The Nightworld - Jack Blaine [4]
The lawn is my job. I mow it once a week during the summer, and I get ten bucks a pop. Keeps me in Twizzlers. And Dad thinks it teaches me about responsibility. Who knows, maybe it does.
After a brunch of cereal and a banana, I go out to the garage and get the mower. It’s already hot out, and the sun beats down on the top of my head. The lawn doesn’t look too bad—it won’t take long. That’s good, because tonight’s Lara’s thing, and I want time to get ready. I usually don’t give much thought to what I wear, but I know I’ll try on five different T-shirts before I hit the right one for tonight.
My phone vibrates just as I’m finishing the lawn. It’s Charlie. He’s texting to see what time he should be ready.
Crap.
It’s not like Lara even invited Charlie. I mean, he just happened to be there when she invited me. And none of my daydreams about how the party is going to go involve Charlie standing around drooling while I put the moves on Lara.
Still, he’s my best friend. He stood up for me in fourth grade, when Ben Anderson decided to start his career as class bully with me as his first victim. When Amy Winters broke my heart in sixth grade, he told her that Donny Morris, the guy she ditched me for, cheated on her. Last year, when I thought I was going to flunk Algebra II, he explained how to solve linear equations over and over until I got it.
Part of me wants to ignore the text, just pretend I never got it, but I know I can’t. I do a quick revision in my head of all the scenes of the party I’ve imagined so far, and add Charlie. It’s not quite the same imagining me and Lara and Charlie hanging out on her sofa, listening to music, while all the rest of the people at the party just fade into the background. It doesn’t work quite as well when I lean in for that kiss if Charlie’s grinning at the two of us like a loon.
Nothing to be done about it, though. I text Charlie and tell him to meet me at the bus stop at seven thirty.
I shower—the longest shower ever, I think—and shave, even though there’s not much to shave yet. After several tries I find just the right combination of jeans and a T-shirt. Once I’m happy with my look, I head downstairs to make a sandwich.
The light is still on above the basement door, and the generator is humming away. I grab the peanut butter from the cupboard and slather some on a slice of bread. There’s an apple left in the fruit bowl, and I eat that too. It’s seven fifteen; almost time to go. I know better than to disturb Dad, so I go to the fridge to write him a note and find one he’s left me, sometime between when I went out to mow and now. It says Have a good time—be careful. Home by eleven.
My hopes of getting out of the house without a clear curfew crumble. Eleven! That’s so lame. I draw a frowny face under his note and write Eleven?! Love you anyway. See you tomorrow. Although knowing him, he’ll probably choose tonight to wait up for me.
Charlie is standing at the bus stop. He waves when I’m still half a block away, and jumps up and down a little. I duck my head and grin. What a goof. I’m glad I didn’t pretend not to get his text, even though he’s bound to throw some sort of wrench in my plan to get next to Lara.
“Dude,” he says once I reach the stop.
“Uh-huh?” I take in his Death Cab for Cutie T-shirt and his khakis. Red high-tops finish off the look. If I was hoping for Charlie to wear something sort of normal, I was wasting my time.
“I figured you’d pretend you never got my text.”
I try to look like he’s crazy. “Would I do that?”
Charlie just laughs. The bus pulls up and we climb aboard.
“Who else do you think is coming?” Charlie raises his voice in order to be heard above the bus engine.
I shrug. I’ve been so focused on the fact that Lara invited me that I haven’t even thought of who else she’s invited.
“I bet Morris will be there.