The No Eddie Club

Ok. I know I haven’t posted. But…how could I? I don’t even know if I should now.

Wren says I think too much and don’t talk enough. I picked her up at Stephanie’s the morning after they…well. I took her out for pancakes. She sat in the booth all pathetic and weird, and when the syrup came she reached out and grabbed my hand. She said she just wanted to hold it for awhile, just needed something warm.

That’s me, something warm.

Then she asked: when you were little, did you ever want to think there was someplace wonderful you could get to, if you just wanted it bad enough? Like Oz or Narnia, but different, the Oz or Narnia you would make if you could make a place just how you wanted it?

Sure, I said.

But you know, when you find a place like that, it isn’t what you thought it would be.

I think she would have said more, but Steph barged in, brash and loud and wearing some stupid jacket with buckles and bells on it. She plopped down next to Wren and unbuttoned her shirt.

There was a black mark on the top part of her left breast, like Wren’s, like Jack’s.

When I was a kid, I was never invited into any of the clubs the others kids invented at school. I couldn’t play sports, I was Asian, I was fat. One group of girls even came up with a No Eddie club.

Stephanie was so proud of her mark. She was so excited to tell me. You dream about this place, she said. And there’s a woman with a frog’s head and she tells your future and makes you stick your feet in this weird ink and then there’s all these bugs but they’re really machines and–

I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about a group of little blond 6th graders who thought they had invented the best club in the whole world.

But Wren looked brighter and happier, as if Stephanie liking the place gave her permission to like it.She really is pretty when she brightens up. When there’s blood in her face.

Jack says there’s this website, Stephanie told us with her stupid dimply little smile she thinks is so cute. Maybe you can find someone there, Eddie.

Maybe you can find someone there. But not here. This here is a No Eddie club.

So I spent a week reading through Jack’s site. Afraid to post. Afraid not to. Hating myself for not being able to decide.

And then a woman in a blue Datsun rolled into my driveway, and I just really can’t talk about that right now. I want to, I just…I’m so tired.

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