Free A Trick of the Light by Lois Metzger

long flies. You tell the coach about this?”
    Mike: “Not yet.”
    Eric: “He won’t be happy.”
    But you’ll be happy. That’s the important thing.
    Eric: “Why are you so fidgety? It’s like you can’t stand still.”
    Start wearing headphones in the hall. That way people will leave you alone.
    At lunch, Mike sees Amber and she’s got on layers and layers of clothes. It reminds him of that homeless man. Mike pushes the image away.
    Amber: “My mom’s such a bitch. I made the mistake of telling her I want to be a nutritionist. She laughed—she actually laughed!”
    Mike: “But you’d be a great nutritionist. You know everything about food.”
    Amber: “I do, right?” She tears open a pack of saltines. “Get this.” She spits cracker dust when she talks. “My mom eats at Burger King. She says it’s because of her job but I don’t believe it. I think she actually likes Whoppers.”
    Mike: “Your mom works at Burger King?”
    Amber runs her fingers through her hair. Several strands come loose and float to the floor like bits of cobweb.
    Amber: “If I tell you, you won’t tell anyone?”
    Mike: “Who am I gonna tell?”
    Amber: “Tamio?”
    Mike: “I told you. We’re not friends.”
    Amber: “Well, all right.” She whispers something Mike can’t understand.
    Mike: “She’s a cool hunger?”
    Amber (annoyed): “A cool hunter. She’s hired by advertising companies to observe teenagers and see what they find cool. Isn’t that the dumbest thing you ever heard? She goes to Burger King to see the clothes kids are wearing, the shoes they have on, the phones they’re using.” Amber has chicken soup today. She spoons out the noodles and puts them on her tray. “I hate her.”
    Mike nods.
    Amber: “She hates all the friends I ever had.”
    Mike: “Anna?”
    Amber: “Oh, she hates Anna more than anyone.”
    Mike: “What about your boyfriend?”
    Amber: “We can’t even talk about it. It makes her crazy. She hates everything about me. She hates what I wear. She wants me to look like Melissa Sacks, with her tight little skirts and thigh-high boots. Melissa is the daughter my mom had in mind when she thought about having one.”
    This is heartbreaking. Amber’s mom should be so proud of her. Amber, who is her own person, who doesn’t want to look like everybody else. But Mike doesn’t really like the way Amber’s clothes hang on her, like she’s got on a pile of laundry.
    Mike: “I don’t know . . . maybe your mom could get you some new clothes.”
    Amber: “It’s never about me! It’s about her. When she talks to me, I count the number of times she says ‘I.’ Then she gets mad and says I’m not listening. Even then it’s all about her. ‘I can tell,’ she says. ‘I always know.’ See what I mean?”
    Mike (nodding): “My dad can be like that—”
    Amber: “Anyway, why should I listen to her? I could care less what she has to say.” She rips open another pack of saltines. “I was really close to my aunt Claire. She died suddenly from an aneurism. You know what that is? It’s when an artery fills with blood and bursts. My mom kept telling me to get over it. ‘Look at me,’ she said, ‘I’m moving on.’ God, I’m such a pig. My mom makes me crazy.”
    Mike: “Hey, are you crying?”
    Amber: “No! I just hate her so much.”
    Mike thinks she sure looks like she’s crying.
    Mike: “What about your dad?”
    Amber: “He’s worse than useless. He thinks what my mom tells him to think.”
    Mike: “Well, it’s good you have friends.”
    Amber: “Friends? When I was in the hospital last summer, for four whole weeks, no one came to see me. No one!”
    Mike: “Why were you in the hospital?”
    Amber: “What do you care?”
    Mike: “Four weeks—that’s a long time. What happened?”
    Amber: “It did so happen. Are you accusing me of lying?”
    She wasn’t hearing Mike right. There’s that lazy lip, rearing its ugly head, so to speak.
    Mike: “I asked you what