Whoa! What is this? Is it a teaser?
Margaret takes a drag form her joint like the world will end when it all runs out. Her breath goes long and slow. We stand underneath the bridge, with the stream going by two feet away from us. Above, suburban traffic rolls along in bursts.
“I got those scans for the history test,” she says, hugging her arms around her body. It’s April, but it’s cold enough to wear a jacket, and the occasional flame of our pocket lighters isn’t enough to keep our hands warm.
“Yeah?” I say.
“Yeah. I got them from Joey Pei, but I don’t know. It’s last year’s test.”
“I think Gatz usually uses the questions on the textbook website.” This means Margaret’s answer key espionage was entirely pointless.
I haven’t smoked. I can’t. Margaret’s face is getting glassier and glassier, and I’m stuck in sobriety because I’ve got therapy in three hours.
“You think he’s going to give us a curve?”
Margaret breathes smoke for a little while longer.
“You all right standing so close to me?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Her expression is trying to be critical. It’s like she expects me to start talking to someone she can’t see or hear. Which, you know, isn’t impossible, but usually she’s more discreet than this.