“Say thanks, numbskull,” Bobby said—and he added a kick to the back of Keme’s knee.
“Thanks,” Keme mumbled.
“Now,” I said, “what are you going to say?”
He stared at me.And then, horror growing in his voice: “Say?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Bobby said—and for some reason, he gave me a dirty look.“You’re just going to tell her how you feel.”
“Oh my God,” Keme said.“What am I going to say?”
That earned me another dirty look from Bobby.
“Never mind,” I said.“Forget I asked.You don’t need to have it all planned out.”
“Oh my God.”Keme moaned the words this time.“I don’t have a plan.”
When Bobby glared at me, I said, “I’m helping.”
“Try helping a little less.”Before I could respond, he squeezed Keme’s shoulder and said, “You two are best friends.She knows you.She cares about you.You don’t have to do anything different or be anything different.Just be you.”Passing Keme the bouquet, he added with a smile, “But with flowers.”
Keme gave him a watery grin.And then, to my surprise, he grabbed me in a hug.His face was wet through my shirt, and I patted his back and said, “Hey, uh, it’s okay.”And then it just slipped out: “Buddy.”
He pulled back, his face screwed up, and Bobby tried not to laugh.
“Ready?”I asked.
He shook his head.But then, cradling the flowers, he straightened and started for the door.
Bobby and I waited a believable amount of time before we crept after him.
From the second-floor landing, we had an eagle’s eye view as he approached Millie, who was clustered with a group of friends—all girls.They were laughing with the mixture of nerves and thrill that made me think of sick-to-your-stomach excitement that not infrequently manifested as manic hilarity.
Millie’s back was to Keme as he approached.And then her voice rose above the laughter.(God bless her, she couldn’t stop herself.) “OH MY GOD, STOP,” she said, and although she was laughing too, there was a high-voltage current under the amusement.“HE’S LIKE MY LITTLE BROTHER!”
Keme froze.The seconds stretched out until they felt like minutes.From above, all I could see were the ways he made himself smaller, tighter, more compact.And then, slowly, he turned away from the group.
Bobby grabbed my hand.I swallowed against the knot in my throat.
Some invisible signal must have been transmitted, though, because Millie spun around and pushed free from the crowd and, jogging after Keme, called out, “THERE YOU ARE, KEME!NOW YOU HAVE TO OPEN MY PRESENT!”
I caught a glimpse of his face.Just enough to see him struggle, before he turned, to bring up a smile.
The Odd Couple
This story takes place beforeEvil All Along.
1
“Can you believe this mess?”
Bobby didn’t respond.
I assumed it was because—like me—he was horrified.The billiard room was a disaster.And not just a regular, we-all-let-our-hair-down-over-the-weekend disaster.This was a nuclear meltdown, that kind of disaster.This was Biblical.A pair of slides abandoned by the chesterfield.A beanie stuffed between a lamp and a crystal knick-knack-thingy.A laundry basketonthe chesterfield, full of clothes.Clean?Dirty?I had no clue.On the coffee table, a Monster energy drink had been abandoned.There were literally cups of water everywhere—on the TV console, on the built-in shelves, even behind one of the chairs.Xbox cables lay on the floor like someone had gutted a robot and been none too neat about it.A wiffle bat lay across the billiard table—no sign of any wiffle balls—next to a stack of notebooks.There was even, for the love of God, a travel pillow on the floor.(It was one of those horrible neck ones that don’t actually help at all.)
“This is unacceptable, right?”In a fit of outrage, I grabbed a pack of fruit snacks from the occasional table.“Someone has to talk to him.”
“I think those are Keme’s,” Bobby said with a look at the fruit snacks.
