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Michael shuts his locker and leans against it with his arms crossed pensively, watching Christine down the hall speak animatedly to Jeremy about the soundtrack to Annie or something. It’s nice to know that everything worked out, and Jeremy even got to stay friends with the “cool” kids without losing any time away from him.
Jenna and Chloe walk out of the cafeteria talking about last night’s Bachelor episode. They wave when they spot him and keep going, and they say hi to Christine and Jeremy when they pass by. It’s kind of like the end of Mean Girls , Michael thinks, despite the fact that he’d refuse ever having seen the film if questioned. Everyone’s finally getting along.
Sure, high school is hell. But at least finally, finally, everyone’s on each other’s side. It may be a teenage battlezone, but everyone’s allied together now.
There is something still bugging him, though. Michael jams his headphones on his head and hits play on the Huey Lewis tape in his Walkman. He needs to make a stop on his way home.
At the hospital, Michael runs up to Rich’s bed and tears the curtain away. Rich jumps a little, looking up from his pudding cup. “Oh, hey, Michael,” he says, smiling all friendly. “You looking for Jeremy? He got discharged yesterday. I thought you knew.”
“I did,” Michael says, suddenly feeling awkward. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking… I don’t know, something’s bothering me.”
“Spit it out, man,” Rich says, patiently eating his pudding.
“Everyone at school was talking about you after you set that fire,” Michael says, sitting down on the edge of the hospital cot. “I swear, you were the biggest news. And your Twitter page was blowing up and everything… I mean, hell, I was expecting them to have ‘Save Rich’ up on the water tower by the end of the day.”
“Yeah,” Rich sighs, looking embarrassed. “One way to get noticed, I guess.”
“You were like, the most popular guy in school,” Michael points out. “But… nobody even came to visit you.”
Rich’s expression suddenly sours, and he takes his time swallowing the last spoonful of pudding. “Yeah, well… that’s one thing I learned from old squippy.” It’s a little weird to hear Rich talk with that thick lisp, but Michael knows he prefers it to squipped Rich’s condescending asshole voice. “Being popular doesn’t actually mean people like you. It means they like talking about you.”
“Yeah,” Michael sighs. “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” He fiddles with the cord on his headphones. “Just, I was thinking… you know, no one deserves to be alone in the hospital.”
“Oh, well, I haven’t been alone,” Rich assures him in a plastic voice. “Nah, nah, bro, don’t worry about me. There’s just, like, a train of hot girls… and guys… buzzing through here, nonstop. You know. Any second now that cute weather lady’s gonna be here to bring me flowers, I’m like a town tragedy. You don’t need to stay here.”
“Oh, okay, I won’t stay,” Michael says bluntly, jumping up. Rich reaches out and grabs his sleeve.
“Wait! I was lying.”
“I know,” Michael smirks, sitting back down. “Don’t worry about it, I cleared my schedule. I’m here for you, ya tiny little weirdo.”
Rich smiles. “Wanna sign my cast?”
“You got it, Evan Hansen,” Michael says, whipping a Sharpie out of his bag and scrawling his name. “Hey, when you’re all healed up and outta here… wanna get stoned in my basement?”
Rich gets out of the hospital soon enough, but he’s still in a wheelchair until his legs heal up more. Getting him down to the basement proves to be tricky, but Michael manages it. He scoops Rich up and carries him down bridal style. “My hero,” Rich teases him.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get snarky,” Michael says, navigating the debris of chip bags and video game cases on the floor. “I could drop you at any moment.” He does drop him, onto the middle of the couch. “Alright. Joint or pipe?”
“Uh. What?”
“For the weed,” Michael says.
“Oh. Right.” Rich shifts awkwardly. “So, uh, I’ve never actually smoked pot before.”
Michael bursts out laughing but then stops when he gives Rich a second look. “You’re serious? Dude, you dressed up as weed for Halloween last year.”
“Because the squip told me to,” Rich says, looking miserable. “But he wouldn’t actually let me get high because it would mess him up. So no, I’ve never been high.”
“Jeez,” Michael says, going to the cigar box on top of his mini-fridge and pulling out a joint. “Okay, it’s not that hard. You have to light it and then suck in.”
He crashes down on the couch beside Rich and gets the joint started before passing it to Rich, who tries to take a puff and immediately starts hacking his lungs out. “Smooth,” Michael says, rolling his eyes and taking a drag on the joint before getting up to get Rich something to drink. He grabs a can from the mini-fridge and passes it over. “Here.”
“The hell is New Coke?” Rich asks, inspecting the can.
“Oh, it’s awesome,” Michael says. “Back in the ’80s they tried to change the taste but everyone hated it so it tanked.”
Rich takes an experimental sip. “Oh, my God. I can see why.”
Michael shrugs. “I like it,” he says, relighting his joint.
“Wait, so the Mountain Dew Red wasn’t a one-time thing?” Rich says, eyeing him. “You literally just like nasty old soda?”
“And out-of-print games, and banned comics, and unaired TV pilots,” he says. “Basically, if I can’t have it, I want it.” He coughs. “Shit, I didn’t mean for that to sound so deep.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rich says, taking the joint and taking a more careful drag. He doesn’t cough this time, but he still takes a big swig of New Coke after he passes back the joint. “You know, I spent so long not being myself… I don’t even know who the hell I am.”
“ That’s deep.”
“Is this what being high is like?”
Michael laughs. “We’re not high yet, Rich. We’re just total saps.”
“Yeah…” Rich says, sinking back into the couch and drawing nearer to Michael. “Michael, listen…”
But Michael must be thinking the same thing Rich is, because he lowers his face toward Rich, turning his mouth slightly so he doesn’t blow smoke in Rich’s face. “Yeah?”
“Just… it was really cool of you to come visit,” Rich says, slipping into a whisper without meaning to.
“‘Course,” Michael says, also whispering. “I’m a really cool guy.”
“You are,” Rich says earnestly.
They’re close, closer, Rich feels like his head is spinning… he leans in, brushes his lips against Michael’s…
And Jeremy’s dad walks in.
“Hey, Michael,” he says, completely oblivious. “Whoa, hey there, Rich. How’s it going?”
“You don’t live here!” Michael yelps, not bothering to move away from Rich, who looks extremely self-conscious.
“I know, I’m just looking for Jeremy,” Mr. Heere says.
“He’s at Pinkberry with Christine,” Michael says, shooting a pointed look out the door. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“He probably texted me,” Mr. Heere says, looking completely comfortable with trespassing and interrupting Rich and Michael. “Eh, I never check my phone. Hey, does it smell like marijuana in here to you guys?”
“No,” Michael says, very obviously holding a joint in his left hand. Mr. Heere’s eyes narrow. “I, uh, I have to smoke weed when Jeremy’s not here because when I smoke with him here, he, uh, knocks it out of my hand. Very anti-weed, Jeremy. Total narc.”
“Oh,” Mr. Heere says. “Well, okay. I’ll see you later, Michael. You boys have fun.” He walks up the stairs and vanishes.
“Ugh,” Michael says, shaking his head. “At least he was wearing pants.”
“Yeah,” Rich says, leaning closer to Michael. “Now… where were we?”