Monday, August 29
(Kate)
The first day of classes is outstanding. I know I made fun of The Grant College Experience, but I had goose bumps all day. I was living it. I walked around campus with the dopiest smile pasted across my face. For so long I've dreamed about going to college, a real college. I never thought it would happen, but here I am. I literally crossed it off my bucket list this afternoon. My list isn't in any particular order, but "Go to college" was number five. I figure now is a good time to remind God that I'm happy with the way things are going. Happy Monday, God. So, I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for Grant. It's a gift. Peace out.
Shelly is in full-blown flower-arranging mode when I arrive at Three Petunias at 2:30 pm, but she stops long enough to ask, "Where's your iPod? I brought my dock today. Let's see if you've got anything good."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Take it however you want." It's a challenge all right. And suddenly I feel the need to defend my music's honor. I fish my iPod out of my bag, hook it up, and put it on shuffle.
The first song that plays is Mozart. Shelly pushes the button to advance to the next song and looks at me almost apologetically. "I play that stuff all day long. I love it, but I need to listen to something else when I'm at work."
"No worries."
The next song rips through the speaker. I start dancing right there behind the counter, and Shelly watches me, nonplussed. "Come on, Shelly. Shake what your mama gave ya."
She shakes her head. It's adamant.
My feet stop moving, but the rest of my body cannot stop. "What? Don't tell me you don't dance?"
She shakes her head again, and I can tell that she's blushing. Damn, that's something I never thought I'd see.
"Well, we have to do something about that," I smile playfully. "You know I'm gonna get you out dancing before the end of the semester, don't you?" This girl needs to do something she's never done before, something out of character. Suddenly that becomes my new goal.
The blush is fading, and she shakes her head again to add conviction to her declaration. "I do not dance, Kate."
"And I think your inner dancing queen wants to be set free. She's screaming, Shelly. I can hear her, and she's pissed. Next time Clayton throws a rave in his room, I'm inviting you."
"A rave?"
"Okay, well, so it's minus the hordes of people and the drugs and the glow sticks, but it's still fun."
"And who's Clayton?"
"He's my neighbor. He lives across the hall."
She nods as I continue to sway my hips to the beat. She's demonstrating terrific restraint in the this-girl-is-entertaining-the-hell-out-of-me-but-I-can't-let-on department. "So, what you're saying is it's really just you and your friend, Clayton, dancing to your iPod in his dorm room."
I correct her. "His iPod, he's got some good shit. But, yeah, that's pretty much how it goes down."
She shakes her head, and a small but genuine smile emerges. It's the kind of smile that you give someone you like, someone who makes you happy. I have a feeling that Shelly doesn't hand these out too often. I feel honored. "Kate, you're too much."
Smiling, I dance back over to my station and get to work, toning down the dancing to mere head-bobbing; my body cannot be still when I'm listening to good music. It's like it runs through my veins and I physically can't disconnect from it.
Every few songs, when she thinks I'm not watching, Shelly leans over and glances at my iPod to read the screen. I smile discreetly. I have quite a bit of European music, and some of it isn't in English. I don't speak any of the languages: French, German, Dutch, so I have no idea what the lyrics mean. But it doesn't matter; the music is phenomenal even if I have no idea what they're singing about. One of those songs has just started.
She intentionally looks at the screen and then looks at me. "What the hell is this?"
"It's French hip-hop. You like?" I know she does, or she wouldn't be interested.
"It's all right." She grabs a piece of paper and a pencil and writes down the artist and song. I notice that she jots down six or seven other songs from memory. "Where do you find all this?"
"My best friend and I have been collecting music for a long time. It's kind of our hobby." I couldn't live without it.
When the next song begins, I ask, "So, Shelly, do you have a boyfriend?"
She nods, smiling a sweet, vulnerable smile. I think I just discovered the chink in her armor. She's whipped. "Yeah."
"Yeah? You're gonna want to write this one down. If an album was ever made specifically to fool around to, it's this one." Because it is. This band has a dark '80s vibe, and the frontwoman's voice is super sexy.
She writes it down. "The Boyfriend thanks you."
I smile and affirm, "Yeah, he does."
As the afternoon ambles on, Shelly randomly fires questions at me while we work. I guess she's decided my taste in music doesn't suck. This must be part two of the music challenge.
"Name your top three favorite female singers." Her eyes are narrow and twinkling. "And so help me God, if you say one damn pop princess you're fired."
I laugh at the threat. I could answer this question in my sleep. "Top three? Number one: Romy Madley Croft from the xx. Number two: Alison Moyet from Yaz. And number three: Johnette Napolitano from Concrete Blonde. Honorable mention, because I've been listening to them a lot this week, goes to the chick from Royal Thunder. She can wail."
"How about best guitar player?"
"My best friend."
She looks doubtful. "All the great guitar players out there and you're going to say your best friend?"
I smile back. "Absolutely."
"Okay. Best bass player?"
"Easy. Silversun Pickups' Nikki Monninger. Her bass lines are wicked. Plus she wears pretty dresses when she performs—so she's badass and classy at the same time. I like that."
"Best punk band?"
"Teenage Bottlerocket. Their live shows kick ass. So much fun to watch and the mosh pit is always raging."
"Most underrated band?"
"Hands down, Dredg."
"Who?"
"Exactly. It's a travesty. Dredg should be a household name."
"If you could meet any band or musician, who would it be?"
"I think it would be cool as shit to hang out with Dave Grohl. He seems so nice, humble. You know, just a normal dude. Except that he's crazy talented." Shelly smiles at this, and I smile back.
It's seven o'clock when she unplugs her dock and hands me my iPod. "Well Kate, I do believe I've found the ultimate dealer." She's got her list in hand. "I've got to pick some of this up."
I appreciate the compliment. "I'm glad you liked it." I bow. "My job here is done."
She rolls her eyes. "You wanna grab some pizza tonight? The Boyfriend and his roommate and I are going over to Red Lion Road later for beer and pizza. We can pick you up." And just like that Shelly's no longer intimidating. She doesn't take shit from anyone, but for some reason, she's warmed up to me. And the truth is, I like her, too.
"Dude, I'm sorry, but I can't. I've got homework, and I promised Clayton I'd eat with him tonight."
She smirks. "A date with the raver?"
"Nope. Just an evening of platonic fine dining at the cafeteria."
She pulls her apron over her head. "Well, you're no fun."
"I really am sorry, dude, thanks for asking. Another time, okay?" The truth is I don't have any extra money. I've got five dollars that needs to last until Friday when I get paid. That probably wouldn't even buy me a slice of pizza and the beer I'm not old enough to purchase. But I can't tell her that. I won't become the charity case. And the cafeteria is free. Besides, I can already taste the $1.57 cup of coffee from Grounds, the one I'll grab on my way to Literature tomorrow morning. Since the dorms don't allow coffee makers (even the Holy Grail), and the cafeteria coffee tastes like mud, I've got my heart set on that cup. I need those five dollars.