Class - Cecily Von Ziegesar [32]
“All right, man?” Wills greeted Nick.
Nick had met the Grannies in person a few weeks before when he’d missed breakfast in the dining hall and wound up in Root’s kitchen, foraging for cereal. Most of the food in the kitchen belonged to the Grannies, and they were generous with it. They were also generous with their pot. They’d already given him a Ziploc bag full of it for $20, way less than it cost in the city. Nick had only just finished smoking a joint out behind his unfinished yurt. Now he was starving.
“Brewtarski?” Wills opened the fridge, pulled out a can of Busch, and handed it to Nick. Tonight Wills wore a red tiered skirt with black cats batiked all over it and a red and black plaid wool shirt. His platinum blond hair was plaited into messy half cornrows, half dreadlocks that pattered against his shoulders as he stirred the enormous pot of curry simmering on the electric stove.
Nick cracked open the beer and pointed at the curry. “Hey, you guys mind if I have some of that?”
Wills grimaced. His bloodshot eyes rolled around dramatically. “Aw, man, we just chucked in a gigantic eggplant. Stuff’s raw. Plus, we need more tasty vegetable ingredients. Wanna come divin’ with us?”
“Diving?” Nick wasn’t sure he’d heard right. The nights were already cold, and the coast was at least an hour away.
Grover hitched up his blue-and-white-striped OshKosh B’Gosh train conductor overalls and stuck a wad of chewing tobacco in his bearded cheek. Nick had heard that Grover was from Bethesda, Maryland, an affluent suburb of Washington, DC, but he dressed like someone from the Deep South at the time of the Great Depression.
“Dumpster diving,” Grover explained. “We hit the Dumpsters out behind the Shop ’n Save. Stuff they throw away you wouldn’t believe. Last week I found a perfect pineapple. The best pineapple I ever tasted.” Grover ran his hand over his shaved head. Most of the time he wore a red bandanna tied like Aunt Jemima’s, but tonight he was going commando. “Come with us. You’ll see. Best food you’ve ever had, completely free. And the store doesn’t care cuz they’re throwing it out anyway.”
Nick frowned. He liked the idea of free food, but it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Was there some profound philosophical point being made by rooting around in Dumpsters for your food? After all, the tuition at Dexter was pretty high. The Grannies could probably afford groceries. But it seemed like something Laird Castle would have done.
“Let’s hit it!” Liam jangled his car keys. His orange and gray wool flap hat was pulled down so far that his murky hazel eyes were almost completely obscured. Nick flipped up the flaps on his own hat in an effort to distinguish himself.
Moments later he sat in the back of Liam’s red Saab, listening to Phish sing “Proud Mary.” The road into town was dark and the air was chilly. Nick thought he might have even seen a stray snowflake.
He wondered if Shipley and Tom had finished having sex. The sight of her in Tom’s bed depressed him. He didn’t like Tom to begin with, and the fact that Shipley had chosen Tom over him or even that redheaded local boy made him question her judgment. Tom ate meat three times a day, he was totally unspiritual, he snored and farted loudly in his sleep, he’d signed up for the expensive laundry service instead of washing his own socks and underwear in the laundry room down the hall, and he wanted to major in Economics with only a concentration in Studio Art. Tom also refused to address Nick directly except to say, “See you later, man.” Tom was a dick.
We are all one and connected, Nick reminded himself. I am you, you are me. Your good fortune is my good fortune. Your misfortune is my misfortune. If Tom is a dick, then I am a dick. Hopefully Tom’s redeeming qualities would reveal themselves in time.
Shop ’n Save bore a giant neon orange sign and seemed to be the only