Emma Wunsch - The movie version

PUBLISHERS NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.

ISBN: 978-1-4197-1900-4
eISBN: 978-1-6131-2143-6

Text copyright 2016 Emma Wunsch
Jacket and interior illustrations 2016 Sunra Thompson
Book design by Alyssa Nassner

Published in 2016 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

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FOR MY FAMILY

See Toby like this: Its early June and the sun reflects on the waxed linoleum floors, through the windows and onto the light blue walls, which makes everything seem swimmy and surreal. The halls are empty, so Im super aware of the silence around me. Then I see Toby. Hes walking towards me in a space thats so drenched in light, it looks like hes gliding. When he sees me, he smiles. Meals! Of course its you.

What are you talking about? I ask my brother.

I thought to myself, Whoever comes down this hall is the person Im going to share my peace pipe with. He opens his left hand and reveals, in a flash, a joint.

Im just going to the bathroom. I need to go back to French.

No, you dont.

Im just supposed to leave? To get high?

He nods.

Leave my books? My bag?

Yeah, Toby says, like its no big deal. Just leave your stuff, Amelia. Whats the worst that could happen?

What will Madame Lapelle say if I dont come back? What will she do?

No one will steal your books. You wont fail your next test on the indicative past present subjunctive. Toby puts the joint behind his right ear.

Without thinking, I follow him down to the basement, past the art rooms, the band room, the locker rooms, and out through a door by a janitors closet that comes out on the far end of the athletic field.

What if someone sees us? I ask as we make our way around the perimeter of the field.

They wont, he says calmly.

I believe him. I believe that nothing bad will happen to my French books, that no one will catch us leaving school, that we wont get busted for smoking a joint. My older brother is a presence. A force. We smoke in his car, Prudence, and listen to songs from his Ringo Sings! Beatles playlist.

When I tell him I dont feel like going back in, that my last class is music and Mr. Whitman will never notice one less soprano, my brother grins. I knew youd be awesome-sauce, he says. Follow me.

Walking back across the athletic field, I feel like Im moving in slow motion. We cut across the teachers parking lot and then over the baseball diamond till we get to a small hill overlooking the tennis courts.

I lie down next to him under a big maple tree and stare at the tree branches. Im really high, I tell him.

He smiles. You got enough brain cells to play?

Always.

Im trying to decide how stoned I am and just how on the verge of death I am right now. Like, am I seeing shit because Im stoned or because I have no blood left in my body?

I dont even need time to come up with the next line. Well, youve been shot like seven times.

Well played, little sis. Toby shakes his head. His wavy brown hair falls into his eyes and he pushes it away. Ive always been jealous of his hair. We have the same color, chestnut brown, but mine is boring and stick-straight.

George Washington is David Gordon Greens best movie. Pineapple Express is up there, especially for a stoner flick, but its no George Washington or All the Real Girls.

Toby nods like he agrees, but doesnt feel like getting into another long conversation about movies. So, Ari asked if I want to go to prom. With her.

Are you going? Ari is Arianna Kaufman, one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school. Shes a senior. Toby is a juniorbut a cool junior. He was a cool freshman even though freshmen are inherently uncool. Im a sophomore and not especially cool. This is the first time Ive ever cut class.

Proms are stupid. Toby pulls on the rubber from the sole of his black Converse. Theyre just another form of commodification of teens, America, popularity. When other people say things like commodification of teens it sounds pretentious, but Toby just sounds smart.

Shes really pretty, I say lamely. Ari is prime-time prettyflawless skin, salon-perfect blond hair, and excellent teeth. Shes sort of a smaller, blonder, less-toned Jennifer Lawrence.

Just as Im craving something sweet, Toby takes a pack of M&Ms out of his bag. Its so much fucking money. For a dance.

Mom and Dad will help. I shove a handful of candy in my mouth. These are the best M&Ms ever.

My brother nods. Mom and Dad wont five-hundred-dollars help.

Its that much? I thought it was, like, seventy-five.

For the ticket. Ill need to tux up, money up for the limo. Go in on a hotel room. He throws an M&M up in the air and catches it in his mouth. Thats a lot of M&Ms, Grasshopper.

I nod.

Shouldnt I do something more, uh, political with all that money? If I were truly a good person, Id donate to a school in some politically fucked-up country where they turn their children into human shields and soldiers.

I guess. When Im a senior, its way more likely that Ill have a prom-themed movie night at home than actually go. Carrie, obviously, and then maybe Napoleon Dynamite and 10 Things I Hate About You.

Then again, Ari is hot and I guess Id get to fuck her, which would be cool, Toby says, jolting me out of Prom Movies to Watch on Prom Night. He gives me a look. Another notch in my belt.

Gross, Toby, I say, even though I dont really care that my brother will be Aris date to the prom right now. Its beautiful out and its a lot more fun to be stoned than listen to my classmates sing off-key.

But then, when it seems like only five minutes have passed, Toby looks at his phone and says, Holy crap. Shit-head and Dipstick!

Shithead and Dipstick are Sam and David, our seven-year-old brothers. We have to be home for them twice a week when our parents and grandmother cant be. Tuesday is my day and Thursday is Tobys, but he usually pawns it off on me. I look at my phone. Its 2:35. Where did the time go? School got out fifteen minutes ago.

But this is what its like in Tobys world. Everything else disappears.

Holy shit, I say. Youre going to be late.

Youre going to be late.

Its Thursday. Your day.

Toby jumps up and does a cartwheel. Dat vas a perfect ten, he says in a Russian accent.