Sadly, Danielle and I had to cut our bonding session short and head to lunch separately. She was justifiably paranoid that any excessive deviations from her usual routine would get the attention of her parents, and I was determined to live a long and happy life never being glared at by Lorelei Harp. In fact, I’d be downright ecstatic if she never even learned my name. That was incredibly unlikely now, as if Danielle’s parents didn’t have some kind of remote connection to her phone I would eat my pumpkin pie jacket. Still worth it, even with the shortened life expectancy.
I spent most of my lunch period looking for Jerry. He was a sarcastic cynic and one of the few people our age with outright disdain towards Lists as a concept, but skipping school entirely on Fool’s Day wasn’t like him. I’d expected him to be here in the thick of things, making snide commentary under his breath to whoever would listen and taking bets on who would see their first point as an invitation to start a fight. I was also realizing that while I was on friendly terms with a good chunk of the theater and music kids, I wasn’t exactly close friends with any of them. Eventually I settled to eat near Lincoln Franks, who had at least recovered from his zombie-like tiredness of yesterday but seemed absorbed by his phone. If Jerry were here, he’d probably put three to one odds on Lincoln having the word connect somewhere in his first point and was scrolling through old contacts to see who he should be talking to. I shot off a text to Jerry saying as much, but he still hadn’t responded when lunch ended.
Well, if he wouldn’t come to me, I’d have to do the legwork. It was simple enough to skip out for the rest of the school day and make the half a mile walk to the park next to Jerry’s apartment building. I squinted up at it, but in the daylight I couldn’t tell if the lights in his bedroom were on or not. Plopping myself on a bench, I did the one thing young people of the modern age were always loath to do: I made a phone call.
Jerry didn’t answer. I frowned at that and shot off another text rather than leave a voicemail. I needed someone to bounce things off of right now. This morning with Danielle had been like something out of a dream, both in the fantastical sense and the slightly surreal one. I needed someone to pinch me and remind me of just how complicated and hazardous to my general life strategy of flying under the radar that friendship could be. Beyond that, I desperately needed to tell someone about my own List troubles, or lack thereof. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but my conversation with Danielle had reminded me that as soon as one secret spilled, more usually followed. The least I could do was control who heard it from me and not have it be revealed at the worst possible time. That’s how you got cliche breakup plotlines in the last third of a romcom, when some misunderstanding happens and no one stops to clarify anything for the sake of a dramatic conclusion. I’d already had something of a meet-cute this morning, I didn’t need my life to run down the checklist of romcom tropes like a mediocre made for TV movie.
I resorted to people-watching for a bit to get out of my own head, not that there were many options at 1:30 PM on a Thursday. An older man was walking his dog along the park’s footpath, and a mother was watching her toddler trundle around the little play area. It was exactly the kind of peaceful, idyllic scene that Glenbrook brochures would try to put on postcards, if Glenbrook had made any concerted effort to get people to live there. The town seemed to exist almost by accident; halfway between Richmond and Charlottesville, boasting neither the capital and city amenities of one nor the university and college-town vibe of the other. It existed in that bland limbo that post-World War II developers thought was just perfect to make an entire city out of suburbs. It turned out more successful than it should have been, and a town with no real reason to exist where it did and no history to speak of slowly became a real community. The Harps certainly pushed its development along when they arrived, keen to carve out their own exclusive territory rather than jockey for position in the more well-established cities.
That thought did make me wonder again on the nature and future ramifications of Lists. I hadn’t been completely lying to Danielle with my cockfighting explanation, and now the idea was stuck in my brain. Someone had been urged by their List to blaze new trails or carve out your own space and apparently took that advice very literally. Now a whole town existed, emerging out of the forest because Fate gave a vague hint and someone decided this had to be what it meant. I didn’t even know if they ticked off a point for it or not, and that thought brought me up short. Was that the cosmic reason why I didn’t have a List, that the town’s founder had gotten things wrong and now this town that wasn’t meant to be was spilling over its bad karma onto me? The answer was probably not, but it made me feel a bit better to have someone to blame.
“Connor?” A confused voice interrupted my cursing of a dead man’s name, and I turned to see Jerry holding a couple of plastic bags. “What are you - is school out already?”
“Nah.” I said, gesturing to the bench beside me. “I’m just taking a page from your delinquent handbook and skipping out. Fight the power, right?”
Jerry huffed out something halfway between a laugh and sigh, taking the seat I’d indicated. “Dunno if avoidance qualifies as fighting the power, but I don’t really have a leg to stand on there.”
“I was gonna ask about that. You just not up to dealing with the rigamarole of Fool’s Day?”
“Something like that.” Jerry muttered darkly. Message received, do not pry.
I shrugged. “You didn’t miss much, except maybe you did. Want to hear a secret?” I teased.
“No!” Jerry shouted, and I reared back. It didn’t seem like he’d meant to yell, judging by the stricken, almost panicked expression on his face. He’d very much broken the peace of the little park though, as the old man’s dog began barking as he and the young mother both looked over at us curiously. No one was more surprised than I was, though. Jerry was many things, but aggressive and loud were both absent from the list. Miss Reinhart the drama teacher had been trying for ages to get him to project more or bring any kind of passionate emotion to his characters, and Jerry staunchly refused. He was always in control, a step or two back from emotional reactions, a sardonic observer more than a driving force. The only thing I’d ever heard him yell at before today was a particularly cheap video game boss.
“Sorry.” Jerry muttered, looking as scared and off-balance as I felt. “Didn’t mean to shout. Just trying to avoid everything.”
“I… okay. I’m not gonna force you to hear it, man. You alright?” I asked hesitantly.
“Mentally, physically, or emotionally?” He asked right back.
“Oh, so it’s one of those days.” I nodded in understanding. Jerry’s mom always did get a little weird around Fool’s Day, it made sense that it would hit even harder when he got his own List. “Want company?”
“I certainly can’t eat all these snacks on my own.” He said, gesturing to the plastic bags stuffed with chips and candy. “I mean, I was actually planning on doing just that until I saw you sitting here, but we can pretend.”
“Your -” I cut myself off before I could say the word ‘secret’ and potentially set him off again. “-mom home right now?” I pivoted.
Jerry shook his head. “She went out to see Carol.” He spat the name. “She probably won’t be back until dinner.” I winced in sympathy. I was lucky in many ways, not least of which that my family never got sucked into the rabbit hole of self-styled psychics and fate coaches. Even my mom, paranoid as she could be, had never sought outside help on fulfilling her List or supposedly peering into her future.
Jerry’s mom had taken one look at that slippery slope and decided it would make a great water slide. It started small, just after Jerry’s dad left them in the lurch seven years ago and she needed some reassurance. Instead of reaching out to friends or family or an actual qualified therapist, she had convinced herself that the only reason the deadbeat had vanished was because of his List and if she fulfilled the rest of the points on hers, they would be together again and live happily ever after. Sure, she hadn’t ticked off another point since she’d started seeing Carol, but obviously that was her own fault and not the psychic being a charlatan who operated out of a seedy strip mall next to a laundromat and an always-empty mattress store! She just had to get her chakras back in alignment before fate could move through her again, and for the bargain price of $150 an hour could she afford not to?
Usually Jerry would call me and we’d find some way to occupy ourselves when his mom went to see Carol. The times I’d left him alone almost always ended with her gushing about some fake breakthrough she’d made and him stewing in so much anger and resentment that being around him at all for the next week became toxic. We’d worked out our system years ago to minimize exposure to her post-session high, but I was afraid one of these days all that anger Jerry had been pushing down would explode and he’d do something he’d immediately regret. With his own Fool’s Day obviously twisting up his feelings already, today would not be a good day to leave him alone.
“Want to head to my place?” I asked as casually as I could manage.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Jerry raised an eyebrow. “I live fifty feet away.” He gestured to the building. “You live two point three miles away, and I don’t see that abomination your sister calls a car anywhere.”
I shrugged. “It’s a nice day for a walk?” He gave me a flat stare. “Or I could call her?” The stare continued. “Or we could just hang out at your place for now, jeez.”
“Well, unless you came all this way just to hang out at the park with Mr. Jenkins and Fido and Ms. Anna and Louis?” He drawled sarcastically and began leading me toward his building.
“I’m almost certain you just made up all of those names.”
He sniffed. “Mr. Jenkins is a great name for a toddler, don’t be so narrow-minded.”
“Of course, and so many powerful women throughout history have been named Fido.” I snarked back.
“That name really does get pigeon-holed, right? Can you even imagine meeting a person named Fido?”
“I’d be checking for hidden cameras the entire time. That, and wondering what their parents were smoking.”
“What if it was an adult, though? What if a real human adult introduced themselves confidently as Fido?”
“I’d be thoroughly intimidated.”
“As you should be. That’s a person who fears neither God nor man.”
“All hail Fido, destroyer of worlds.”
Jerry shook his head, fishing the key out of his pocket to unlock his apartment door. I remember how shocked I’d been the first time I’d seen the place after his mom got sucked down the psychic rabbit hole; it had been the most un-Jerry space I could have imagined. Crystals and dreamcatchers hung along the walls and windows, incomprehensible astrology charts served the place that paintings or posters would in a slightly more normal place. At one point his mom had repainted the left wall a deep purple with flecks of glitter, probably for feng shui or chi balancing purposes. It was frivolous, fanciful, and honestly cringeworthy. As always, we shuffled past the display and beelined straight for the safety of Jerry’s room.
The crystals and purples receded to more neutral blues and grays, a computer desk with a minifridge under it just in front of the windows with a TV and game system positioned opposite the bed. It was a bit cramped with the two beanbag chairs he’d strewn across the floor, but it was cozy and comfortable. As was habit, I immediately faceplanted into one of the beanbags and let out a groan.
“Admit it, you’re just using me for my beanbags.” Jerry said, digging through the bag of snacks as he sunk into the other beanbag.
“Guilty as charged. Friendship ended with Jerry, now beanbag is my best friend.”
“Guess you don’t want these sour gummy worms then…” He taunted, and I flailed an arm in his general direction until my questing fingers found the prize. He chuckled as I rolled off onto the floor but triumphantly held the bag of candy aloft.
“Oh sweet ambrosia, how I’ve missed you terribly.” I declared. “Never again shall we be parted.”
“I ship it.” Jerry said with a smirk, opening his own bag of chocolate peanut butter pretzels. A solid choice, I’ll admit, but nothing compared to the absolute perfection that is sour gummy worms. Empires will rise and fall without ever devising a more perfect candy. Eons from now humanity will be known throughout the cosmos as the race that brought sour gummy worms to their rightful place at the top of the galactic candy ratings. The greatest hero in history was no general or politician, but the humble man who’d obviously had the greatest fate of all: creating sour gummy worms.
My candy-based enlightenment at hand, I hoisted myself back onto the beanbag and went to town. There was no room for conversation until at least a few worms in, and Jerry knew me better than to try to start one. Actually, the fact he’d bought these at all showed that he was planning on calling me for a venting session, probably just waiting until after school. Oh well. I’d jumped the gun and now had access to my prize a full hour early.
“So…” Jerry began. “How was school, champ?”
“One, please never call me that again. Two, do you really want to hear that? Might touch on what you didn’t want to hear earlier.” I gave him a look. “Did you spontaneously develop an aversion to nosiness?”
Jerry made a face. “Something like that.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I don’t want to get too into it, but I’ve become something of a privacy advocate, and I ask that you respect my choices.”
I squinted. “It’s scary when I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”
He shrugged. “For you to know, I would have to know. And I don’t know enough to know what I know, you know?”
“Why do people keep doing that to me?” I muttered under my breath. “First Allie, now you. Do I look like the kind of person who’s easily confused by repeating the same word a bunch? Is that the vibe I’m giving off?”
“Little bit.” Jerry answered, proving that I hadn’t been muttering quietly enough. “It’s like you’re right on the edge of being confused, makes it fun to try to give you that push.”
“I’d like to return this friendship, it’s clearly defective.” I grumbled.
“No refunds or exchanges, only store credit.”
“What a scam. I don’t have to take this, I’ll go hang out with my new friend.”
“Cruel abandonment.” Jerry snarked, but I just pulled out my phone. “Wait, seriously? My boy’s growing up! You miss one morning and suddenly your child’s spreading his wings. It brings a tear to my eye…”
“Not even gonna ask who?” I baited him. I could see his face wavering. He clearly wanted to know, but whatever compunction he had against secrets was making him pause.
“It can’t be much of a secret, right? Not if he’s gonna keep hanging out with whoever it is.” Jerry said to himself, then directed his attention to me. “Fine, lay it on me. Who have you replaced me with in the one morning I wasn’t there?”
“Oh, nobody much.” I said lightly. “Nice girl though. You talked to her just yesterday.”
He shuddered. “Please tell me you don’t mean Mary.”
“What?” I remembered drama class yesterday. “Oh, no. I don’t really count that whole speech exchange. You two talked at each other at best.”
“Hmm.” He adopted an exaggerated thinking pose, then gave an equally elaborate shrug. “I got nothing, lay it on me.”
“Danielle Harp.” I said casually, unable to keep the grin off my face.
Jerry looked gobsmacked. “No shit? You actually hung out and didn’t make a fool of yourself?”
“Really feeling the trust here.” I said dryly. “And we had a perfectly nice conversation. She’s pretty great.” So what if I sounded wistful?
“Slow down, Romeo. I am not here to be your Mercutio.”
“She’s an only child, so there’s no threat of Tybalt. I think we’re in the clear.”
“Dude, it’s the Harps. You’re never in the clear where they’re concerned.” I scowled a bit at that. He had a point. “How’d this even happen? You’re not usually running in the same circles. Some Fool’s Day miracle?”
“Something like that.” I hedged. Danielle didn’t want news of her tick mark getting around, and even if I knew Jerry wouldn’t gossip, I wasn’t going to betray her trust like that. “Just kinda happened. We broke the ice and everyone else was off in their own little worlds today, so we just kept talking.”
“Fine then, keep your secrets.” He said, then let a shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Also, you broke the ice? Don’t you mean you broke the ice queen?”
“That was terrible, you’re terrible, and you should feel terrible.” I said with more heat than I intended. “Blame her family for the whole ice queen business. She’s got a lot going on.”
“Well, you certainly have a type.”
I gave him a confused look. “I thought we’d already established that?”
He waved my words off. “Not in girls, in friends! All it takes is a little family-related trauma and you’re right there being all supportive.”
I blinked. “I hate that you’re right.”
“Because you’re a good person and don’t want anyone to suffer, or because you wouldn’t have any friends if both their families weren’t dogshit?”
“Either? Both? Ugh. Why’d you have to point it out?” I complained.
“It’s my solemn duty as your best friend.”
“I’m leaving you for Danielle.” My phone buzzed as I finished that sentence.
“Speak of the devil?” Jerry waggled his eyebrows.
“No, just Alyssa wondering if I need a ride home. Probably wants to interrogate me about my and everyone else’s List.” I typed back a quick response, but paused before sending it. “Want me to tell her to pick us up, spend time at my place?”
Jerry pursed his lips. “Only if we can make any List-related conversation off-limits. Your sister is a gossip bloodhound and I do not need that right now.”
“Fair. I’ll ask at least.” I added another sentence and sent the text. “She’ll have to be marginally more polite if you’re there, at least.”
“I live to serve.” Jerry said dryly. Alyssa must have been eager for gossip of some kind, as she responded almost immediately that she was on her way. It would take her at least fifteen minutes to get here from the community college, so Jerry booted up a mindless fighting game and we each proceeded to button mash and deride the other for button mashing. When Alyssa texted that she was outside, my pride had been thoroughly shattered by four straight losses.
“Alyssa!” Jerry greeted cheerily as he slid into the front seat. “Your brother still sucks at fighting games!”
“Jerry!” She reflected his energy. “Did you take advantage of his poor overconfident soul?”
“You both suck.” I grumbled from the backseat, crowded by various fabric swatches and cosmetic supplies.
“You just need to learn some actual combos.” Jerry said airily, and I flipped him off. “So harsh, can’t take a little constructive criticism.”
“Dear brother,” Alyssa sing-songed, ignoring our byplay. “How was the beginning of your journey?”
“Well he did skip school in the afternoon.” Jerry informed her before I could get a word in.
“So scandalous!”
“But that was after he became BFFs with Danielle Harp.”
“What?!”
I sighed. This was going to be a long ride.