Love And Other Things I'm Bad At Part 32

I wanted to defend her, but that wasn't too far from the truth. Even though Beth is in Italy and has settled down a lot, she can't escape her HS reputation.

That kind of sucks.

Does that mean everyone will remember me as a bad cla.s.s vice president who let the president steal all the money in the treasury? And gave a very poor, very embarra.s.sing speech to get elected? And slept on the roof of a school to raise money but was not even touched by the infamous player Tom "the Tom" Delaney?

There's so much to live down.

No wonder it's a good thing to go away for college. Far, far away.

Anyway, Shawna and I plotted a strategy for her to find someone more appropriate to l.u.s.t after. She claims that she never meets anyone, but I don't get it. She says guys don't approach her because they a.s.sume she already has a boyfriend. On account of being kind of beautiful.

Which she is, but still.

Working graveyard s.h.i.+fts at a copy shop is not helping her. She only meets strange, stressed grad students. We made a list of every guy she knows and is slightly interested in. I was shocked when she wrote down "Matt from next door."

"Oh yeah, he's really nice," I chimed in.

"Grant from next door," she wrote next.

"But he's, um, seeing someone," I pointed out. Not to mention that he's my ex and that would be horribly awkward.

"I know," she said. "But it probably won't last forever."

Dara walked in the door just as I was saying, "No, you're right, I guess."

"Right about what?" asked Dara.

"That Grant and Kelli are, like, on borrowed time," Shawna told her. She talked about her ex, who decided he didn't want to be tied down to just one person. "And I was like, later. Have a good life. Why would I want to waste my time with someone like that? You either want to go out and be serious or you don't. But then I think he's kind of right, you know? That we're too young to be settling down with one person. I mean, like, look at Tobie, who's living with Bradley, and all they do now is fight about the dishes, and then there's you, who's tied down to Wittenauer and he's a hundred miles away," Shawna went on.

"I'm not tired down," I said. "And it's a thousand miles."

"Tied down," Dara corrected me.

"Whatever. I'm not."

"Sure you are," said Dara. "You're not agreeing to see other people, are you?"

"No."

"Then you're tied down," she said.

"But what's wrong with that?" I asked.

"Nothing! If that's what you like. I just don't, I'm more of a spontaneous free-spirit-type person when it comes to going out," said Dara.

"In other words, lonely," said Shawna.

"No, actually, no. I'm not. And what's more lonely? Being alone, or missing the person you're tied down to?" she asked.

Ooh. Check. Mate.

I was going to call Wittenauer and ask if he felt like he was too . . . tied down, or up, or whatever. But that seemed like something only a tied-down person would do.

What a horrible expression. Picture bound wrists.

Of course, some people like that sort of thing.

10/12.

Doorbell rang this morning while I was finis.h.i.+ng breakfast. Opened the front door and saw Grant and Kelli standing there. "We have kind of a weird question to ask you," said Grant.

I braced myself.

"Do you think we could borrow Oscar?" Grant asked.

I narrowed my eyes. "Borrow him? For what, a walk? Because I already took him on a long walk-"

"No, it's for Wednesday morning, actually," Kelli added. "Do you think that would be OK?"

"Well, what for?" I asked.

"We're sort of having a show-and-tell in vet sciences," Grant said.

"Aren't you a little old for show-and-tell?" asked Dara, holding DeathKitty in her arms, stroking her neck.

"The professor asked us to bring in any pets we have. Since I-uh, we-don't have any-"

"Then why don't they call it pet sciences?" I asked.

Grant laughed, but Kelli didn't. I could tell my humor didn't amuse her.

"That might be stressful for Oscar. Why not take DeathKitty instead?" I suggested.

"That's a great idea," said Dara. "She loves the spotlight. And maybe you could ask your professor why it feels like she's gained ten pounds in the last month."

"It's because she's been eating Oscar's food," I said. "It's not a mystery. Add that to all the calories she gets from killing birds-hey, you could talk about her love of the kill," I said to Grant.

"But I don't know her. I know Oscar. I'm familiar with his issues," said Grant.

He sounded just like a vet already. That, or a therapist.

"Fine. Take him. But if he freaks out in front of all those people, don't blame me," I said.

"If he has a grand mal seizure that would be so cool. A great learning opportunity," said Kelli.

I just stared at her. She actually wants him to have a seizure. She has a cruel streak.

"Well, he won't have one," I said. "He's been doing really well lately."

I don't know how to break it to Oscar that he's about to be a scientific experiment.

10/13.

I'm obsessing over the fact that Kelli and Grant want to take Oscar to cla.s.s. I can't say why, but that feels wrong. Grant and I bonded over Oscar. He's, you know, our dog, or at least my dog, who has a very small circle of friends. Not for Kelli to interlope with.

Especially not if she's looking forward to him seizing up and freaking out.

I called Wittenauer to talk it over. "What kind of person wants that? Is that the kind of cold, scientific personality you have to have in order to become a veterinarian? I mean, imagine if she wanted to be a doctor. She'd walk around wis.h.i.+ng people would fall ill right in front of her so she could learn more. She'd be like, 'Would you mind breaking your leg so I can learn how to set a cast? Would you skip your insulin so I can watch you go into a diabetic coma?'"

"Courtney? Courtney! I have to write a paper, so . . ."

"Yeah, OK. Bye." He wasn't that interested, but why would he be? Still, he could have faked it. Everyone has to fake something sometime.

10/14.

Made a bit of a scene today. Am probably unbalanced and need a B-12, vitamin D, every-kind-of-vitamin smoothie boost. This is embarra.s.sing to write down even here, where no one else will read it.

First, when Grant and Kelli came over to pick up Oscar this morning, I insisted on going along. Never mind that it meant I had to skip two of my own cla.s.ses, and never mind that sitting in a cla.s.sroom where animals are potentially . . . dissected . . . or operated on . . . at some point or other, made me feel sick to my stomach.

I told them that Oscar would freak out if I wasn't there because he's had so many changes lately, and he has this fear of abandonment, which he's had since he was a puppy, and Grant nodded, saying, "That's good, that's good, I'll talk about that."

He was petting Oscar when he suddenly said, "Where's his rabies tag?"

"I'm not sure. In Denver?"

"Don't you have any tags for him?" Grant turned his collar around, checking.

"I'll get them, OK? What's the big deal?"

"You know what you should do? You should get him chipped," said Kelli.

"Right," I said, thinking it must hurt an animal or she wouldn't have suggested it. "Well. Can we go? Because I have my own actual cla.s.ses later."

"You don't have to come along," said Grant.

"I do. I really do," I said. "Come on, boy." I clipped the leash to Oscar's collar and we went outside. The 3 of us crammed into Grant's little car, with Oscar sitting in the backseat next to Kelli.

Well. That's just how it worked out, I mean, she got in first, and Oscar clearly can't sit up front. Air bag and everything.

The vet buildings are on the far south side of campus. As we drove there, Grant was grilling me for details to refresh his memory of how we got Oscar (he was abandoned), and how Oscar got the way he is (he was abandoned).

So we get to cla.s.s, which consists of, like, fifty people sitting around and some random pets. Everyone gets to go up on this little stage/podium thing and say something about an unusual behavior their pet has that no one has seen, heard of, or even read about.

In other words: monotonous and boring after the fifth pet. (Though I did see that student with the room to rent, the one who had a boa constrictor.) OK, so it wasn't that bad. But ferret behavior is just not something I'm interested in. Or Siamese cats. DeathKitty would have been the superstar. (Or, she would have taken out a couple other pets.) Oscar cowered under my legs as we sat in the third row of long desks in the lecture hall. So. This was what it was like to be a vet science major. Sit around and watch a pet parade.

Well, and eventually cut them open.

Finally, it was Grant's turn. I offered to go with, but Kelli said that wouldn't be necessary. I glared at her. What does she know? Is Oscar her pet? I mean, really. They went up onstage, Oscar walking behind them, tail between legs, acting scared.

Grant had just started to talk about Oscar's epileptic hopes and fears when someone's cell phone rang-really loudly-and Oscar freaked and started running in circles, howling.

"Well. Like he was saying." Kelli shrugged.

Everyone started to laugh, and although Grant looked a little uncomfortable, he didn't do anything to stop it.

I thought: Are these the people who will be vets in the future? Since when is it vetlike to laugh at a dog's personality flaws?

"And for my next act . . ." Kelli joked.

"It's not funny, OK? It's not funny!" Before I could think about it, I was on my feet and running to the front of the cla.s.sroom. "He's not even your dog, he's my dog." I grabbed Oscar's leash and crouched down beside him, trying to calm him. But all he wanted to do was stand next to Grant.

"Are you sure about that?" asked someone in the front row.

I glared at him. "We didn't laugh at your parrot. Or your stupid ferret," I said to the student beside him. "And your pet rat? Well, that's just disgusting. I mean, who keeps a rat anymore? This isn't the Dark Ages."

"Rats are very intelligent," the rat owner shot back. "Unlike some people."

"Oh really, and it's intelligent to keep a rodent?"

"All right, all right-everyone settle down." A professor-

looking type (in other words, he had a beard) who'd been sitting off to the side finally got up and intervened. He lowered his eyegla.s.ses and peered at me. "And you. Where did you come from? Are you even in this cla.s.s?"

"No. They just borrowed my dog," I said. "Which is not cool, when you think about it. Besides, I'm an Environmental Studies major. Well, I haven't declared a major yet, but I'm pretty sure, unless there's a way to major in Journalism and then minor in the Environmental Studies thing, but there's no way I could ever cut up an animal, I mean, I don't know how you guys are going to handle it but I couldn't. I don't believe in eating meat, either."

Everyone looked very awkward for a minute.

"OK then," said the professor. "I think we've seen enough of your furry friend-"

"And of me. Understood. We're leaving," I said.

I marched up the steps to the exit with as much dignity as a highly insulted person who had just babbled her entire life story to a roomful of strangers could have.

After cla.s.s got out, on the way home, I sat in the backseat with Oscar. None of us said a word for a while.

"Well, uh, do you want to go get a coffee or something?" asked Kelli.

"Um, no thanks. I'd better get home with Oscar. Take him for a walk. In fact, you guys could drop me right here and we'll walk the rest of the way."

"But don't be silly," said Grant. "You know we have to go right by your house to get to my house-"