AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hate this moment—the one where I have to decide how much to say to Jessie. The one that forces me to remember that Jessie does, in fact, know things, and now I have to decide if I’m going to tell her more things. Is this the time I finally open my heart and tell all? Is this the moment where I unburden myself onto my friend? I know she’ll be understanding and kind, and somehow that makes it worse.
I’m about to answer, to brush off the moment and tell Jessie that it’s all good, but Gertrude claps for attention.Saved by the bingo caller.Gertrude has been the bingo caller all four years Jessie and I have been doing bingo. In my mind, she’s always been the bingo caller in the Student Life Center. She came out of the womb wrinkled, wearing her periwinkle cardigan and gemstone bird brooch.
“You know the rules,” Gertrude drones. She sounds exactly like the administrative monster in that Pixar movie. “First one to cover the whole board gets bingo. We don’t do lines . . .”
A few snickers break out across the room. Gertrude doesn’t even blink.
“We don’t do patterns. I’ll say the number and the letter and then repeat it once, but not after that, so shut up and listen.”
A wave of giggles breaks out across the room. Newbies. They always think Gertrude is just being cute or funny, but this is what she says every single week. Neither Jessie nor I believe she actually likes being here. Our best guess is that it’s part of her staffing contract. Or maybe she just really likes to play with balls.Although when I suggested that to Jessie sophomore year, she slapped my arm.
“Let’s begin,” Gertrude says, rolling the balls around in the old-fashioned bingo ball machine. “G59.”
Jessie stamps her card, but mine stays blank.
I sometimes wonder if not telling Jessie about my mom makes me a shitty friend, but it’s my life and my choice whether to tell her or not. If Jessie had stuff going on in her life that she kept from me, I might feel sad she didn’t want to tell me, but it would say more about her than it would about me. And I know not telling Jessie says more about me than it does about her, but I’m not good at vulnerability, and I’ve never claimed to be otherwise.
“O72.”
I get to stamp my board, but Jessie doesn’t.
“How’s the one-act going?” she asks, moving the conversation along when it becomes obvious I’m not going to pick up the mom thread.
“Better than I expected it to,” I say.
“Your expectations were in hell, so I’m not sure that’s saying much. Are you guys still rehearsing every day?”
“Nah. Once he got fully off book, we didn’t see the need to meet as often. Every rehearsal is a little better than the last,” I say.
“That’s the goal, right?”
“B6.”
“BE DICKS!” all the veterans yell, including me and Jessie, who both have this one.
The newbies look startled, but they immediately giggle. Gertrude is as unfazed as always. I think she secretly loves it.
“That is the goal,” I say.
Ian was true to his word about the one-act: he hasn’t phoned it in, and if anything, he’s impressed me. He’s worked just as hard as any scene partner I’ve ever had, if not harder.
“He’s impressed me, I’ll say that.”
“Big words coming from you. So, this little crush of yours . . .” Jessie whispers. “Tell me exactly how stupid and small it is.”
She’s whispering because the serious bingo kids know that talking above a whisper is expressly forbidden since Gertrude only repeats herself once. You’ll get shushed if you’re not quiet enough; kicked out if you have to be shushed twice. There are no official rules or enforcers of this, but Jessie and I have seen upperclassmen boot people for being too noisy.
“Like, super-stupid and super-small?” I say, and I sneak a glance at Jessie, who doesn’t look convinced.
“So you have, like, a normal crush on someone, you definitely like them, and you want them to like you back,” she says.
“O71.”
Neither Jessie nor I get a stamp this time.
I hate that she knows me so well sometimes. Reads me like a goddamn book.
“He’s just . . . he’s not like other people. I really don’t think I’ve met anyone like him in, like, all the best ways. And god, the way he kissed me the other night . . . he’s, like, such a nerd, such a goddamn green bean, but I’m, like . . .”
