scholarship.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BATS: Distract me. I’m begging you.
PEAK: What’s wrong?
BATS: I just gotta get outta my head for a minute and I think we’ve exhausted every bat meme in existence.
PEAK: Want to talk about it?
BATS: No? Yes? I have to do something tomorrow. I can’t tell if I’m dreading it or excited.
PEAK: I get it. I feel like that before some performances.
BATS: Are you going to finally tell me what you’re performing? Or are we sticking with “a thing”?
PEAK: Two guesses.
BATS: Tap dancing?
PEAK: No. It’s an instrument.
BATS: Okay, I got it.
PEAK: Yeah?
BATS: It’s the kazoo. It’s definitely the kazoo. I can tell. The moment I saw you in the elevator, I said there’s a girl that knows how to blow.
PEAK: Yeah . . . um.
BATS: That . . . came out wrong.
PEAK: Right.
BATS: I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.
PEAK: Moving on . . . Cello.
BATS: Cello?
PEAK: The thing I perform.
BATS: Are you good?
PEAK: Yes.
BATS: How good?
PEAK: Principal in the all-state orchestra good.
BATS: I have no idea what that means.
PEAK: It means I beat all the other cellists in the state.
BATS: Holy shit, Peak. Send me something.
PEAK: What???
BATS: Do you ever record yourself playing?
PEAK: Mostly just for auditions.
BATS: Can I see?
PEAK: I’m totally going to regret this. MVMT 1 Final Final For Real It’s not a video, but . . .
BATS: Wait. Was part of that the ringtone from prom?
PEAK: Maybe. You like it?
BATS: I fucking love it.
PEAK: It’s Beethoven.
BATS: I have to go.
PEAK: You do?
BATS: I’m intimidated by your amazingness, so.
PEAK: You’re a huge dork, you know that?
BATS: I do, actually? And I’m sorry, but it’s a chronic condition. So yeah. Get in or get out on that front. Except please do not get out.
PEAK: Here I was worried you were luring me in with your awkward dorkiness, only to later prove yourself a dashing trust fund playboy or something.
BATS: Dashing trust fund playboys can be dorks.
PEAK: Yeah?
BATS: I could be both.
PEAK: Sure.
BATS: I could!
PEAK: I said sure!
BATS: No you said “Sure.” Totally different.
PEAK: You caught me.
BATS:
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ridley
I JUST HAVE to pretend that I’m skateboarding to a random shop, in a random place, for a random reason. I just have to get a grip, stop digging my nails into my palm, will my heart rate to slow down, and act normal. I just have to be the complete opposite of everything I am.
It’s fine.
I take a deep breath and focus on the sound of my skateboard on the concrete, the steady rhythm of the cracks on the sidewalk. I prefer to ride in the street, but the number of ghost bikes in this town tells me the drivers here are not especially observant. Sidewalks it is.
Skateboarding is a multipurpose hobby for me. One, it’s practical—other than a couple lessons from my well-meaning aunt Mary in Michigan, no one ever bothered to teach me to drive. Two, it burns off a lot of nervous energy—well, normally it does, but nothing’s touching that today. And three, skating is basically my art form. I can’t draw, I can’t play an instrument, but I can do an ollie impossible and a 360 hardflip, so my life isn’t complete shit.
This morning was kind of decent, all