When we got to the top of the people mover, Clarity flicked her cigarette and it landed right next to this kid who was part of a family who had just walked up the giant hill. He looked at it, then looked over at me and Clarity with this crumpled brow like he was so above us for not littering and being part of a generation that knew smoking was bad for you from the beginning and would never do a thing like that. He galloped ahead a little to catch up with his family.
Clarity and I looked at each other and busted out laughing.
“You just ruined that kid for life.”
“He’ll never trust adults again.”
“No, he’ll probably turn into a hardcore Misty smoker.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry about the Mistys. I’m just trying to get rid of these before I smoke my Parliaments.”
“You have Parliaments in there?”
“Eh! Eh! We have to smoke the Mistys first. My girlfriend willed me these after a night at the El Capitan and I promised her I’d smoke them for her so they didn’t go to waste.”
“Why don’t you hand ‘em to me and I’ll throw ‘em in this trash can right here, that way you don’t have to take responsibility.”
“Well if you hadn’t told me what you were going to do with them, then I wouldn’t have been taking responsibility. As it is, I’d be just as responsible as you, since I know what you’re going to do with them.”
“You have a problem with responsibility?” I say.
“Yeah,” Clarity says. “I do.”
I shake my head.
“Well, you better give me one of those Mistys so we can get through them.”
“You would do that for me?”
“I feel I have to, out of a sense of responsibility.”
Clarity hands me a Misty and a lighter.
“Look, dude, what are we gonna do all day?”
“We’re gonna chain smoke this pack of Mistys—”
“I have two packs of Mistys.”
“We’re gonna chain smoke two packs of Mistys. We’re gonna wait till that Liberty Pub opens and we’re gonna drink.”
“Liberty Pub opens at twelve. It’s eight in the morning dude.”
“Stop calling me dude.”
“It’s eight in the morning, Matthew Temple. You talk so formal when you talk.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
“No I’m just observing, ok? Aren’t people allowed to observe people?”
“Everyone says I talk formal.”
“Are you uptight?”
“Do I seem uptight to you?”
“A little.”
“Well maybe I am. I mean we’re living in a world where bitches named Clarity throw lit cigarettes at children named Scooter, scarring them for life.”
“Scooter deserved to die.”
“Deserved? Like he deserved to die a minute ago but now he no longer deserves to die?”
“That’s right. That was his one chance. See? You’re correcting the way I speak, asshole—don’t you think that’s a little uptight? Are you gay?”
“What?! If I speak properly or correct the way you talk then I’m gay? Do you know how offensive that is?”
“It’s only offensive if you’re a shit-licking fag.”
“Oh fuck. No. It’s offensive to everyone, everywhere, shit-licking fag or not. There isn’t justice anywhere until there’s justice everywhere or something like that. It’s Martin Luther King. I’m misquoting but you get the point.”
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere you douchebag. And it’s Martin Luther King Junior, ass munch.”
“Oh!! Look who’s correcting language now! I should have known given how nice Purity is that you would be a whoring fucking cunt.”
Clarity looks at me super seriously.
“I’m sorry—”
She breaks out of character.
“I’m just fucking with you,” she says. “Ahhh! I had you. I fucking had you.”
She’s speaking with her lips pursed around a fresh Misty.
She lights it.
She waves the box around in front of my face, raising her eyebrows, asking me if I want one.
I snatch the box.
“You’re a fucking faggot if you smoke Mistys,” she says.
“I’m just helping you out, faggot. You’re the one smoking Mistys.”
“I’m just helping out a friend.”
“Well I’ll help you out,” I say.
We smoke a couple of drags.
“Look there’s something I have to say. I mean I have to draw the line somewhere—”
“You have a boyfriend so don’t flirt with you,” I say. “I wasn’t going to flirt with you. Why does every girl think that every guy is going to flirt with them? It’s like you’ve got to drop the I’ve got a boyfriend or I’ve got a husband line ‘cause you think we’re all wild dogs.”
“That’s not what I was going to say,” Clarity scoffs.
“Well don’t worry, I won’t flirt with you, regardless of what you were going to say.”
“You’re a very bad listener. Did you ever wonder if that’s why you’re single?”
“You don’t know if I’m single or not!”
“Phwff. You’re fucking single. Now if you’ll please let me say what I was going to say.”
“Sure. ‘Draw the line,’ as you said. Draw your line. What’s your fucking line?”
“I don’t do rollercoasters,” she blurts.
“That’s what you were going to say?”
“Yes and you assumed I was going to play the I have a boyfriend card so that says something about your mentality, not mine.”
“Well do you have a boyfriend or not?”
“What the fuck dude? We’re talking about rollercoasters.”
“Well then we’re going to have a problem.”
“Why? You love rollercoasters?”
I nod.
“You really love rollercoasters?”
I nod bigger.
“You’re one of those motherfuckers who waits for the first car?”
I smile. I nod. I look Clarity directly in the eye.
“Nuh uh,” Clarity says.
“Let me explain something to you,” I say. “It’s all about the first car—or the last. I don’t ride rollercoasters unless I’m in the first car. It’s not worth it. It’s like playing just the tip all your life and calling yourself a virgin because you want to hold onto your idea of purity when really, if you let yourself go, you could be fucking, you could be riding in that first car, you could have your hands above your head pissing yourself ‘cause that first drop is so scary that..well..that you have to piss yourself.”
I take a long drag off my Misty.
“You have some strange ideas about things,” Clarity says.