Gavin stretches out his long legs and sighs. He folds his arms behind his head and leans back, then turns and looks at me. His eyes are even darker, somehow. His expression is serious again.
I don’t buy the solemn and sad-eyed concern. I stand.
“Wait, okay?” Gavin says, sitting up. “I came to see if you’re all right.”
“Fine,” I mumble. At that moment, I catch a flash of bright pink. I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled for any glimpse of Sylvie, and I think I see her across the square. She’s talking to someone.
I leap to my feet and stumble on the uneven cobbles, which causes me to collide with a nun carrying a big bunch of paper-wrapped cod staring at me with glassy eyes. The woman fixes her skirt and shifts the package in her arms so that it takes on the appearance of a bouquet of scaly fish, and then continues on her way without a glance in my direction. With a burning face I follow the Sister of the Dead Fish. Gavin is right behind me.
“Look,” he says. He has to hurry to keep up with me. “I know you don’t like me.”
I keep speed-walking. A group of bicyclists pass in front of me and the woman I think is Sylvie is lost behind a blur of blue-framed bicycles.
“Okay, fine, don’t talk to me. Listen,” Gavin says, puffing. “I’ll only say one thing. I want to ask you how you’re breaking into that empty apartment.”
I stop short and whirl around to face Gavin. “What?” I gasp, completely bewildered.
“So you really are breaking in? Wow,” he says, giving me a look that’s almost admiring. “You didn’t admit it to that guy yesterday but I figured something was up.”
Now Gavin is the one who walks away. He keeps moving, fast, so I have to sprint to follow after him, forgetting all about finding Sylvie. We hurry through the nearly vacant flower market, and once on my street, Gavin breaks into a run and his long legs easily leave me behind. I have a stitch in my side by the time I catch up with him in front of Sylvie’s little shop. It’s five minutes before closing, but the “Fermé” sign is already in place. Thank you, émile, for closing up early.
“Why don’t you invite me in?” Gavin asks with a slight grin.
“No way,” I pant, which simply causes Gavin to lean against the shop door and fold his arms, so he’s blocking my way. I plop down cross-legged on the sidewalk and catch my breath. Let him stand there all night. I can out-wait him if I have to. As soon as he leaves, I’ll go around the corner to the main entrance and ring the bell at Sylvie’s front door.
But Gavin sits down right next to me on the pavement and props his elbows on his knees.
“So why are you breaking into an empty apartment?” he asks.
“It was by accident, okay?” I say in desperation. I hate to let him hear how my words come out. I don’t ever want to speak to him again, but he’s forcing me to do it.
“How do you end up in a place like that by accident?” Gavin says.
“The cat went in. I had to get him out,” I answer.
“So how did you and the cat get in?”
I growl in frustration and roll my eyes. I can’t get away from him, and I can’t avoid talking. Feeling like a total mutant, I explain to Gavin how I found the door, and followed Fat Cat into the apartment, trying to use words that aren’t too long, that don’t have too many of the sounds that are the hardest for me. It’s exhausting.
“That’s awesome! But it’s just an empty apartment?” Gavin asks.
I shake my head no.
“What’s in there?” Gavin asks. He leans in so close I can smell his hair gel. It’s a sweet floral scent, like orchid. Ick. I lean away.
“Things,” I say. I wonder if I can run fast enough to get around the building without him catching up.
“Like what?” Gavin leans in even more. I scoot away.
“Paintings, and nice . . .” I want to say “furniture,” but know I won’t get that word out clearly. “Nice things.”
Gavin whistles. “Wow. Do you know who the apartment belongs to?”
I shake my head.
“It can’t be the old lady, or she would have said so. Do you think she’s stealing all the good stuff in there? She and that big guy?” Gavin says. His eyes gleam and he looks animated. Excited.
He stands and knocks on the shop door. I leap up and try to pull his hand away.
“Cut it out!” I yell.
“I’d like to see that apartment,” Gavin says. “You know how to get in. We can do it tonight, if you invite me to dinner.”
“No way!”
Gavin turns to me. I didn’t mean to stand so close that I can count every freckle on his face.
He smiles. “One time, Rosemary. Just for fun,” he says in a soft voice.
The shop door opens.
“Gavin? What a surprise to see you,” émile says.
“I ran into Rosemary at the market,” Gavin says. “She invited me to dinner.”
émile hesitates a second and glances at me, but then he steps back with a smile. “Of course, you’re welcome to join us, Gavin. It’s nice that Rosie has found a friend.”
I follow émile and my so-called friend up the back stairs. As I walk, I close my hands over the paper bag of mushrooms and squeeze, squishing it into a tiny ball.
Eighteen