body copy (a.g.)

= Chapter Seven =

= Chapter Seven =

"Tell me again why we keep this godforsaken box open?" Ryan asks me as he sifts through pictures and papers, all pulled from the beautiful student submissions box in front of us.

"We have to," I say, throwing aside a few particularly terrible shots of the color guard teams performance at last week's football game. "Administration says that it's good for self-expression or whatever."

"This is not self-expression," Ryan scoffs, shaking a piece of paper my way. It's an essay that seems to be addressing the writer's thoughts on why the option to leave campus for lunch should be yanked from the school system. "This is a sign of brainwashing. Who doesn't like off-campus lunch?"

I met the ever-dramatic, ever-cynical Ryan Ross at a party my sophomore year. I'd gotten separated from Melanie and the rest of my friends, and in a panic, I'd ducked into a bedroom to escape the crowd of strangers pressing in around me.

... Only to find Ryan tangled up in bed with one of the school's star lacrosse players. A terrible cliché, I know, but it's what happened.

Long story short, the lacrosse player ran out in nothing but his underwear with his letterman jacket and his jeans clutched in his hand, leaving Ryan and I to bask in the awkward aura surrounding the whole situation. I was afraid that Ryan, who was a junior at the time, was going to be pissed that an underclassman had ruined his fun, right up until he looked at me and said, dead serious and with a straight face, "Oh my God, thank you so much. That guy couldn't suck dick to save his life. I was afraid he was going to start leaving marks by accident for a second there."

I couldn't help myself- I laughed. We've been friends ever since.

"So how was that date you went on Saturday?" I ask Ryan as I read over what turns out to be a pretty decent piece on the student body's feelings about the installation of the gender-neutral bathrooms.

"It was okay," Ryan replies with a shrug. "I probably won't go on another one with her. I mean, she was sweet, I just don't think we'd be good together long-term."

I throw aside two pictures that I don't really care for and blow a loose curl off my forehead. "Why not just have a little fling then? Something fun."

Ryan sighs. "We wouldn't even work on that level."

"Oh well," I say, shrugging. "There's always next time."

Ryan nods in agreement and doesn't say anything. We fall into silence and sift through more submissions from the box, actually getting work done for a few minutes.

"Are you going to that Battle of the Bands thing in Hampden?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"The one at the Wire?" Ryan counter. I nod. "Not really my scene, so probably not. Why? You and Melanie going or something?"

I nod again, pushing away the pile of papers and pictures in front of me and sitting back in my chair. "Yeah. I need to see that band All Time Low. Everyone says that they're gonna be famous or whatever."

Ryan starts packing up the box, not even bothering to be all that careful about how he puts everything back before he presses the lid down and calls the job finished. "They're actually pretty good," Ryan admits, shrugging. I pause a beat, waiting for the sarcastic remark that usually follows any statement of Ryan's that falls along those lines. "You know, for some a shitty high school pop-punk band."

I snort and glance up at Ryan, and he's got this smirk on his face that I can't help but roll my eyes at. "You're so snarky," I tell him.

"You say snarky, I say realistic," Ryan retorts.