Free Palo Alto: Stories by James Franco Page B

interesting over there.
    “Mmmmm, that
is fucking
good,” I said. “Fucking
fine
.” The drooping plant was not listening, only Pam was listening. She was pretty ugly, but when she smiled she wasn’t so ugly. And I could see up close that she had a really good body.
    “Hey,” I said to the other girl. She didn’t look back. “Hey, here’s your cigarette.” She still didn’t look.
    “Her name is Vicky,” said Pam.
    “Vicky,” I said. “Vicky the hickey.” She still didn’t look. “Vicky, you remind me of a praying mantis,” I said. “You’re all long, and mantis.”
    Pam laughed for a second, and put her hand over her mouth like she shouldn’t have. But then the mantis stood up.
    “Pam, I’m going,” said the mantis.
    “Don’t go,” I said.
    “Fuck you,” she said to me. “Pam, are you coming?” she said.
    Pam didn’t stand up.
    “Pam doesn’t want to go, mantis,” I said.
    “Screw you,” she said to me. To Pam she said, “Pam?”
    Pam said, “No,” very quietly. The mantis turned and walked off across the field.
    “Why don’t you go pray, and eat some of your mates,” I said to her back.
    She walked crookedly and had a funny-shaped ass, like a heptagon.
    I took another puff on the cigarette. It was a Camel. Some of the Mexicans called to me. They were carrying their soccer bags and water bottles at the other end of the field. They were waving. I waved.
    I handed the cigarette back to Pam. She took a puff.
    “Are you from around here?” I said.
    She said she had just moved. She was going to start school with me at Paly in the fall. The pale girl worked at Midtown Video and they had met when she had gone in there to rent a video. She was the only person Pam had met so far.
    I asked her which movie she rented.
    “Pretty Woman.”
    “I guess I ruined your one friendship,” I said.
    “She wasn’t really a friend, just a girl.”
    “I know,” I said. “Want to come to my buddy Tom’s and smoke pot?” I said. She said sure. Tom lived close to Jordan.
    At Tom’s we smoked a lot of pot. Tom was there, we were in his room. We sat in a little circle near the open window and passed around a six-inch bong. We blew the smoke out the window. I got really high.
    “Look at my eyes,” I said. “I’m Chinese too.”
    She said she wasn’t Chinese, that she was half Vietnamese and half Caucasian. Then she said, “I’m adopted.”
    I looked at her. I was so high.
    “I love adoption,” I said. She looked at me weirdly, then she laughed. I liked making her laugh, because then she wasn’t so ugly.
    “I love adoption
too,
” said Tom.
    We all laughed some more. Tom was tall and blond and handsome. The Sunday sun from the window was warm on my back.
    We were sitting there, and then I said, as if it was the best idea I’d ever had, “Let’s play ‘Camping’!”
    She asked what Camping was.
    “Tom, go get a flashlight. And a sleeping bag. We’ll pretend we’re out in the woods, camping.” Tom got up and went out to get the stuff. I went to the door and closed it, and turned off the lights. She was on the floor, watching me. I went to the window and closed the blinds, which made it pretty dark in the room. There was only the light from around the sides of the blinds, which glowed, a dull, radioactive orange. I took the comforter off the bed and went over to her.
    “Roll up in this blanket with me, and we’ll pretend it’s a sleeping bag,” I said. I laid the comforter on the floor. I opened my arms, and she got close to me. We lay on the comforter, I took her in my arms, and we rolled ourselves up in it. Our heads were covered too. We giggled.
    Then I heard the door open. Tom was there, but I couldn’t see him and he didn’t say anything. He was standing there, and we were lying there. We were being quiet, as if he wouldn’t know where we were if we didn’t make a sound, as if we were out in the forest. We were giggling but we kept it in. Silent giggling.
    “I got the