Tell Us Something True Read Online Free Page A
Author: Dana Reinhardt
song about it—so I probably looked like a vagrant as I wandered along Pico Boulevard early Saturday evening weighed down by grocery bags. I’d picked up brownie bites, veggie chips and kettle corn; then right as I got to the front of the checkout line, I thought of Mason, and ran back to grab a plastic tub of fat-free meringues.
I still hadn’t told my family about the breakup; somehow I dreaded telling Natalie the most. Natalie loved Penny because Penny wore dresses and mascara, and Penny tied her hair up in a bun, and she carried this roll-on stick of perfume in her purse that she’d let Natalie try. Mom was your basic grown-up tomboy with a short haircut who never wore anything other than Levi’s and sweatshirts except when she took rich people to lunch to ask for money, and then she’d bust out a black pantsuit.
Mom and Leonard really liked Penny, but I was less worried they’d mourn her than I was they’d start to focus unwanted attention on me. Right now I came and went as I pleased without having to account for my whereabouts. They trusted me partly because I had such a trustworthy girlfriend. Ha.
Christopher, of the Molly habit and enviable sneakers, was standing out front with the shoplifter and Mason, the brutish bulimic.
“It’s the snack man!” Christopher called when he saw me approaching. “What’d you bring us, snack man?”
I handed over my shopping bags for inspection.
“You know why you got assigned snacks, right?” Mason asked.
“Um, no?”
“ ’Cause you understand the munchies.”
“You got the experience,” added the girl. “You got, like, the institutional knowledge.”
“And? How’d I do?”
She peered into the bags again. “I give you a C-plus.”
“A C-plus? That’s all?”
“Well, you got sweet and savory, yes. And you have soft and crunchy. You get bonus points for the fat-free option. But you don’t have anything crispy. Nothing fresh. And let’s not even get started on how you didn’t bring anything to drink. With all this sodium?” She waved a finger with a long pink-painted nail at me. “Tsk. Tsk.”
“I’m new. Go easy on me.”
She looked me up and down. “Okay. B-minus.”
“Grade inflation.” Christopher blew out a final plume of smoke and stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his gorgeous shoe.
“Don’t be mad, Christopher,” she said. “You’re still the reigning snack champ. But that’s only ’cause you’re rich as hell.” She looked at me. “Club kid. Club drugs. You know the type. He brings those individually wrapped nut bars that cost two bucks each. Those are sick.”
Everett opened the door to the meeting room. He was wearing a green T-shirt with an elephant on the front.
“Hello, Mason. Christopher. Daphne.” He nodded at me. “River, I’m glad you came back.”
“Well, I had to bring the snacks, so…”
“It takes courage to come here.”
“Or a consent decree,” muttered Daphne.
“Yes,” he said. “Sometimes the terms of one’s arrest and restitution dictate that the defendant attend a counseling program, but it’s our goal that we all come here because we want to, not because we have to.”
“I’m just messing with you, Everett,” she said, shoving him playfully. “You know I live for this.”
He let us inside and we all unfolded chairs and set up a circle. A quiet fell naturally over the group, and then Everett began a call and response.
“Here,” he said.
“Is where we belong,”
the group chanted.
“This.”
“Is where change begins.”
“Now.”
“Is the time.”
I’d chosen my seat in the circle so that I’d share last, but Everett pulled a fast one, switching the direction to clockwise.
I told everyone I’d had a hard week, which triggered many of those hand gestures. I said I’d fought for what I wanted (Penny, which they interpreted to mean my sobriety) but that I’d lost (Penny, which they interpreted to mean I’d gotten high). I said I wanted to get
I still hadn’t told my family about the breakup; somehow I dreaded telling Natalie the most. Natalie loved Penny because Penny wore dresses and mascara, and Penny tied her hair up in a bun, and she carried this roll-on stick of perfume in her purse that she’d let Natalie try. Mom was your basic grown-up tomboy with a short haircut who never wore anything other than Levi’s and sweatshirts except when she took rich people to lunch to ask for money, and then she’d bust out a black pantsuit.
Mom and Leonard really liked Penny, but I was less worried they’d mourn her than I was they’d start to focus unwanted attention on me. Right now I came and went as I pleased without having to account for my whereabouts. They trusted me partly because I had such a trustworthy girlfriend. Ha.
Christopher, of the Molly habit and enviable sneakers, was standing out front with the shoplifter and Mason, the brutish bulimic.
“It’s the snack man!” Christopher called when he saw me approaching. “What’d you bring us, snack man?”
I handed over my shopping bags for inspection.
“You know why you got assigned snacks, right?” Mason asked.
“Um, no?”
“ ’Cause you understand the munchies.”
“You got the experience,” added the girl. “You got, like, the institutional knowledge.”
“And? How’d I do?”
She peered into the bags again. “I give you a C-plus.”
“A C-plus? That’s all?”
“Well, you got sweet and savory, yes. And you have soft and crunchy. You get bonus points for the fat-free option. But you don’t have anything crispy. Nothing fresh. And let’s not even get started on how you didn’t bring anything to drink. With all this sodium?” She waved a finger with a long pink-painted nail at me. “Tsk. Tsk.”
“I’m new. Go easy on me.”
She looked me up and down. “Okay. B-minus.”
“Grade inflation.” Christopher blew out a final plume of smoke and stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his gorgeous shoe.
“Don’t be mad, Christopher,” she said. “You’re still the reigning snack champ. But that’s only ’cause you’re rich as hell.” She looked at me. “Club kid. Club drugs. You know the type. He brings those individually wrapped nut bars that cost two bucks each. Those are sick.”
Everett opened the door to the meeting room. He was wearing a green T-shirt with an elephant on the front.
“Hello, Mason. Christopher. Daphne.” He nodded at me. “River, I’m glad you came back.”
“Well, I had to bring the snacks, so…”
“It takes courage to come here.”
“Or a consent decree,” muttered Daphne.
“Yes,” he said. “Sometimes the terms of one’s arrest and restitution dictate that the defendant attend a counseling program, but it’s our goal that we all come here because we want to, not because we have to.”
“I’m just messing with you, Everett,” she said, shoving him playfully. “You know I live for this.”
He let us inside and we all unfolded chairs and set up a circle. A quiet fell naturally over the group, and then Everett began a call and response.
“Here,” he said.
“Is where we belong,”
the group chanted.
“This.”
“Is where change begins.”
“Now.”
“Is the time.”
I’d chosen my seat in the circle so that I’d share last, but Everett pulled a fast one, switching the direction to clockwise.
I told everyone I’d had a hard week, which triggered many of those hand gestures. I said I’d fought for what I wanted (Penny, which they interpreted to mean my sobriety) but that I’d lost (Penny, which they interpreted to mean I’d gotten high). I said I wanted to get