The New Normal by Ashley Little Page B

be gone for a year or something. She never failed to embarrass me.
    â€œSure thing,” Roy said.
    â€œLet’s go. Bye!” We ran through the falling snow out to his cousin’s car, a black Volkswagen bug. Roy and I were crammed in the back, and Roy’s cousin, Lenny, and his girlfriend, Miranda, were sitting pretty up front. Lenny wore a gray toque; Miranda had black hair with bright red streaks that cascaded over her shoulders. I was exceedingly, wildly jealous of her hair. She looked like she belonged in a music video. Just looking at her hair made my innards ache with longing.
    Miranda was a hairdresser at one of the upscale salons downtown, and Lenny was studying biochemistry at the University of Lethbridge.
    â€œWhat are you gonna do after high school, Tamar?” Lenny asked as he merged onto the Deerfoot Trail.
    â€œI’m not really sure. I mean, I don’t…I haven’t put much thought into it.”
    â€œOh.”
    An awkward silence filled the little car.
    â€œA paramedic, maybe.” I was surprised as shit to hear myself say that. I hadn’t even thought about it before that very moment. “Helping people through their emergencies, you know.”
    â€œThat’s brave work.” He studied me in the rearview mirror.
    â€œI could never do that,” Miranda said. “Too much blood.” She squirmed in her seat. “Oh, can we go to Peter’s Drive-In? I love the food there! Can we, Len? Please? Please?”
    â€œNo sweat, my pet,” he said. They made me want to barf.
    The three of them ordered burgers and fries. I got a chocolate shake. The smell of the fries made me want to barf too, because I had been swimming in fry grease all day.
    When we got to the bowling alley, we got lane number seven—my lucky number. It was really cool under the black light. Glowing stars and planets and aliens and spaceships floated on the walls and ceiling around us. Everything white looked ultraviolet. Especially people’s teeth. Miranda ordered a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and Lenny ordered a Heineken. Roy got a gin and tonic.
    â€œFor yourself?” the short blond server asked me.
    â€œUm, I’ll have a lemonade too, I guess.” What the hell, I thought. You only live once, and they never ask for ID at bowling alleys. I excused myself and went to the pay phone to call the parents.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œI’m here. Everything’s fine.”
    â€œTamar! Thank God.” I heard her cover the mouthpiece and yell, “SHE’S OKAY!” before saying, “Your father was having a panic attack because you took so long to call. He thought—”
    â€œWe went to Peter’s Drive-In first for burgers.”
    â€œWell, you should have told us.”
    â€œ Mom !”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou gotta relax.”
    She breathed into the phone.
    â€œI have to go. It’s my turn to bowl.”
    â€œOkay, have fun, sweetheart. Have fun . Call before you leave. And be safe .”
    â€œBye.”
    I went back to lane seven and took a big gulp of my hard lemonade. It was good.
    â€œThat’s pretty awesome.” I pointed to Roy’s gin and tonic. It glowed bright purple under the black light.
    â€œI know. It makes it taste better too.” He laughed. “Want a sip?”
    â€œSure.”
    I didn’t totally suck at bowling—I even got a few strikes. I enjoyed the feeling of getting a strike, the sound of the ball hurtling down the lane and the pins smashing into each other. I liked the weight of the smooth glowing ball in my hand, and the way the machine gently placed the pins back in perfect order each time they fell. Lenny and Miranda were actually pretty funny, in a cheesy sort of way. He would pat her bum encouragingly when she got a gutter ball and say, “Next time, peaches.” And when she got a strike, which only happened once, she got so excited that she leapt into his arms