“I am serious.”
“Good. Let’s show them that.” She wanted to take him off the team and, instead, have Daniel enroll in night classes at Samford University. Not only would he start getting college credits, it would get him acclimated to the college environment.
Trying to think of what Mrs. Estes would listen to, Daniel listed all the things he got out of basketball: leadership skills, teamwork skills, how to set goals. Mrs. Estes nodded and pretended to consider this.
“We all know how much sports have taught you, Daniel. But the hard fact is, your basketball game isn’t going to get you into any of the colleges you want. You need another edge.”
Daniel glanced at his parents. They nodded. “It might be a good idea, pal,” his dad said. With all three of them behind the idea, Daniel had buckled once again.
Tuesdays and Thursdays, Daniel drove up to Samford University to take philosophy and sociology. Even if he still bristled occasionally that he’d gotten yanked off the team, it was interesting peeking into what college was going to be like. It had startled Daniel to be suddenly treated like an adult. At Samford, no bells or vice-principals herded students from one class to another. And if Daniel just didn’t show up one evening, nobody would call his parents or expect a note.
Daniel took a quick shower and got dressed. From the top shelf of his closet, he took down the Core 205s he’d gotten for Christmas, their soles crisp white and never worn a step outside. Lacing them up and grabbing his book bag, he headed out.
His mom was in the kitchen. “You’re dressed very nice.”
“Why, thank you,” Daniel said without slowing his steps.
“You sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
“ Not hungry.”
“Daniel.” She grabbed his arm. “Here. Take some trail mix, at least.” She handed him a package of trail mix from the top of the refrigerator. He took it and kissed her cheek. Then, safe behind his mildly harassed smile, Daniel headed out.
Jostling with traffic up Twentieth Avenue, Daniel grabbed the can of body spray he kept in his glove compartment, dashing it across his chest and armpits. He pulled into Florence Deli’s parking lot, checked his hair, and tightened his laces. Daniel had his dad’s hustle and his mom’s green eyes. This would be easy.
Florence Deli was a fast-food chain done in the same downtown style Starbucks went for, with brick walls, lots of blond wood, and employees decorated in tattoos and dreadlocks. Except everything was a little too tastefully matched and easy to wipe down. Walking up to the counter, Daniel wondered if the warm bread smell filling the deli was real or if there were canisters of the stuff in the back.
“Can I help you, sir?” The man standing at the cash register had an East European accent. He wore a manager name tag and a flashy gold watch that clashed with the deli’s bohemian attitude.
As Daniel ordered a jalapeno chicken wrap and a Coke, Misty walked around from the back. She wore a yellow Florence Deli vest over a Tragic City Rollergirls T-shirt. She didn’t notice Daniel at first. Grabbing two sandwiches from under a heat lamp, she turned to place them on a woman’s tray, then snapped her head around, staring at Daniel like a startled deer.
“Oh.” Acting surprised to see her, Daniel gave a limp wave and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Misty didn’t smile back.
“That will be six twenty-three,” the manager said.
Daniel paid and pocketed the change, the whole time pretending not to be watching Misty pretending not to be watching him. When her boss headed into the back, Misty spoke again. “So what’s up?”
Daniel shrugged. “Nothing. Just getting something to eat. What’s up with you?”
Misty shrugged too. “Work.”
Daniel nodded but didn’t say anything else, giving her a chance to vanish on some imaginary errand. For a few seconds, Misty seemed to be considering it. Then her gaze drifted to the monitor overhead showing what Daniel had ordered.
“Oh, yuck.” Turning, she yelled through the space under the heat lamps. “Ilie! This guy wants to change his order!”
“Do that then!” The manager’s flinty accent came from an unseen prep area.
“I do?” Daniel asked.
“Last delivery of chicken was green,” Misty whispered, sticking her tongue out in a quick, silent gag. “Like tuna? It’s the same price.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“No problem.” She put in the new order. “It’s a tuna wrap, now, Ilie!”
“Fine!”
“So you’re just a Good Samaritan to everybody,” Daniel said.
A glimmer of a smile started to surface. Misty quickly turned it into a sneer. “Whatever.”
“So you got ISS for that thing with the dog?”
She nodded. “Five days.” Val Reed appeared pulling a shopping buggy loaded with salads and slices of pie to restock the glass cooler. Misty gave her a subtle look but kept talking to Daniel. “Mom’s pissed but …” She gave another shrug and let the thought trail off.
“Well, hey, Mrs. MacKaye gave us some more stuff about that paper we have to do. Actually, I’ve got my notes in my car, if you want to copy them.”
One corner of her mouth twitched upward. “That’s really cool. But I already took my break.”
“Well, I have some things to do, but I could swing back by whenever you’re getting off.”
Misty narrowed her eyes and studied him.
“Or you could get them when you get out of ISS,” Daniel backtracked. “I just thought maybe you’d want to work on that paper over the weekend. Or whatever.”
“Have you ever even eaten here before?” she asked suspiciously.
If he insisted this was all coincidence, Misty wouldn’t believe him. If he told her the whole truth, he might come off as a stalker. “Well, somebody mentioned you worked here. And, like I said, I was running some errands and figured, you know, maybe I could be a Good Samaritan too.” He grinned. It was one hell of a charming grin. It had gotten Daniel out of—and into—a lot worse trouble than this.
His tuna wrap appeared under the heat lamps. Misty bagged it and handed it to him. “I get off at eight. If you’re still out by then and want to come back, that’s cool. But if you don’t, don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll come back. Thanks, Misty.”
When he said her name, Daniel finally got a genuine smile from her. “No problem,” she said.
“I told you. To give me some notes for government.”
“No. What’s he really want?”
“I don’t know.”
Misty and Val talked in circles through the dinner rush. When the stream of customers subsided, Ilie sent them into the back to wash a three-foot-tall stack of trays. They were still scrubbing away when he yelled from the front, “Misty! Your softhead is back!”
“Oh, God.” Drying her hands on her vest, Misty ran. Daniel stood at the counter, his book bag slung over one shoulder, dark curls spilling across his forehead. Sleepy eyes watched her barrel out of the back, almost slipping on the greasy tiles.
“Softhead?” he asked.
“It’s just a joke. Don’t worry—”
“They chatter like crows all day. Val says you babble like you’re soft in the head.” Ilie busied himself closing down one of the cash registers. He glanced up at Daniel. “That’s you, yes?”
“Uh, well, I guess maybe. I don’t … don’t really—”
“Yes, that’s you.”
Misty felt the tips of her ears burn. Seeing her squirming in place, Daniel laughed at himself and changed the subject. “Ready to get the notes?”
“Yeah. Great.” She looked at Ilie. “Can I go?”
“Washing finished?”
“Val’s got it.”
Ilie let out a grumbling sigh. “Remember to clock out.”
“Thanks, Ilie.” She looked at Daniel again. “I’ll just be a second, okay?”
Nodding, Daniel sat down in one of the booths near the windows. Misty still di
dn’t know what he wanted, but she was glad he was here.
A minute later, Misty and Val slid into the seat across from Daniel. “Sorry about Ilie,” Misty mumbled. “He’s an asshole to everybody.”
Daniel wondered what they’d said about him besides being soft in the head, but he didn’t want to embarrass Misty any more. “Where’s he from, anyway?”
“Russia.” Misty rolled the R in an over-imitation of Ilie’s accent.
“Wow. So Mrs. MacKaye really stressed using historical examples. Other than that, it’s your standard comparative essay. Did you get the list of suggested books, or were you …?”
“I think I’d left before then.”
“You can borrow mine.” Daniel handed her the photocopied list.
“Don’t you need it?”
Daniel shook his head. “I already checked out the books I needed.”
“Very proactive.” Val nodded, snacking on stale cookies. “No wonder you got into Cornell.”
Misty’s mouth dropped open. “You got into Cornell? Seriously? Holy shit, that’s the Ivy League.”
“Uh …” Daniel stared at her. She stared at a shooting star, a wondrous thing. He wanted to see what Misty’s world looked like; he couldn’t do it from high above. “No.” Daniel forced a laugh. “Where’d you hear that?”
Val shook her head. “Can’t remember. Just thought I heard somebody say that. Like, they accepted you early because you’re so smart.”
“No.” Another laugh. “My parents wanted me to apply there, but I don’t know if I even want to go to college right away. Waste another four years sitting in classrooms.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” Misty said.
Just like that, Daniel had peeled off the shooting star, as thin and brittle as an old snake skin. “So you don’t have any plans?” he asked.
She copied his notes while she talked. “Not really. I’ve thought about, like, backpacking through Europe or something.”
“Wow. Where would you go?”
“I don’t know.” Misty lifted her head and thought about it. “On one hand, I’d love to see the Eiffel Tower and all the stuff I’ve seen on TV. But then, it’d also be cool to just wander around and not even worry about where you’re going to wind up, you know?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’d do,” Daniel said. “Just let myself get lost somewhere.”
Val got a call from Eric, leaving Daniel and Misty to go over the assignment. After she’d copied his notes, they ate stale cookies and talked about Mrs. MacKaye’s class.
“She’s been teaching government for what? Twenty years?” Misty asked. “But she hasn’t had one student become president. I mean, how good a government teacher can she be?”
Daniel laughed. “It’s a scandal.”
“Misty!” From the counter, Ilie clapped his hands to get her attention. “Time to go.”
“We’re just sitting here,” she said. “C’mon. You’re not closing for another hour.”
“All day, I fight with teenagers. I should have a tranquilizer gun. You clock out, you’re somebody else’s problem. Take your softhead and go.”
As they gathered their things, she whispered, “Told you he was an asshole.”
After an hour in the warm deli, the cold sliced right through Daniel’s letterman jacket. Val was still talking to Eric. Glancing at Misty, she asked, “So are we doing anything?”
“Nothing to do.”
“We could go see Charlie Say What.”
Misty shrugged, then looked at Daniel. “So you have to go home or whatever?”
“Not really.” His classes got out at ten. He couldn’t go home until after then.
Misty grinned. “Want to drive around and smoke weed?”
They took Misty’s massive old Lincoln, Daniel sliding into the front seat beside her. On the way to Eric’s house, the girls entertained Daniel with stories about Ilie.
“Tell him about the girlfriend stealing his TV.”
“Oh!” Misty banged her fist against the steering wheel. “Okay, Ilie starts dating this woman, right?”
“Who was so skanky. The first time she came up to the deli, I swear, I thought she was a hooker.”
“Did you? Seriously?” Misty asked.
“Didn’t you? God, she was like a chicken-headed alien from Planet Skeeze.”
Misty turned down a street lined with bungalow houses painted cake-frosting colors. Daniel saw Eric waiting on the porch of one.
Andrew Polidari, Eric’s brother, had been a senior when Daniel had been a freshman. Daniel hadn’t really known him, but he remembered a big, laughing guy holding court in the weight room. He’d been killed in Iraq. A memorial plaque hung in the school’s lobby now with a photograph of Andrew solemn in his dress blues. He stood at attention beside pictures of students who’d died in Vietnam, Korea, and World War II.
Eric was a rough sketch of his brother, gawky and stoop-shouldered, but Daniel recognized Andrew’s features. Watching him dash toward the car, Daniel noticed Eric didn’t wear the same black tanker boots Misty and Val wore. His were made for desert combat, beige with nylon ventilation panels. Daniel realized they’d belonged to Andrew.
Opening the car door, Eric saw Daniel and his eyebrows knitted together. “H—hey.”
“What’s up?”
They stared at each other until Val said, “Come on, babe, it’s cold out.”
Climbing in, Eric kept his glare fixed on Daniel. He started whispering back and forth with Val. Daniel pretended he couldn’t hear them.
From the corner of his eye, Daniel watched Misty’s easy grin. He could smell her shampoo. Then Misty glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Their gazes locked for just a moment before they both looked away.
Next, they pulled into Center Gardens Apartments to pick up Marc, who had the same reaction to seeing Daniel as Eric had. Then Misty cruised around to the other arm of the U-shaped apartment complex. Stepping out of the car, Misty grabbed Daniel’s sleeve. “Don’t stare. He’s really sensitive.”
“Sensitive about what?”
The apartment door opened, revealing one of the biggest human beings Daniel had ever seen. Misty gave him a hug. “Charlie! What’s up?”
“Hey, what’s up?” Charlie lifted Misty off her feet. In the light from the apartment, Daniel saw what he wasn’t supposed to stare at. Somebody had sliced off both of Charlie Say What’s ears.
“Can we trade some green?” Misty whispered.
“Say what?”
“Green,” she said again, raising her voice.
“My favorite color.” Charlie waved them inside, then stopped Daniel cold with a look. “You queer?”
“Uh …”
“You can’t seem to take your eyes off me. I know I’m a good-looking sonofabitch, but I’m not queer.”
“He’s cool, Charlie,” Misty said. “Let’s do some business.”
The apartment’s air stank of pot. It made Daniel cough. There were cases of Natural Light stacked against the kitchen wall, and Daniel guessed Charlie sold that, too. Two women sat watching a movie, hardly taking any notice of the customers.
Pooling their money, they told Charlie what they wanted, then told him again. He kept grunting, “Say what?” The mixture of menace and absurdity made Daniel bite his lip, afraid Charlie would break his jaw if he laughed.
After Charlie went through a beaded curtain, Misty flipped backward over the back of the couch, landing upside down between the women, squealing, “Elsa!”
One of the women tapped Misty on the nose. “How’s your momma?” she asked in a sleepy, stoned voice.
Shrugging, Misty took a bowl of popcorn from Elsa’s lap and twisted her head around to see the TV. “What are we watching?”
Charlie reappeared. He slipped Misty a Baggie, then they and Elsa chatted like regular neighbors. Daniel stayed in the corner of the living room with the others. Eric and Marc watched him. They had even less of a clue what Daniel was doing here than Daniel did.
&nbs
p; He nodded at Marc’s Miami Heat jersey. “So what do you think of DeWine so far?” he asked.
“That little bitch? Did you see the Wizards game?”
“Yeah. Where he kept trying to get through Kerry?”
“But he won’t pass. They ship two great forwards out to Bum Fuck Egypt so DeWine can play with the ball like it’s his left nut.” The suspicion shadowing his face faded as he told Daniel about the Heat game his and Misty’s dad had taken him to in Atlanta last season.
After trading a few jokes about the Atlanta Hawks, Daniel mouthed, “Where the hell did his ears go?”
“Some prison thing,” Marc mouthed back. “Do not fucking ask.”
A minute later, they were back in the car. Misty tossed Eric the weed and a pipe from her purse. Eric carefully filled the pipe bowl as Misty rolled down Fifteenth Avenue. Lighting up, he leaned over to kiss Val and shotgun smoke into her mouth.
Daniel should have been in Dr. Byrd’s class right now. At first, mental images of getting pulled over and having to call his parents from jail kept Daniel sober. But the heater blew eddies of smoke around the car as they threaded through dark neighborhoods. They passed the pipe back and forth, talking about music and teachers they hated. The careless abandon of Misty’s world was as intoxicating as the weed. Before long, Daniel realized he was giggling just as much as the others.
“My old babysitter went to Hollywood, right?” he told them. “And she wound up doing all these straight-to-video slasher movies.”
“Your babysitter became a scream queen?” Val asked. “That’s so cool.”
“Yeah, but, she was sort of topless in one, so now her family, like, won’t talk to her anymore.”
“How the hell are you sort of topless?” Misty demanded.
“Well, all topless. But it was really important for the plot. It was about a serial killer who stalked strippers, right? So obviously they needed strippers or the movie wouldn’t have made any sense.”
“Oh, my God. You actually watched it?” Misty croaked. “You actually watched your babysitter shaking her boobies in some crappy movie.”
“Hell, yeah. Julie was my first love.”
“Hey, Daniel, you’re dating Angie Walton, aren’t you?” Val spoke up from the backseat.
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