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“Harris,” Momma said. “Go brush your teeth, kid.”
“I don’t want to,” he said, settling deeper into the chair, his eyes closed now.
“I’d better go,” Buddy said, standing up. Then to Marcus, he added, “I’ll let you know when I officially get into Utah State. We’ll have to compare course maps.”
“Sounds good.” They gave each other a hand slap, and then Buddy was collecting a big silver dispenser from the counter in the kitchen.
“I’ll walk you out,” I told him, and my moms exchanged a pleased look. Maybe I shouldn’t have volunteered; I didn’t need them to get their hopes up. Buddy was nice, but I didn’t even know his real name.
“Thanks,” Buddy said as I opened the front door for him. He stepped out onto the porch where his elf shoes were waiting. How had I not noticed them before? He set the dispenser down while he pulled them on.
“You said someone left a note on your car that first week, telling you to move?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did you ever find out who it was from?”
“I think you were right. It was probably from the Morenos.”
I didn’t think I was right about that at all, but I kept that to myself. “Any more notes or comments from anyone?”
He tilted his head like he was curious why I was asking. “No, just that one time. But Mrs. O’Leary gave me permission to sell in the neighborhood.”
“Oh yeah, I know.”
He glanced up at me from where he was adjusting the bottom of his pants. “Is my trailer messing with the vibes of your house? I can move.”
“No, no. I was curious if anyone else was giving you a hard time.” Great, I was making it seem like I didn’t want him there. I felt bad.
He stood up and lifted his dispenser by the handle.
“What’s your real name?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“You don’t think Buddy is my real name?”
“If it is, your parents sealed your fate pretty young.”
“It’s not my real name, but it’s my real nickname. My family has been calling me that forever.”
“Because you looked like an elf when you were little?” I asked.
“And still do,” he deadpanned.
He really didn’t. He was cute, but nothing about him screamed Santa’s helper, aside from the shoes and hat he was wearing.
“The elf from Elf isn’t the only famous Buddy,” he said. “There’s Buddy Holly. Buddy Valastro.”
“I don’t know either of those Buddys.”
“The story of my life.” He smiled. “My real name is William.”
My brows shot down. “And they don’t call you Billy? Or Will?”
“Take it up with my parents.”
“I just might,” I said.
“Maybe you should.”
