“This song’s called ‘The Big Guns of Highsmith.’ It’s by Lightspeed Champion.”
“Never heard of them. What are you reading?” Shannon asks.
“Sophocles. Oedipus.”
“What’s that?”
“Greek tragedy.”
“Why are you reading it?”
“Why not?”
“Um, today is Saturday. Hello, weekend? It’s gorgeous outside. Don’t you have spring fever?”
“No.”
“What the fuck happened to you, Nanette? You went psycho on me at the beginning of soccer season and then you dropped all your friends, and now it seems like you don’t hang out with anyone at all. You can’t spend your entire life alone, you know. It’s not healthy.”
Nanette nods.
Shannon’s probably right.
Nanette doesn’t feel healthy at all.
“Your parents told me about your boyfriend.”
“He wasn’t Nanette’s boyfriend. Nanette and Alex didn’t use labels.”
“And the third-person thing—that’s doing you no favors at school, let me tell you.”
“Part of Nanette’s therapy.”
“I’m sorry that Alex died.”
“You didn’t even know him.”
Shannon nods, and then she gives Nanette this really sincere look—like a glance from elementary school that she’s managed to preserve somehow deep inside. “Yeah, but I know you. I’m sorry that I blew you off, Nanette. I was pissed—and I had every right to be—but I had no idea that you were going through all this stuff. Your parents just told me that—well, you’re not even going to college next year? Really?”
Nanette stares at Shannon.
Nanette doesn’t know what to say.
Shannon says, “We still have the rest of our senior year. You could be a part of that again. There’s still time. Listen, your parents and I have talked to administration, and given all that’s happened, they’re willing to let you go on the senior class trip next month even though you didn’t sign up in time. You can room with me. I want you to. Seriously.”
“Even though Nanette and you are not soccer champions?” Nanette says.
“We really could have been,” Shannon says. “It’s a shame we weren’t.”
Nanette smiles at how silly that seems now, but right then and there, she decides to do an experiment. All the heroes of the Sophocles plays she’s read so far seem to bring about tragedy because they will not bend, but insist on taking action and control, so Nanette decides to acquiesce—to be a joiner for a time, to repress her rebel personality and swallow her pride.
“Okay,” she says to Shannon. “Nanette will go on the trip.”
“You will?” Shannon says in a way that suggests she didn’t come here thinking she would succeed in bringing Nanette back into the fold. “Well, then. Do you also want to come to a party tonight, too?”
“Yes,” Nanette says quickly, before she changes her mind.
“You’re not bullshitting me?”
She shakes her head.
“Okay, cool. You drinking these days?”
“No.”
“You want to drive, then? Give me a ride in that Jeep of yours?”
“Sure.”
“Pick me up at eight? The party’s at Nick Radcliff’s.”
“Okay.”
“You’re really cool with this?”
Nanette nods.
“Can we hug it out?”
“Sure.”
Nanette stands.
Shannon walks over to her.
They hug.
Nanette feels nothing but Shannon’s shoulder bones jutting into her palms, but manages to smile when Shannon looks her in the eye.
“We’ll get you back to normal,” she says. “See you at eight.”
Five minutes later, Nanette’s mother visits her bedroom. “Hear you’re going out with Shannon tonight.”
“Yep.”
“And you agreed to go on the senior class trip?”
“Sure.”
“That’s good. I’m so happy. You need to leave this room eventually, Nanette. It’s not healthy to just . . . stew.”
“Can Nanette borrow some makeup for tonight?”
Mom makes wide eyes before saying, “Of course, but maybe you want to drop the third-person thing before you reengage with your classmates?”
“Maybe. Or maybe not.”
“What are you up to?”
“As much assimilation as Nanette can possibly stomach.”
Nanette showers and does her hair and applies makeup and tries her best to dress like Shannon, wearing her shortest skirt, a tank top that shows off her boobs and black bra straps, and her mother’s fancy silver flip-flops. She even squirts perfume on her wrists and behind her ears.
“You look amazing,” her mother says.
Nanette’s father says, “You okay? You’re sure you’re up for this?”
“Yep,” Nanette says, and then she’s off, driving her Jeep across town.
There are two other girls at Shannon’s: Maggie Tolliver and Riley Gillan.
They’re all drinking margaritas from oversize glasses in the kitchen and acting drunker than they really are, talking about which boys they are “targeting” tonight for hookups, making bets about dick sizes.
Nanette thinks about how Shannon, Maggie, and Riley were at the center of their middle school sex scandal and how not much has changed since.
“Hey, look who it is!” Riley says when she notices Nanette.