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Eventual Apathy |
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The table, round, wooden, keyed, is lonely. Allen absentmindedly traces the names on the table with his knife, the dining hall knife that can’t cut anything and so the students resort to cutting their meals with forks and spoons instead. The table will be replaced by the start of the next semester so that they can mark it up all over again. He has his math textbook open in front of him, going over the early stages of derivatives and how to depict them graphically, and none of it matters. He doesn’t understand why he even bothers to read the text; everything he needed to know was discussed in class that week, he already finished the homework and he’s pretty sure that he understood everything. He looks across the dining hall to the table where Larissa sits with Cassie, and it’s just so obvious that they’re trying not to look at him, sitting all alone even though everyone knows that he’s just waiting for Tyler to get his food and then he’ll have someone who wants to talk to him as well. Tyler sits down next to him with proofs of The Pressman under his arm, “A, you gotta make up with Larissa. I can’t take fighting with Cassie about who sits where at lunch anymore.” “Dude, every time I go to sit over there, Larissa walks away and tells me that I shouldn’t be sitting there.” “Well, you could have thought about that before you dumped her.” “I didn’t dump her. We just broke up, that’s all. Why’s everybody gotta assume that when two people break up it’s because someone dumped someone else? Why can’t it just be that we don’t get along anymore, and that’s the end of it, huh?” “Yeah, whatever. Come on, let’s just go sit over there.” “It’s a waste of time.” “Not for me.” “You know how this ends. Let’s just stay here.” “Whatever. Come on.” Tyler picks up his tray and traverses the room to the girls’ table. Marcus, that traitor, is already sitting down next to Larissa, and she’s talking to him and laughing and he’s a fucking prick, you know that? Allen follows, putting his thumb into the appropriate chapter of his math book so that he can reopen it right away and everyone will know that he’s studying and that they shouldn’t bother him. “Hey, all,” Tyler says. Says Tyler. Like everyone doesn’t see through his ‘all.’ You’re just talking to Cassie, so why don’t you say, “Hi, Cassie. Hi, everyone.” That’s what you really mean, you bastard. Go back to reviewing your proofs of The Pressman. Not like anyone reads that paper, anyway. Not like student papers matter. Allen says, “Hey.” Marcus, Jessica, Cassie and Larissa all look up, nod, and then continue with their conversation. Come on! Out with it! Tell him to leave! Come on! What are you waiting for? He doesn’t belong here anymore, just say it already. Cassie: “What’s up, kids?” We’re not kids, Cassie. We’re provisional adults. Marcus: “Hey, A, aren’t you in Mr. McCatherty’s English class this semester?” Allen: “Yeah, I am. I hear he’s an ass.” Allen looks up from his book. Marcus: “I was thinking of transferring into that, since, you know, he’s supposed to be this really good teacher and colleges know when you take the hard teachers. And so I figure it couldn’t hurt to take his class.” Allen: “I’m sure it’s still open. There’s empty seats in the room. I’m taking it during sixth period.” Marcus: “Oh, that’s a bummer. I’ve got my Francophone cultures class on Sub-Saharan Africa that period, and I really want to take it.” Larissa: “You’re in that? I was thinking about taking the one on Vietnam this spring.” Marcus: “Yeah, it just looked really interesting, and I love the French language and everything.” Larissa: “Hmph. Didn’t know that.” Cassie: “Allen, why are you reading a math book?” Allen: “Just trying to understand this stuff.” Cassie: “Oh. Well. If you need help or anything, I took that course last year.” Jessica: “Stop rubbing it into the rest of us that you’re some sort of math genius.” Allen: “Thanks.” Cassie: “I’m not a math genius. I’m just smarter than the rest of you.” Tyler: “Charming, honey, just charming.” Cassie: “Shut the fuck up, Tyler. Why are you always such an ass? All I did was offer to help your friend Allen with his math homework. You think you’re so fucking smart all the time, huh?” Marcus: “Oooooohhhhhhhhh, sounds like there’s trouble in paradise! Nyahh-nyahh.” Jessica: “Did you just stick your tongue out at them? What are you, like, five?” Allen giggles into his math book. Larissa: “What do you think’s so funny, Allen?” Tyler: “What’s your problem? What did I do now?” Allen: “Nothing, just a typo in this book.” Cassie: “You know exactly what you did. You want me to tell everyone else, too?” Larissa: “A typo? Give me a little more credit than that.” Jessica: “Marcus, you suck.” Tyler: “I have no fucking clue what I did, so yeah, why don’t you just tell everyone what it is and that way everyone can know. What was it this time? Did I show up a minute and a half late for some study session? Did I not ask you if you wanted a bite of my macaroni and cheese? Come on, what was it?” Allen: “Can’t you guys argue about this somewhere else, whatever it is that you’re arguing about?” Larissa: “Whatever, I don’t care anymore.” Cassie looks at her audience, “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just that Tyler, who knows everything, you know, and we should all know that he knows absolutely everything, told me that my short story about a little girl who grows up in rural Virginia that I’ve worked on for, like, a year, isn’t ready for publication yet in his so sooo sooooo important little literary magazine.” Tyler: “You’re angry that I didn’t have room for your story in Bookends? You’re kidding, right?” The table focuses on their plates. Cassie: “No. No, I’m not kidding. I worked really hard on that story.” Tyler: “Cassie, that story is longer than the number of pages I have available in my magazine. Why don’t you just submit it to The Literary Review instead? They have the room for it. Christ, that’s what I told you to do when you gave it to me.” Cassie: “Because, obviously, you hated my story, since all you said was, ‘No, I can’t take it.’” Tyler: “For Chrissakes, Cassie, it’s a good story. How many times do I have to tell you that? Why are you so dumb? And that’s not what I said at all.” Marcus: “You really shouldn’t call her dumb. It does nothing to help your case.”
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