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Part One
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The cell-phone made a muffled groan as it vibrated somewhere nearby.
It was 1:24 AM. Robert Boyd, whom had slept a total of three minutes in the previous forty-eight hours, was instantly awake.
The fact that Robert, who went by “Robbie” not by personal choice but popular demand of his nostalgic childhood friends, had only slept three minutes in two days was not remarkable. It’s well documented that all teenagers instinctively acquire this skill around their 18th birthdays and exercise it often for a variety of pointless reasons.
Robbie's predicament was forseeable. On the first day of Chemistry 143, the professor grandly proclaimed that if a student got an A on the final, they would ace the class even if they hadn’t turned in a single assignment or attended a single lecture. The ease of which Robbie sidestepped the reality that professors only say this if they have very good reason to believe no ordinary student can pull it off was the subject of much admiration from his peers.
Make no mistake--Robert Boyd was no ordinary student. He was a sub-par student. Consequently, his chances for getting an A on this particular final were about as good as his chances of winning the lottery without buying a ticket.
After a thorough investigation of his and his roommate's belongings, not necessarily in that order, Robbie determined that he lacked the $3.99 required to purchase a third 24-pack of the off-brand Mountain Dew that had been instrumental in helping him maintain consciousness thus far. It was this setback that made Robbie realize at last that he would not be able to digest two semesters of advanced Chemistry in two days.
Greatly disappointed, Robbie proceeded to sprint dejectedly to the bathroom, as his bladder was doing its best impression of the kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who...oh I don't remember what happened to her. I think her name was Violet. It had something to do with blueberries. Let's have another go at it. His bladder resembled Aunt Marge from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban--Or was that Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?
For all intents and purposes, he really had to pee.
Robbie emerged from the bathroom some time later. grinning. Although still somewhat glum over spending the better part of two days studying for a final that he now wasn't planning on taking, his mood had been brightened considerably in the little boys room, where he discovered that even in his fatigued state he possessed the accuracy of a Gulf War sniper. Feeling altogether too happy about these findings, Robbie tottered off to bed. The instant head touched pillow, he descended into a state of sleep so deep that he was, scientifically speaking, in hibernation.
Yet at the sound of his phone receiving a text message, Robbie’s subconscious leapt into action. Much like a grizzly bear feeling the rising heat of an approaching forest fire and instinctively waking from its annual winter reverie to flee to safety, Robbie threw off his covers and groped around in the dark for his Nokia for a good three minutes before his brain realized he was, in fact, awake.
It is a widely held opinion in the scientific community that had Pavlov traded in his dogs for teenagers and exchanged the bells for cellular phones, he would have gotten far more interesting results.
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Part Two
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The phone had hidden itself quite well. Five additional minutes of searching produced no results. During this time, it had tauntingly buzzed again. The sound sent Robbie into a frenzy. Two text messages? As far as he knew, they could be from two different people! And one of them may be an attractive girl!
Robbie was a big fan of attractive girls.
Attractive girls were not a big fan of Robbie. They could not even be said to be casual supporters of Robbie. In all fairness, a vast majority of attractive girls at Robbie’s school were not aware that Robbie, was, well, alive. When he came up in conversation, they typically assumed that their friends had misspoken and were in fact conversing about the school mascot, an ancient bulldog named Moby¹. Why the bulldog was named Moby, or why the school mascot was a bulldog for that matter, is not known. This is especially confusing considering that Robbie’s school, Brooks College, had been known as the Fighting Eagles since 1947.
After ten minutes of frantic searching, the cell phone firmly remained in purgatory. At this point, Robbie’s fatigued brain exasperatedly provided him with the idea that should have occurred to him a good half hour prior—simply call his phone and locate where the rings are coming from.
Robbie spent the next ten minutes working out the logistics of how he was going to call his phone when he did not know where his phone was. He would not look back at these moments proudly.
“Hey, Amir.” He punched his sleeping roommate. “I need your phone.”
Amir was Robbie’s roommate. He wasn’t a big fan of Robbie either.
“Your mom needs my phone.” He was, however, a big fan of your mom jokes. This probably explains why nobody liked Amir. Robbie often fantasized of killing Amir and using his bed for storage.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Sure it does. The phone’s my penis.”
Robbie considered this. “Why is your phone a penis?”
“Why not?”
He had a point. “Just give me your phone.”
“I left it at Rebecca’s.” Amir did not know anyone named Rebecca, and if he had she would not let him into her home. His phone was actually lying on his nightstand approximately 8 inches away, but Amir was not in a helpful mood.
“You don’t know anyone named Rebecca.”
“Sure I do. I met her at a party.”
“You don’t get invited to parties.”
Before Amir went back to sleep, he advised Robbie to perform a series of complicated actions involving his internal organs, characters from the cartoon Dilbert, and a box of Lucky Charms. Robbie could only assume he was speaking rhetorically.
The cell phone was underneath his mattress. He had two new text messages. And they were both from girls.
The first was from his ex-girlfriend, Judy. It read:
Rob, I’m so lonely. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve missed you so badly it hurts. You were such a great boyfriend, and you were awesome in the sack. Please tell me where I can meet you. I need to have you right now. I can’t wait any longer. Judy.
Robbie understood her pain.
Humming contently, he got dressed, applied Irish Fresh scented deodorant, brushed his teeth, impaled Amir with an emerald-crusted broadsword, and left to go satisfy the lovely Judy Wooden.
It might be pertinent to mention at this point that Robbie is dreaming.
He had fallen asleep on the floor of his dorm five minutes prior, his exhausted body, deprived of sleep for over two days, reaching the conclusion that it had had quite enough of this shit.
Reflecting upon his dream later, Robbie had to admit that it went downhill when Judy had turned into a dolphin and swam off in search of fresh mackerel.
¹One could convincingly argue that Robbie’s propensity for engaging in actions often associated with aging canines made him deserving to be mistaken for Moby in this manner.
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Part Three
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When Robbie awoke seventeen hours later, he rolled over in his twin bed, looked at his clock radio, and let loose one of his most impressive strings of curses in recent memory.
“Ah, you’re awake then.” Amir was sitting on the edge of his bed with a tall boy with incredibly unremarkable features, watching this play out with some amusement.
“Oh shut up.” Robbie was still trying to process the fact that Amir was alive and that he hadn’t sexed up his ex-girlfriend. He figured that once he had he would bawl like a baby, preferably not in front of Amir.
“Didn’t see you at the Chem final,” The other boy said with a tone of disapproval, “Had better things to do, eh?”
“Go suck it, Nigel.”
“My name is Duane.”
Duane had a British accent, so naturally Amir and Robbie had taken to calling him Nigel almost immediately. He had gained some celebrity at Brooks College over the years for being a tall, athletic black guy with a British accent that still could not get a date. This was considered somewhat of a heroic feat to his peers. Largely contributing to his lack of companionship was his astoundingly unremarkable features. It was not uncommon for him to spend several hours flirting with an girl, go to the bathroom, and have her ask him his name when he came back.
Robbie pretended to think about it, “No, I don’t think that’s right.”
“I would know a damn slight better than you, wouldn’t I, you little prick?”
Amir and Robbie laughed and said in unison, “Classic Nigel.”
Duane’s face turned as red as it could manage and he stormed out in a huff.
“Ta-ta, Nigel,” Robbie called after him. “Don’t stop for tea and crumpets along the way, you have a PoliSci exam in like, twenty minutes!”
“MY NAME IS DUANE, ASSHOLE!” Duane screamed from the end of the corridor, and slammed his door.
Amir laid back on his bed and sighed contentedly. “That guy really needs to get laid.”
“I’ll say,” Robbie said. He sat up in bed. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“I have a PoliSci exam in twenty minutes.”
Amir laughed, “I was wondering if you were going to figure that out eventually.”
As he dashed out the door, Robbie paused to pick up his phone.
12 MISSED CALLS, 25 NEW MESSAGES, it read.
“What the what?” Robbie murmured aloud.
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Part Four
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The exam momentarily forgotten, Robbie opened the first message. It was from Judy.
JUDY:[Come by the apartment ASAP please Rob, its important.]
Robbie thought about this. She was probably screwing with him. The first time they'd spoken in six months, and she wants him to come straight to her apartment? Too good to be true. Not to mention that she was an unabashed enthusiast of screwing with people. She was even a fan of it on Facebook.
"What's up? That from Judy?" Amir was behind him, unsuccessfully craning his neck to see.
"No." Robbie said.
Pause. Their eyes met.
"Okay, yes." And then, "How did you know that?"
Amir was now attempting to wrestle the phone from his hand. "Oh, it's just this look you get on your face when you think of her."
"I don't even want to know."
"No, you probably don't. Are you going to tell me what she said or am I going to have to employ the deadly precision of eight years of advanced karate lessons on your ass?"
"I'll take the eight years of karate to go, please." Robbie said, very aware that Amir didn't know karate.
"Fine, you leave me no choice." Amir breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and began to make an uncomfortably familiar facial expression.
"Oooh, Judykins..." He moaned longingly. Maintaining this expression, he began to wander out into the hall, "Oooh, Judy my one and only! My eye-apple!"
Robbie ground his teeth. A few months prior Amir had found a certain letter from himself to Judy inside his Psychology textbook, which Amir insisted on borrowing. It contained enough embarrassing metaphors to make Emily Post blush, and Amir had memorized them all.
"Okay, okay! Cut it out."
"You are the wind beneath my slender wings! The only quarterback of my LoveTeam!"
"Fine, Amir! I'll tell you, just shut up and--!"
"YOU ARE MY DIAMOND-GLITTER SUNRISE..." Amir interjected, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Get IN here." Robbie grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him into their dorm just as curious heads began to peek out into the hallway to see what Amir was doing this time.
"Didn't want to have to do that," Amir said, smiling, "But that didn't make it any less fun. So what's the scoop?"
Robbie sighed, "This." He showed him the text.
Amir raised his eyebrows. "She's screwing with you."
"You think?"
"Yes, I do." Amir wasn't great at recognizing sarcasm. He maintained that this was due to the language barrier, which wasn't exactly supported by the fact that he grew in Seattle and he didn't know any other languages. "So are you going over there?"
"To her apartment?"
"Why not?"
"She's screwing with me, remember?"
"I do faintly recall that, yes. But don't you want to know why? And besides, Cary might be there."
Robbie sighed patiently, "For the last time, Cary doesn't want to see you again. Ever. I believe her exact words were, 'I wish they issued restraining orders using continents as the unit of measure.'"
"She has a quirky sense of humor, that girl."
"For Christ's sake Amir, you stole her clothes."
"She wasn't wearing them!"
"You do realize that only makes it slightly less creepy, right?"
Amir rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. So are we going or not?"
Robbie frowned, "I don't suppose I have anything else to do."
Amir mumbled something under his breath.
"Say what now?"
"Except your PoliSci exam."
Robbie blinked. He checked his cell-phone for the time.
"Can you still make it?"
Robbie thought about it.
"If I hurried, I could make it just in time to kill Professor Barnes as he locked up his classroom for the day, thus allowing me to hastily fill out an exam and place it amongst the others."
"Ah."
"Yep. Nobody would suspect a thing. The perfect academic crime."
"Wouldn't they check for fingerprints though?"
"I'd wear gloves."
"The other students would say you weren't there. The police would smell something fishy."
"These are PoliSci majors you're talking about. They would be far too lazy or hungover to give a statement. Moot point."
"What about Nigel?"
Robbie sucked in his breath. Nigel. "I forgot about Nigel."
Amir grabbed his coat and began to put it on. "You'd never cut it as an impulsive murderer, Rob. You gotta be thinking of these things. That's why you'd need my help."
"You'd help me kill Professor Barnes?"
"Me? Hell no. I'd kill Nigel."
"You would?"
"What are friends for?"
They looked at each other blankly for a few seconds.
"Are we going to Judy's now?" asked Robbie.
"Obviously. Lead the way to your diamond-glitter sunrise, Romeo."
"I hate you, Amir."
"I know," Amir said cheerfully, and closed the door behind him.
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Part Five
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Fifteen minutes later, they reached the apartment complex. Robbie rattled the steel caged door which led to the foyer. It didn’t budge.
“Figures.”
“What?” Amir was out of breath from the short walk but pretending not to be.
Robbie squinted up to the fourth floor window, where Judy lived, “She has to buzz us in.”
“Like in Star Trek?”
Robbie didn’t take his gaze off the window, “Yes Amir, exactly like Star Trek.”
“ITS ME, JUDY.” He yelled at the tinted glass pane, knowing she was watching. “OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.” Several passerby turned and stared.
“I think we should have nicknames,” Amir blurted.
Robbie cast him a sideways glance. “I already have a nickname, Amir.”
“Okay fine, I think that I should have a nickname.”
Robbie screamed a few more obscenities at the window for good measure.
“Before you say anything, hear me out.” Amir had obviously been giving this some thought.
Robbie gave it some thought. “No.”
The speaker crackled, “There’s an intercom for a reason, asshole” The door buzzed open and they entered the foyer. In true college slacker fashion, Amir kicked the UP elevator button, kung-fu style.
“Oh c’mon man, nicknames are fun! They promote friendship and closeness.”
Robbie turned on him, “You’ve never had a nickname, have you?”
“No.”
“And you’ve always wanted one.”
“Guilty as charged.”
The elevator door dinged open. Robbie pressed the button marked 4th Floor. Amir pressed the rest of the buttons with a quick successions of extremely lame kung-fu kicks. Slightly out of breath and full of the devil-may-care energy all douchebags seem to possess, he grinned at Robbie, who muttered quick apologies to the other three occupants of the elevator, a trio of elderly women who quickly busied themselves with glaring at Amir.
“We live on the fifth floor.” Old Lady #1 said slowly, taking great care that each syllable conveyed her disapproval as the elevator door slid shut.
“So any ideas? I was thinking something in the Animal Kingdom. You know. Like, a bird of prey or something.” Robbie couldn’t tell if Amir was oblivious or just ignoring the Old Lady Trifecta. Knowing him, it could be either.
The elevator opened to the first floor. One of the old ladies tried to get out, and had to be held back by her friends.
“No, Doris, you live on the fifth floor, remember?”
“This IS the fifth floor!”
The door closed again. “No, it’s the first floor. Those boys just pressed all the buttons.” Old Lady #2 spared Robbie a poisonous sneer.
“Oh? Oh!” Doris got with the program and assumed her best Young-People-These-Days-Have-No-Manners glare.
Those boys? Robbie opened his mouth to protest but Amir interjected.
“What do you think of ‘Verge’”?
The elevator door slid open. Doris gathered her bags and attempted to exit again. Her friends held her back absently.
“Doris, this is the second floor.”
“I live on the second floor!”
Robbie tried his best to ignore them, but the overwhelming stench of mothballs and flowery perfume that all women over 70 seem to emanate was rapidly filling the elevator and making him lightheaded. “Verge? What are you on the verge of?”
The elevator door slid shut again, “That’s not the point. It just sounds cool.”
Robbie thought, “What do you mean there’s no point? Of course there’s a point. You can’t just pull a nickname from your ass.”
Amir frowned, “Fine. What about ‘Edge’?”
“We’re missing Jeopardy, I think.” Old Lady #2 proclaimed loudly enough to make Robbie wince, as if this was just a casual observation. She consulted her oversize gold watch, “Yes, we’re missing it alright. It’s been on for two minutes now.”
“Oh dear, I hope we don’t miss Double Jeopardy,” lamented Old Lady #1 pathetically, “I do enjoy Double Jeopardy so very much.”
The elevator door dinged open to the third floor. Old Lady #1 clamped a bony hand around Doris’ knobby wrist to keep her from escaping.
“Edge? Verge? Since when do you have a thing for thresholds?” Robbie asked.
The elevator door closed. Amir sighed patiently. “No, you don’t get it. It’s saying I have an edge to my personality. Like I’m all crazy dangerous and could snap at any moment.”
Robbie cast a critical eye over the 5’ 7” bespeckled Indian teenager in front of him, who probably weighed a buck twenty five soaking wet, tops.
“I think you should stick with ‘Verge’.”
“Oh, you like Verge now? Killer!”
Robbie groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. The Old Lady Trifecta glared on. Amir twiddled his thumbs and hummed a few bars of “Your Body Is A Wonderland” by John Mayer.
The elevator door dinged open to the fourth floor. Robbie, glad for the chance to escape the noxious Old Lady stench, stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath.
“So just to clarify, you’re gonna call me Verge in front of Cary, yes?” Amir asked pleadingly.
“No.”
“Oh c’mon dude---”
“Young people today.” Old Lady #2 stated haughtily as the elevator door began to close. “No respect for their elders.”
Amir whirled around, “Oh go play bridge, you bitter old hags.”
Old Lady #1 and #2 pursed their wrinkly lips and flipped him the bird. Robbie blinked in surprise. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, they were still being given the one-finger salute by a pair of octogenarians.
“Hold the elevator! This is my floor!” wailed Doris as the doors slid shut.
Someone coughed behind them. Robbie turned to find Judy and Cary standing in the hallway, wearing identical slack-jacked expressions.
Robbie cleared his throat. “I can explain that.”
"Hello ladies," Amir slicked back his hair and proffered a hand, “They call me Verge.”
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