To cover his surprise, he asked, “How’s, you know, stuff with your family?”
“Ok. I mean, not ok. Not at all, actually. My parents aren’t talking to me. They’re pretending they’re all wrapped up with Wayne’s defense, but really, they’re just furious I made them look bad. Chris and Billie spent the whole day Wayne got arrested telling me how amazing I was, and now they’ve gone over to Pammy’s side and tell me every chance they get how I’ve ruined our family.” Orlando knuckled at his eyes. “I’ve been talking about it a lot with my therapist. I guess I think, maybe, um, they haven’t treated me very well.”
Auggie nodded.
“And I think maybe I need a little space from them. They’ve been in my head for a long time. My whole life, really. And I think I’ve got some bad behaviors from trying to be someone they’d love. So, sorry again. For being so weird and messed up.”
“You’re not weird and messed up.”
Orlando burst out laughing, and then Auggie started laughing too.
“Ok,” Auggie said, “but you’re not any weirder or more messed up than the rest of us.”
“Thanks, Augs. But I am. I know it. It’s ok. I’ll have plenty of time alone to figure things out.”
“You’re not alone. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, sure. Anyway, that’s not why I came over here. I want you to meet someone.”
“What?”
“Come on. I want you to meet someone.”
Before Auggie could protest, Orlando set off across the quad. Auggie trailed after him. A blond boy was sitting next to a line of hawthorns, his arms loose around his knees. He had strong features: a prominent nose, a broad forehead, eyes so pale blue they were like ice. When he smiled, he was attractive but not precisely handsome, although Auggie couldn’t have explained exactly why.
“This is Augs,” Orlando said, dropping onto the ground. “Auggie. The guy I was telling you about. Auggie, this is Ryan.”
They said hello. Auggie sat. Ryan kept throwing nervous smiles at Orlando and then trying to catch Auggie’s gaze in quick glances.
“Augs knows everything about poetry,” Orlando said. “That’s why I thought you guys would hit it off. He totally helped me pass my business writing class. Augs, Ryan writes the best poetry in the entire world. You’re going to love it!”
“Really?” Ryan asked. His voice was quiet, with a soft accent that sounded like it might be from somewhere in New England. “Who’s your favorite poet?”
“I don’t know anything about poetry. Orlando’s just impressed that I know where to put commas sometimes.”
Ryan laughed.
“And Augs is super strong too,” Orlando said. He launched himself onto Auggie, bearing him down toward the ground, and Auggie had to fight him off, laughing. “See?” Orlando said when they finally separated. “He’s, like, the strongest person I know.”
“Are you insane?” Auggie said, feigning a kick that made Orlando squirm away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Hold on, I just saw this girl from chem class.” Orlando shot to his feet and ran across the quad, shouting, “Miriam, hold up!”
“Oh my God,” Auggie said, covering his face. “This is the worst setup ever.”
“He’s not exactly subtle, is he?” Ryan said. He looked like he was fighting a smile.
“Not even close. I’m surprised he didn’t strip me down to my boxers and put me on parade.”
“So you wear boxers,” Ryan said, his smile slipping free.
Auggie grinned. “What about you?”
“You’ll have to try a little harder to find out.”
Face hot, Auggie said, “No, I meant, what about you, like—oh my God.”
Ryan’s smile got bigger.
“I meant, Orlando totally made that up about me knowing a lot about poetry. Did he—I mean, do you—are you, like—” Sweat popped out along Auggie’s forehead. “You know what, I’m just going to go over there and kill myself.”
Laughing, Ryan nodded. “I write poetry.”
“Oh. Cool. I’m going to be totally honest and tell you that I know almost nothing about poetry. I mean, I’m double majoring in English, and I like reading Shakespeare, even though I don’t understand half of what I read.”
“People always say that,” Ryan said. “But the best part about poetry is you don’t always have to pin down a meaning. It’s more important to just feel a poem. The sounds, the images, what it does in your gut.”
“Wow. I’ve never heard someone talk about it like that. That’s pretty . . . cool.”
Ryan blushed. It was a crazy blush, running through his face like wildfire.
“I’d like to hear some of your poems sometime,” Auggie said.
“Yeah.” Ryan smiled and nodded. “They’re not very good, but ok.”
Auggie opened his mouth, but his phone buzzed. He thought about ignoring it. And then he thought about Fer going nuclear if Auggie missed any sort of contact.
“I’m sorry, I’ve just got to check this.”
Instead of Fer, though, Theo’s name showed on the screen.
“Just a second,” Auggie said. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Hello?”
Instead of a voice, though, the call buzzed with ambient noise.
“Theo?” Someone farther down the quad was laughing, and Auggie put a hand over his ear. “Theo, are you there?”
Mumbled words. The only one Auggie could pick up was “spinning.”
“I’m coming over.” He disconnected the phone.
When he looked up, Ryan was watching him, a quizzical look on his face.
“My friend,” Auggie said. “He’s going through a rough patch.”
“He’s lucky he’s got you.”
“I’m not sure he feels that way. Could I—would it be weird if I got your number? Basically I’m trying to avoid any sequence of events that involves Orlando wrestling me just so I get to see you again.”
Ryan laughed. He took Auggie’s phone and entered his number. “Next time,” Ryan said, “you have to tell me something about you. You can’t just be a super-hot guy who loves Shakespeare and wants to hear bad poetry.”
Wrinkling his brow, Auggie said, “I can’t?”
26
Everything was going fine until the texts from Cart. It was early afternoon, the sun spinning dust motes in the stillness of the living room, oblong panels of light stretching across the boards. The windows were open. The smell of hot tar filtered into the house; a crew was busy patching the road, talking, shouting, the occasional beep of heavy machinery backing up. Theo had finished a draft of his thesis chapter on Romeo and Juliet. He’d decided to celebrate by removing the couch cushions and vacuuming up the various types of crumbs that had fallen behind them.