10 Things to Do Before I Die Read online

  Out of nowhere Nikki’s arms appeared around his Waist. He hugged her back. As usual, their embrace had an oblivious, summer-blockbuster intensity; a passerby might think that Mark had just returned home from a long War or unlawful incarceration. Finally he took a deep breath.

  “All I’m saying,” he continued, “is that—”

  “I should go up and introduce myself to Rachel Klein,” I finished for him.

  Mark smiled, satisfied. “Exactly.”

  “You mean that blond chick?” Nikki asked, letting him go. “The new chick, right? The cute one? The one Who’s so into Amnesty International? That’s so funny! I saw her checking Ted out in the cafeteria!”

  “See?” Mark said. He beamed at me in triumph. “She’s attracted to you, Burger. So What are you gonna do? I dare you to go up to her.”

  “I dare you, too,” Nikki added. “It’s about time you cashed in on your charm.”

  “My charm?”

  “Yes, Ted,” she said dryly. “That shy, mysterious, tortured-soul thing you Work so hard to cover up With your clownish shenanigans? That charm?”

  I didn’t reply. Instead I just blushed, like the clown I am.

  Something to Think About

  Now, here’s a question. Hypothetically, if you approach a pretty stranger on a foolish dare in order to escape a three’s-a-crowd-type situation With your best friend and his girlfriend (a situation that arises all too often), are you also partly—secretly, unconsciously—motivated by a desire to impress your best friend’s girlfriend?

  You don’t have to answer right now. It’s just something to think about.

  Exit Cue

  Back at the Circle Eat, Mark has Wiped our plate clean not only of hamburger, but also of grease. There’s nothing left Whatsoever. I can see my distorted reflection in the plate’s ceramic White glaze. The guy’s metabolism never ceases to amaze me. He’s even taller than I am, he sucks up burgers With the efficiency of a vacuum cleaner—and he barely Weighs in at a hundred twenty pounds.

  “But seriously, Burger,” he says. “What are you gonna do this spring break?”

  “Well, I’m glad you asked,” I tell him. “Because for once, I have a ‘thing.’ See, Rachel is helping to organize a big student Amnesty International retreat this summer in the Catskills. It’s gonna be really fun. There are gonna be a bunch of kids from all over the country, hanging out at this old camp, and tons of speakers are going to come. Diplomats, ambassadors … it’s the kind of thing that’ll look awesome for colleges, you know? But I have to Write an essay and fill out an application to get accepted. So Rachel is coming over tonight to help—”

  “Whoa, slow down there, Chatty Cathy,” Mark interrupts. “I don’t know about this. You’re saying you’re going to spend the first night of spring break Writing an essay?”

  I smile. “Yes, Mark. Unlike you, I occasionally plan for the future.”

  “Yeah, but you’re also telling me that filling out an application for a summer retreat, Which Will take you five minutes to finish, tops, counts as doing something? I don’t think so.” He adopts a pseudo-paternal tone. “And let’s not forget that you really shouldn’t go to the Catskills because your allergies Will act up—”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Nikki cuts in, elbowing Mark on the shoulder. “I think it’s a great idea, Ted. It’ll give you and Rachel a chance to spend some real time together, away from school, you know?”

  “So how come you’ve never invited me on a retreat, then?” Mark asks her.

  “Because you can’t sit still.” She frowns at him. “And Wipe your face, for God’s sake. You’re disgusting.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Mark says.

  He Winks at me, then reaches below the table and pulls Nikki’s jean jacket out of her bag, using the sleeve to clean the ketchup off his chin. But Nikki just Winks at me, too, then Wipes the ketchup-stained jacket back on Mark’s face. Mark laughs. Nikki doesn’t. I recognize my exit cue.

  “Later, dogs,” I say, scooting out of the booth.

  “Wait!” Mark Whispers. He grabs one of my knapsack straps, reining me in. “Check it out!”

  My shoulders sag. “Come on, man.” I groan. “I gotta go. Anyway, I don’t feel so Well.” It’s true. My stomach is churning. Sometimes the fries at the Circle Eat don’t go down as smoothly as they should. This particular nausea is Worse than usual. It’s actually making me a little dizzy.

  “Sit down,” Mark hisses, forcing me back into the seat With a violent yank.

  “What’s the problem?” I ask.

  He jerks a thumb toward the register. He looks panicked.

  Then I see Why: that other high scorer on the Afro Q-Tip meter, the recently fired Leo, has just Walked in. He’s lurking by the door. And there’s definitely something … Well, a little off about him. His face is a gruesome White, except for the purple sacks under his eyes. His Brillo pad hair is a mess. He’s also Wearing a ratty black overcoat. It looks as if it’s come straight out of a Dumpster. This is conspicuous because Leo never Wears an overcoat, not even When it’s cold outside—Which it isn’t. Leo Wears a blue parka. (At least, as far as I know. And I know, having eaten his fries almost every single Weekday afternoon for the past two years.) Furthermore, Leo is now glaring at the balding young Greek guy, Greg, Who Works the front counter.

  Not that any of this really grabs my attention.

  No, What grabs my attention is how Leo has now jammed his right hand into his right coat-pocket. Something pointy is protruding from the fabric. This pointy thing is slowly being aimed straight at Greg—

  “Everybody freeze!” Leo shrieks. “I Want to ask you something! Do you know that fired is just fried, misspelled?”

  Sniveling Coward

  Every cliché is Well founded. When you’re face to face With death, your life really does flash before your eyes. I guess it’s a lot more enjoyable to relive the past than it is to confront a deranged fry cook With a concealed gun.

  So While some brave souls may try to jump in and save the day, others—namely sniveling cowards like Ted Burger—freeze up.

  My brain hops the next train out of the station. I start thinking about Rachel. I realize that Rachel Will never have sex With me no matter how “ready” she is because I’ll be dead. Not unless she’s into necrophilia. Ha! Ha … no, that’s not funny, either. It’s not even shameful. It’s despicable. But still, I think about all the mistakes I made With her, about how I should have appreciated her more—and thankfully (or not), Mark slams the brakes on this sad train of thought by jumping out of our booth and lunging at Leo.

  A Round of Waters for Everyone!

  “Mark!” Nikki shrieks in horror. “Don’t!”

  But Mark is already in midair.

  I can’t believe it. I mean, I can; this is Mark, after all—He’s going to get killed. My best friend is going to get killed.

  I gaze, slack jawed, as he hurtles down the aisle.

  Leo seems as perplexed as the rest of us. His purple-ringed eyes narrow into slits. Oddly, though, he doesn’t move. So Mark crashes into him. The impact is a blur of black fabric. Mark’s T-shirt and Leo’s ratty overcoat meld into one. They topple to the floor. Instinctively I leap to my feet. I Watch as they Wrestle. It’s not like the Wrestling you see on TV. It’s not choreographed. It’s sloppy and awkward, and they slip on the linoleum and grunt and … at this point I’m having difficulty breathing. I’m also having heart palpitations. Plus my stomach feels as if it’s being ground up in a Dispose-All.

  I don’t Want to start spring break like this, I frantically think. I Want to start spring break by laughing and telling jokes—I know I should dive in there and interfere, and aid my best friend in his struggle, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed.

  Somehow Mark pins him.

  “Yes!” I shout.

  Leo tries to squirm. He’s beefier than Mark is, but Mark’s skinny limbs are stronger than they appear. He exploits the temporary advantage by shoving his hand into Leo’s overcoa
t. No, no, no. Don’t do that. That’s how accidents happen.

  I hold my breath. Mark pulls out the gun and sticks it into Leo’s face, and …

  “Oh my God,” Nikki Whispers.

  Wait a second. Wait just a second here.

  The gun is green.

  Translucent green. It’s made of plastic.

  It’s a Water gun.

  Mark scowls at it. “What the—”

  “Suckers!” Leo screams.

  He flips Mark over and bolts for the exit. A second later the door slams behind him. He disappears down Seventh Avenue.

  I glance at Nikki.

  A shaky smile spreads across her face.

  We both turn to Mark. He’s still lying flat on his back on the floor.

  Then slowly, very slowly, he starts to laugh.

  It’s over, I say to myself, fighting to catch my breath. It’s all over.

  In a flash Mark is scrambling to his feet and Waving the Water gun over his head. He squirts it a few times into the air— his sweaty face ecstatic, his black T-shirt soaked—and cries, “A round of Waters for everyone!”

  Several customers sigh. A few burst into applause. I nearly collapse.

  Mark performs a silly little dance in front of us all. I tumble back into the vinyl seat, as exhausted and triumphant as if I’d been the hero myself. Although there is a prickling in my belly, a little Warning flash that maybe Mark didn’t quite save us from this twisted freak, that maybe this is only the start of something much more sinister …

  But I have an overactive imagination. It is over. Yes. Of course it is. I should know better.

  That prickling is probably just Leo’s last batch of fries.

  Opportunity

  Several long, nervous minutes go by before the Circle Eat Diner begins to settle down. In the meantime everybody decides to leave except Mark, Nikki, and me. And a funny thing happens. All the regulars take turns patting Mark on the back on their Way out. None of us has ever actually communicated beyond “hi” until now. But the brief crisis has united us, made us a family. It’s like a receiving line at a bar mitzvah.

  “Nice Work, sport,” says Old Meatloaf Lady.

  “You’ve got guts, kid!” says Guy With Crumbs in His Beard.

  “Word, G.,” says P.Y.T. (Pale Young Thug, so christened because he has a machine gun tattoo on his bluish White forearm and several names crossed out under it).

  Mark shrugs and thanks each one graciously.

  I Want to be part of this mass exodus, too. I Want to pat Mark on the back and congratulate him and then get the hell out. I’m quivering and dry mouthed. Also, something is Wrong With my stomach. It’s not just prickling anymore. It’s gurgling. But I can’t leave. Mark is in no hurry. He insists on staying. And I can’t blame him. Not only is he decompressing after an extremely traumatic experience (he disarmed an insane criminal, for God’s sake), Nikki is also smothering him With affection and gratitude. Which he deserves. So I don’t Want to spoil the moment.

  Still, I’m very relieved When Greg, the balding Greek guy behind the counter, announces: “I’m gonna call the goddamn cops. I don’t Want that pecker coming back in here and scaring all my customers away.”

  “Sounds good,” I reply. I stand up.

  “Hey!” Nikki cries, letting go of Mark. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m gonna split, too,” I say. “Just until the cops arrive and clear this up. Anyway, I should go home and get ready to meet Rachel.”

  “You have plenty of time,” Mark says. “What is there to clear up? It Was a Water gun. The guy’s a nutcase.” He pauses. “Which is too bad because he Was an awesome fry cook.”

  “Not that awesome.” I groan.

  “Listen, Burger, you Want to know something?”

  “Can I know it later?”

  “I’m being serious!” he yells. “You know Why I Went after Leo? Why I really did it? To teach you a lesson, dude! To show you What it’s like to grab life by the cajones! To lead by example!”

  In spite of the nausea, I almost laugh. That might just be the silliest lie he’s ever told. Even Nikki rolls her eyes. I know exactly Why he Went after Leo: for no other reason than that he’s an impulsive maniac. But I also know now that I have no choice but to stay. If I bolt, he’ll chase me down. This is classic Mark: he’s pumped full of adrenaline—rightly so—eager to talk, and capable of anything. So I collapse back into the vinyl seat. I owe him that much. He did try to save my life.

  “Look, here’s the deal,” he says earnestly. “It’s the first day of spring break. Your parents are out of town until tomorrow night, right?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “You told me, Burger, remember? The Way I see it, you should use today and tomorrow as if they Were your last days on earth. You should try going crazy for once. Like I just did. You should try taking some risks, you know What I mean? Have you ever really taken a risk before?”

  “I introduced myself to Rachel Klein, didn’t I?” I answer. It’s the only risk I can think of.

  “Okay, aside from that,” Mark says. “What I’m saying is: Have you ever really lived, Burger?”

  I blink at him. Interesting question. It reminds me of that Hong Phat fortune cookie. I probably should have tried to bolt. I hate it When people ask me stuff like this. Especially Mark. I can hardly think of anything that makes me more uncomfortable. Except … oh, I don’t know. Acting like a coward, maybe?

  The Hands of a Burly Lumberjack

  “I propose We make a list,” Mark announces. He’s still sweaty and manic. He pulls a napkin from the aluminum dispenser on the table and then unzips my knapsack, fumbling through it. “I propose We make a list of the things Burger should do over the next twenty-four hours. Okay? Let’s make a list of ten things. Like the Ten Commandments. You know, just to make it official?” He finds a ballpoint pen and clicks it open. “So. Number one …”

  Nikki smiles at me. “How about losing his virginity?”

  Mark brightens. “Excellent!” He leans over the napkin and Writes:

  Burger’s Spring Break

  1. Lose virginity.

  My face heats up like a burner. It’s bright red. How does Nikki know that I’m a virgin? Actually, that’s an incredibly stupid question. Of course she knows that I’m a virgin. She knows everything about me. She’s in love With my best friend.

  I grab my knapsack. “Okay, you guys. I’ll see you later—”

  “No, no, no,” Nikki says, clamping her palm down on my Wrist. “I’m sorry. That Was so lame of me. Forget I said that.”

  “It’s all right,” I mumble.

  Even under duress, I can’t help noticing how much softer Nikki’s hands are than Rachel’s. Aside from the silver rings (one on every finger), Nikki’s hands are like velvet. Rachel’s hands are hard and calloused. There’s a good reason for this: she volunteers three days a Week tending to a community garden in Harlem—something that I admire even more than her commitment to Amnesty International, something that most kids our age Would never think to do—but … Well, the downside is that all the hours of Weeding and digging have given her the hands of a burly lumberjack.

  “But Ted, you know, the first day of spring break is pretty romantic,” Nikki points out. “I mean, you Were planning on seeing Rachel tonight anyway, right? It’s the perfect time to do it.” She gives my arm an affectionate squeeze, the kind a nanny might give, then lets go. “I should know.”

  Mark glances up at her, his brow furrowed. “We didn’t do it for the first time on the first day of spring break.”

  “Yeah, We did,” she says.

  “No, I remember,” Mark says. “It Was the second day.”

  She shakes her head, confused. “We—” All at once she smiles demurely. “Oh, yeah. You’re right.”

  “You think I’d get that date Wrong?” Mark mutters, smiling back.

  I can tell that they aren’t being dense. They aren’t trying to make me feel awkward,
either. They’re just lost in their own reveries, thinking out loud in front of their fifth Wheel—the poor clown Whom they’re trying to help—because Nikki honestly couldn’t remember the exact day she lost her virginity.

  And it gets Worse.

  Together they run down their strategy for me:

  I should finish the Amnesty International application before Rachel comes and meets me this afternoon. Then she’ll be thrilled.

  No, actually, I should blow her off and ask her to meet me later tonight because then she’ll get annoyed.

  Which means, of course, she’ll be that much more thrilled When she sees that it Was all a big surprise for her benefit. It Will also give me time to finish the application and to turn the Burger apartment into a full-fledged love nest: candles, incense, maybe some red Wine from my parents’ liquor cabinet, groovy seventies music.

  Yeah, the Whole atmosphere Will be pure aphrodisiac… .

  And then Rachel and I Will talk like We’ve never talked because I’ll have finished the application on my own … and it’ll prove that I truly Want to be With her, that I Want to go away With her this summer, that We should be together—

  Mark stiffens.

  “What?” Nikki asks.

  He turns to me, his face creased in concern. “Burger, can you get into your parents’ liquor cabinet?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do your parents keep the liquor cabinet locked?”

  “Don’t know. Never tried to open it. I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

  Mark flashes Nikki an inscrutable look.

  She nods, reading the message, Whatever it is.

  “The Wine conundrum,” she says.

  “Hmmm …” Mark pauses mysteriously and chews on the ballpoint for a few moments. “Well, it’ll be much better if it happens Without booze anyway.” He leans over the napkin, back in business mode. “Next?”