All the Major Constellations Read Online Free Page A

shit . . . back . . . together.” Her voice trailed off in a half sob. Andrew stopped spinning her and loosened his grip. She slid from his shoulder.
    â€œSorry,” he said. He breathed hard, unsure what had come over him.
    Together they gathered up her speech. Sara swept into the room. She looked strangely magnificent, Andrew thought, with her gleaming legs and her hair wrapped up in a pink towel like a turban on her head.
    â€œAre you two fighting
again
?” Sara asked.
    Andrew flopped onto the bed. The ceiling was painted dark green, like the walls, and gave the room the feel of a mossy cave. He’d spent half his adolescence in this room, sometimes a little buzzed, staring at the walls and wondering what inspired Sara and her mother to paint them such an unusual color.
    â€œWhen’s the movie start?” he asked.
    Marcia reached for the newspaper and began searching for the movie section. Sara unwrapped the towel turban and shook her head. Andrew watched her. Sara was pretty, no doubt about it, and her curly blonde hair was especially beautiful: exuberant, sexy, unrestrained—always on the verge of falling apart or coming undone. He started to reconsider his actions, or rather non-actions, in the bathroom a few moments earlier. She caught him looking at her and gave him a slight smile. He smiled back, then shifted his gaze toward Marcia, whose brows were furrowed in concentration.
    â€œHow’s the speech?” Sara asked. She slipped behind her closet door to change. Marcia tossed the newspaper at Andrew. It fluttered through the air and landed, disassembled, at his feet.
    â€œI can’t find it,” Marcia said to Andrew. She turned toward the closet, adding, “And it’s terrible. Terrible. The speech is crap. I don’t want to do this.”
    â€œWe’re proud of you. You’re doing this!” Sara shouted from the closet. She emerged in a tight blue dress. “And you’re not letting that douche-bag Jason take your place,” she said with her hands on her hips.
    â€œWho cares? What’s the point? I don’t give a shit about anyone from school except you two. Everyone else can kiss my ass,” Marcia said. Marcia wasn’t exactly disliked by her classmates, but people thought she was nerdy, weird, and way too into school. But they were wrong about her, thought Andrew. It wasn’t school that she was into; it was knowledge. Marcia actually cared about things like Spanish poetry and physics and the Crimean War. A guy like Jason just pretended to.
    â€œIt’s not about that. It’s about celebrating how hard you’ve worked and how brilliant you are.” As she spoke, Sara walked toward Marcia and put her arms around her shoulders. She shook her lightly and said, “Marcia, don’t be ashamed or embarrassed.” Sara was a close talker, and her face was inches from Marcia’s. Marcia laughed nervously and stepped back.
    â€œI’m not embarrassed. It’s just stupid,” Marcia said.
    â€œBullshit,” Sara said, raising her eyebrows.
    â€œMarcia’s right,” Andrew said, throwing the paper aside. “Fuck ’em. And the movie starts in twenty minutes, so let’s get going.”
    â€œWhat are we seeing again?” Sara asked with dread in her voice.
    â€œ
Un Chien Andalou
,” Marcia and Andrew said together.
    Sara threw her head back and sighed.
    â€œIt’s a revival. Remastered and everything,” Marcia said, her eyes pleading. Driving to the little art house cinema just outside of town and watching old movies had been part of Marcia’s
Let’s watch real films!
initiative. It drove Sara nuts.
    â€œI hate those depressing old European films. Why can’t we just get some pot and pizza and rent an action flick?” Sara said.
    â€œI’m game for that,” Andrew said.
    â€œAgain?” Marcia said, and she looked to Andrew for