The Haunted - Jessica Verday [25]
“They’re all yours. I hate Funyuns.”
We moved back into the living room and took a seat on the floor next to the papers. Ben placed the bag of Funyuns between us and ripped them open. He scooped up a handful and started to crunch.
“I wish Kristen was here,” I said. “She was so much better at science than me.” Ben stopped eating and looked over. I thought for a moment he was going to say something about how he missed Kristen too, but then he said, “Do you remember when we had that debate over evolution versus creationism in biology? You were in that class with me and Kristen, right?”
Of course I remembered that day. I couldn’t forget it. Two buttons on the top of my shirt had popped off right when I was getting ready to argue my side of the debate. Luckily, thanks to Kristen standing in front of me and literally covering for me, no one else saw it.
“Yeah, I was,” I said. “Kristen was amazing. I’ve never seen anyone think so fast on their feet.”
“She was really good at that,” he added. “When she was switched to my team and only had like five minutes to prepare, she had a list of points already made. Even though she was supposed to be debating against creationism, she’d made arguments for both sides.” I smiled at him. “That was Kris. Always prepared.”
“Did she ever tell you that the only reason I got so many points was because she let me have most of the arguments on her list?”
“No.” Even I could hear the surprise in my voice. “She never told me that.”
“Yup. She said that since I was the captain, her answers were there to benefit the entire team, and I was the one ‘leading the boat.’ I’ll never forget that phrase. I always thought it was funny. ‘Leading the boat’…”
His eyes took on a faraway look. “After that, I knew she wasn’t just some airhead who relied on her looks, or copying someone else’s homework the morning of class, to get by. She really took it seriously, you know?”
I looked down at the floor and tugged on a loose carpet fiber. I’d been guilty of copying Kristen’s homework in homeroom on more than one occasion.
“And when she finally did make an argument,” he continued on, “man, it just blew me away. She said something about how it came down to faith versus science, and even scient-ists had to have faith every now and then.”
I smiled and we sat there in silence for a while. Finally, Ben cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s actually get started sometime today.”
I nodded and then we got to work.
The next time Ben came over we spent two hours diagramming atoms and protons and neutrons, and it felt like my brain was going to start melting.
“I can’t do this,” I said.
“Want to take a break?”
“Yes,” I replied eagerly. “Let’s get out of the house.” We left everything where it was and headed in the general direction of downtown. I steered him toward the end of the block, where my storefront was waiting, and we passed an antique store along the way.
Ben glanced over at the window and then turned to me. “If you ever go in there, do not buy the giant blue urn near the back.”
“Okay. Although I’m not planning on buying an urn anytime soon.… Why not?”
“Because I went in there once with my mom, and I had just eaten this chili corn dog from the street fair. It must have been undercooked, or it was the heat, or something…” As soon as he said the words “it must have been undercooked,” I realized I did not want to hear the end of this story.
“… but I knew I was gonna puke, and the only thing around was that urn.” Talk about gross.
“No one saw, so I just put the lid back on and didn’t say anything.” I shook my head, feeling slightly queasy myself. “That’s not right. That’s so not right, Ben.” Then we came to my shop, and I pointed at the bay window, glad to have something