by Jay Bell
“His car was vandalized too,” David said. “You can still see the paint on it.”
Among the voices buzzing around them, David was sure he could hear Chuck squealing with laughter.
The officer barely glanced at Connor’s car. “You’ve also been reported for dealing drugs.”
Connor glared at him. “Yeah, that would explain the expensive clothes I’m wearing and the money falling out of my pockets.”
“I’m going to need to search your car.”
“Go for it.”
Connor turned his back on him as the officer began his search. He looked David up and down, making sure he was okay, before he glared at the crowd. David felt bad. All the stupid rumors about Connor would be cemented in these people’s minds today. Connor shouldn’t have to face this anymore, shouldn’t have to come back to this godforsaken place. It was David’s fault he was suffering their groundless judgment again.
“Kiss me.”
“What?” David spluttered, certain he had misheard.
“You heard me. Let’s give these losers something to stare at.”
The idea was even more frightening than standing up to Chuck, which is why David felt he had to do it. If there was one thing he wouldn’t let the world make him afraid of, it was his feelings for Connor. He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around Connor’s neck, and kissed him.
The crowd reacted with shrieks of shock, laughter, and of course, ugly words, but David and Connor ignored them and continued to kiss, at least until the officer cleared his throat.
“What’s in the box?”
David pulled away and saw a flat, plain white box like the kind from a department store.
“Nothing,” Connor said. “Look, you can open it, but just do so on the seat, all right? I don’t want anything getting lost.”
“What is it?” David asked.
Connor shook his head. “Nothing.”
He blocked David’s view until the policeman was done. Afterwards Connor opened the trunk for the officer and was subjected to a patting down. When it was clear there wasn’t going to be an arrest or another show of homosexual lust, most of the students remembered they were free and began leaving.
The policeman lectured Connor about the dangers of walking away from an officer and laying a hand on one, but mostly he looked as though he wanted to be in his car and back on patrol. He let them leave with a verbal warning. As David got into the car, he saw Chuck watching from a distance. He didn’t look happy, obviously hoping worse would have happened. David gave him a satisfied smirk and let Connor drive him away.
“Good thing we smoked the last joint yesterday,” Connor said. “And you wanted to save it for tonight.”
“To celebrate,” David said, “but yeah, that was a lucky break.”
“Anyway, screw them all. We’re free!”
And they were. David exhaled in relief. The last day of school always made him feel like he was coming up for air after nearly drowning. The world was full of potential now, every day another slice of summer. He wished Connor would keep driving—out of the city, onto the highway, and away—so that this intoxicating freedom would never ever end.
David turned in his seat, meaning to ask Connor to do just that when he noticed the oblong box again. It still lay on the back seat, long and mysterious, making him think of an old gangster movie where a gun had been hidden in a box of roses.
“So, what’s in there?” David said.
Connor shook his head. “Just wait two whole minutes until we’re at your place.”
As soon as Connor parked the car, David reached into the backseat for the box. It was light. “Now can I open it?”
“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal or anything. Or a present, so don’t get your hopes up.”
David rolled his eyes and took off the lid. Inside was a navy blue graduation gown and tasseled cap. “You’re going to graduation for me?”
“Well, for you and my mom. I kept telling her this stuff’s a waste of money, but she wanted to surprise me and keeps going on and on about how proud she is.” Connor looked moderately embarrassed. “There should be some tickets in there. Yeah, those. I have one extra if you want to come along.”
“Of course!” David tried to picture Connor dressed up and walking on stage for his diploma and couldn’t. “You want to try the gown on for me?”
Connor gave him a knowing look. “Nice try, pervert. You’ll have to wait until Sunday night.”
David was still laughing while he fumbled with the front door keys. He almost dropped them when Gordon appeared from between the hedges.
“I have a plan,” he whispered before adding in a hiss, “for revenge!”
“What’s he talking about?” Connor asked.
“No idea.” David ushered them inside. Soon they were standing in the kitchen, nursing juice boxes.
“David told me how you got fired from your job,” Gordon whispered in conspiring tones. “It just so happens that I was wronged by McDonald’s as well.”
“Oh god.” David pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not the birthday story.”
“Yes, the birthday story!” Gordon said before launching into his tale. “I was eight years old, and my parents asked me what I wanted more than anything else. Besides a magician’s kit—you know, the deluxe ones that teach how to do more than hide foam balls and make coins disappear—there was only one desire in my heart. I wanted a birthday at McDonald’s. With Grimace.”
“You mean the big purple gumdrop guy?” Connor asked.
“He’s not a gumdrop,” Gordon said testily. “He’s … well, I don’t know what the hell he is, but he’s amazing!”
“So anyway,” David prompted.
“Anyway, my parents booked me a party at McDonald’s, and the manager swore they could have Grimace there. They promised! And do you know what happened?”
Connor, kind soul that he was, shook his head as if the rest of the story wasn’t painfully obvious.
“Grimace wasn’t there.” Gordon leaned back, having delivered the shocking blow. “David saw it all. Go ahead, tell him.”
“It’s true,” David said. As silly as it was, he couldn’t resist egging Gordon on. “They did have that nice clown there. What’s his name?”
“Ronald McDonald,” Gordon said slowly, “made my birthday a living hell! He hounded me the entire party, harassing me with his banal humor and humiliating me in front of the entire town.”
“It was only me and one other kid there,” David said. “The guy was just doing his job.”
“He wasn’t even invited! Besides, I’m pretty sure he tried to molest me at one point.”
“You mean the birthday spanking?”
Gordon nodded. “I swear I felt something move in his lap. So as you can see, I have just as much reason to hate McDonald’s as you do.”
Connor nodded. “Well, it’s good to know I’m not alone. Uh, anyone up for some video games?”
Even this couldn’t dissuade Gordon. “I haven’t told you my plan yet. Last night I was watching Dateline. They had this undercover investigation about health violations in fast-food restaurants. It was like the hand of God reached down and switched my TV to the right channel!” Gordon held up a scrawled-on piece of notebook paper. “I took notes and figured out what we could do to get the place shut down.”
David looked at Connor, who was doing such a good job of faking interest that even David was fooled. Wait, he was faking it, wasn’t he?
“So what’s the plan?” Connor asked.
Oh god! This couldn’t be good.
* * * * *
Curled up in bed together, alternating between having sex or cuddling up for some pillow talk, or maybe just going for a drive, finding somewhere quiet to park and staring at the stars together … David had pictured his last day of school being redeemed by any of these activities, but instead, here he was at two in the morning, staring at a darkened McDonald’s through the dirty windshield of the Chevy Chevelle.
/> “I think it’s safe to go in now,” Connor said, starting the engine.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t leave the car here?” Gordon asked. That was another unexpected surprise: Gordon, in the world after midnight, treating this mad adventure as if it were just another quest in his strategy guides. “What if the police notice your car?”
“They won’t simply because they’ve seen it parked there countless times. We’ll stand out more if we’re creeping across an open parking lot.”
Connor parked behind the McDonald’s, a moment of hesitation following the engine’s silence.
“Okay,” David said. “Let’s do this.”
Between them, they had come up with a really good plan, providing they didn’t get caught. His worst fear involved them actually breaking in, or rather, what followed once they did. As Connor had promised, the door was locked but not shut properly. He placed his palm on the handle, which was already covered with his fingerprints from working there, and rammed the door with his shoulder. It swung open, the lingering scent of fast food drifting out and making David’s stomach growl. Maybe he could get Connor to whip him up a burger while they were here.
A high-pitched whine chased away thoughts of food. The alarm! This was David’s greatest concern. Connor felt he knew the code. Felt. The alarm could care less about what any of them felt. It needed four numbers, and fast, before the whine exploded into a full-blown wail.
“It was always two sets of two numbers, top row,” Connor said to himself, punching at the key pad with his knuckles to avoid prints. “Two two. Three three.”
The keypad flashed, but the whine continued. That wasn’t right.
“One one, two two.”
The backlit digits flashed again.
Connor hesitated. “Think it’s two two, three three?”
“You already did that one,” David said. “Try three three, two two.”
“Or one one, three three.” Gordon said.
Connor stared at them both a moment before knuckling in three three, one one. The alarm chirped happily and the whining ceased. “Figured it would be the last one we thought of,” Connor said.
They turned to face the interior, which suddenly felt like it belonged to them. Connor closed the outside door, and everything became much darker. Dim lights in the seating area were on for security, but they were enough to create silhouettes of objects they should avoid. David pulled out the mini-flashlight he had gotten in his stocking last year, and Gordon used his phone to illuminate their path.
“This is the pantry,” Connor said like a tour guide as they entered a room full of shelves. “This is where all the condiments and dry goods like paper towels, plastic spoons, and cookies are kept. And of course, gloves for safe handling—or hiding fingerprints. Here, put these on.”
David felt like they were preparing for surgery as they pulled on the gloves. They were too cheap to be latex, more like plastic baggies with fingers, but they would do.
“Oh my god!” Gordon breathed. “Are those the new Pokémon Happy Meal toys?”
He nearly dropped his phone as he started shifting through the plastic-wrapped premiums.
“You might as well take what you want,” Connor said. “You’re already guilty of breaking and entering.”
“I just need Pikachu,” Gordon said. “Oh, and Oshawott. Can I have him too?”
Connor laughed. “Sure. Grab a couple extra for my brother.”
Once Gordon had his loot, they moved through the hall to a thick metal door. “This,” Connor said, yanking a metal handle, “is the freezer.”
The inside was—well, freezing. David rubbed his arms, trying to get the goose bumps to go away, as Connor dragged a couple of cardboard boxes into the hallway. The plan hadn’t started out this complicated. Gordon had simply suggested that they smuggle some raw meat into the restaurant, hide it somewhere, and call the health department. Then Connor had added his own spin, and David contributed a few ideas of his own. And here they were.
“Frozen patties,” Connor said, handing a stack to each of them. “Just pretend it’s Easter and start hiding.”
Together they ventured into the dark but surprisingly tidy kitchen and began looking for small nooks and crannies to shove frozen patties into. Beneath the grill, in the toaster rack for the buns, on top of the monitors that displayed orders, between the paper wrappers—the possibilities were endless! Connor had to go back for another box of patties before they even got to Mike’s office.
“Is that for the security camera?” Gordon asked, pointing to a box next to the computer.
Connor nodded. “Yeah. They’re off, don’t worry. They only run during the day.”
Gordon checked them regardless before getting out of the way. This was what Connor was looking forward to most. He filled every drawer in Mike’s office with frozen patties, inserted meat into the folders stored in the filing cabinet, and even crammed a few into a trophy awarded for exceptional service in 1998. As a final touch, the office chair had a flat pillow on it. Connor deposited another red meat patty beneath it.
“Dining room next?” Connor asked.
“Maybe we should get out of here,” David said.
Connor put on his best pouty face. “Let’s dump a box of chicken nuggets into each toilet first.”
David laughed. “All right.”
An employee entrance led directly to the restrooms, which weren’t visible from the front windows. Connor dumped his nuggets in the toilet bowls, and David, practically blinded by tears from laughter, unloaded some sausage links in the urinals. Then he really felt like they had pressed their luck and insisted they go.
On their way to the back door, they stopped to implement David’s little stroke of genius. Connor cranked up the heating unit to the max. By morning the restaurant would be sweltering hot, the meat thawed and goopy. Gordon had already used a pay phone to call the heath inspector earlier in the evening, insisting he had seen employees tossing raw meat around as a game. Their vandalism would be obvious, but they had caused enough chaos to make Mike’s weekend extremely unpleasant.
David was sure they would find the back parking lot filled with police cruisers, but when he opened the door, all was quiet. Connor set the alarm and in silence they got in his car and drove the speed limit all the way to David’s. En route they saw a police car pulling out of a gas station, Connor’s car briefly illuminated in the cruiser’s headlights as they passed by. Casually as possible, David turned to see if they were being followed, but the cruiser pulled onto the street and headed in the opposite direction.
He breathed out in relief once they were back at his window. Gordon crawled in first, tripping over something in the dark as he hunted for the light switch.
“I have to go home,” Connor murmured.
David turned to face him, disappointed. “Why?”
“Mike’s going to suspect me, and I don’t want any links back to you or Gordon. Officially, I’ve been home all night. I’ll even wake up Tommy and tell him to quit snoring, just so he sees me.”
“Do you have to go now?”
Connor smirked. “The bed is going to be awfully full if I don’t.”
Of course. Gordon was spending the night so they could execute their little crime. That eliminated any romantic possibilities, so David kissed Connor goodnight.
“Am I going to see you tomorrow?”
“No job, no school. You can have me every day of the summer. I’ll even take you for a burger tomorrow.”
David laughed. “Better make it Burger King.”
“Good idea!” Connor stole another kiss before he turned away. David just barely heard his parting words as he walked away: “Sleep well, Sweet Sixteen.”
Chapter Eleven
When David woke up the next day, his father was thumping on his door and saying something about noon. Gordon grumbled and shoved a pillow over his head while David reached for his cell phone and blinked until his eyes were clear enough to see. It was past noon, actua
lly. He and Gordon had been too hyped up on adrenaline to sleep last night. The phone rumbled once, telling David he had a text message.
Looks like trouble.
He read and reread the simple message, his eyes darting between it and Connor’s name. It could only mean one thing.
“Gordon, get up.”
David shoved him a few times, telling him what time it was. The nice thing about living next door to each other was how easy it was to leave. Both of them preferred heading home for breakfast and other morning rituals.
He didn’t mention the text message to Gordon, who might panic at the news. David wanted time to figure out everything. Really big thoughts always required solitude, as if the mind needed the extra physical space to stretch out. As soon as Gordon was gone, David’s imagination began flashing red lights to a symphony of sirens.
He checked the text message and saw it was only twenty minutes old. Connor was surely waiting for a response.
What’s going on?
He waited, biting his lip, pacing the floor, and finally taking a shower with the phone on the closed toilet seat, the curtain partially open so he could keep checking on it. He was dried and dressed an hour later and still hadn’t received a response. Looks like trouble. Did that mean the police? Jail? Or had Mike shown up with a couple of friends—large friends—to get back at Connor directly?
David raced upstairs to the kitchen and asked for the car keys, telling his dad that he wanted fast food for lunch. He was in the car and about to drive to Connor’s when he second-guessed himself. What if the cops were there? Showing up looking worried would only make him a suspect or make Connor appear guilty. If Mike was there, maybe he could do something, even if it was just calling the cops, but surely they would have gone by now, regardless of their intentions.
Instead David drove by the McDonald’s, pulling into a parking lot across the street. At this point he was so frantic that he imagined Gordon might have accidentally turned on the surveillance cameras, which could mean being recognized. He watched as cars pulled up to the drive-thru speaker. Shortly afterwards they would drive away again, empty-handed. No doubt about it. McDonald’s was not open for business.
