Page 43 of Something Rad
Her posture straightens slightly, and she glances away.
“So why don’t we fix that?” I say.
“Why?” Cooper asks. “Why do you even care?”
“I don’t know that I do,” I answer honestly, shrugging. “But I do know that we have to spend the next three and half weeks together, and I’d rather not spend all of those afternoons in heated silence.”
“We could just spend them in regular silence,” Cooper offers, returning her attention to the books.
“No,” I shake my head, walking up to the bookshelf where she’s shelving. “Tell me what I got wrong.”
“What?” she asks, not looking at me. “When?”
“You know when,” I say. “When I was…reading you. What did I get so wrong?”
Cooper just shakes her head, not responding to me. She grabs the cart, pushing it to the next row of shelves.
“What did I get wrong, Cooper?” I push.
“I believe I already told you,” she says, turning to look at me. “Everything.”
I let out a sigh. Sensing that just getting her to talk is going to be harder than pulling teeth, I decide to switch my method. “Okay, let’s try something different,” I say.
“Or we could not.” Cooper says,.
I ignore her, pushing on. “I ask you a question, then you ask me a question. I’ll go first. What are you doing here?”
“Me?” she asks, turning in my direction. “Well, you see, Robbie, I’m shelving books. Sorting them. Putting them back where they belong. Kinda like…what you’re supposed to be doing. Ring any bells?”
“You know what I mean, Cooper. Why are youhere?” I ask, stepping closer. “If it’s not just to feel something.” I see her throat bob, but she hides it by shaking her head. She turns back to the shelf, obviously not planning to answer. “I’m just going to keep asking, so you may as well tell me.”
She slams a book down on the cart, putting her hands on her hips as she spins to face me. “Why. Do. You. Care?” She pauses so long between each word she grits out that they each sound like their own sentence.
“Why. Are. You. Here?” I ask her again, in the same low voice and manner she just used.
She stares at me, taking several deep breaths before standing up straight and crossing her arms. “Because I need to be.”
“Why–”
“My turn,” she says. “Why’d you stand Denise up?”
“What?” I shake my head, that being the last question I expected her to ask. “I didn’t–”
“Then why did she say you did?”
“My turn,” I cut in. “Why do youneedto be here?”
She shakes her head in frustration, then gives in. “To build my resume.”
“What does library aiding have to do with being a doctor?” I ask.
“I never said I wanted to be a doctor,” she says. “That was allyou.”
“Well, then what do you want to–”
“Nope. My turn,” she cuts me off.
“But I didn’t even ask a question–”
