Weeping Underwater Looks a Lot Like Laughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

photographer.”
    “I used to be the photographer, but my photos had a bad habit of never turning out. They were always cloudy, or underlit, or something. Now I’m the editor, which is basically my punishment for wasting so much film.”
    “So if I wrote this article, I guess I’d be working for you.”
    “Not exactly. You’d be working for the paper. But I would have the power to fire you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    “Then I’ll do it,” I said, thinking the whole scenario sounded pretty sexy, and now honestly considering writing a sensational backstory for myself, if only as a personal dare. The next few minutes were passed relatively quietly as we eyed over clusters of chatty classmates reeking of sweet alcohol and perfumed sweat. While Emily was no longer wearing the Claddagh ring I’d spotted in the hallway, I still guessed it was only a matter of time before her boyfriend came kissing around. (And if he didn’t, I was sure I could count on one of the macho attendees already attuned to our conversation to prove an adequate replacement.) Soon Zach showed up hefting a fresh keg on his shoulder. I didn’t have to say a word before Emily was squinting and panning from him to me, despite the fact that Zach was two inches taller and practically blond when juxtaposed to my radiant redness. Immediately after showing off his expert tapping skills, he marched over to place a firm fatherly hand on Emily’s shoulder and warn her that I’d only been drunk twice, and turned Mr. Hyde-violent both times. (In truth I was a wary drinker and borderline teetotaler, dually anxious and flattered by regular comparisons between myself and my alcoholic grandpa George previously mentioned.)
    “Has he seen a doctor?” Emily asked.
    “Oh, there’ve been plenty of doctors,” Zach chuckled. “Only problem is that none of the pills they give him are compatible with the booze.”
    “I appreciate the warning,” she said, glancing askance to inspect the level of my beer. Zach was grinning big and brave as he sauntered off next to Pat, whom we both identified as a pathetic replacement for his best friend, Jeremy.
    “He had his own psychiatrist in grade school,” I said. “He used to brag about it.”
    “How would you like to meet Ashley and Lauren?” Emily said, dismissing the remark and nodding at the two girls who’d joined her after the play. “Lauren’s single and supposedly she’s a very good kisser. I don’t know exactly what she does, but apparently it’s very good. This is not gossip, by the way. It’s common knowledge, she’s my friend, and I’m just proud to be the first to tell you. What’s not common knowledge is that she and Hads hook up every once in a while. But no one’s supposed to know about that.”
    “What do people say about you that no one’s supposed to know?”
    Emily set her beer down and crossed her arms. “So now you’re Don Juan of Davenport?”
    “Sorry. I’m just trying to figure out how you fit into the whole scene.”
    Emily pushed herself off the stack and pulled her hair back. “If you really want the scoop, you’d better ask one of these other people. Anyway, I think I’ve had enough smoke and B.O. It’s not even raining anymore.” She tossed her cup into an industrial bin, then turned to face me. “Never mind what I told you about Lauren and Hads. It’s none of my business really. I don’t know what I’m doing talking about it.”
    “I’m still planning to ask about you,” I said, shoving onto my feet.
    Emily shrugged off the comment and headed for the back door, gathering her girlfriends along the way. Despite marching me from one group of classmates to the next, she was much harder to talk to after that and I was sure that our personal-revelation part of the night had officially concluded. Emily’s introductions began with Ashley, a high-browed brunette in a push-up bra, and Lauren, a tall platinum blonde with amicably poor posture. (While both of