Page 24 of Eye of the Beholder

“This Wet Willy thing really did a number on you, didn’t it?” I say, frowning. “But that was years ago, Mina.”

“Don’t tell me to just get past this, Cohen,” she says, sounding…upset? “No one has ever made fun of you.”

I frown. “Sure they have. I’ve gotten ‘you can’t fix ugly’ before.”

“Someone said that to you? ‘You can’t fix ugly’?”

“Yep,” I say.

“Recently?” She sounds skeptical.

I squirm uncomfortably. “It was a long time ago,” I admit.

“See?” she says. “You’re funny and popular. No one makes fun of people like you. But people called me ‘Wet Willy’ until ninth grade. Virginia called me that every time she saw me. Usually she threw in jabs about my eyes. For two years, Cohen. Until she finally reached peak arrogance and no longer noticed the existence of others. And Marcus? Hestillcalls me that.”

“He does?” I say, surprised. I’ll come back to the “funny and popular” part later.

“Yes,” she says, sounding weary through the phone. “Everyone else seems to have forgotten about me, which I’ve gone out of my way to make happen. I just fade into the background. I’m fine with the Jack thing. I want to do it. I need to. It will be good for me to come out of my shell. But I’m allowed to be scared about it.”

She’s right. “You are,” I say. “Sorry. You totally are, and I get it. When did that happen?” I say.

“Seventh grade.”

“I can’t believe Marcus still calls you that,” I say. “That’s so…”

“Juvenile,” Mina says, and for some reason I picture her nodding. “He says a lot of things, though, so it’s fine.”

I frown. “What does he say?”

She makes a noise that sounds like a derisive snort. “The same things he says to all females everywhere, I’m sure. Baggy clothes and boring colors do not fool Marcus. He is disgusting and probably spends far too much time on more inappropriate parts of the internet.”

I feel a twinge of anger. “I didn’t know that.”

“How do you not know this? He eats lunch with you every day,” she says, sounding disbelieving.

“He’s sort of like the friend that no one likes,” I say, shrugging. “I try not to pay too much attention to him.”

“Ask him about a girl walking past and just listen to what he says.”

I’d rather not, but I have a feeling I’m going to do it anyway. “Okay, well, do you want to come over tomorrow afternoon? Is four okay?”

“That works,” she says.

I’m struck by a sudden thought; I’m going to call it inspiration, but Mina’s not going to like it. “And do you remember how you said that you needed to see where I was on the ACT stuff before you could help me? So you could see where I needed the most work?”

There’s a pause.

“Yes,” she says.

“Great. We need to see where your social skills are so I know what needs the most work. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow. See you then!”

I hang up before she has a chance to protest. Then I fling myself off my bed and go back to Lydia’s room.

“What does Marcus to say to girls?” I say.

She doesn’t look up from her magazine. “To girls? A lot of really disgusting things. To me? Nothing, anymore.”

“What did you do to make him stop?” I say, torn between a sense of pride and a sense of foreboding.