Oh, yeah. Sweaty gym time. I got a chance to play basketball with—wait for it—with Tommy today. Say whatever else you want about him, but the guy’s kind of beast mode. He’s superstrong and fast. If he had some smarts, he’d be heading for a job as a Scavenger instead of Security. Oh well, sucks to be Tommy.
Not so bad a guy when you really talk to him, though, which I was mildly surprised to learn today. He’s just super into himself. Whatever, so he comes up to me and says, “Hey, Jackie, did you think about that date?”
“No, Toolshed,” I tell him. He doesn’t take this well and gets a scowl across his face, but he also looks confused at the same time, like he can’t digest the fact that someone’s mocking him. His ego’s too big to let him give up, though, so he asks me, “Well, why not? Are the guys really lining up to take you out? Last I heard, you’d never even been on a date.”
“What’s bigger than a toolshed?” I fire back. “A tool tower? Yeah, that’s it. You’re a tool tower. Tool Tower Tommy.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” he says.
“Only because your brain is too small to get it,” I tell him. This gets the usual round of “ooooohs” that kids like to give whenever insults start getting thrown around. You know Tommy’s not going to take that kind of insult and just walk away, though, so he puffs out his chest, you know, like a peacock. At this point his nostrils are getting really big and he’s breathing heavy. He kind of has a horseface going for a second. Then he says, “Whatever, Jackie. You think you’re so tough? Let’s see how tough you really are.”
“What are you going to do, Tommy? Are you seriously going to ask me to fight or something? You want to fight a girl?”
“What do you think I am?” he asks. “I don’t fight girls. I’m a gentleman, not that you’d know. You’re always telling everyone how good you are at sports, though. So let’s see how good.”
He shoots a look over to the wall of the gymnasium, where the basketball hoop is hanging. My face trails his before I laugh. “Are you really asking me what I think you’re asking? Everyone knows I’m a good shooter. Everyone. I’ve got dead shot aim.
“Yeah, Jackie,” he says. “If you’re so good, let’s see you prove it.”
“Fine,” I tell him, walking over to grab a ball. Of course, Toolshed over there has to run and get it before I do, just to show everyone he’s faster than me. What an ass.
I don’t know if I want to really talk about how bad I was compared to Tommy. No, wait, I take it back. I’m definitely a better shooter than Tommy. I’m a better shooter than anyone. Them’s the facts, punkface. Whatever. Point is, anytime I did have the ball, I was pretty much shooting right over Tommy’s head. The problem wasn’t so much that I was having trouble shooting, and more that Tommy’s just really damn fast. And strong.
Since I talk so much trash about him, I might as well give him some credit. I mean, you see how he moves when he’s playing other people, but you just don’t realize how good he is until he’s, you know, grinding his victory into your face. The guy’s quicker than me, he can freaking dunk, and let’s not even get into how many times he snatched the ball out of my hands. Which is a long way of saying I had my butt handed to me.
Anyway, Toolshed gets done proving his point, then has the nerve to ask, “Are you going to go on that date with me now?”
I shrug. “Sure. Whenever we get out of this Tower.”
That pretty much means never, but he was right about the date thing. I’ve never been on one. At seventeen. God that’s depressing.
Totally not the point. The point is, I’m pissed. Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I lost at basketball. I’m on my way out of the gym when Tommy catches up to me. I’m about ready to deck him across the face, but he throws his hands up. At first I think he’s gonna, like, try and box me or something. But he doesn’t. He just stops in front of me and says, “Hey, Jackie, good game.”
So at this point, I’m totally confused. “Yeah, uh, you too,” I say back.
“Hey, sorry if I got too aggressive in there. It’s just, I don’t know, my thing.”
“Your ‘thing,’ huh?” I ask. “Well, whatever.”
“Hey,” he says, pointing a finger at me, “I did say sorry.”
“Yeah. You want a prize?” I’m still confused at this point, but I finally give in. “Okay, okay, Tommy. We’re cool.”
“Why do you think I’m such a jerk, anyway? What’d I ever do to you?”
“You’re… you’re kidding me, right?” This guy. “Don’t act like you didn’t torment me back when we used to play baseball together. You made my life a living hell, I mean, is it my fault I was the only girl on the team? You didn’t have to make fun of me every day. I can’t help that it took me a few years for my body to grow big enough for my head.”
“You did kind of look like a kid’s doll back then.”
“See what I mean?” I ask as I slap him across the arm. “Then you want to know why I don’t want to go out with you? Maybe if you’d been less busy being a stank face and a little more human, we could have at least been friends.”
“Jackie, how old are we?”
“What?”
He holds up his hands like he’s surrendering. “How old are we?”
“Uh, seventeen. Why?”
“I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t kind of what you like to call a tool bag. But that was almost ten years ago. I was nine. Whatever you remember about me isn’t what I’m about now. I mean, sure, I still like to whomp on people in basketball, and I kind of am the best athlete on the floor.”
“Point conceded, you kind of are.”
“And I’m not going to pretend that’s not true. I’m competitive and cocky, like, all the time. But do I feel bad about what I did back then? Yeah, of course. I was an ass.”
“You got that right. Plus some other choice words I’d use to describe you.”
“Look, forget the date thing. I don’t know what I was thinking. I have a habit of my ego getting in front of the rest of my brain. I’d at least like to shoot for friends, though. The guy you remember was from a long time ago. I’m different. Seriously, I’m not who you remember. I know that’s hard to believe, but people do change once in a while.”
Instinctively I fold my arms in front of me and cock my eyebrow at him like a loading gun. “Friends. You and me? You’re really going to ask me that?”
“Hey, like I said. I follow my ego. But seriously, I want you to know I’m not nine-year-old Tommy. Heck, I’d rather be Tool Tower Tommy than that guy I used to be.”
That gets a smile out of me. “Fine.”
“So, maybe we can hit the gym sometime? I can take you through some of my routine. You know, work on your upper-body strength.”
“Get out of here,” I say. Guy’s a jerk, but it turns out he’s got his own sense of humor. He gives me a smile, and I can’t help but think, People are probably more complicated than I give them credit for. And he’s right about something. What you remember about someone isn’t necessarily what they are today. It’s just hard getting over your past, you know?
Recording Thirteen
Scavengers should be back any day now. It’s not super-unusual for them to be gone an extra day or two, especially if they have a good haul. Hopefully this means we get chocolate. If you want me to be truthful, then I’m kinda excited about them coming back, and no, not just because Mike’s going to be with them. I mean, what, you think my life revolves around him?
Please. Kid’s good, but not that good. No, I’m seriously just, like, hyped. Must be because of how long they’re taking to get back up here. If we’re going to be for real, I actually do like seeing if everyone made it home alive. Sucks to have to join the Scavengers just because you want to move to the upper floors someday, you know? It’s not what you’d call fair that lots of lower-level livers join just for a chance at getting out of the Creep.