I began dialing the first number I could think of…4 - 0 - I tapped away, swiftly and deliberately like Camacho sparing before a fight. The feel of resistance against my thumb was somehow gratifying, like the satisfaction you get from popping bubble wrap. I remember watching the screen light up with beautiful green digits after every successful jab to the keypad as if my phone was keeping score for me.
With the phone to my ear I began tinkering with the antenna, reaching my apposing arm over my head like a chimpanzee. Never have I been so excited to talk about absolutely nothing with just about anyone. So long as that anyone is on the receiving end of this call and not directly in front of me asking where Dillard’s is -
I’m sorry, what? I’m on the phone.
After what seemed to be hours of waiting for someone to pick up, I finally hear a familiar voice.
Eddie! What the f**k are you doing man?
Of course, this was a dick thing to ask because I already knew what Eddie was doing. Eddie was home, grounded. And here I was asking him to meet me at the mall so I could gloat about my new cell phone.