“You have plenty of time,” Chance said.
“What?”
“You keep looking at your watch.”
Guiltily, I looked down at my wrist. I didn’t remember checking the time, but I didn’t remember leaving the yard, either. “I just want to see my dad.”
“I know better than that.” The same grin twisted Chance’s face, so I stopped beside a telephone pole that smelled like creosote and hot wood. “Becky Collins,” he said.
“What about her?”
“Yeah, right.”
“No. Seriously. What?”
Chance squared up on me, disbelieving. “You forgot your date with Becky Collins?”
“That’s today?”
“Seven o’clock at Dana White’s house.” He looked up as if the sky had caught fire. “You mean you forgot? Like … for real forgot?”
“I guess I did.”
“But it’s Becky Collins.” Chance closed his eyes, repeating himself.
Becky … freakin’ … Collins …
He could go for a while like that, so I sat on the curb to wait him out. Of course, his confusion was legitimate. I’d had a crush on Becky since forever. Everyone crushed on Becky. She was smart and pretty and different from other girls. The confidence. That steadiness.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Chance settled at last, standing above me, looking down. “You’re inside all day. You forget batting practice, then a date with the hottest girl in school. What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know. Family stuff. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Do you want to kiss the girl?” I met his eyes, and they showed his amusement. “Come on, Cinderella.” He pulled me up. “Let’s get you ready for the ball.”
* * *
In the shower, I tried not to dwell on Jason or his guns or the chance he might go back to prison. Instead, I thought of Tyra, thinking she might really be dead. I imagined blue skin and a metal table, all the cops on the city beat, frustrated and smoking cigarettes and driving around town.
In the bedroom, Chance had clothes laid out on the bed. “Seriously?” I asked.
“What? I can’t help you get laid?”
“It’s not like that with Becky.”
“Not yet.”
“Chance…”
“I’m kidding. Come on. Take this.” He handed me a shirt, and tried to coach me as I dressed. “Remember. Becky’s poor, but sophisticated. That means smart and ambitious and not into your typical bullshit.”
“I know Becky Collins as well as you.”
“No, you don’t. So listen.” He riffled through my shoes, speaking over his shoulder. “She’s a cheerleader but doesn’t care about sports, same with the Latin Club and Young Entrepreneurs and student government. She does those things, but don’t depend on them for conversation. She’s been counting on a scholarship, so some of it will be window dressing. You’ll need to figure out what really matters to her. Don’t make assumptions.” I looked at him sideways, and he shrugged. “What can I say, man? I’ve been mind-stalking that girl since fifth grade. Here, put these on.”
I put on the shoes, and checked the mirror. “Disco, baby.”
“Don’t use that word, not ever.” Chance looked at his watch. “Almost time. You have condoms?” My jaw dropped, and he laughed. “God, you’re easy. Relax. Shake it out.” I tried, but was nervous. “She’s only a girl. Say it out loud.”
“She’s only a girl.”
“She’s lucky to have you. Say that, too.”
It went like that for most of the drive. I put Chance’s bike in the back seat, and took him home the long way, his request. Eventually, he was making jokes, telling stories. By the time we reached his street, I wasn’t thinking of Tyra or my brother or all the years I’d had a crush on Becky Collins. The top was down. We were laughing.
“You all good, brother?” Chance dropped his bike in the dirt, then leaned on the car. “You have money? You know where you’re taking her?”
“Yeah, man. I’m good.”
“Be adult, all right? Talk about the war or Nixon or Brezhnev.”
I laughed. “No.”
“Inflation, then. The recession.”
“Are you finished?”
“Just knock her panties off.” He winked and grinned, and went inside.
Chance, I thought.
He was in my head.
Pulling from the curb, I watched the time as I drove. I didn’t want to be early. I didn’t want to be late. On the sidewalk at Dana White’s house, I checked my watch a final time, then smoothed my hair, practicing silently.
Hello, Becky. You look beautiful this evening …
I walked toward the door, feeling I should have brought flowers. I’d never been on a real date …
Flowers. Damn it.
I hesitated at the bottom step.
Hello, Becky …
I was still there when the door opened, and Becky appeared, her face in the crack of the door, a glimpse of T-shirt and jeans.
“Gibby, come on.” Her voice was low, almost a hiss. “You can’t be here. You know that.”
“What? I don’t…” I shook my head, confused. She glanced away, showing the curve of her jaw, a tumble of hair. Turning back, she gestured with a hand. “Around the side. That way.”
The door closed before I could ask what she was talking about. Instead, I followed a line of bushes to a gate and the backyard and an open window. Becky was there, Dana White behind her. I squeezed through the landscaping, my face at the sill. “What do you mean I can’t be here?”
“Hush, all right?”
She made a shushing noise with her hands, and Dana pushed closer. “Becky, this is dangerous.”
“Not if you be cool.”
“My father will kill us—”
“What’s going on?” I interrupted.
Becky looked from Dana’s face to mine, and the conflict was obvious. “Screw it,” she said. “Get in here.”
“Becky, no.”
“Quiet, Dana. It’s not up to you. Gibby, come on before somebody sees.”
I didn’t know what was happening, but scrambled though the window, where I found Becky flushed, and Dana, beside her, pinch-faced and angry and pale. “If my parents find out, I’ll tell them you made me.”
“Button it, Dana. I mean it.” Becky studied my face, then put her hands on my shoulders, and stared into my eyes. It was like standing on a mountaintop. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Jesus. Okay. All right. Dana, check the hall.”
“No.”
“You know you’ll do it eventually, so stop wasting time.”
Dana crossed the room, saying, “This is bullshit, it’s bullshit…” Nevertheless, she cracked the door to check the hall. I heard a television, the sound of adults in muted conversation. She closed the door.
Becky said, “Lock it,” then took my hand, and led me to the edge of Dana’s bed. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I won’t. Just sit, okay? Just…”