“I knew it.”
After that, we’re quiet for a long time as we watch the film. Around halfway through, he’s finished all his sandwiches, which is why he lets his hand disappear in the popcorn and shovels one handful after the other into his mouth. Back in Minneapolis, I’d seen enough tearjerkers with Kaya to know that, from now on, I shouldn’t reach for any popcorn if I don’t want our hands to touch accidentally.
Knox’s phone vibrates in his pocket, He directs another handful of popcorn to his mouth, wipes his buttery fingers on a napkin, and looks at the display. I see Wyatt’s name. Knox doesn’t answer and shoots me an apologetic glance. “So, nameless creature with a love for aluminum helmets. I’ve got to go. Maybe at some point you can tell me how it ends.” He grins. “I want to know whether they get devoured despite their helmets.”
“Aliens don’t devour,” I reply.
“True. Just Sally. Right, see you later.”
“See you. Thanks for the ticket. And the popcorn. And, umm, the iced tea.”
“If you keep on thanking me like that, I’m going to get another halo.” Knox stands. “And I really don’t deserve that. Believe me.”
Oh, Knox. You have no ideahow muchI believe you.
9
Shape Their Minds, Gild Their Hearts
Knox
“Thanks, Dan. Just write it down, will you?”
“As always, Knox,” the beefy owner of the ski hut replies. I’ve known him forever. We went to high school together. He was one year ahead of me, a pimply teenager with braces and arms like french fries. After graduating, he went abroad for a year, and when he came back no one recognized him anymore. His thin body had turned into a machine, and artworks in dark ink marked his torso. A few years ago, he got the idea of opening his bar slash café slash fast-food joint right on the slope. And stumbled upon a goldmine. Business is booming. The tourists love, above all, his wine punch with rum, but I usually come over during a break to get one of his energy teas. Like now. It’s his own recipe, andholy shitis it strong. Coffee ain’t got nothing on it.
“Knox, everything good with the boys?” Sarah, one of the aides, asks as I order my energy tea. She’s sitting in a corner of the hut, sipping her coffee while keeping an eye on the kids. Sarah has been working at the Westons for years and has a knack for defusing tricky situations with a smile.
“So far, so good,” I reply, but right then…
“Knox!” A kid with a blond Justin Bieber cut bursts in, winds his way through the tables, and runs across the rustic-style floor to me. It’s Gideon. He almost knocked a chair into the fireplace as he carelessly pushed it aside. Sarah gets up from her seat and follows him. “What’s going on, Gideon?” she asks, her tone calm and steady.
“Trevor stole my snowboard!” Gideon blurts out, his voice shaky.
It’s hard for me not to roll my eyes.Trevor. That little toad. I can’t leave the group alone for two minutes before he starts screwing up. As always, I wonder why I offered to spend time with the boys from the Westons. And, like always, I come to the conclusion that I enjoy it. The Westons is a home for troubled boys, and working with them gives me the chance to apply what I’ve learned from my readings in psychology and, hopefully, to have a little effect on them.
God, how much I’d love to accept the offer to join the psychology program.
Sarah glances at me, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Do you want me to stay with the others?”
“Yes, please,” I say. “I’ll deal with this.”
After Sarah heads back to the half-pipe where the rest of the boys are practicing, I bend down in front of Gideon, careful not to spill my energy tea. “Why did he steal it from you, Gideon?” Gideon has trouble looking people directly in the eye. It unnerves him, and that’s due to his low self-esteem. “No idea,” he says, takes a breath, and throws his arms into the air. “I did the jump you showed us. Then Steve hit me with a snowball and…”
“Gideon,” I interrupt. “Look at me when you’re talking to me, okay?”
His eyes continue to focus on the floor. He purses his lips.
I place my hands on his shoulders. “You got this. We’re on the same wavelength, got it? I’m not better than you. We’re of equal value, you and I.”
Gideon slowly raises his head. It seems as if it costs him, but he finally looks at me.
“Right on,” I say. “So, Steve hit you with a snowball. And then?”
“I got out of my bindings, so I could run after him. And that’s when Trevor stole my snowboard!”
Before I can respond to Gideon, Paul, the second aide I brought along today, shows up. “What’s going on, boys?” he asks calmly, studying Gideon with a careful gaze. Paul is known for his ability to calm the boys quickly, but this time he looks at me, waiting for an explanation.
“Trevor stole Gideon’s board,” I say curtly.
