“Hold on,” he says, kissing her softly first. “Nowyou can go.”
She heads off, eyes twinkling, smile big.
“Who do we follow? Him or her?” I ask Marcus, mood still dampened as Zadie gets farther and farther from us.
“Listen, Cartwright,” Marcus says, and I can tell he’s trying to put the joviality back into our day. “I know you don’t want to miss a thing, but there are laws against following someone to the bathroom.”
I give a strained laugh, focusing on Jason, who is reading a message on his phone. I get close, then even closer, and all I can make out is Monique’s name. Why were Jay and Mo texting? Before I can read what the actual text says, though, Jason turns off his screen and slips his phone into his pocket.
Just then, I remember that this memory takes place in April, and Past Jay is going to decorate Past Zadie’s locker with flowers in a couple of weeks with Mo’s help.
“Hey,” Jay says, stopping at the stall just a few feet away. There are bears of all shapes and sizes in the stall and a plastic bow and arrow to shoot the one you want. “How much is the big one?”
The stall worker looks a couple of years younger than Jason, so he’s probably a freshman or so. “The big one?” the boy asks in a bored, nasal voice.
“The biggest one,” Jason amends.
“They’re not for sale. Youplayfor them.”
“Okay, how’s fifty bucks?”
“You want fifty turns at shooting?” the boy asks, sliding Jason a set of about ten arrows. “Have at it.”
“No, man,” Jason says. “I think you’re misunderstanding me. I don’t want to play. I want the really big one for my girlfriend.”
“This is sweet, right?” I say, getting a little more into this.
“It is,” Marcus says.
“I believe I said it’s not for sale,” the boy says.
Jason looks around the corner to make sure Zadie isn’t back yet and turns again to Stall Boy. “Listen, man, one hundred bucks.” He puts down a fresh bill. “We’ll just say I won it.”
Stall Boy takes the hundred bucks, holding it up to the light as if testing its validity. “All right,” he finally agrees. “Congratulations,man, that was a great shot.” He hands Jason a bear that is almost as big as him over the counter. But it’s not Zadie who comes up to Jason—it’s a curvy brunette girl with makeup and skin that is, literally, without flaws.
“Aw,” she says, taking the bear’s paw. “Is this for me?” She bats long eyelashes at Jason.
“And who are you?” he asks, immediately falling into Hot, Confident Soccer Captain mode.
She stands much closer than she has to. “Alana Duncan.”
“What the hell?” I whisper. This is also new for me.
“Uh, wow,” Marcus says, seemingly waking up for the first time in minutes. I try not to let it irk me, the fact that Marcus is clearly attracted to this very attractive girl, who if I didn’t know better, I would say is trying to hit on my boyfriend.
“Who areyou?” she asks, all bouncy and casually gorgeous.
“Jason Riddick.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Your name sounds familiar. Do I know you?” Jason doesn’t hide the fact that he’s pleased about this. He’s not hiding the fact that he’s pleased by any of it. And I’m speechless watching the interaction. I’ve seen Jason with dozens of girls in my presence. But right now, he is not reacting with the level of indifference that has always made me feel safe, made me feel like I didn’t have to compete with every girl on the planet.
“Maybe you do,” he says, with those dimples that very rarely come out. “Though I’d remember you if we’d met.”
“No, seriously, why does your name sound so familiar?” she asks. If I had to bet, I’d say she’s never heard of him in her life.
“Maybe we should go,” Marcus says, and I almost consider agreeing. I don’t want to watch my boyfriend flirting with some girl while I’m mere yards away. But my feet are rooted in place, a dozen branches starting to stem out from them. I can’t just go now, after all these weeks of wanting answers.
“I play soccer,” Jason says matter-of-factly. “That’s probably it.”
