Chapter 42
SLEEPOVER
Entenmann’s?” Brainzilla asks when I open the door. She’s holding out a box of chocolate-covered doughnuts.
“I’ve got milk!” Flatso says, holding up a gallon. “Plus three Will Ferrell movies!”
“Oh, I—”
“We thought we’d have a sleepover,” Brainzilla says as she pushes open the door. “If you don’t mind.” She and Flatso don’t wait for me to agree, or anything. They just bust into the living room, where Marjorie is drinking coffee in her bathrobe and cursing out an electric knife on TV.
“Listen, guys, I’m not sure that Marjorie—”
“Did someone say Entenmann’s?” Marjorie asks.
My friends charm Marjorie, who gets dressed and makes us a pesto-and-gorgonzola pizza (which is delicious, by the way).
Later, when Marjorie heads out to go grocery shopping at midnight (her favorite time), I get to have some quality time with my besties. We settle in and flip through magazines, while Flatso paints our toenails. My room is still cold, but it feels cozy with my friends and Morris to cheer me up.
“I’m so glad you two came over tonight.”
“Yeah—we kind of thought you needed a hug,” Flatso says.
I swear—my friends are the best. I couldn’t even make up anyone as good as them.
“I don’t know how you guys even put up with me,” I say. I seriously mean this. Who wants to be friends with someone who’s sad all the time?
“We love you,” Flatso says. “And the thing is, you don’t even understand how amazing you are.”
“W. H. Auden was talking about you when he said poetry is ‘the formation of private spheres out of a public chaos,’ ” Brainzilla replies.
“Thanks,” I whisper. I’m not really sure what she means, but I think she’s talking about my writing. Anyway, I know she means it as a compliment, and I love her for just being here. And for being her.
I know I’ve had a lot of bad luck lately. But I’ve had good luck, too.
Just look at how lucky I am right now.
