At this, Dallas transformed back into Dallas for a second and said, almost pleadingly, “Come on, Zoe. Work with me!”
Another cook—was he Head Hun?—stomped over to where they were standing and pounded a fist against his pecs, which were glistening with sweat and body lotion.
“Girl no eat?” he said to Dallas.
Zoe rolled her eyes.
“Okay, okay,” she said. “Girl eat, girl eat. Mrgh!”
Later, when Dallas was on break, he sat across from Zoe as she twirled noodles around a fork.
He’d taken off his Hun hat, and pulled on a white V-neck T-shirt torn slightly at the base of the V. He was fanning himself with a laminated menu.
“What’s up?” he said cheerily. “I haven’t seen you in here since you dumped my ass.”
Zoe smiled.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” she said.
“You kinda broke my feelings, dawg,” he said.
“I know,” said Zoe. “I didn’t realize—”
“You didn’t realize what?” said Dallas. “That I had feelings?”
“Kind of?” said Zoe.
Dallas surprised her by laughing, and she saw a flash of the cute, unpretentious guy she used to make out with in the handicapped bathroom at Target.
“Totally honestly?” he said. “I didn’t really know I had feelings, either. But it’s all cool. No worries. I mean, I’m about to ask somebody out, anyway.”
“The Girl Who’s Gonna Say Yes?” said Zoe.
“She is gonna say yes,” said Dallas.
“I know she is,” said Zoe. “I’m seeing somebody else, too.”
Dallas’s face fell.
“Ugh,” he said. “Why’d you have to tell me that?”
“You just said you were asking someone out,” said Zoe.
“But still!” said Dallas.
Zoe ate a sickly looking chip of pork as a goodwill gesture. Dallas pretended not to care, but she could see a flicker of pride in his eyes.
“It’s better than you thought, right?” he said.
Zoe nodded.
“It’s really not,” she said.
Behind her, another cook began beating the gong in a low steady rhythm to signal that Dallas’s break was over. When Dallas didn’t immediately stand, the cooks added an unintelligible chant on top of the beat. Dallas looked over Zoe’s shoulder at the half-naked savages who were his co-workers.
“I should go soon,” he said. “Before my bros get rowdy.”
“I can do this quick,” said Zoe. “I want to go caving again, and I want you to go with me. I don’t know how to do it in the snow, and you’re the only caver I know who’s as good as my dad was.”
Dallas shook his head.
“No way,” he said.
Zoe’s heart fell—until he continued.
“Your dad was way better than me,” he said.
“Here’s the messed-up part,” said Zoe. “I told Jonah I’d go into Black Teardrop if the cops wouldn’t. Actually—this is crazy, but whatever—I told him I’d bring my dad a blanket.”
Dallas took this in. The cooks were chanting louder now. Dallas looked up and shouted something that sounded like, “Furg!”
“Why would your dad need a blanket?” he asked Zoe. “He’s … dead.”
“Jonah thinks he’s cold,” she said.
“Wow,” said Dallas.
Zoe waited.
“Will you help me?” she said.
“This is pretty bat-shit crazy, Zoe,” said Dallas. “And really gruesome.”
“You know what would be more gruesome?” she said. “If I didn’t give a shit what happened to my father’s body.”
Dallas’s face took on a meditative expression.
“True dat,” he said.
“And, look, maybe the cops will deal with it,” Zoe said, “and I won’t have to.”
“But you’re not just bluffing, are you?” said Dallas.
“No,” she said.
“That cave’s a beast,” said Dallas. “Obviously.”
“Yeah,” said Zoe.
“Black Teardrop’s only a couple hundred yards from Silver Teardrop, which is less of a ballbuster,” he said. “We could do a training run there, and see how you do.” He paused. “This new boyfriend you like more than me—is he a caver?” he said.
The question surprised Zoe.
“Sort of?” she said. “But I’m asking you. Will you help me?”
“Well, I’m not gonna let you go alone,” said Dallas. “But we’re going to have to do it fast because when the snow starts to melt, those caves are going to be like waterslides. Also, if we spend too long training, you’re gonna get all attracted to me, and then that’s gonna be a whole big thing.”
She laughed.
“True dat,” she said.
Dallas stood and slipped back into character, like a Method actor about to hit the stage. He put on his Hun hat. Then, with a loud cry, he ripped off his V-neck T-shirt with both hands. (The tear at the base of the V made it easy to shred and, Zoe suspected, had been put there for that very purpose.) An older woman sitting nearby hooted happily at the sight of Dallas’s biceps. He tossed the shirt to her, then leaned down to Zoe and whispered proudly, “They give us the T-shirts for free.”