Nebraska, or the Implications of a Gift of Duran Duran: Chapter 3

Nebraska, or the Implications of a Gift
of Duran Duran: Chapter 3
by Dileep Rao

It was at this moment, as he assembled what would be the beak of the great bird, that the girl he had noticed came toward him with a blanket of yellow crepe paper tied to a chicken wire mat.

"Um, I think this is supposed to go to you…"

She trailed off because she too could hardly understand why he in particular would need this object. He looked up at her and a sudden heat seemed to rise within him, something molten and deeply embarrassing.

"Thanks, this is the beak."

Why on earth had that come out of his mouth? She smiled at him.

"It’s pretty good, not like that breast is going to turn out."

She pointed with her thumb at the disaster being assembled behind her. The motion was jocular and graceful, faintly tomboy, and her expression was one of utter disbelief. Without much will, he laughed uproariously.

"I don’t get why they didn’t divide it into sections, like the rose parade or something."

She laughed and placed the blanket of crepe paper over his crude design for the beak. They set to work tying the wire around the wood, clipping off the bits and pieces. Between the two of them, they had the top and bottom fastened in ten minutes.

"Good job."

Mr. Dickerson appeared beside them. Ajay stood up, as did the girl. Patrick Schouff also materialized out of thin air to congratulate them. He spoke keenly to the girl, who nodded at him. Mrs. Dickerson handed round disposable cups and poured hot chocolate from a thermos.

Ajay looked about for something to do, anything to avoid having to talk to anyone, when he suddenly realized Mr. Dickerson and Patrick Schouff had disappeared, leaving him alone with the girl.

"What’s your name?"

"Uh, Ajay, like Uh, and then jay like the letter."

He sounded so rehearsed it made them laugh.

"What’s yours?"

"Shelby, I live on Elm."

"That’s cool."

He looked into his cup as a distraction and found, as he suspected would happen, the cocoa was melting the wax on the cups. Small bits of it were now happily floating in the brown.

"Eww, that’s gross, it’s doing it in mine too."

"Yeah, wrong cups."

Again he felt, couldn’t something halfway interesting come out of my
mouth?

"Do you know a lot of people here?"

"Um…yeah, well no. Not really, I know them, like I know who they
are, but they aren’t my friends or anything."

"I’m friends with Kim Durber and Shanon Canbor."

"They’re in my History class. I think."

He added the last bit to seem less sure though he was, at that moment, no surer of anything in the world. These were two of the most popular girls in his grade so far, who wore the letterman’s jackets of seniors and failed to ever do their homework.

"They said you sometimes let them copy your homework."

"Yeah…"

He was unsure if she saw this as an act of generosity or, as what he felt it was, a moral lapse in trade for the attention of pretty girls who would still not be caught dead talking to him.

She betrayed no reaction.

His eyes rose and stark horror descended over him. He said nothing, put his waxy Dixie cup in the trash and walked down the driveway. His father was standing at the end, waving his hands at him as if Ajay were a jet plane taxiing into the horror of his family.

Dileep can be reached at dileep@babblog.com.