“Well,” I said. “What are my options?”
“Let me consult the oracle,” Cassidy mused, leaning forward to pull up a blade of grass. She examined it in her palm as though she was reading my fortune. “You can sound your barbaric yawp over the rooftops . . . or suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune . . . or seize the day . . . or sail away from the safe harbor . . . or seek a newer world . . . or rage against the dying of the light, although that one doesn’t start with s, so it sort of ruins the poetry of it all, don’t you think?”
“And here I thought you were going to say doctor, lawyer, or business executive.” I laughed.
“Honestly, Ezra.” Cassidy stood up, brushing the grass off her jeans. “You’ll never escape the panopticon thinking like that.”
13
THAT NIGHT, I took Cooper out to the end of our cul-de-sac and tossed a ball for him. It wasn’t the same as taking him for our run down the hiking trails, but he seemed to enjoy it all the same. He even found a wild rabbit to chase, although I don’t think the rabbit particularly appreciated the game, or being hunted as game.
When I brought Cooper back to the house, my mom was at the kitchen table with a mug of tea at her elbow, flipping through the TV Guide even though we have On Demand and streaming.
“Where’d you go?” she asked.
“End of the block,” I said, pouring fresh water into Cooper’s bowl. “Tossed around a ball.”
“Off the leash?” She looked horrified. “Ezra, it’s dark outside! He could’ve been hit by a car!”
“It’s a cul-de-sac, so I highly doubt it.”
“Tone, young man.”
“Sorry.” I took a pack of cookies out of the pantry and opened them. “Want one?”
“Not this late,” she said. “Bring those to the table and tell me about school.”
I suddenly regretted my foray into the pantry.
“School’s fine,” I said through a mouthful of cookie. “Although these are terrible. I thought they were chocolate chip.”
“Carob chip. It’s healthier. How are your classes?”
“Good. I need you to sign a permission form for debate. There’s an overnight tournament in San Diego next weekend.”
“An overnight field trip?” She shook her head. “Honey, I don’t know. Don’t you have physical therapy on Saturdays?”
“I can call Dr. Levine and reschedule,” I said impatiently. “And it’s not a field trip, it’s a tournament. I joined the debate team.”
Cooper whined for a cookie, and I shot him a look that said Trust me, you don’t want to try these.
“Is that what your friends from student government are doing this year?” Mom asked cheerily. “The debate team?”
“Not exactly.” I tried not to grin at the thought of Jimmy Fuller, our sports team liaison, or Tiffany Wells, our social events chair, hanging out with my new lunch crowd. “Toby Ellicott asked me to join. He’s captain this year.”
“Oh, Toby! I haven’t seen that boy in ages.” Mom closed the TV Guide and leaned across the table, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Tell me, did he turn out to be gay?”
I choked on the carob cookie.
“Mom!”
“What? I’m just curious, honey.”
I stared at her, appalled. It was one of those questions you don’t go around asking about people.
“Are you going to sign the permission form or should I ask Dad?” I pressed.
“Leave it on the counter for me in the morning. I can take you to Nordstrom after school.”
I’d just gotten up from the table, and when she mentioned shopping, I froze.
“Well, you’re going to need a suit for debate, aren’t you?” Mom went on, warming to the idea. “And we can get you some new clothes as well. Your jeans are a bit baggy now, and I don’t want you tripping over the hems.”
She was smiling as though the men’s department of Nordstrom was a perfect opportunity for us to spend some quality time together. And then I came up with an idea.
“Actually,” I said, “I’ll go with Toby. He’ll know what I’ll need for the tournament.”
“That’s a great idea.” Mom beamed. “Just use your father’s credit card. Gay boys have such wonderful taste in clothes!”
“YOU CAN’T JUST buy a suit off the rack.” Cassidy gawked at me, horrified.
That same Vampire Weekend song from the Back to School Pep Rally seeped through invisible speakers, permeating the men’s department of Nordstrom. I sighed, overwhelmed by the endless stretch of clothing racks.
“Toby,” Cassidy whined. “Tell him.”
“Seeing how all of my suits came from the fine atelier of Messrs.’ Salvation and Army, I wouldn’t know.” Toby grinned, enjoying my discomfort. “But he definitely needs a pink button-down.”
“Like hell I do. You guys suck.”
“Do we need some help over here?” A smiling saleslady who could have been one of our classmates’ mothers asked.
“We do, actually,” Cassidy said brightly. “Do y’all do complimentary tailoring on suit jackets?”
An hour later, I had a trunk full of shopping bags and a tailoring slip for a new suit, which I could pick up in a week.
“It could’ve been worse,” Cassidy said, patting me on the shoulder as we climbed back into my car. “You could have spent two hours trying on different types of trouser pleating with your mom.”
“You haven’t met his mom.” Toby laughed. “It would have been three hours. And a surprise haircut.”
“When did you two join forces?” I grumbled.
“Not soon enough, apparently.” Cassidy grinned. “Now who wants to study for Mr. Anthony’s quiz?”
Toby’s schedule was a flip of ours; he had English first and then history.
“How about you just give me the answers at break tomorrow?” Toby suggested.
“How about I glue your bow tie around your neck?” Cassidy retorted.
“I’d like to see you try.” Toby laughed and turned on the radio. “Now let’s get the hell out of the Prism Center now that we’ve got what we came for.”
“Are we studying somewhere, or am I dropping you back at the Fail Whale?” I asked.
“We’re studying.” Toby sighed.
We drove over to this giant sprawl of superstores near school called the Legacy. It was nice spreading out our stuff in the Barnes and Noble café, drinking coffee and studying with other people like it was some sort of social activity. I’d never done it before.
Well, I mean, I had, when Charlotte insisted we do our homework together in Starbucks back when we’d first started dating, but that was mostly her rubbing my pant leg under the table until we had to give up on studying and go back to her house, since her parents were never home. So I suppose I’d never studied effectively with other people. Sure, Cassidy teased me, pretending she’d messed with my drink when I came back from the bathroom (she hadn’t; she just wanted to make me suspicious), but we actually got work done.
By the time we were reasonably prepared for the quiz, it was getting late.
“So Faulkner,” Toby said. “I might be wrong, but I think you want to buy me dinner because I was so much help picking out a tie.”
“Fine,” I said. It had always been like this, even when we were kids. My five-dollar-per-week elementary school allowance had financed the bulk of his Sour Patch Kids and Pokémon Cards addiction. “Let me tell my mom I won’t be home for dinner.”
I took out my phone, stepped into the magazine section, and quickly assured my mom that no, we weren’t having fast food, and yes, I’d bought everything I needed.
The conversation wasn’t ending anytime soon, so I sat down on the bench and flicked through a copy of Rolling Stone someone had left, wishing she’d just learn how to text.
“Yeah, I got, like, loafers or something . . . with rubber bottoms, I remembered that part . . . I don’t know, sort of red brown.”
I sighed, wishing she’d lose interest.
“Mom,” I said forcefully. “Everyone’s waiting, I have to go . . . Yeah, I’ll be home before nine. Okay . . . okay, bye.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said when I got back to our table in the café.
“I didn’t say anything.” Toby grinned broadly.
“Your silence is judging me.”