Free Only Alien on the Planet by Kristen D. Randle Page A

was right: that kid had a very good thing going in some ways.
    The one bright spot in my life that week was supposed to have been the Film Society. But the kids bailed out of our movie again that Friday night. They were showing Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, a movie I actually knew something about. A happy film—actually funny in places. Exactly the thing I needed. James and Charlie and the girls had bailed out early in the week, having found something far more meaningful to do with their Friday night. But that was okay; it meant Caulder and I could be old people, alone together— old, tired people who sorely needed a tandem sense of emotional satisfaction. It was going to be restorative. It was going to be lovely. This is what I sincerely believed.
    Then Thursday night, Caulder gave me this triumphant look and announced that he had finally asked Hally out. And where was he taking her? Guesses, anyone? To the Film Society. To Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.
    And I was supposed to be pleased. I was supposed to be proud of him.
    When it finally got through to him that I wasn't, he was offended. “Was this not what you wanted? Did you not persecute me into doing this?” he demanded, and then, turning to everyone else, “Did she not?”
    “She did,” they all intoned solemnly.
    “Then why is she looking at me like that?”
    There was a moment of silence.
    “What is she going to do Friday night?” I asked him. “While you and your girlfriend are going to our movie?”
    “Well, you can come too,” he said very simply.
    “ Right ,” I said. And Kaitlin and Melissa agreed.
    “What?” he said again. “Why not?”
    “He is so stupid,” I said to his sisters.
    “Caulder,” Katie said very patiently. “You can't ask one girl out and have another girl tag along.”
    “I thought this was an enlightened age,” Caulder protested.
    “You can't ask one girl out and have another girl tag along,” Kaitlin repeated, “no matter what age it is.”
    “Hally wants to go out with you , not with us ,” I pointed out.
    “But she's your friend,” he said. And then, with sudden comprehension, “She wants to go out with me?”
    “You are so stupid ,” I said again. “You are so— typical. ” I got up from the table. “I'm going for a walk,” I said. “I'm glad you asked Hally out—okay? I'm really glad. Glad for you, glad for Hally, glad you all have someplace to go Friday night. I hope you all have a great time.” I couldn't help the look I gave him, and I got my coat, and I went outside.
    “Just leave her alone, Mr. Sensitive,” I heard Kaitlin say as I pulled on my coat. “She'll take care of herself.”
    I slammed the front door and stood there steaming in the dark, chill October night. I stalked down the walk and started down the street—going nowhere, really, just giving Caulder and the whole rest of the world a good, mental pounding.
    I went two blocks and gave up. So what about me? I was thinking. I stopped and sat in the gutter. Everybody else in the world gets what they want. Oh, of course, they love me. I'm great to have around as long as you don't have anything better to do. Paul takes off for college, my folks drag us out here and then desert us, the kids take off with their friends, Caulder deserts me—it's not even because he's so stupid. It's not even because he's mean. It's because I'm the kind of person people forget, that's why. I just might as well not even exist. I'm not the kind of person people fight for. I'm just sort of an extra. I might as well just sit here the rest of my life. Alone. In the gutter.
    The wind blew and a smattering of leaves hit the street, scudding away from me. I looked up. There wasn't another soul in the street. There were lights in the windows of the houses, but they seemed cold and distant. There were no cars moving. Only the wind. I could have been the only person alive in the whole world. It was very depressing. I picked up a little chip of broken asphalt and