Memphis and Gray, Week 6 - October

1193 Words
Gray, Sorry that I didn’t text or call you this weekend. In fact, just to prove that I mean it, I’m going to text you right now so you have my number. There—done. Wow, you responded quickly. I don’t get the sense anyone ever gave you any lessons in “playing hard to get.” But I’m glad for that. Anyway, my friends tell me I have a reputation at your school as being a slut, which I find kind of interesting, seeing as I’ve never slept with anyone at your school. Point is, I know my friends, which means I know that, even though they keep insisting they haven't, they have probably been hounding you to make sure you haven’t just been trying to get into my pants this whole time. So, sorry about that. I don’t think that, for the record. I think you’re a good guy, Gray. And I’m glad I got you as my pen pal. Mem                                                                                                          / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / Mem, Thank you for finally texting me, though I feel the need to point out that I’m not sure it constitutes “texting” when you send about one response every three hours. Clearly someone did teach you the lesson in “playing hard to get.” I honestly have never heard your name in conjunction with the word “slut,” or really with any word, for that matter, here at Seacoast. If you recall, when I got you as my pen pal, I couldn’t even find you on social media, let alone gather information about you. Which means that my “crowd” (the guys who toke it up under the bleachers instead of running laps in gym, and who are better at picking locks than solving equations) aren’t the ones who started that nasty rumor. Which means it was probably the crowd that has the least interaction with my crowd—Ezra’s crowd. Since you say you have never slept with anyone at Seacoast (which, by the way, I could kiss you for, and will kiss you for, just as soon as you give me that sweet permission I’ve been patiently waiting on), my guess is that Ezra himself started the rumor around the time you and your friends started calling him on his s**t. Would you like me to beat him up again, Mem? Maybe I would have better luck the second time? Also, how was your weekend? Mine was pretty boring, though I did get a chance to talk to Lizzy on the phone, which was nice. She has a piano recital this weekend in Manhattan. Maybe you would like to go with me? No pressure. And obviously we could drive back same day, or you could crash in one of my mom’s three penthouse guest rooms. (Though, a word of caution: she’s not a very nice person, nor is my latest stepdad.) Whatever you want. Love, Gray                                                                                                          / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / Gray, I didn’t have a very good weekend. The “slut” comment made me pretty upset, and Todd had a meltdown, and I sort of also had a meltdown. I’m okay now, though. Thanks for asking. Please don’t try to beat up Ezra again. You have a nice face, and if his posse keeps breaking it, it might not stay nice like that. Also, what if you pierced his spleen and got expelled again? I don’t really want you to move away from Granger. That would make me sad. I guess we’re all moving away eventually, given that we’re seniors. I haven’t actually applied for college, though. Have you? Thank you for inviting me to your sister’s piano recital. I would really like to meet her, and even your mom and stepdad, even though they’re not nice people. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I mean, isn’t that something boyfriends and girlfriends do? Which we aren’t? If we went, I would have to insist on driving, after what just happened to Tally. That way, if you decide to be an asshole, at least I can be the one leaving you behind in the dust. Mem                                                                                                          / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / Mem, Please don’t let the stupid things Ezra and his friends say ruin your weekend. I don’t like when you are sad or upset. Maybe next time you are sad or upset, you can call me, and I can come over and make you smile. Thanks also for saying I have a nice face. I personally think it’s a little crooked, and that maybe one, really good punch would set it straight. But you certainly made my day. I haven’t applied for college, nor do I intend to, as I’m virtually certain I would not get in. As I think I told you once before, my only current aspiration is to not get kicked out of school. I am surprised that you haven’t, though. You’re very smart and very creative. Maybe you should apply to music or arts schools? Have you really not even thought about it? I think it’s a very good idea for you to come to the recital. Who says only boyfriends and girlfriends can do such things? I say that people who like each other’s faces, and don’t want each other to move away, and want to meet each other’s families, even if they’re not nice, are fully deserving of such activities. You are more than welcome to drive us. I like your dorky little Prius, and I hear that you are a “much better driver than most humans.” Please say you’ll come. Love, Gray                                                                                                          / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / Gray, Okay, I’ll come. As for college, I don’t think it’s in the cards for me. My family doesn’t have a lot of money—at least, not compared to most of the people in Granger, including you with your Manhattan penthouse—and it’s much more important to keep Todd where he is than for me to go to some fancy music school. The only reason I’m even at Alexandria is because my grandmother left a very specific “Memphis Goes to All Girls’ High School” fund for me when she died.  (My mom got pregnant with me out of wedlock—at a Rolling Stones concert, to be specific—and it nearly killed my grandmother. She blamed coed school. She then hunted down my father and told him about me, and he marched right up to my mom and said he wanted to be a part of our lives. 18 years later, they’re married and with a second child. Go figure.) Anyway, I’ll text you for details about the concert, and just as a reminder, I’m driving. Thanks for inviting me, Gray. Really. Mem
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