Friday & Saturday
Now you see why Friday bled back to Thursday for space. Lots of miscellaneous quotes and a big conversation between my brother and his best friend at the time. These two days of writing mix together so thoroughly that it's easier to just talk about both days at once.
I'm not sure which Adam I was supposed to call about prom. Considering our prom was the week before, I really have no idea. I guess whatever it was about though meant we were lame, Suzanne and I.
Jill and I were very proud of the yearbooks. We were on the core group who made the thing, and poured a lot of energy into making it really cool. The cover featured foil lettering and black printing on a black background for a glossy effect. The section dividers were drawn by artists from the senior class, including a handful by yours truly. We got as many of our friends into it as we could, and we got it done pretty close to on time. (It was delivered before the end of school, so that was a big plus.)
The mostly scratched out note to talk to Gaby about a trance... So Nikki started hosting this poetry group on Thursday at her house -- a bunch of her friends and mine would get together and read our recent poems and then give feedback, and then devolve into just hanging out and talking most of the time. On this particular evening, a couple of us did a thing that was meant to drop you into a sort of meditative trance. You laid down with your head in someone's lap and closed your eyes and counted backwards from 10 while the other person (usually Nikki) described you going down into a safe place in your mind, filled with doors. You were supposed to open doors and see what was behind them and talk your way through it. I did it, and I guess Gaby was behind one of the doors. Probably not surprisingly, Nikki wanted me to talk to Gaby about it. Since I crossed it out, I'm guessing I did, but I don't remember the discussion. My memory of the whole experience is pretty fuzzy.
"Christian is our intercom!" It was totally true. Christian worked at Yvette's, mostly as a busser at this point in time, and would get sent inside or outside to deliver messages, let people know when food was ready or a parent was on the phone, or whatever. I think someone said Yvette's should get an intercom, and Lorrie's response summed it up perfectly.
I'm not sure what prompted my brother to write about being hurt by a friend, but it's a rare occasion that he wrote anything at all, let alone about his feelings. Pat was moving to another state, so it's possible some things were said out of hurt, but Pat's response also, in its muddled way, is an uncharacteristic outpouring of teenage boy emotion in a (semi)public place.
For the record, I did not then and do not currently own a Twister. But maybe I should.
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