THURSDAY, the day before the dance, Mike came up to Dean’s locker. This wasn’t difficult nor required much investment of time because his locker was next to Dean’s.
“I need a favor,” said Mike.
“You can’t borrow Lady Jaye,” said Dean. “She still has burns from your fireworks-slash-rocket experiment, and I have to pretend she was part of a G.I. Joe fireworks-slash-rocket experiment.”
“Not about that stuff. Are we still working for your dad today?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll tell you then.”
A slim girl with long black hair pushed through the crowded hallway, two female friends in her wake. Dean waved at her. “Hey, Brenda! What’s happening?”
“She didn’t hear you,” said Mike. “Or maybe she did.”
“Thanks for the support, friend.”
After school, they walked to Dean’s house and changed into work clothes. Carrying a chainsaw and two axes, the pair trudged over the yellow stubble of hayfields to the cow pasture, grasshoppers buzzing away with each step. They climbed the gentle hillside to a wide patch of spiky, Adam-and-Eve trees. Having come into close personal contact with the two-inch thorns that covered the branches of these trees, Dean thought other names to be more appropriate, such “Satan’s Shrub” or “Beelzebub’s Bush.”
The teens rested in the shade of the devilish trees and gazed at the scattered stumps and piles of gray branches. Down in the valley lay the orange brick buildings of the high school. The tiny figures practicing on the football field reminded Dean of Mike’s question and pulled the conversation away from the latest X-men comics.
“What was that super-secret thing you wanted from me?”
“It’s Naomi.”
“I could have guessed. Her parents found out?”
“No, but they’re on to me. I want to dance with her at homecoming, but she’s grounded.”
“Again?”
“Yeah. They’re letting her come to the dance, though, and that’s where you come into the picture.”
“You want me to kidnap her and drive to Kentucky? No matter how many times you say it, Kentucky isn’t the Neutral Zone.”
“No, I want you to be an average-looking, feeble-minded distraction.”
“Thanks.”
Mike sighed. “Since you won that math award, all the parents in the school think you’re some kind of super genius. Look at me––Naomi’s parents won’t let me get within three feet of her. I’m the Cobra Commander in every parent’s nightmare.”
“I don’t think they know about Cobra.”
“And even better, Naomi’s parents go to your church, so they’re won’t murder you for dancing with her.”
“What are you talking about? She’s fourteen! They’d stab Tom Cruise in the face if he squinted sideways at the girl!”
“It’s not going reach the face-stabbing phase or any phase involving edged weapons,” said Mike. “I’ll spread some rumors that the two of you are a couple the day of homecoming. You sit next to her and dance once or twice. Her parents will be so overjoyed she’s dating you instead of me, that they won’t care if I hang around and dance with Naomi a few times. They won’t be there anyway, and the next day you break up. By the time her parents find out––which they won’t until the next day––you’re out of the picture.”
“And six feet under. What about her brother, John?”
Mike nodded slowly. “He’s definitely a massive guy––I guess football does that to you. I’ll spike his drink or something. Do steroids cancel out a sedative? How does that work exactly?”
Dean looked down at the crushed crabgrass littered with leaves and fragments of trees. He picked up a two-inch thorn and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.
“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself,” he said. “What difference is one homecoming dance? Break up with her and get on with your life. A life with fewer angry relatives and broken bones.”
Mike slapped at a horsefly on his arm. “I’d do that in a second if Naomi wasn’t the perfect girl. She reads comics, loves to watch really bad movies, and plays basketball. If I was programming a robot girl from the future, those would be my top three choices!”
“She’s not a robot girl from the future. She’s fourteen.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” said Mike. “We can’t control who we fall in love with.”
“Parents and the justice system tend to disagree. Speaking of that, Casanova, what’s Brenda going to say when you spread rumors about me dating an eighth-grader? She’ll think I’m a disgusting creep, that’s what, and laugh in my face if I say hello. I won’t even get close enough to ask her out.”
“I’m not a monster. You can dance with other girls,” said Mike. “As the actual disgusting creep in this whole drama, leave that part of it to me.”
“Sounds like I’m leaving everything to you, including my reputation, future happiness, and quality of not being beaten to death. What do I get out of it?”
“I’ll put in a good word with Brenda’s sister.”
“Now I remember.” Dean jabbed a finger at Mike. “You gave her mono!”
“I didn’t! It was just that we had the flu at the same time and were incredibly tired all the time. At the same time.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Uh ... what else? You can set my B-25 on fire.”
“The three-foot model? The B-25 Mitchell with Doolittle Raid stickers?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. That plus twenty bucks,” said Dean.
“Right. That plus twenty bucks.”