in a row they tried to figure out what kinds of recreational activities he could potentially pick up. “Phonebanking,” Meg suggested immediately, at which point Colby threatened to hang up on her once and for all. “Oil pastels. Camping, maybe.”
To her surprise, Colby didn’t laugh at that one: “I could do camping,” he said, seeming to consider it.
“I’d go camping with you,” Meg said.
“Really?” Colby asked, sounding suddenly interested. “Have you ever been camping?”
“No,” Meg admitted, even though it probably confirmed some deeply held suspicion about her on his part. “But I would, maybe.”
They were quiet for a moment. Colby cleared his throat. “How was the monster movie?” he asked, and just like that his voice was back to normal again. It was Friday night, late; she’d been getting into her pajamas when he called, and she’d pulled her T-shirt over her head as she answered, wondering weirdly if he could somehow tell she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Now she hummed, noncommittal. “We didn’t see it, in the end.”
“What happened?”
“Emily wanted to see that heist thing instead.” She shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her. “It’s fine, though. I’ll see it when it comes on demand.”
“Can I ask you something?” Colby said, then didn’t wait for her to answer. “Why are you so terrified of your friend Emily?”
“What?” Meg frowned, sitting up and picking at some chipping polish on her toenail. “I’m not terrified of Emily.”
“Okay,” Colby said.
“I’m not,” she insisted, but it sounded a little too whiny to be convincing. “Why do you think I’m terrified of Emily?”
Colby made an I don’t know sound. “It’s just, you seem to know your mind about everything else in the world, but whenever you talk about her it’s like, Emily says we should do this, Emily doesn’t like it that way, or whatever.”
That surprised her, and not in a good way. “She’s my best friend.”
“I know,” Colby said easily. “I’m not trying to shit-stir.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No,” he said, and the truth was, it actually didn’t seem like he was. It hardly ever felt like Colby was deliberately provoking her, actually. It was more like the most annoying possible thing just came naturally out of his mouth at any given moment.
Meg thought about it. “Her opinion matters to me,” she said finally, although even as the words came out it occurred to her that that wasn’t the only answer. “And I don’t like starting fights, I don’t know.”
“Oh really, you don’t?” Colby snorted. “Could have fooled me.”
“Shut up,” Meg shot back. “That’s different.”
“Starting fights with me?”
“Yes.”
“And why’s that?”
Meg’s skin got warm and prickly, like she was wearing itchy wool pajamas instead of boxers and an I’m With Her T-shirt. “I don’t know,” she said again. “Shut up. It just is.”
“Okay.” To her surprise, Colby actually dropped it. “What are you doing this weekend?” he asked instead.
“Homework, mostly,” Meg said, glancing at the pile of books stacked on her desk. “I’ve got a couple of projects due next week. And tomorrow I’m going to a postcard-writing party at the library.”
“I’m sorry,” Colby said, the smile audible in his voice. “A what now?”
“A postcard-writing party,” Meg said patiently, already knowing where this was headed. “You go and you all write postcards to your representatives encouraging them to take positions on issues that are important to you.”
“Ah,” Colby said seriously.
Meg rolled her eyes. “Go ahead,” she told him. “Say it.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You think it’s stupid, I know.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid. A little naïve, maybe.”
“Oh, okay,” Meg said, stretching her legs out in front of her on the mattress. “So it’s not that I’m a moron, objectively. It’s just that I don’t know any better.”
“Easy, tiger,” Colby said easily. “Nobody’s calling you a moron. Least of all me. I just . . . think the prescription on your rose-colored glasses is very strong to think that’s an effective use of your evening, that’s all.” He hesitated for a moment; she tried to picture him at home in his bedroom, wondered if he was lying down. “I know you’re out to change the world here, Meg. But the reality is that most things—and most people, and their lives—stay exactly the same no matter what.”
Meg sighed. She hated when Colby got like this. She’d go days at a time thinking he was listening to what she was saying, that maybe she was even starting to change his mind, and then something like this would come out of his mouth and it was like they were right back where they