Page 10 - My FlipBook

Things I'd Rather Do Than Die

He made the team this year as our ic er, I continue,
still aiming for friendly.
ade’s li s tighten as she swallows hard. hat’s great,
she says, her tone suggesting an e ic lac of greatness all

around.
I feel my face grow warm as I shift my weight. ue me
I was ust trying to ma e conversation I consider trying to
shift the chitchat to safer ground briefly, ust long enough
to salvage this train wrec but I can’t thin of anything else
to say. ade and I don’t run in the same circles. he only
erson I ever see her with is her best friend, ia, another

ice ueen. I swear, the tem erature dro s twenty degrees
any time you ste into their too-cool bubble.
he tem erature is ractically arctic right now, what
with my master stro e of throwing an e -boyfriend into
the conversation, so I guess the best thing to do is abort.
I flash one last smile, then resume wal ing toward the
free weights, my guilt mor hing into a touch of indigna-
tion eah, I feel bad for ee ing ade here late, but her
not-too-subtle little burns haven’t been lost on me. he’s

got a roblem with the ible t least I’m not ashamed to
claim it.
esides, I never turned away latecomers at the
auto- arts store where I wor ed over the summer. Even
when I’d been on my feet for nine hours straight, the cus-
tomers who ambled in at .m. would have sworn I had
all the time in the world, that there’s nothing I’d rather have

been doing than drilling down on the difference between

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