Beddy resumes slicing. “Oh God, that’s terrible.”
“Nonsense,” Connie says. “That is swift, Karmic comeuppance right there.”
“What a thing to say,” Di says. This is her favorite thing to say.
“I say we leave her off the list, because we can’t top that,” Connie says. “The universe trumped whatever we could have done. Oh. And I hear her front teeth got knocked the fuck out. So all future cocks are going to have room to roam.”
Di laughs along with Connie, though more restrained. It is a matter of unquestioned public record that Kelsey Taper is the Osmond High Bicycle, and up until yesterday there was one popular theory of how the gap between her two top front teeth got there. Connie put it best a long time ago: “You ever seen what a battering ram does to a pair of doors?”
“The ironic thing is when her dentist puts new ones in, he’ll make them straight,” Di says. “And she’s never had straight teeth.”
Beddy turns on the stove and scoops the mushrooms into the pan and flips them so they are lathered in the almost-black butter. She pulls a sweet Maui onion half from a plastic bag and begins slicing it thinly.
“I don’t think Kelsey should be on the list in the first place. Duffy put her and Todd together, but have we seen any evidence of the two of them being together?”
“No,” Di says.
“So what,” Connie says. “She fucked half the basketball team, and all of the water polo team. She’s JV age, but she’s Varsity slut all the way. Pleeease tell me there’s a frittata in our future.”
“You guessed it,” Beddy says.
“How about in my future?” Void asks from the other room. “I asked first.”
“You don’t have a future.”
“Huh?” Connie and Di say, almost simultaneously.
Beddy sets the knife down. Turns the stove off. Spins around, runs her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots.
“Guys, I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. Do you know what the signs are supposed to be?”
“You invite everyone over to your house to play on your waterslides, but everyone gets there, and…no waterslides.”
“I’m serious.”
“I dunno, babe. I personally think you’re too young for one, but ok. What are your symptoms?”
Void puts a finger to where his lips should be.
She tells Connie and Di about her dream instead. When she finishes, breathlessly, Connie scoffs.
“Beddy, I love you, but only narcissists think their dreams are interesting to other people. Want to know what I dreamt the other night? That I was in a giant sandwich. I was pinned down by slices of bread. I was covered in egg salad. I tried using the slickness of the egg salad to propel myself out of there, but I was trapped. What does it mean? What are the giant slices of bread in my life? Who cares.
“You’re not going to burn down the school. I’m not worried about you. Ok, that’s not true. I am worried about you, but for a different reason. Not because I think you’re going to do that. Not even in your sleep.
“Who knows how breakdowns go, anyhow? Are they consistent? Ride it out. It might get fun.”
It won’t get fun. Schizophrenia doesn’t get fun.