|
: : : TIM SITS ON THE EDGE of the train platform, smoking, waiting. He lights his second cigarette off of the first.
He's in the middle of his fifth when Megan glides up on her board. She disembarks, kicks the board up into her hand.
—Hey, she says. Tim nods, drags on his cigarette.
—I got your message, she says. —What's up? You sounded—
—I failed Butler's make-up exam, he says.
—Oh, she says. —Fuck.
—That means I'm not going to graduate, he says.
—Wait a second—are you sure?
He gives her a look of contempt. —Yeah I'm sure. I can't graduate without the Physics credit and I can't—
—No—I mean are you sure you failed the exam? I mean you fucking studied for that—
—Yeah—
—And Butler—he's a prick, he hates you. I mean he really has it out for you. Do you think he could've—
—No, says Tim.
—Did you check the math?
—No I didn't check the math.
—You should.
—That's dumb, Tim says.
—But I don't see how you could have failed. I mean you know how to do those problems—
—No, Tim says. —You know how to do those problems. When we study I just fuckin' watch you.
—That's not true.
—You know what's true? What's true is that I'm a fucking idiot. OK? I'm not like you. You're smart: you get how to do shit like physics. I don't get how to do that stuff. Any of that stuff. That's what's true.
Megan frowns. —I don't believe that.
—It doesn't fucking matter what you believe, Tim says. —What matters is that I failed the fucking test.
He balls both his hands into fists and presses them up against his forehead. She looks out beyond the tracks, across the expanse of rubble and waste. A Burger King logo glows dully in the air. Used cars stand arrayed in a lot. High above, American flags pop and snap in the wind.
—So what are you going to do?
—I don't know, Tim says, his forehead still resting on his fists. —My dad—my fucking dad wants me to go to summer school, make up the physics course and graduate.
—That's not a horrible idea.
—I don't know, Tim says. —I told him no way. I don't want to be doing no fucking summer school.
—Look, a summer school session is like what? When you get right down to it? It's like a couple of weeks—
—Yeah and then what? he says. —I'm telling you I can't do it. I can't do physics. So I go through the summer school and then I fail again and then what?
—Look, I could help you—
—I don't fucking want your help, he says. He jumps to his feet. —I don't fucking want any of this. He grabs his skateboard and flings it out over the tracks.
—Tim—
He begins to scream. He screams because he wants to drown her out. He screams because he knows he's stupid and when she tries to convince him that he's not she seems deluded. He can't stand seeing that. He can't stand knowing that when she looks at him she sees someone that's not him. Someone who has the potential to do something. Someone who has the potential to be good.
He finds himself in front of the pay phones. He begins to punch one of them as hard as he can. He can hear her shrieking his name. Each time she says it he punches the phone again. It doesn't even hurt.
: : :
:: Year entries
Index | << | 56 | >>
:: Tim entries
Index | << | 12 | >>
|
