Perfect Fifths_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [85]
The elevator arrives at the ground floor with a jolt.
“Yes,” Marcus says. “I know just what you’re saying.”
twelve
You suck, suckity, suck suck suck.
That’s the thanks I get after how much I’ve worried about you?
You should be happy that the trauma to my brain didn’t permanently change my personality. You should be relieved that I’m not mistaking you for a hat. And for the record, you missed your flight this morning because you overslept and didn’t take your dad’s ride or your mom’s advice about the car service and got on the wrong security line.
You’ve made your point. Is that why I suck?
No. You suck because it’s not even like you’re making an effort in these dreams.
What dreams?
What dreams. See? This is what I’m talking about.
What you’re talking about what?
The dreams like the one you’re in right now.
What? This is a dream? Are you sure?
You just saw Barry Manilow turn into Marcus Flutie. How much more proof do you need?
Marcus is … Wait! He’s gone! Where did he go?
[Long sigh.] Do I really have to say what you want me to say?
What is it that I want you to say?
That wherever he is, he won’t be gone for long. That he’s never really gone because he always comes back to you. Isn’t that the whole BLATANTLY OBVIOUS AND NOT AT ALL SUBTLE takeaway message from all these—forgive my political incorrectness—retarded dreams?
And what’s that supposed to mean?
It’s like the caps-lock key is stuck. These dreams are SCREAMING WITH MEANING. Way too on-the-surface to be accurately called a product of the subconscious. If I were to turn in an essay with this kind of heavy-handed Psych 101 SYMBOLISM, you would tear it up and tell me to DO BETTER.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
That’s fine, Jessica. Deny, deny, deny. That’s a surefire way to guarantee that you will totally fuck this up.
Fuck what up?
Sweet baby Jesus. You’re even worse off than I thought. I mean, here I am, Sunny Dae, your alter ego, the Korean reincarnation of your younger self, Pineville High’s current model of the cynical girl who has it all and yet has nothing at all telling you straight-out to STOP BULLSHITTING YOURSELF, and yet you STILL persist in doing everything you can to FUCK THIS UP. I beg of you, Jessica, DO NOT FUCK THIS UP WITH MARCUS.
Marcus? This is about Marcus? And watch your language. I am an authority figure, you know.
That’s it. I’m going back under.
No! Wait! Don’t!
You have he nerve to pretend hat this isn’t about Marcus?
I don’t want this all to be about Marcus.
I know you don’t. And you’ve been doing a fantastic job for the past three years not making everything about Marcus. And for the past six hours in particular, you have put forth a spectacular effort in not making everything about Marcus. But it’s time to get real. These dreams—ARE ALL ABOUT FUCKING MARCUS. And I mean, like, fucking literally and not fucking as in a gratuitously obscene figure of speech. And don’t get on my case about how I shouldn’t abuse our close mentor/mentee relationship by crossing the boundaries of propriety by using foul language.
I am not going to have sex with Marcus.
So you’ve doth protested … and not without good reason.
You’re actually agreeing with me?
Well, sorta. I mean, I understand why you wouldn’t want to, you know, in light of what happened when you tried to have meaningless rebound sex with Len Levy after you broke it off with Marcus. You just don’t have it in you to have a torrid one-night stand. It always has to mean something with you or you feel horribly guilty about it afterward.
So you’re saying that I don’t want to have sex with Marcus because it would mean too little?
No. I’m saying you do want to have sex with Marcus but are afraid it will mean too much.
Ack! What do you know?! Why should I listen to you? You’re still in high school!
Right. I’m still