“We’re agreed then.”
The car gently stops.
“Ten minutes early. Someone’s peeking out the blinds. Looks like a little kid.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “My cousin Petey. He’s probably been bored to death without me tonight. I don’t know what he did for entertainment before he moved in with me.”
I hear myself sounding mostly normal now but I don’t feel normal. It’s like I’m on autopilot, holding the same trajectory from the past hour but not feeling it anymore. I mean, I like Jason, and I do want to get to know him, but that time in the car feels like something weird now, something not me, like I was under some spell that’s now broken. A voice in my head is saying that the past hour didn’t have much to do with Jason other than him being warm and willing and within reach. I try to silence it, but I have a feeling it’s not the troll talking.
“I’ll tell you my work schedule next week when I get it,” Jason says, sounding far away.
I just nod my head. I don’t trust my voice. My throat is tightening up.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod again. I force a cough into my hand to be able to talk without squeaking. “Yeah. I had a good time.”
“Me too.”
But he knows something’s up. It’s not his fault and I don’t want him to feel bad. I try to think of something nice to say, something not generic…
“I, uh… don’t know if I said it at the time, but thanks for pulling Isaac and Gerald off me. Just because I could have handled it myself doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your help. I do.”
“Glad to do it. I have to be honest, though… I can’t take all the credit.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was walking with a friend after tryouts and he suddenly took off running. He had Isaac up against the lockers before I caught up and saw what was going on and grabbed Gerald. Then I had to pull Scott and Isaac apart. He’s never liked those guys—I think he was going to get into it for real if I hadn’t stopped him. What they were doing was shitty, I know, but not really worth… Hey, Parker, you okay?”
Dizziness is making my stomach churn.
“Parker? What’s—”
“I have to go.”
“Let me walk you to the—”
“No. I got it. It’s fine. I know the way.” I claw for the door handle. “Talk to you later.”
And I’m out and across the sidewalk and find the lawn and sidestep right to the path and up to the porch but the door’s locked goddamn it even though they know I’m here and now it’s open and I’m stumbling up the stairs and Petey’s saying something but I can’t hear it and I’m in the bathroom with the door closed and now it’s locked and I wish to God if there was a God that I could throw up and make this feeling go away but I can’t I can’t I just can’t…
SIXTEEN
Is this still your number, Scott?
It’s Anime Sunday with Petey again. I really don’t want to be sitting on the couch in front of this blast of electronic noise but this has become a thing with Petey and I’m not up to trying to break it off now either. I successfully added a gold star to my chart last night but it’s a good thing I’m not keeping track of my running. I only ran a couple half-assed sprints and then jogged home. No one was up to see that I’d been gone less than half my usual time. I took a long shower and by then Petey was up and our routine began like last night never happened.
But it did happen, and today is happening. So I plugged my phone into the ear opposite Petey and did something I hadn’t done in years.
The answer comes quicker than I expect.
“G’day, mate.”
He’s right, I never changed his voice from Australian Male.
“You’re missing it!” Petey says. He’s not angry, he just doesn’t want me to miss out.
“It’s just for texting,” I say. “But really, I’m missing most of it anyway unless you tell me what’s happening.”
He tries for a minute or two but he’s so caught up in the action he doesn’t make a lot of sense, or maybe the show doesn’t make sense. That plus a lot of Japanese names and words and all these made-up things, like super-sayings, which only mean something to true fans. Petey’s explanations thin out and stop without him realizing it.
I wait to see if Scott will say more on this momentous occasion but he doesn’t so I press on. Whatever he was trying to tell me in eighth grade, I need to hear it now.
Why did you do it?
This feeling I have is a rare one. It’s like how I felt when Coach Underhill almost outed my morning sprints to the cafeteria and then told me he’d watched me run. It’s a kind of… dread, I guess. Yes, what I’m feeling now, texting Scott, it’s dread.
Enough time for a complete anime battle goes by—at least I think it’s a battle—before Scott answers. I didn’t delete him from my phone back when it happened but I did switch him to Silent to stop the incessant ringing. Now my phone just vibrates a bit.
“Sorry I ruined your date.”
Huh?