I was putting away the game when Mom burst through the door, dropped her purse, and hurtled off to the kitchen. “I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re right, Zeus,” she called. “We’ll go ahead with the free brownie and soup tomorrow. We had another 5-Day Deal cancellation.” From the kitchen I heard the THOOP! of a wine bottle opening, followed by a trickle.
“Really?” I was shocked she was using my idea. “That’s awesome!” That meant going back to Hilltop Nursing Home tomorrow. Never in my life would I have considered that prospect exciting before now.
But this was different.
Rose would be there.
Rose.
Something about her felt . . . important. Special. Something.
Maybe it was the way she played piano. Or the way she looked. Or the way she looked at me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
I picked up my guitar and strummed a few chords as I thought back to our encounter. When I told her I’d be back again tomorrow, she’d given me the thumbs-up. That was a good thing, right?
Or was it a sarcastic thumbs-up? What if she was just mocking me? She and her quarterback boyfriend were probably having a good laugh about it that very moment as they made out in the back of his Jeep Wrangler. That guy that threw his Slurpee at me? That was definitely him. Rose’s boyfriend.
I pictured his hand sliding under her yellow sundress and felt like I might be sick.
I started scolding myself. Stop it, Zeus. Why are you obsessing over her? God, you haven’t even talked to her; why are you so worked up? Okay, so she’s hot and she’s awesome at piano. But you’ve talked to girls before; it’s not like they’re some foreign creatures. Chill.
“How’s the guitar coming along?”
Mom appeared before me out of thin air, snapping me out of my neurotic daydream. “I suck.”
“Language, son. Let me ask again—how’s the guitar coming along?”
I sighed. “I’m grossly underdeveloped in my musical competence, but I’m showing slight signs of improvement.”
“There, see how much better that feels?”
It didn’t feel better, but it didn’t feel worse either. “I ran into two kids my age today who are somehow both incredible musicians. How is that possible in this backwater?”
“Maybe this backwater’s good for creativity.”
“Or maybe there’s nothing to do here but practice.”
Mom joined me on the couch. “So tell me more about your new friends.”
“I wouldn’t call them friends. More like customers. The guy was in my Spanish class and plays guitar. The girl plays piano at the nursing home. And I’m sure they both have a ton of friends already.”
“And I’m sure they’ve got room for one more.” Mom gently slapped my leg. “Especially one as delightful as you.”
“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Everyone around here has been friends since kindergarten. They’re not interested in making new ones.”
“Oh, nonsense.” She faced me and tucked one leg beneath her, a knowing grin on her face. “So tell me more about the girl.”
My face immediately turned the color of her wine. “What about her?”
“You like her, do you not?” she asked, eyeing me from behind her glass. “I’m your mother, remember? I know when my son’s hormones are raging.”
“Mo-om,” I said, drawing out the word into two syllables, the universal shorthand for “If you don’t stop talking, I will cut off my ears with a steak knife.”
She rolled her eyes at me this time. “Okay, okay. No need to get cranky. You certainly won’t make new friends that way.”
And then all of sudden I was cranky. “Seriously, do you have any idea how humiliating it is to ride around on a woman’s bike, with your crazy little brother clinging to your back shouting army crap the whole time? Do you really think I’m going to make new friends that way? Some guy even threw his drink at us earlier.”
Mom winced. “I know it hasn’t been easy, but—”
“Not to mention I can’t even text my Chicago friends now. They probably think I’m dead.”
“But you said you made some new friends today.”
“Are you even listening?”
Mom set her glass down and put a hand on my leg. “Zeus, I’m sorry about your phone, but we all have to make sacrifices sometimes.”
“How many do I have to make?” I asked, my voice rising. “You moved us to the armpit of America where I have no friends and nothing to do. I ride a dumb bike, work for nothing but tip money, and keep Grub entertained for you. And now you take my phone? Why can’t you just buy a new one?”
Mom blinked and looked away, then got up and walked to the door where she’d dropped her purse when she came in. She pulled out the phone and handed it to me. “I’ll need it back in the morning,” she said, still not looking at me. “I don’t have money for a new one right now, Zeus.” I could tell she was trying not to cry.
“Mom,” I said, but she was already walking to the kitchen.
That night as I lay in bed, I listened to “Kiss Off” by Violent Femmes on full volume through my earbuds. I need someone, a person to talk to. Someone who’d care to love. Could it be you? Tomorrow I’d try to figure out the chords on my guitar, but right then all I wanted to do was feel the music inside me like a wave.
It was angry.
It was frustrated.
It was lonely.
As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what Rose would think of it.
SIX
THE NEXT DAY I SPED THROUGH MY DELIVERIES IN RECORD TIME. IT WAS nearing two thirty, so I hoped Rose would still be at Hilltop playing piano. I careened down the sidewalk while Grub held tight. We had returned with the tomato bisque and brownie, hoping to win back Missy Stouffer’s business. Well, that plus an additional objective, which is why I’d packed an extra brownie.
“At attention, soldier!” Sergeant Porter shouted as we approached. The same nurse from yesterday stood behind him, pushing him through the nursing home grounds.
“Sergeant Porter!” said Grub, jumping off the bike pegs and running toward the old man.
“I’ll need a debriefing on any new intel you’ve gathered by fifteen hundred hours.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“As you were.”
What may have been a smile quivered across the old man’s face; it was hard to tell. His advanced age had given him a permanent scowl.
Grub unstrapped his Nerf bazooka and took up position behind some shrubbery near Sergeant Porter, who nodded at him in approval. Every now and then Grub would make a run for another bush at the old man’s command.
The nurse and I stood in silence for a moment, watching the unlikely pair guard Hilltop from imaginary foes.
I finally cleared my throat and turned to her. She had the same dark features and coppery skin as Rose, only the nurse was a little shorter and plumper. Her eyes looked tired, but her face was kind. “Ma’am, I hope you don’t mind my brother. He’s a little different.”
She held up a hand. “Don’t even think of it. He’s the first person Blackjack has connected to in weeks,” she said, glancing at her charge. I followed her gaze.
The man saw us looking at him and yelled. “Why don’t you bunk lizards stop yapping and give us a hand!”
“Blackjack, kumalma ka,” she called.
“Ako ay kalmado,” Blackjack muttered loudly.