“Solomon,” she said with her teeth clenched.
“Solomon . . .” he said slowly.
“Seriously? Are you upset because I . . .”
“I’m just . . . I guess I’m not really sure what to do with myself now.”
“Now? Clark, this isn’t going to be every weekend. I promise.”
“I want you to be up front with me,” he said.
“Of course.”
“Anything I need to worry about with this guy? Because you say it’s for your essay thing, but it seems weird that you’re already going back over there.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” she said. “I don’t think he swings my way, if you know what I mean.”
“Convenient.”
“Don’t be like that,” she said. “I’ve told him all about you. Nothing to worry about.”
“Try to see it from my side, Lisa.”
“Well, maybe you can meet him eventually,” she said. “He’s into Star Trek. Did I tell you that?”
“No,” he said, turning her way, excitement in his eyes. “Next Generation?”
“Yep.”
“I take it all back,” he said. “This guy sounds amazing.”
“He’s . . . interesting. But, nice. And funny, too. I didn’t think he’d be funny.”
“Do you think I’m funny?” Clark asked.
“Funny looking,” she said.
“Please. I bet you dream about this face at night.”
“Yep,” she played along. “My dreams are just your face with lasers shooting out of the eyes.”
“Awesome.”
“Anyway, let me make sure he isn’t a complete psychopath first and I’ll figure out a good time to introduce you guys.”
“He hasn’t left his house in three years, Lisa. He’s not crazy. He’s a genius. Just TV and video games twenty-four/seven. I think he’s my new hero.”
“Who was your old one?”
“Well, there’s this old guy at the Vons on Foothill who greets you when you walk in. I think he was probably the one to beat until now.”
“You’re so weird. The grocery store greeter is your hero?”
“Was my hero. Pay attention.”
It struck her on the way home that maybe she could use Clark’s jealousy to her benefit. She figured most of it was playful enough, but if she could get him over there, it would only raise her chances of getting Solomon better—and it may even speed up the process. His therapy, after all, was about showing him that the world wasn’t the scary, chaotic place he remembered it being. And Lisa knew introducing him to Clark Robbins was maybe the best way to prove that not everything out here is so bad.
ELEVEN
SOLOMON REED
There were no two ways about it—he was going to have to tell her. Which would be his first time ever saying it aloud. Solomon was gay. He’d realized it sometime around the age of twelve. It wasn’t a hard thing to figure out, really. He saw boys and girls differently. And he preferred seeing one to the other. It’s simple like that when you’re young. And Solomon was sure it would always be that simple for him—why would he ever need to acknowledge his sexuality if he didn’t ever plan on leaving the house again?
But he’d have to tell Lisa because now, with this Saturday night sort-of-date, Solomon was entertaining the possibility that he’d somehow struck a romantic chord with his new friend. He didn’t know any better, really. He was handsome enough. And his mom had made sure he combed his hair before Lisa’s first visit. So maybe he had charmed her in just one short afternoon. He’d surprised even himself with all his joking around and talking. Isn’t that mostly what couples do together anyway? Don’t they just act goofy and talk and then take breaks for sex and stuff?
What he couldn’t reconcile, though, was why Lisa would ever choose him over Clark Robbins. He’d seen the picture on her phone, and he knew good and well that no girl in her right mind would opt out of being with that guy for a reclusive borderline albino who didn’t even own a pair of shoes. So maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe he was reading way too much into her friendliness.
“What’re you kids going to watch? Nothing rated R I hope,” his dad asked Saturday evening as they waited for Lisa to arrive.
Solomon was lying faceup on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling and listening to the TV.
“I can’t decide,” he answered. “Nothing sci-fi.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, she’s seen the garage. I don’t want her thinking I’m one-dimensional.”
“Why do you care?” his dad asked in that nosy-parental tone he used sometimes.
“That’s a very good question, Dad.”
Solomon stood up as soon as he heard the doorbell. But once he was on his feet, he nearly fell back down. It had come on as quickly as any he’d ever had—a sudden flush in his cheeks, an unstoppable throbbing in his chest. He leaned against the wall with one whole side of his body and focused on counting. If you can get to ten, he thought, you can breathe. And he did. And he breathed.