Ridiculous/Hilarious/Terrible/Cool by Elisha Cooper Page B

“associated” with every one of their friends. Then, after some hemming and hawing, it’s revealed that one-half of Ben&Andy is going out with Maya.
    The bell rings. Time for class.
    Two girls lean against the lockers and argue. They came here to the far end of a hallway so they could not be overheard. However, the acoustics of the hallway are such that everything that the brunette girl says is amplified, and everything that the blond girl says comes out as an indecipherable “Rar rar rar.” The argument sounds one-sided, and goes like this:
    â€œYou yell at me, Carey!”
    â€œRar rar.”
    â€œYou disrespect me.”
    â€œRar.”
    â€œWhat am I supposed to do?”
    â€œRar rar rar rar.”
    â€œYou text message me and it was like so rude.”
    â€œRar.”
    â€œWhatever. Ha ha ha.”
    â€œRar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar.”

    â€œI don’t know what you want me to say.”
    â€œRar rar.”
    â€œThanks!”
    â€œRar rar rar!”

    â€œI’m hurt about you too!”
    â€œRar rar.”
    â€œWell, you text message me and tell me that, Carey! You did that for no reason.”
    â€œRar rar rar rar.”
    â€œYou didn’t give me a chance.”
    â€œRar.”
    â€œMy best friend!”
    â€œRar rar rar?”
    â€œWell. I’m pissed.”
    â€œ Rar rar rar.”
    â€œYou know what? You’re the one person who—”
    â€œRar rar rar rar rar.”
    â€œThe only thing? The only thing?!”
    â€œRar!”
    â€œYou’re talking about me! ”
    â€œRar rar! ”
    â€œWhy are we still talking about that ? We’re done with that. We’re done! ”
    â€œRar!”
    â€œI’m saying like, whatever, we’re—”
    â€œRar!”
    â€œOkay, you know what? That night, when we were out, was so disrespectful. It’s so rude to get up on someone and—”
    â€œRar rar!”
    â€œThat’s not why I’m mad!”
    â€œRar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar.”
    â€œThat’s so unfair of you to say.”
    â€œRar rar rar.”
    â€œThat was a while ago.”
    â€œRar rar!”
    â€œCan you please apologize for that?”
    â€œRar!”
    â€œYou stand there and attack me and you have no idea why?”
    â€œRar rar rar rar?”
    â€œThat’s right!”
    â€œRar!”
    â€œHow am I supposed to talk with you?!”
    â€œRar rar?”
    â€œYou know what? We’re done . We’re done as friends.”
    The two girls part. One up the hall, one down. Both in tears. Five minutes later, the blond girl is sitting at a table in the cafeteria with other friends. The brunette girl approaches and takes the empty seat next to her. They don’t speak to each other, but they sit there together until the next bell rings.
    The American and City of Chicago flags at the front door are blowing sideways in the rain, snapping like wet towels. Then the rain becomes sleet, pelting ice BBs. Then the sleet becomes walloping balls of hail-snow. Some seniors step one foot outside for lunch before thinking better of it.

    The school hunkers down. Classroom windows steam up. In one cozy room on the third floor, an art class paints still lifes. The students squeeze paint out of tubes and stare at bouquets of plastic flowers. Of the thirty students in the room, eleven are listening to iPods. There’s a low-level hum, one that changes depending on where one is in the room. The music shifts from emo to rap to punk, separate weather fronts of music.
    Downstairs, Aisha is getting ready for her own art class.

    She’s in a prickly mood. She’s talking about a recent episode of Oprah. The show was confronting taboos like premarital sex, and it made Aisha think about high school. Aisha feels