Keith groaned, pretending to pound his head on the desk. “Everybody blames the sharks. You do realize that the chances of getting killed by a shark is like one in three million? You have a better chance of getting hit by lightning.”
“But, see, I don’t go out in storms, so my chances of dying either way is 0. Who wins now?”
“Not you.”
I cocked my head, confused. “How do you figure?”
“Because, Sam, everything that makes life worth living carries a risk. If you eliminate that, you might as well start collecting cats now.”
“I like cats,” I protested.
“I’m sure you do.”
He caught my eye and we smiled. I can’t overstate my surprise that Keith hadn’t already tired of our conversation. The truth was, people typically just looked right through me.
“Think about it, Sam. Is there any cooler way to die? I mean, like cancer would be a sad way to go, but getting trampled by the bulls in Spain – epic.”
“Or spontaneous combustion,” I added, rolling with the theme.
“Yes!” Out of nowhere, Keith high-fived me. It was the first time a guy outside my family unit had ever touched me, and my skin flushed accordingly. “That’s some gnarly shit there. You’re just hanging out watching a little TV when BAM – you frickin’ explode. That’s just all kinds of awesome.”
What the heck was happening here? Somehow I’d been witty enough to warrant the attention of a member of Pearl Beach High’s ruling class. Shannon would be proud.
Leaning in, Keith lowered his voice. “You want to hear my evil revenge plan?”
Oh, boy, did I ever! At this point, anything that came out of his mouth was gospel to me. Wide-eyed and rapt with interest, I nodded.
“If I get killed by a shark, I want a memorial bench erected in my name right next to a garbage can.”
That sounded like a horrible idea, but I encouraged him to continue with an awkward tilt of my head. “Why?”
“To make it easier for the seagulls to crap on people resting on my bench.”
Again, pretty terrible idea. So far, Keith’s evil revenge plan was going in the direction of the platypus story. “Why would you want that?”
“Because Sam…”
“Samantha.”
The way in which he completely ignored my earlier request told me he’d never be getting my name right. And while it usually annoyed the hell out of me when people shortened my name for their own convenience, when Keith did it, with just that little bit of snark, I honestly didn’t mind all that much.
“Whatever. Anyway, how do you get people to remember you after you die?”
Thinking about his question, I shrugged. No one would remember me if I died, so it was sort of a moot point. But for someone like Keith, yeah, I could see him inspiring a candlelight vigil in his honor.
“I have no idea,” I finally conceded.
His affecting smile slayed me. “Drop a little bird doo-doo on them. No matter how old you get, you’ll always remember where you were the first time a seagull crapped in your mouth.”
I choked out a laugh. It really was a brilliant way to be remembered. “The Keith McKallister Memorial Bench. I like it.”
He nodded, pleased his plan passed muster with me.
“Well, sadly there will be no memorial bench in my honor because, sharks aside, I don’t go in the ocean.”
“You can’t swim?”
“Actually, I’m a really good swimmer,” I said, before adding a series of completely irrelevant supporting facts. “I have long arms and a long torso. It’s a great combo for swimming.”
