The Bad Decisions Playlist Read Online Free PDF

her peer.
    â€œI’m really sorry I’m late,” I say.
    She shakes her head and sighs, making a big deal out of unzipping her backpack and pulling out the textbook, dropping it onto the tabletop with a
thump.
Then she sits with another dramatic sigh, just in case I don’t know that she’s pissed off.
    â€œI’m Austin,” I say.
    â€œI know,” she says, opening up the textbook.
    I’m still standing. “What’s your name?” I ask.
    â€œJosephine.”
    â€œJosey?”
    â€œJosephine.”
    â€œSorry. Got it. That’s a nice na​—”
    â€œCan we start? We only have twenty-four minutes left, and then I have to go to work.”
    This is going great.
    I sit. She flips through her notes and textbook as I get myself prepared, feeling flustered and off balance.
Do not,
I remind myself,
start running your mouth.
    Just then she looks up sharply and says, “Did you just smoke a cigarette?”
    â€œYes?” I say.
    â€œCan you please not do that?” she says.
    â€œUm, yeah,” I say, and scratch at my ear.
Oh, God, Austin, do
not
start running your
—​“The thing is, they totally trick you and put this nicotine stuff in there?”
AUSTIN, STOP RUNNING YOUR
—​“So, one day you’re like, I’m gonna try one of those burning-stick things, because they look so cool and all that, and the next thing you know you’re this pathetic object lesson in the dangers of marketing and peer pressure and you’re getting lectures from people you just met.”
    Wonderful. Great job. I’ll just step out now and let you handle things from here (footsteps; door slams).
    â€œFine,” she says. “Could you skip the burning-stick things right before we meet? I’m allergic to it. It makes me throw up.”
    â€œThrow up? From smelling it? Who throws up from smelling tobacco?”
    â€œI do. Do you want me to prove it to you? Happy to do so.”
    â€œNo, I’ll take your word for it. Any other allergies I should know about?”
    â€œYes, gluten,” she says, then mutters so quietly that I barely hear her, “and jerks.”
    â€œYou should say ‘assholes,’” I suggest.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œInstead of ‘jerks.’ ‘Assholes’ is funnier.”
    â€œI wasn’t going for funny. But fine. Assholes.”
    â€œExcellent. Well done.”
    Tiny eye roll from her. Any optimism I felt earlier is long gone. I drum on the table.
Doot doo doo.
    â€œSo,” I say, “what kind of music do you like?”
    She looks at me.
    â€œKidding,” I say. “Isn’t that what people always ask to break the tension? ‘Hey, what kind of music do you . . .’”
    Arched eyebrow.
    â€œNever mind,” I add.
    â€œOkay,” she says. “So​—”
    â€œWhat about Wilco? Feist? The National? No? Tegan and Sara?”
    Unchanged expression.
    â€œShane Tyler? Do you like him?”
    â€œI don’t know him. Should we maybe​—”
    â€œReally? He’s my current fave. You should check him out.”
    â€œI’ll make sure to do that.”
    â€œShane Tyler. S-H-A​—”
    â€œGot it.”
    â€œI can make you a playlist, if you want.”
    Her eyes narrow.
    â€œWhat?” I say.
    â€œNothing. Can we​—”
    â€œSo where do you work?”
    â€œCan we begin?”
    â€œI’m just asking. Now, me? I work in the burgeoning field of lawn care,” I say, stretching the shirt with two hands to better display the logo. “I mean, I’m just getting my start, but I gotta say, I’m pretty optimistic. Big things coming for me.
Big
things.”
    â€œI bet. Now we have about twenty-two minutes left.”
    â€œHonestly, I’m sorry about being late. I thought it was at nine thirty.”
    â€œOkay. But even if it was at nine thirty, you were