Snakes and Ladders

“I was telling ya,” Mack shakes his head, his choppy bangs falling in his face and ghosting over his thick black eyebrows “People get this notion of who they think you are, and there’s not much you can do to change that.”

“That’s grim,” Norman says glumly, his voice cracking again, though he doesn’t acknowledge it this time “I mean, I hope that’s not true. Not that I have any evidence to indicate the contrary, but still. That’d be a dark reality.”

“Well it’s like, uh, what was that book called?” Mack snaps his fingers several times, the bridge of his nose scrunching up until he gets it “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, yeah - life’s what you make of it! But, man, it can be hard, right? Because you still have to contend with the parts everyone else makes.”

“Assholes,” Norman picks at the lunchroom pizza apathetically, as disinterested in it as Mack’s current musings about a Hitchhiker’s Guide.

Mack Rutger has been trying to find surreptitious ways to work it into conversation all week, and Norman noticed almost immediately. Norman doesn’t have the heart to tell Mack that it was ‘just alright.’ He doesn’t really care for sci-fi, but he liked A Confederacy of Dunces, which Mack also recommended. Mack is smarter than he gives himself credit for, but Norman isn’t sure how to tell him that, either.

“Say, hm, Norm?” Mack asks meanderingly, unbothered by the stale, plasticy quality of Parkview High School’s food, and now eying Norman’s nearly untouched tray over the bridge of his nose, trying to play off his noticeable appetite.

“I’m not gonna eat this,” Norman pushes his tray forwards, which makes an unpleasant scraping noise on the tabletop, but the face Mack makes is unrelated.

“I wasn’t gonna- you know. You need to eat, too, I’ve gotta ‘nough meat on me,” Mack self consciously pulls his shirt down as he says this, even though they've stopped riding up since he bought new ones last week at the mall, .

Force of habit, Norman supposes. The other kids were ruthless about that. It’s hard to hide that Mack is the heaviest student at Parkview, and even if he doesn’t ever acknowledge it, Norman knows he’s self conscious. It’s especially obvious when Mack gets a crush on one of the girls in their class, and he’ll start mentioning diets he’s read about and is thinking about trying, and flipping through the self help books at Morrison’s gas station when he and Norman stop by there to convince Cody Morisson to let them check out the seedy adult films in back while his dad isn’t looking. It’s gotta be an exhausting way to live. Norman lets out a sigh, and nudges the tray towards Mack again, who flushes scarlet with indignation.

“What, are you calling me shrimpy?” Norman smiles a little, rolling his eyes, his oversized head propped up on his hand, arm braced on the sticky table “You think I’m weak, or something?”

“Don’t play me like that,” Mack huffs a little, folding his arms across his chest “I don’t wanna have to go back to the mall, Norm - last time I got up the nerves, Helena was there, and my brother’s girlfriend no less. I hated the idea of them seeing me try on new pants.”

“You weren’t changing in the courtyard, were you?” Norman pushes the tray a little further towards Mack.

Helena has been Mack’s romantic fixation since sophomore year. No one knows, besides Norman, because Mack is so damn good at pushing everything down. He hasn’t even tried talking to her, but Norman can’t blame him for that. Helena has got to be the prettiest girl in their grade, even if she’s not really his type, and he’s surprised she’s still single.

Maybe her parents are Mormon, or something. Norman’s dad told him that if he were born a girl, he’d have a reason to dust off his old shotgun to scare off any would-be suitors, and that Norman was lucky he was born with a six inch world-of-difference. Norman isn’t sure he’d make a good enough looking girl to get a date, anyways. But that’s weird, right?