The unmistakable piano notes of “Wuthering Heights” started and Everett’s eyes shot to the stage. “Is he seriously doing this song again?”
“Oh, hell yes,” Lillian said, sitting down beside Natalie and handing Everett his beer without taking her eyes off the stage. “I love this song.”
Natalie shook her head in wonder. “The people want what the people want, and what they want is Wuthering Heights Brian.”
Everett sighed. What he wanted was to be at home, on the couch, working. Sketching. Writing. Answering emails from kids. Writing notes to share with Jeremy next week. Because at least there, he was in control. When he was working, he knew that if he gave it enough time, something would happen. He’d have that breakthrough and figure out what the show was missing, and then everything would be perfect again.
He also, he realized, wanted to be emailing Theodora and telling her about how terrible tonight had gone. He wanted to tell her the honest truth about how he felt and get her honest answers back. He wanted to talk to someone who knew him, and the strange thing was, he felt like she did. He wanted to finish his most recent Alice book, which was all about Alice and her friends taking an eventful train ride to Chicago, and ask Theodora about her thoughts on it, and also ask her why it was that girls always read books about boys but no one ever made sure boys read books about girls. It seemed wrong somehow.
He looked down at his beer, already half empty. This wasn’t gonna make things perfect.
But then he looked over at Natalie and Lillian. Lillian loudly “woo”-ed for Wuthering Heights Brian, and Natalie clapped. The lights from the karaoke stage reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, he saw High School Natalie, the one who had been his best friend then just as she was his best friend now. And as much as he kinda sucked as a friend sometimes, as much as he turned her down when she asked him to come out and have fun, he knew he owed her one night of being present and hanging out with her girlfriend and doing what she wanted to do.
She turned. “Why are you staring at me like that? Maybe we should cut you off.”
“Hey,” Everett said. “After this, do you want to do our song?”
Natalie’s eyes widened. “You mean . . .”
Everett nodded. “‘Islands,’ dude.”
At their high school prom after-party (where they’d been each other’s dates, despite the fact that they’d been broken up for a year, because who the hell else were they going to go with?), there’d been karaoke at a bowling alley. They’d done a daring rendition of Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton’s “Islands in the Stream,” and while it hadn’t exactly brought down the house (it seemed to confuse most of their classmates, who were more into Morris Monroe’s admittedly great version of BTO’s “Takin’ Care of Business”), it had prompted their chaperone and chemistry teacher, Mr. Allen, to give them a standing ovation. And that guy usually got excited only about electron configurations.
Natalie pumped her arm. “I am not nearly drunk enough, but why not? Our usual parts?”
Everett scoffed. “Um, yes. Obviously, I’m Dolly.”
Natalie smiled at him. “I love you. Forget about that girl. Let’s go do Dolly and Kenny proud.”
Everett smiled at his best friend, and then he followed the latter part of her command. They really did kill it with “Islands in the Stream”; they always did.
But the first part? Forgetting about that girl? Well, that one was a little harder.
26
Colossal Toys was far too busy the next morning. Unbelievably, the Crunchwrap Supreme, Cinnamon Twists, and large Mountain Dew had done nothing to ward off the hangover to end all hangovers, and now Teddy stood behind the counter with a splitting headache and slight nausea.
But the thing about retail was that you still had to be perky, even when you were trying to decide if you never wanted Taco Bell again or if you actually needed more Taco Bell.
Since it was a weekend, both Carlos and Josie were in the store. Beside Teddy, Carlos talked animatedly about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to a fiftysomething woman who then bought a still-in-the-box Raphael action figure. Teddy was half-listening to their conversation when she saw the girl in the red coat walk in.
“Gretel!” she said, then realized she was using way too much enthusiasm for a child she’d met once. But she’d genuinely enjoyed talking to Gretel last time, and seeing her cut through the fog of discomfort Teddy was feeling.
Gretel waved with her whole hand. “Hi there. How’s the vintage toy biz treating you?”
“Quite well, actually,” Teddy said.
Gretel narrowed her eyes and gave Teddy a once-over. “You look, as my father would say, a bit green around the gills.”
“Well,” Teddy said, looking down. Damn, nothing got past a child. “I had some bad Taco Bell last night.”
“That would be all Taco Bell,” Gretel said.
Teddy opened her mouth in faux shock. “I won’t stand for this inflammatory anti–Taco Bell rhetoric. Crunchwrap Supremes are the perfect drunchies, which is a word I just learned last night, and it means food you eat when you’re . . .” Teddy trailed off and started to blush as she remembered that she was talking to a child. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so enthusiastic about showing off her new vocabulary.
Gretel gave her one of those withering looks that only a kid can give a clueless adult. “I’ve seen a television show before, you know. And I have an older brother. Although he’s kind of a nerd. I think he mostly eats fast food at work, and ‘wunchies’ isn’t even half as catchy.”
“Well, then,” Teddy said with a prim smile, “it sounds like your brother is setting a good example.”
Gretel wrinkled her nose. “He’s definitely not. I like your dress.”
Teddy glanced down at her outfit, a rainbow-striped number with a red cardigan on top. She’d gone shopping with Eleanor and picked out clothing that didn’t blend in, like the sweaters and jeans she was so used to wearing. Now her outfits stood out and actually inspired compliments. And although karaoke the night before had ended not so much in a blaze of glory as in a blaze of humiliation, she’d still enjoyed the experience of having all eyes on her in her red dress. Do one thing every day that scares you: wear clothing that people notice. “Oh, thanks,” she said.
Gretel smiled, and Teddy couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship with her. “I’m gonna go look around,” Gretel said. “This is actually a research trip.”
“Research?” Teddy asked. “For what?”
“I’m writing a comic about my life,” Gretel said breezily. “Some people, like my brother, think I’m too young, but I don’t think you’re ever too young to write your first memoir.”