“You can just call me Nico. And I am old enough to know that you are still young,” he says sternly, which somehow startles another laugh from me.
“All right. You win.” He sends me a look out of the corner of his eye as we leave the office. “I’ll apologize in advance about the Aussie slang. I’ll try to tone it down.”
“Oh, I imagine it’s going to make you quite popular with the boys,” Nico says dryly. “I hope you don’t get offended easily. All of them, with the exception of Vas, will be mimicking you, I guarantee it.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder and angles his head downward, eyes squinted shut as we walk outside. The sun, slanting over the tops of the buildings, is blinding.
“Thank you again. Really. I appreciate you taking the chance.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he replies, squeezing my shoulder before dropping his hand.
He heads back inside, leaving me to meander down the busy footpaths. The grass is littered with college students, some lazing about and enjoying the sun, others studying. A handful are kicking a soccer ball back and forth like a hacky sack. They look so happy, and content; for just a moment I forget that I’m not.
1
Jack
I deliberately matchthe skates and place them in the proper cubby, making certain there is a left and a right of each size, and that the laces are tucked in correctly. When I’m done, I carefully check the register again, even though I’ve counted the money three times and it’s come out the same each time. When Gabi walks in to take over, I’m just sliding the till closed and signing off in the register book.
“Hey!” she greets me cheerfully.
“Hi, Gabi. How are you? How’s school?”
“Oh my gosh, you will never believe what happened the other day.” Finger-combing her brown hair up into an alarmingly high bun, she launches into a story of high school drama. I listen politely, even though when I’d asked about school, I’d really meant her classes and not the gossip.
“I don’t remember high school being like that for me,” I tell her when she finishes. She laughs, and punches me inthe bicep. I love the way she always treats me like her older brother.
“How many criers today?” she asks, peering around me at the rink to see how many little kids are skating.
“Not many. It was a slow day.”
“Cool. Well, have a good afternoon! Do something fun, it’s gorgeous outside.”
Gabi is right. Outside, the sun is shining and the sky is a lovely, clear blue. It feels almost oppressively muggy after the artificial coolness of the ice-skating rink. I step to the side, sheltering momentarily in the shade provided by the awning. Bringing up my banking app on my phone, I check my balance: forty-six dollars and fifty-two cents. More than enough to get by for a week until I get paid again, and definitely enough to go looking for a birthday present for Nate.
Happy to have so much money, I walk the mile and a half to This Man’s Trash. There are several secondhand and consignment shops near the SCU campus, but this one is my favorite. I never leave without finding something good.
The bell over the door tinkles, cheerfully announcing my presence and making me blush. There is no sneaking in and disappearing into the racks.
“Hello,” a happy voice calls from behind the register. “Any green clothing items are on sale today—a dollar fifty no matter what it is.”
“Thank you.”
“You would look lovely in green,” she continues, smiling and eyeing my hair. My already warm face burns. “With that pretty hair.”
I can’t manage a response this time, so I settle for a strangled laugh and shuffle between the nearest racks to hide.God, what I wouldn’t give to have been bornanythingbut a redhead. I don’t want attention, and I don’t want strangers talking to me. I want to fade quietly into the background, and not cause any trouble.
Of course, because the only luck I have is the bad variety, I was born not only with dark red hair, but am 6’5”, pale, and covered in freckles. A pheasant parading around as a peacock.
Not really sure what I’m looking for, I aimlessly slide the shirts along the rack. Most of these look like women’s clothing, but the thing about thrift stores is, nothing will ever be in the place you think it should be. I’m on to the third rack by the time something catches my eye. I pull it out for a better look, grinning.
Green, which is a win for me because a dollar fifty is right on budget. There’s a motif of a donkey on the front, and the sloganHere for the ass. It doesn’t quite make sense, and is definitely inappropriate, which means it’s perfect for Nate. Unfortunately, it’s a women’s shirt, and somebody took the liberty of chopping off the bottom half. Biting my lip, I duck down a bit and hold it up to my own chest. It’s a large enough size that it would probably work. Nate isn’t as wide as me, and I bet I could squeeze into this if I really put my mind to it.
Cropped, though. Deciding to hold on to it while I think, I tuck the hanger under my arm and continue on. There isn’t really anything I need beyond something for Nate, but I like looking and I don’t have anything better to do today. My persistence pays off when I find a vintage Detroit hockey shirt in the men’s section that just happens to be my size. Not green, unfortunately, so I’ll have to pay full price, but worth it since I can wear it to support Max.
Clothing racks exhausted, I head back to my favorite section: the books. This is where the real treasures are found, and I have to remind myself that forty-six dollars in my bank account doesn’t mean I can buy forty-six dollars of books.
The book section looks particularly full today, which is exciting, since I was here only a few days ago and raided it pretty thoroughly. Tucking the shirts more firmly up under my arm, I start sorting through the paperbacks stacked haphazardly in the bin.
