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Tim

  I fucking hate it that everyone calls us Ben and Jerry, my name’s Tim, not Ben, and yeah his name is Jerry, but so what, it’s not like the two of us are those old hippie fucking ice cre- anyway, okay, look, I’m over-explaining it, I know, okay, I know that, I always do that, you know what I mean, sorry if I’m over-over-explaining it, but I guess it’s like that with nicknames. Once people have one for you it sticks and then you’re pretty much fucked.

  I mean Jerry is cool and all but let’s just say some stuff here that somebody needs to say: first of all, I taught him like literally everything, I mean, okay, literally everything? About skateboarding. He couldn’t even ollie or drop in or basically do anything but not fucking fall off when I met him. So when -- and I totally know this was happening -- but when Karen and Naeli and Andrea all those girls were after school all secretly but not that secretly snapchatting him doing some insanely simple fakie kickturn and getting all excited, it’s just totally unfair.

  So I just took off. Usually I might stick around and kick it with the guys but I was like no way. I didn’t want to be Jerry’s little fucking sidekick and I was thinking about heading to the skate park and basically to be honest all I was really thinking about, so much, was Andrea, I mean basically always but especially after lunch when we all went to DQ and she was bent over laughing and all, like, you could see -- like, anyway. I mean I couldn’t not think about her, in fifth and sixth period I was like this dog or something that can’t even focus except on one thing, I was even saying to myself, to my like, body, God, get over it, but she is so hot, she was wearing those pants girls wear, whatever they’re called, and it’s like, well, I don’t want to be graphic or nothing, but your body basically can’t not respond to that.

  At least, mine can’t. So I skated home and I was first one there and so I was basically on a mission and unexpectedly Mom came home and she was all “Tim, are you up there? Are you in your room?” and it was so embarrassing, so embarrassing, I can’t even believe I’m talking about this, and in my head I was like, sorry Andrea if this is insulting, but also I had this, like, fantasy about her coming to my house because she wanted to try on a new wetsuit and show her how to surf, and oh my God, but in my head I even knew that this was a, like, a stupid fantasy, because I don’t even know if she wants to learn how to surf or knows that I surf, but more stupid, way more because she so so so doesn’t even know I exist.

  I mean, like, literally if I died tomorrow she’d go to DQ with everyone and all that and call Jerry Ben and Jerry and not even notice that that doesn’t make sense any more. And it’s not like I don’t know why.

  Like, you don’t go having weird curly weird hair that you always have to wear a hat over and zits and a weird chin and be super skinny and not notice that about yourself, especially if you semi-obsessively look in the mirror way too much but I can’t exactly stop, it’s like a traffic accident, you kind of have to look. I mean, I know, it’s not my fault, it’s genetics, it’s not like I can do anything about it, but I doubt, like I sincerely, sincerely doubt that there is one girl at that school -- no, okay, in the whole world -- who is like, oh that Tim, the way he has like no shoulders and weak arms and zits, that’s so sexy, I want to fuck him so much.

  God, I’m so gross. Like lately all I think about is you-know-what, lately being like two years or something, and that’s such a cliché and I like know it’s a cliché but I mean, what am I supposed to do about it? Like literally if Andrea came over to my house and said, like, whatever, something that girls say that would be like, okay, she would be down, I would literally die. Like, okay, die. Like half from embarrassment, half from excitement, and half from shock.

  But that’s not going to happen, so I’m still alive. I had this idea, though, and I’m trying to figure out if it’s a good idea. I was going to get Andrea like a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Buttah ice cream as a like, gift, but then I was like, what, put it in her locker, how’s that going to work, it’s going to totally melt, and anyway I was totally scared, I was heading to the skate park and my heart was like leaping out of my chest just imagining doing that and what she might say. Then I was like, well, that’s not gonna work, but I could do a Reese’s peanut butter cup, I could probably fit that somehow into her locker, maybe? But even if, then, like, what? Just write a note that says, “Hey, Andrea, I know you’re into peanut butter, thought you might enjoy this, Tim?” She’d be all: weirdo! And tell her friends and them all laugh at me and be like, “Ew, he’s so gross,” or “you just got a present from a human zit” or, more actually, “Who’s Tim?”