When I realize it’s Teddy at the wheel, I burst out laughing.
He leans out the open window with a grin. “What do you think?”
“I think,” I say, unable to resist teasing him, “that you might be having a midlife crisis.”
“If I am, you should really join me. It’s pretty fun.”
“I’m not sure mine would involve a sports car,” I say, walking around to the passenger side and climbing in beside him.
“Well, I guess we’ll never know, since you didn’t want the money,” he says. “But if you change your mind, I saw one in blue I think you’d love.”
I roll my eyes. “Tempting.”
“C’mon,” he says. “There must besomethingyou want.”
“How about some help with our physics project?” I say, giving him a pointed look. “It’s fifty percent of our grade, and we haven’t even—”
“I know,” he says impatiently, drumming his hands on the wheel. “It’s just that I have a lot on my plate right now, and—”
“What, like car shopping?”
He at least has the good sense to look contrite. “We’ll get it done. I promise.”
“When?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “It’s due right after spring break.”
“Soon,” he says, which is what he always says about things like this. Teddy tends to be all initial enthusiasm and no follow-through. He flashes one of his trademark smiles. “How about this? I’ll help you build a boat if you let me buy you a car.”
“You have to help with the boat anyway,” I say. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“Worth a try,” he says, putting on a pair of sunglasses, though the sky is overcast. “So really, what do you think?”
I breathe in the new-car smell and run a hand over the soft leather interior. Honestly, it’s a cliché on wheels. But I can see how happy it makes him, so I nod approvingly. “It definitely beats the bus,” I say, which is true enough.
When we pull into the parking lot behind the school, everyone stops to watch Teddy swing the car into a spot, and the moment he steps out he’s surrounded by a crowd of admirers. The lottery might be old news around here, but the press conference—plus the new set of wheels—seems to have sparked a second wave of excitement.
“Saw you on the news last night, man,” says Greg Byrne, giving Teddy a half hug. “You were awesome.”
“My mom read about you in the paper this morning,” Caitie Simpson says. “She couldn’t believe I know you.”
A few others give him high fives as they walk by, and a freshman girl even asks to take a selfie with him. Teddy happily obliges, smiling and flashing a peace sign.
“I’m gonna head in,” I say, and he gives me a distracted wave, busy with his adoring fans.
As I cross the pavement toward the double doors at the back of the building, I pass a group of guys I don’t recognize; they’re standing in a half circle, looking off in Teddy’s direction. “Is he joking with that thing?” one of them asks, eyebrows raised. “He gets one lucky break and thinks he’s a movie star.”
“Did you seem him wearing those sunglasses in the cafeteria yesterday?” says another with a bark of a laugh. “What a jackass.”
I keep my eyes straight ahead as I walk by them, but my face floods with heat, and I can’t help feeling a little embarrassed on Teddy’s behalf.
I have art for first period, and I dash in just as class is starting. Afterward, Sawyer appears by my side. “You have some paint on your forehead,” he says, crooking a finger at me, and I bring a hand to the spot where he’s pointing.
“Guess I’m going throughmyabstract period,” I tell him with a sheepish grin as I begin to scratch at it.
“Right,” he says. “I know it well.”
We haven’t spoken much since that night at the soup kitchen. In class he sits with a cluster of juniors on the other side of the room, while I muddle through each project alongside some of the girls I became close with back in sixth grade, when the divide between boys and girls briefly unsettled my usual trio.
Sometimes I catch Sawyer watching me and we smile at each other, but that’s about it. After meeting him that night at the church as he made spaghetti sauce, so friendly and open, it’s odd to observe him in school, where he’s a little more reserved, a little more drawn into himself. I wonder if he thinks the same of me.
