She stood up, waving at him, as though he could possibly miss her, wobbling slightly on large wedge heels. She wasn’t wearing her ankle brace anymore, even though he knew she’d screwed her ankle up again running away from Donahue’s house. But she winced slightly when she walked.
“Bishop and Heather went to get iced coffees,” she said as he approached her, doing his best not to walk too quickly. “I told them to get us some too. Do you drink coffee?”
“I’d shoot coffee, if I could,” he said, and she laughed. The sound made him warm all over, even though he still felt a weird, prickling discomfort standing on her property, like he was in a One-of-These-Things-Doesn’t-Belong drawings. A curtain twitched in a ground-floor window, and a face appeared and disappeared too rapidly for Dodge to make out.
“Someone’s spying on us,” he said.
“Probably my dad.” Nat waved dismissively. “Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”
Dodge wondered what it would be like to have a dad like that—in the house, around, so taken-for-granted you could dismiss him with a wave of the hand. Dayna’s dad, Tom, had actually been married to Dodge’s mom—only for eighteen months, and only because Dodge’s mom got pregnant, but still. Her dad sent emails to her regularly, and money every month, and sometimes even came for a visit.
Dodge had never heard a word from his father, not a single peep. All he knew was his dad worked construction and came from the Dominican Republic. He wondered, for just a split second, what his father was doing now. Maybe he was alive and well, back in Florida. Maybe he’d finally settled down and had a whole host of little kids running around, with dark eyes like Dodge’s, with the same high cheekbones.
Or maybe, even better, he’d taken a big-ass tumble from a tall scaffold and split open his head.
When Bishop and Heather returned in another one of Bishop’s junkers—which rattled and shook so badly, Dodge was sure it would quit on them before they reached the mall—Dodge helped Nat to the back and opened the door for her.
“You’re so sweet, Dodge,” she said, and kissed his cheek, looking almost regretful.
The ride to Kingston was good. Dodge tried to pay Bishop back for the iced coffee, but Bishop waved him off. Heather managed to coax a decent station out of the patchy radio, and they listened to Johnny Cash until Nat begged for something that had been recorded in this century. Nat made Dodge do magic tricks again, and this time she laughed when he made a straw materialize from her hair.
The car smelled like old tobacco and mint, like an old man’s underwear drawer, and the sun came through the windows, and the whole state of New York seemed lit up by a special, interior glow. Dodge felt, for the first time since moving to Carp, for the first time maybe in his life, like he belonged somewhere. He wondered how different the past few years would have been if he had been hanging out with Bishop and Heather, if he’d been dating Nat, picking her up to drive her to the movies on Fridays, dancing with her in the gym at homecoming.
He fought down a wave of sadness. None of it would last. It couldn’t.
Dodge had driven past the Hudson Valley Mall in Kingston but had never gone inside it. The ceiling was fitted with big skylights, which made the spotless linoleum floors seem to glow. The air smelled like body spray and the little bags of potpourri his mom put in her underwear drawer.
But mostly, it smelled like bleach. Everything was white, like a hospital, like the whole building had been dunked in Clorox. It was still pretty early and the crowds were thin. Dodge’s cowboy boots echoed loudly on the ground when he walked, and he hoped Nat wouldn’t find it annoying.
Once inside, Nat consulted a small flyer she had pulled from her bag, and announced that she would meet up with the group in an hour or so, outside the Taco Bell in the food court.
“You’re leaving?” Dodge blurted out.
Nat looked to Heather for help.
Heather jumped in: “Nat has an audition.”
“An audition for what?” Dodge asked. He wished he didn’t sound so upset. Immediately, Nat began to blush.
“You’re going to make fun of me,” she said. His heart practically ripped open. Like he, Dodge Mason, would ever dream of making fun of Natalie Velez.
“I won’t,” he said quietly. Bishop and Heather were already wandering off. Bishop pretended to shove Heather into the fountain. She yelped and walloped him with a fist.
Wordlessly, Nat passed him the flyer. It was badly designed. The font was practically illegible.
WANTED: MODELS AND ACTRESSES TO
SHOWCASE THE BEST AND THE BRIGHTEST AT DAZZLING GEMS!
COMMERCIAL AUDITIONS:
11:30 A.M. SATURDAY AT THE HUDSON VALLEY MALL.
MUST BE EIGHTEEN OR OLDER.
“Your birthday’s on the twenty-ninth, right?” Dodge said, hoping he might get extra points for remembering.