“If you’ve got something to say,” Theo said, “then you’d better goddamn say it. Because I’m not going to pretend I understand what that noise means.”
Outside, brakes squealed, and a car passed the house. Then the only sound was the wind battering the glass.
Cart rubbed his face. “Yeah, I guess I do have something to say.” He stood. He pulled on his sweatshirt, making a face when his head popped through the neck. Then he said, “I’m sorry.”
Theo stared at him.
“Well,” Cart said, “what the hell is the matter, you fucking redneck?”
In spite of himself, Theo grinned. “You are the absolute worst,” he covered his mouth to hide the smile that was still growing, “at apologies. Worse than anyone I have ever met. You’re terrible.”
“Yeah,” Cart said, “but when you only fuck up once a year like I do, you don’t need to get very good at it.”
“Do you really think I’m going there because I don’t support the police?”
Cart’s silence was longer than Theo would have liked. Then Cart said, “No. I know you support the police. Or at least you support me. But the thing is, not everybody’s like you. Just a couple of weeks ago, somebody shot a cop in the back of the head while he was filling up his car. That’s what you’re getting yourself tangled in. You might not think that’s what it is, but that’s what it is.”
Theo grimaced. “OK, I can see how you would make that connection. But I don’t think that’s what this is. This is a way to show support for a girl who got killed and for her family. They still have to deal with that. She got killed by a cop, Cart. That’s a fact.”
Hands on his hips, Cart said, “I know it’s a fucking fact. I know how that girl died. And that son of a bitch is going to pay for it. But that doesn’t mean people have a right to go around shooting cops in the back of the head.”
“That’s not what these people are saying. And that’s not what any of us want. Not anybody I would be around, would ever support. Do you believe that?”
“Of course I fucking believe it.”
“Are you going to leave if I go to the demonstration?”
Scratching his belly to expose the dark hairs scattered over his country-boy abs, Cart smirked and said, “Am I gonna get lucky when you come back?”
Theo rolled his eyes. “You have a one-track mind.”
Tugging at his crotch, Cart said, “Do you blame me? I like what I see. Turn around.”
“Hoosier.”
“I just want to make sure I remember that fine ass.”
“You, you magnificent dumbshit redneck, think with your dick instead of your brain.”
“Course,” said Cart. Settling back onto the couch, he flipped on the TV. “Pick up some of that ice cream on your way back?”
“I thought you were focused on a different treat,” Theo said.
Cart smirked and tugged at his crotch again. “I can have two treats.”
After kissing him goodbye, Theo made his way to the door.
“Theo,” Cart said, “be careful.”
“It’s a peaceful demonstration.”
“I’ve heard that one before.”
7
“Oh shit,” Auggie said. “No, no, no.”
“What?” Dylan asked.
People crowded Wroxall College’s South Quad. Many of them were young, probably college students. Two girls with matching lime-green watch caps hugged each other near Auggie. A guy with a wispy goatee was carrying a guitar on his back. A couple of Dylan’s friends had come with them, with the improbable names of Burger and Smash, whom Auggie knew from the times he’d interrupted hacky-sack games. Burger was picking his nose.
The night was crisp and clear, the cold so intense that Auggie’s eyes watered, and his feet were already numb in the Jordans. Dylan was holding him close, both arms wrapped around Auggie, carrying the faint smell of weed. The warmth was nice, but Auggie found himself struggling with the urge to pull away. That urge doubled when he spotted Theo moving through the crowd. Theo didn’t seem to have seen them yet, but it was only a matter of time. In spite of the crowd, Theo was heading directly toward them, his gaze scanning back and forth.
Auggie tried to drop down, acting out of instinct more than anything else, but Dylan’s arms were too tight. Dylan leaned in, the weed smell overpowering now, and whispered, “Hey, you ok?”
“Yes,” Auggie said, “can we just move a little over—”
“Auggie?” Theo said. “Auggie!”
Auggie groaned. “Hi, Theo.”
Dylan was glaring.
“Hey, hi.” Theo glanced around, taking in Dylan, taking in Dylan’s arms around Auggie, taking in Burger and Smash. Auggie could hear his thoughts, even if Theo had the decency—this time—not to say them out loud. These are your friends? This is who you want to hang out with?
“Who are you?” Dylan said his chest puffing out.
Auggie wondered if he could die just standing there. “Dylan, this is Theo. Theo, this is Dylan.”
They shook hands. Theo grimaced, and although the expression was faint, Auggie noticed. He also noticed Dylan’s chest puffing up again.
One of the girls with the lime-green hats stomped her feet. Holding the guitar at a strange angle over his shoulder, the kid with the goatee strummed a cord. This, Auggie was sure, was approximately the same experience as the world ending.
“So,” Theo said. “You’re Dylan.”
“You know what?” Auggie said. “We were just about to try to move locations and get up near the front.”
“Great,” Theo said. “Let’s go.”
They made their way to the front of the crowd, with Dylan doing a lot of the elbowing and muscling. In order to do so, he had to release Auggie, and Auggie found himself hanging back with Theo.
“He seems nice,” Theo said.
“Do not.” Auggie stopped himself. “Just do not do this right now.”
Theo raised one eyebrow. He had his long, strawberry-blond hair tucked under a hat, and he smelled like cedar. Over the murmur of the crowd, he said, “I’m sorry, I guess I misread things. Do you want me to go?”
Auggie picked at his lip. Then, shaking his head, he said, “No. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m just nervous. I want you guys to get along.” Then, unable to stop himself, he added, “He really is a great guy.”
“Well, if he’s a great guy, we’re going to get along.”
It took Auggie a few more minutes to recognize the weight that Theo had placed on that if.
It looked like most of the college had turned out for the demonstration. Since coming to Wahredua, this was the most racial diversity in one place that Auggie had seen. It reminded him—in good ways—of California. Although there were still plenty of white faces in the crowd, the majority of the audience seemed to be black, with heavy pockets of people who looked like they were of Asian descent, or Latino, or Pacific Islander. A young woman with her dark hair chopped short was carrying a poster that said I am the Cheyenne Nation. Justice for Deja is Justice for Everyone. She smiled when she met Auggie’s gaze and then her eyes slid back toward the podium.