LITMIR.BIZ

      What do you do when you’re in college, school’s about to get out for the summer, you’re up at two a.m. the night before a final, and a friend comes into the university library and says, “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but there’s this HUGE geocaching contest and the winner gets to take somebody on a four day cruise to the Bahamas.”

      Well, I can tell you what I did. I tried to think of how to study exponential equations and set up a coffee IV drip at the same time. When I realized I had no coffee, no needles or tubing or a bag to put coffee in I began trying to figure out how to get Twiggy to get me some.

      Most people would hear a name like Twiggy and immediately think of the skinniest girl they knew and take off about twenty pounds. Twiggy was thin, but he wasn’t that skinny. He mostly got his name from being all elbows and knees. He was like one of those bugs that look like a walking stick. He was good at coming up with harebrained schemes and running out for coffee. Or vodka. But I’d never had vodka and tonight called for coffee, so I rubbed my eyes and said, “Coffeeeee,” in a desperate sounding voice.

      He just stood there, arms folded across his chest and said, “You’re pitiful.”

      “Thank you, now go away, or at least help me with this problem. I don’t see how they got from point A to point 62B to the negative 7^th.”

      “You’re still pitiful. Let me see.”

      He took my book and my page of incorrect notes and squinted at it.

      “How many weeks did you sleep through class?” he asked.

      “I don’t sleep in class. I don’t even sleep at night!”

      “You, dearie, need help. You need to take a week off as soon as school gets out and go with me to find little boxes hidden in weird places. After your mind is clear of the sheer numbness of college classes you can think about changing your major again.”

      “I change it every semester, but it doesn’t help the classes get any easier. It just means I know how to talk about anything from astrophysics to art in the seventeenth century.”

      “That might be a useful skill,” he said. “Did you know there is a spot on Mercury that looks like the Mona Lisa?”

      “Wrong century. That was the sixteenth century.”

      He closed my book and held out his hand. “Coffee, or sleep. You need one or the other. Do you want to hear about the contest or not?”

      “I don’t want to flunk my final.”

      “What’s your average?” he asked.

      “Three point seven, but I…”

      “The final won’t bring you up to an A and flunking it won’t lower it to a C so forget about point A and point 62B to the negative 7^th.”

      Just the fact that he could remember my gibberish proved he was smarter than me. I staggered after him hoping he was going to the nearest coffee shop. I tripped over a student who had fallen asleep with his face in a book and his legs stretched across the walkway. Taking an exam with a crick in your neck is a bad way to start off a day of finals.

      “I can’t go with you on this contest,” I said. “My mom expects me home for my sister’s birthday. It’s her sweet sixteen and I’m supposed to do her hair.”

      “Hair shmair. She’s going to have hair whether you do it or not, right?”

      “Right.”

      “So, she’s a big girl now. Let her do something daring like dye it blue and cut it like a rock star.”

      “Do you really think my mom would let her do that? My mom who wears dresses to the grocery store, who goes on a date so she can make out with my dad without ‘exposing’ the kids?”

      “Okay, you’re right. When is your sister’s birthday?”

      “The middle of July.”

      “Perfect! We have to finish the contest by July tenth anyway!”