This isn't anywhere *near* that bad.
I don't think it's that at all. I think he was just trying to be overprotective, somehow making up for the fact that he hasn't been taking care of me these last few weeks.
Or maybe it's because of Kanu. Is he scared about losing her? Maybe I'm scared too. I'm afraid I'm gonna lose him, doesn't he realize that?
Darn, all I wanted to know is what happened to him! Why did he keep avoiding my questions? Why won't he tell me what actually happened? He SO overreacted!
I was gripping the walkman so hard, that the metal was cutting into my palm. So I tried to will my hands to open, resting the machine on my belly and stretching my fingers open, flat on my thighs.
It's fine. I'll either figure out why he was mad, or he'll get over himself and tell me tomorrow.
He didn't want me to know what happened to him. I helped him, he should be grateful, but instead he blew his top. Why was he beat up at that bar last night?
I tapped my fingertips on my jeans. Jim was beat up, by someone. He was beat up because of some job he was doing. He was beat up yesterday, at the bar. The bar that The Flamingos were playing at.
I sat up. Really, it can't be a coincidence that everything was happening there, all yesterday.
Mr. Lee was at that bar, we were all at that bar, Jim was beat up at that bar. Maybe that's what he doesn't want me to know, maybe something about that place is part of Jim's secret? His secret job-something-or-other?
I heard myself say aloud, "That could be it." I sat up and grabbed my bag, yanking out my notebook. I flipped past the page with my notes on the music robbery to a blank page, and scribbled for a few minutes. Kanu, the bar, Jim, his made-up story about a job.
I sat back and took a deep breath, reviewing the notes. No, I won't know what's going on until I investigate. I'll just go to the bar again, that's all. I've been there before. I'm sure there won't be anyone around now, it's the middle of the day. Just delivery guys. It’ll be safe. That will take my mind off of everything else. I'll find out what's going on there, somehow. Since Jim won't tell me, then I'll figure this out for myself.
I leaned back again and turned my head so my ear was flat on the vinyl and I could see the double doors leading to the deli area. I suddenly noticed that the room was louder. Kids were walking around, chatting, and the sororities had arrived with their posters and flags.
I can take a bus to the Dirty Socks, but that means waiting for tomorrow morning. I can't wait. I need to get there now. Maybe someone could give me a ride? Not Kanu. Not Jim. Who else? I reached for my bag and lifted the flap, feeling for my wallet. Pulling it out and holding it over my head, the change jingled. Yep, I still have a few quarters. Then a little scrap of paper fell out of my wallet and dropped on my face. It was Jonathan's number.
-----
"Hey, Lynn."
"Hi Jonathan," I said, yanking hard and opening the van door. "Thanks for giving me a lift."
"Sure, no problem," he replied. "I know what it's like to lose something important." I tossed my bag in the back and climbed in. He tried to put the vehicle in gear, and some metal grinding noises came from under the hood. Then it roared to life. We lurched forward, and just as suddenly stopped, the engine stalling on a low whine.
"Woah, is this thing okay?" I asked, reaching for the above-the-door handle.
"Hey, no problem. I can handle this little girl." He gave me a wink and turned the key. This time the motor purred awake. He swiftly pulled away from the curb and headed off-campus.
I glanced out the front window and saw the entrance gate go by. I'm not doing a great job of being in college right now. My college degree, if I get one, will end up saying 'B.A. in detective work'. Or, 'B.A. in making my friends and family mad at me'. I sighed loudly.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied. "So, what were you saying on the phone earlier? Just when my quarter ran out?"
"Oh, yeah. I said that I could give you a ride to the bar, but I can't stay to help you find your walkman. I have to pick up a guy the next town over, for tonight's audition. I'm running a bit late. He's already waiting for me at the bus station." He matched her sigh. "I hate going to those places, they always smell like lemon cleaning solution."
I nodded in agreement. "Sure, no problem. Yeah, that sucks. I mean, thanks." Uh-oh. Now what am I going to do when I get there? I'll just have to be extra careful.
"Right, but I'll be back soon, then I'll take you home."
"Huh? Yeah, thanks. Sure." I went back to looking out the window. "Thanks, that would be fantastic."
"So, Lynn."
"Uh-huh?"
"Did Angie say anything about me?" he asked, hopefully.
Oh, I should have expected this. Hoo-boy. He just said yes because he wants to talk about Angie, and she's the last person I want to think about right now. I don't even know if we're still friends, or not.
I guess I have to say something. "Uh..yeah she did. She said she liked you."
"Really? Tell me more!"
I tried to maneuver my way through the conversation without giving up too much. I wonder if Angie would mind me talking about her like this? I wonder what she's doing?
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