Rhombus [h.s]

8

8

I closed my Biology book and reached for my phone on the desk. Reading was too quiet—I needed a good middle-eight bit. Emily left and came back a few hours later with Target bags and a guy named Frank. Then she left again for precalc and I was alone in my room. Perfect.

I opened my "air guitar playlist" and got my buds out and plugged them in. Then I turned the volume all the way up and closed my eyes. AC/DC always crawled right under my skin. With my thumb and index finger pressed together as if holding an actual guitar pick, I cavorted wildly around the small room, putting so much effort into miming to an instrument that it would have been easier, surely, to have just learned in the first place.

I sang. And air guitared. And cavorted. Like a Mad Woman. And eventually there was loud knocking.

Damn. What a buzzkill.

I opened the door without turning the volume down. It was Murdock.

I took a bud off.

"Hey, Howler." He said, smiling. Murdock. Always smiling.

"Murdock," I said, panting. I tried not to pant.

Then Garfunkel and Woody popped out behind him and I grinned at them.  

"You working out in there?" Woody asked, raising her eyebrows.  

"You could say that."

Murdock slid in the door, followed by Woody and Garfunkel. I shut the door behind them and took off my buds. Murdock sat at the end of my bed and leaned against the wall, crossing his long legs at the ankles. Woody sat beside him and folded her arms.

"This room looks like a sophisticated wasteland." Garfunkel said, his hands clasped behind him. He had on an English tweed coat looking like it had been slept in for years, a paddy cap, and a frayed Sulka tie. He looked like a college boy from the sixties. Slightly threadbare and old-blooded. Also kind of like a young Marlon Brando. And a Bowery character.

"Psychology majors are such gems." He said as he scanned Emily's bookshelf.

"You were a gem, Garfunky." Murdock said with a lazy, teasing smile. Garfunkel gave him a sore face. He took out a thick Abnormal Psychology book and stood by Emily's bed, lapsing himself into a gloomy silence as he read.

"Howler," Woody said. I looked at her. "We're going to the bay." The bay. "Wanna come with?"

"Sure." I said. I've already studied for my Biology final anyway.

"Hey, can I have a Snickers bar?" Murdock asked.

"How did you know—?"

"George." He grinned.

I looked at Garfunkel and he pointed his finger at his eye. "Silent communication." I rolled my eyes at him.

"So, Howlah...," 

"What?"

"Can I have a Snickers bar?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He narrowed his eyes back.

I squinted.

He squinted back.

"Uh, what are you two doing?" Woody asked.  

"Silent communication." I heard Garfunkel say.   

My eyes were burning, because looking at Murdock's eyes felt as if you were staring directly at the sun. By the time I thought I couldn't hold the stare any longer, I looked away and heard him shout, "Yes!"