Stuck at the Galleria

Act 3: Tagged! (by Nora Irving) (part 1)

"And we don't care about the young folks, talking 'bout the young style, and we don't care about the old folks, talking 'bout the old style too. And we don't care about our own folks, talking 'bout our own style, all we care about is talking, talking only me and you."

Tre whistles in perfect harmony with the song as it goes into the other part of its chorus. I can't help but watch with a smile as he sways in front of the PearBook.

He probably would do this even if there was anyone in the Pear store at the time, but because there wasn't anyone there, he told me that his "full on dork mode" was engaged.

There was something weird about him-- well, not his bad dancing, but something else-- that made me feel like I'd met him before, like we knew each other before tonight.

But then, shrugging off the thought, I ask, "Hey, what song is that?"

"Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John," he replies, finally stopping his swaying as the song fades out. "It's one of my favorites."

"I can tell."

Tre sat down next to me on one of the black stools under the table the PearBook was on, and sighed a little. 

"I love music. Really, just give me any kind and I'll find something good to say about it."

"So, you're a fan of The Song That Doesn't End?" I say nonchalantly. I smirk a bit and put my head into my arms on the table.

"Har har har har," replies Tre. He kind of makes it sound like a donkey as he says it, which is kind of weird but probably intentional.

"You're such a strange child, Trevor."

"I know. And don't you like me better for it?"

"It depends," I say, getting up from my stool. "Now come on, you. I hate staying in one store all night, it gets boring."

"Fine," he mutters as he leaves his chair. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"I dunno. Places," I reply as the two of us walk out into the great beyond of the Galleria.

Tre freezes up for a sec, then laughs. "My best friend used to say that a lot back in fifth grade."

"Sounds like a cool guy," I say.

"Actually, she was a girl." He says it with a bit of a falter in his voice. "Gosh, I miss her."

"What was her name?" I ask.

"I forgot her full name, but it was something Irving. Like you, I guess."

"Heh, oddly enough, I remember hearing the last name Listman before too."

"Really?" He puts his finger to his chin and gets into a thinking pose as we walk down. "Hmm... nah."

"Nah what?"

"I don't think she's you. It's too implausible. Sounds like something you'd find in a cheesy book."

I smile a bit at the comment. He really didn't know! I don't want to spoil it for him though, so I keep quiet about it.

"She was one of my few friends," he says, sitting down at a bench. "Most of my class thought I was weird for being smart or something, but she didn't. We sat together at lunch basically every day that year until one day she just disappeared right out of the blue. I met Allison and Cale after that."

"So, she just went away, without warning?"

"Yeah. They didn't even tell us whether she was moving away or transferring or anything."

"That sucks," I say as I sit down next to Tre.

"Eh, I've gotten used to it by now," he says in a bitter tone making a point that he obviously hasn't gotten used to it by now.

"At least you've got the rest of the Crew and I," I say as I try to cheer him up. "They may seem mean at first but they don't bite. Except Max. That boy is vicious."

He giggles a bit. Mission accomplished!

"So how long have you guys been here?" he asks.

"I've been here since I was 10. The rest of them just showed up over these 3 years."

"And you haven't gotten tired of it or anything?"

I smirk. "Define tired."

"I dunno, exhausted, irritated, pick either one," he says. He was catching up to me.

I can't let him get away with it though. Nobody does sarcasm like Nora Irving.

 ----

"Hey, you still backed up about that whole other Irving girl business?"

"A little. I mean, I don't really care much anymore."

"Sure," I say with my tongue in my cheek.

"Nyehh, whatever." 

"What is it with you and sounds?" I ask. "Nyehh, bluh, nyehhbluh, nyehblehbluh. That's all it is with ya!"

He looks at me like I'm insane, then starts laughing like a hyena.

"I--- hic--- don't--- hyuk--- sound like-- heheh--- that!"

As Tre went into his fit, a pair of red scissors from the pocket of his hoodie with "N. Irving" written in fading black permanent marker ink on the handle fell onto the ground.

I look at them drop my jaw onto the frakkin' ground. He stops and looks at them and then to me.

"Those scissors... they're mine," I say, and boy, was I flabbergasted. "I accidentally left them at school that one day... the day before I moved here..."

He picks them up and loops the left hole of the scissors onto one of his pointer fingers, he says, "It seems to me that we actually were best friends."

"We... were... wait, what?" I stammer.

I hadn't thought of the possibility until now. And yet, something made it obvious to me, in the back of my mind, that we had this same kind of thing before. I never got how that worked, and I probably never will, but whatever, figuring out things could wait.

"Wow." Tre says as he looks at me. I'm kind of speechless, to be honest. I think he is too, so for that reason he turns to his lap and picks up the red shears.

We just sit there for a little while. I look at him as he finagles with the scissors. To think that I'd just met one of my best friends for the first time in years was still a massive thing to ponder about at that moment.

But I realize something as I try to ponder about it. The two of us just met each other again in a giant wonderland we called the Westland Galleria, and what were we doing? Sitting on our butts.

I figure out that that's really stupid. And with that...

"Hey, Tre, you wanna do something dangerous?" I ask.

He gets a timid expression on his face. "No, but I know you're gonna make me anyway."

"Come on, Listman, if you're gonna roll with me again you might as well start being into thrills like me," I say to him as I get up and start walking. "You comin' or what?"

He bites his lip and follows me.