The Avocadonine and Spring Stone

  Three weeks later, Rey missed the bus. It was early October and fall was like a medley of violins, cellos, and wind instruments all playing one melancholy note. Reds, yellows, golds, and browns seemed to reflect the sun’s rays and cause blankets of light to hover in the air like flying carpets. Summer was over, and on the faces of the students of Pemota High were expressions mourning the summer passed, a quiet reflection on the tone that blew through the air, a realization that it was time for work and routine, that play time was over.

  Rey, on the other hand, felt playful that afternoon. His feeling of playfulness rode on Aba’s smile and her happy mysterious words. When he walked back from the sidewalk of Pemota High, where Bus 13 had just pulled away, marking his first time missing the bus in his freshman year, he threw open one of the doors on the side of the cheese wedge and walked towards the payphone. Christy Lane was already there depositing a quarter. He remembered Aba saying, “I hope you like it,” and reminded himself that Christy could be “it,” since Christy was what he wanted most in the world. It was time to “man up” as Huron liked to say.

  The payphone was buried in a closet which was embedded in the large glossy yellow bricks that made up the hallways of Pemota High. Next to the payphone closet was a poster admonishing students about the dangers of sexual intercourse. The poster read, “Pregnancy, STD’s, no thanks. Wait for sex.” To the right of that poster was a display case of sculptures people had made in pottery class. Rey leaned against the yellow bricks opposite the payphone, slightly out of Christy’s line of sight, and slid down the wall to his bottom. Mr. Chandon was approaching. He taught Earth Science. Rey didn’t know this, being new to the ninth grade, but Mr. Chandon was known for sitting in the cafeteria and making fun of Miss Calida’s appearance. He would say things like, “I forgot to bring my blinders today, and I saw Miss Calida walking down the hall. Damn.” No one knew from where this rivalry stemmed, but Mr. Chandon hated Miss Calida so much that each year the ninth graders found it hilarious. Mr. Chandon gave Rey a quick nod, and Rey turned his attention back to Christy.

  Christy was wearing a green blank T-shirt, and blue jeans; her hair was in a pony tail. None of Christy’s mother’s fashion failings had rubbed off. Christy’s mother was named Radelle Lane. She had died her hair red so she looked like Raggedy Anne, except with a perm, and a few decades older. She liked anything that had ruffles – ruffled white blouses, or long ruffled skirts. None of this complimented her slightly wrinkled face, pronounced jaw, and blue eyes. Radelle didn’t let Christy get away with anything. She also liked to compare Christy with Brianna citing Brianna as the achiever and Christy as the failure.

  Christy peeked out of the closet to see if anyone was listening. She saw Rey, gave him a brief polite smile, and Rey smiled back, feeling like Jet Li and Jackie Chan were fighting inside his heart. Radelle picked up, cleared her throat loudly, and said, “Hello?” in a blaming tone, as if she was disturbed anyone would have the audacity to call her at this time a day: 2:25.

  “Mom, it’s Christy,” Christy made her tone sound tragic. “I missed the bus.” Christy hit the volume button a few times.

  When Radelle spoke Rey could hear her from across the hall. His palms got sweaty and he wiped them on his Arizona jeans. “And why did you miss your bus Christy?” Radelle asked.

  “Mr. Chandon made us stay late for science class.” Christy’s tone was moribund as she was beginning think Radelle wasn’t going to pick her up.

  “I don’t suppose he made the entire class stay late, now did he Christy.” Like a magic eye picture, Radelle was constantly adjusting one’s vision to see the picture beneath the surface.

  “We needed the extra time to clean up. But you have to give me a ride.” Christy held the phone cord, hanging on every word her mother said.

  “No, no, Miss. You suit up, and walk yourself home.” Christy looked at her T-shirt wondering what her mother meant. “It’s only four streets away, and I need to pick up your sister from Leander now.”

  It was four streets away, but two long streets. Harper Way was the first street – that was by the Smokers Corner – then one took a left on Daphne Street, a right onto Nelson’s Drive – that was a quarter of a mile – and then one had to walk three quarters of a mile down Mary Anne Way.

  “Mom, I can’t walk home,” Christy said, “Huxley, Der, and Joe are on the Smokers Corner.”

  Rey’s attention got a shot of dopamine at that declaration. He could offer to walk Christy home. That would be gallant enough to win her approval, and furtive enough that she wouldn’t suspect his interest. It was ninth grade now, even Christy must want a boyfriend.

  “Huxley and those boys?” Radelle asked.

  “Mmm hmmm,” Christy said.

  “Fine. I’ll pick you up and you can come for the ride to Leander.” Radelle certainly thought Huxley, Der, and Joe sounded like jerks, but didn’t think a few ninth grade boys could pose much of a threat. Also, she wanted Christy and Brianna to spend time together in which she mediated to dissolve some of the hatred between them.

  “Radelle. Raaaaaadelle.” Christy said the name sing-song. Radelle hated being called by her first name and Christy had often been able to annoy her mother into giving into her way on smaller matters. “Raaaaadelle.”

  Rey stifled a laugh. It sounded funny.

  “Christy, don’t be a brat. You know I hate it when you do that.”

  “Then drive me home.”

  “If I drive you home I’ll be late to pick up Brianna. And Christy, Brianna didn’t miss her bus.”

  Christy had grown accustomed to ignoring these comparisons. “Mom, I can’t deal with Brianna for a whole hour.”

  “I don’t see what’s so bad about these boys anyways.”

  “Mom, they’re crazy.”

  Rey slid his back up the yellow brick wall, and took a breath. He was going to offer to walk with Christy.

  “Then come for the ride,” Radelle said, unfazed.

  Christy let out a long exasperated sigh. “I’ll take my chances.” She hung up the phone and reached down to the chair to pick up her backpack. She stepped out of the closet looking morose.

  Rey approached her. “Hey.”

  Christy looked perplexed. “Hey.”

  “I heard your conversation. I was wondering if maybe I should walk with you.”

  Christy thought this was kind and deserving of a return of friendliness. “You mean in case they try to jump on me or something?”

  Rey laughed. “Yeah.”

  Christy smiled. “Sure. Yeah, that’s nice of you.”

  Rey didn’t know much about girls, or dating, and even less about flirting. One day, when Jet Mead, an eighth grader, and fellow soccer player at Lighthouse Point, had got kicked in the shin, Rey sat on the sideline keeping him company. Jet had been dating since sixth grade, which made him more experienced than Rey. The thing Jet said that stuck, that Rey called upon now, was Jet saying girls didn’t think looks were everything, that personality went a few lights years farther. Rey thought if he could get to be her friend, the Cosmos was the limit.

  The Smokers Corner awaited – a short walk down the hallway, and then a left at the edge of the cheese wedge wall. Christy and Rey turned and walked side by side down the hallway. The hallway was deserted and above them two lights flickered on and off like a scene out of a horror movie.

  Rey said, “I had to stay late for woodshop with Mr. Murray.” He hoisted his backpack up and said the name with disdain. “If your stations not clear by 2:15 he gets really pissy. Even if you’re going to miss your bus he’ll make you stay. I guess he thinks he can’t just put someone’s wood stool on the shelf for them.”

  Christy smiled and sounded enthusiastic when she spoke. “I know. That’s what Mr. Chandon is like too. It’s not like it would be that difficult to clean up after one or two people. God forbid should he be late for his after school students.” There was
an awkward silence between them. “We’re making potted plants. Huxley keeps joking that he’s going to grow marijuana and give it to Mr. Chandon for an A in the class. He thinks Mr. Chandon smokes pot. And he thinks he’s funny because he’s Huxley.”

  “Are they mean to you? Nadine’s Puppies.”

  Christy took a breath and Rey realized she was nervous. “Last year, Joe Chen asked me out. Then Huxley said, ‘The only reason he asked you that Christy is to get closer to your sister.”

  Rey desperately tried to think of something funny to say. “Don’t worry. Whatever happens, just remember Huxley is supposedly the worst kisser ever.”

  Christy laughed. “You heard that too?”

  Rey smiled feeling delighted. “Yeah, James Owens told me. Lots of girls say it. Huxley has even heard it before.”

  “You’re in my Spanish class right?” Christy grew more relaxed.

  “Uh, yeah,” he said as if he’d barely noticed it.

  Christy wanted to talk about Viola Specks. It was important to her to talk to someone about Viola. But she decided that she and Rey barely knew each other and it would be inappropriate. Viola Specks was fat and she sat in front of Rey in Spanish. A lot of people made fun of Viola for being so fat, and Viola often leaned her head on her desk as if she was trying to find cover in the middle of combat. But that wasn’t the worst part. Christy had heard a rumor that Viola’s father beat her. Rey wanted to talk to somebody about this too because recently Viola’s shirt had rolled up and he saw reddish purple marks on her back. Instead, Christy decided to ask Rey about their Spanish teacher Ms. Carmen.

  “What do you think of Ms. Carmen?” She said.

  “I think she needs a guy.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  This was based on something Rey once heard Huron say. “Yeah, she’s so uptight. She needs some love in her life.”

  “Oh,” Christy laughed.

  Now, they were at the edge of the cheese wedge wall and they turned to reveal what they had expected: Huxley, Der, and Joe were on the Smokers Corner. Christy saw Der first, his skateboard under his right arm, wearing a T-shirt that read, “Dope” – the name of a local band. Huxley was wearing a striped shirt as usual; his blond hair was long in back, and gelled up in front. Joe Chen was sitting on the bench which was two wide logs and three two-by-fours on top, inhaling smoke off his Kool. He wore a hat that read, “Just do it,” and he had embroidered a nude woman impaling herself on the “d,” while in Graphic Arts. All three of them were wearing identical cargo shorts, which Christy wondered if they had planned, but decided that would be girlish, and was just a coincidence.

  “Huxley, I got an idea,” Der said.

  Huxley had yet to notice Christy and Rey, and he had heard this phrase from Der before always about the newsletter. Der was always coming up with end of the article punch lines, ideas on layout, or ways to get the newsletter to more people – like throwing a bunch of copies in every classroom just as the teachers were leaving for the day.

  “Der,” Huxley straddled the bench and sat down next to Joe, “It’s your newsletter.” Huxley was tired of talking about the newsletter. He didn’t write the articles, didn’t come up with the ideas, and didn’t care whether or not people came up to him in the hall and said, “Funny article Huxley.” The newsletter was getting old.

  Above them the branches of Douglas Fir Trees blew in the wind which was strong today. Acorns like big caterpillar cocoons fell on the grass. The Smokers Corner was inhabited by three others on this after school smoking session. Sarah Wein was sucking on a Marlboro. Her boyfriend Jonas Wilson was with her. And their friend Jared McCurry had joined the smoking session. The three of them were seniors and had no interest in the affairs of the ninth graders.

  “Huxley, I read about this,” Der said. “You got your switchblade?”

  Switchblades were legal in Pemota, but carrying them concealed was not. Huxley had sent away for his. He slipped through the school’s doors each day switchblade in pocket, unbeknownst to the authorities, because Pemota High never had or would need metal detectors.

  “Is this the PTSD thing?” Joe asked, as he stomped on a cigarette.

  Der had learned about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from The Deer Hunter. He found it on the internet and learned it was caused by intense fear and anger under helpless conditions. Der thought it was possible to institute the disorder without a combat circumstance. Huxley and Joe strongly disagreed.

  “Der,” Huxley chided, “That’s for people in Vietnam.”

  “This will be like Vietnam,” Der said, “Just do what I say.”

  Huxley and Joe looked at each other. Joe gave a shrug and that was enough for them both to know they would go along with what Der had in mind. Der pointed to the wide arcing sidewalk corner, “Stand there, pop it out, and show it to them.”

  Joe said under his breath, “That’s what she said.”

  Huxley laughed at Joe’s favorite thing to say. It never seemed to get old. Christy and Rey were approaching cautiously. Then Christy stopped. Huxley was standing there with a switchblade in his hand. He held his hand knuckles up. Then he dropped the switchblade to his side and started doing Karate like movements with it.

  Rey looked at Christy noticing she had turned bright red. “Huxley, if you hurt us you’re going to jail,” she screamed.

  “Tell them if they ignore the insults they can gain entrance to Harper Way,” Der said.

  “If you ignore the insults you can gain entrance to Harper Way,” Huxley said adding a few Karate chops.

  Normally, Huxley didn’t intimidate Rey. But normally, Huxley didn’t have a switchblade in his hand. A thick powerful wind shook Rey and Christy’s T-shirts around as they pushed forward but going nowhere. The Douglas fir Trees shielded the Smokers Corner. Rey thought the smartest decision was to go back to the school. He could sit with Christy and wait for a ride, but then Christy would have to meet his Mom, and that would surely be embarrassing. He also didn’t want to look like a “pussy” as Huxley had called him in front of both Christy and Huxley.

  “What do you want to do?” Rey asked.

  “They won’t do anything,” Christy said. She put her hand on Rey’s back and pushed him forward with her. She walked forward determined.

  On the Smokers Corner, Der had taken Huxley’s place on the bench. “Verbal assault,” he said quietly. “It’s what PTSD was made for.”

  “You sure, Der?” Joe asked.

  Der nodded then called out: “Hey Christy. Did you hear David Benson has a horse named Christy? We all sit around wondering if you like to hang out in his stable.”

  “That ponytail is like a mane,” Joe joined in, “You can just hold on to it and go for a ride.” Joe found this comment extremely depressing as he did think Christy was pretty, and would barely acknowledge it to himself.

  “Christy, let us take turns. Let us ride you like you’re a pony.” Der stood up at that point, and threw his arm forward like he was punching them. “Rey, is that your bitch, because I’ve seen better looking horses at the Kentucky Derby.”

  As they approached, Huxley rounded the arcing corner doing karate moves, keeping them aware of the switchblade. Christy had tears in her eyes Rey noticed. He put his hand on her back briefly. His heart was doing jumping jacks, his face was blushed, and he felt sweat seeping out of every pore in his body.

  “Aw, the stable masters come to give the horse a pat on the back. To be a beastiality loving stable master from Mexico.” Der looked at Joe who seemed to be speechless. “Rey when you ask her for her number make sure it’s not her racing ID. I’m sure she’s stamped somewhere. They’ve got her on file at the racing bureau. You can probably get her number there.”

  Christy and Rey were feet away from Harper Way and in twenty more yards would be free as flying sparrows. Rey was dying to stand up for her. Sarah stood up for them instead. “Jesus Christ guys, leave them a
lone. They didn’t do anything to you.”

  Der paid Sarah no mind. “Does your sister ride you at home? Is that why you hate her so much? Does she pull on the reins and dig her spurs into your sides.”

  Christy was growing more and more infuriated. She began to feel like she was going to explode and that her whole life would be ruined if she didn’t say something.

  “Hey Christy,” Huxley said, sounding very uncharacteristically serious. “What’s it like to always be second? What’s it like when everywhere you go you’re just a reminder of Brianna? She’s cooler, smarter, prettier. You’re just the little sister that’s always about to cry.”

  Christy turned to Huxley, her hands balled into fists. “What’s it like to always be first Huxley? What’s it like to have a sister that’s dead? What’s it like to have no one to stop you from messing up your life because no one cares about you? What’s it like ...” She stopped when she saw Huxley’s facial expression.

  For Rey everything seemed to stop in that moment. Then time got reinstated. Huxley’s smile was gone, and he started to walk towards them. Christy and Rey saw his cold vicious eyes and they ran. They were at the end of Harper Way, when Huxley started to give chase. Der and Joe followed, Der on his skateboard. Both Der and Joe were worried Huxley was going to kill or maim them. Rey was leading the way and they took a right off of Harper Way. When they were partway down Daphne St. Christy said, “Rey, my house is back that way.”

  To their left was an apartment complex known as Sage Court, and to their right were middle class homes with large backyards in front of a forest that stretched for acres and acres. Christy turned towards the houses and made a hot route between two homes, saying “Come on. Der’s got a skateboard.”

  They could hear Huxley screaming, “You’re dead,” behind them as they bounded towards the forest. Rey thought the woods were a bad idea. At least, on the street people could hear them scream. But he gathered the plan was to stay off the road so Der couldn’t catch them.

  “No Trespassing” signs in bright orange with black backgrounds stuck to two Douglas Fir Trees, but Rey and Christy paid them no mind. The forest was under the jurisdiction of the Southern California Land Conservancy because it was thought to be of use to students at Pemota High who were studying latitude and longitude coordinates. The ground was covered with glossy brown pine cones from the Apache Pine Trees, and pine needles from the Ponderosa Pines. In seventh grade, Rey’s science class had gone into this forest on Yom Kippur when most of the class was absent and Mr. Lenci had pointed out all the caterpillars who ate the needles of the Ponderosa Pine, and let them smell the tree’s bark which smelled of vanilla.

  This memory was fleeting to Rey, as he was already out of breath, and fearing for his unscarred face. He looked back to see Huxley had turned off Daphne Street and headed down the same route they were taking. He could hear Joe calling, “Huxley, chill out.” And Der flipped his skateboard up, caught it, and followed Huxley. Christy was yards ahead of Rey, snaking between the trees. He felt pine cones crunch under his feet and smelled the pine, and sap, and dew. It had rained recently. He sprinted and caught up with Christy. They ran deeper and deeper into the forest.

  “This way,” Christy said.

  When Rey turned around again he didn’t see Huxley. He guessed Huxley had stopped running and was now stalking them like a cat in the high grass zeroing in on two mice. “I think we lost them,” Rey finally said.

  Christy tried to catch her breath, as she flung her backpack on the ground. Rey copied her. “We should keep moving,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I did that Rey.”

  “Nah, they deserved it.”

  “You want to just keep walking until we come out the other side?”

  “Wouldn’t know which way to go.”

  “I do. We were headed straight for awhile and then we turned left, so,” Christy shrugged, “That way.” She pointed.

  They hoisted their backpacks on their shoulders and began walking, continually checking behind them expecting to see Huxley. He wasn’t there. Soon enough, the two of them relaxed.

  “So how come I never see you, except in Spanish?” Christy asked.

  “I take all standard classes, I guess.”

  “You’re lucky. Advanced sucks. I have Ms. Aster.”

  “What’s Ms. Aster been like this year?”

  “Well, almost the whole class failed the first exam. And no one knows what they are going to do. I mean I could be getting A’s in standard. This is the first year we have to start worrying about college you know? Can’t Ms. Aster just save the hard tests for the end of the semester? It’s just so not fair.” Christy slapped her shoulder trying to get a mosquito. “So I told my Mom I wanted to transfer to standard and she said I couldn’t since Brianna didn’t.”

  Rey had to stop his mouth before he said something about Brianna which he thought would be a bad idea. “Where are you thinking this leads to?” He looked up at the patches of blue in the sky between the branches of the Douglas firs above.

  “I’m pretty sure these are the woods behind Pleasant St.”

  They walked in silence for a short while. Rey thought Christy seemed extremely loosened up and comfortable. He wanted to talk about something personal that would distinguish him from all the other people she talked to, so he wasn’t just another pine needle on the branch. At least, they had one thing in common: they both hated Huxley, Der, and Joe.

  “Do you think high school is going to suck?” Christy asked.

  Rey had spent the entire summer wondering this. Would he have any friends? Would everyone start smoking pot? “I just hope I meet cool people,” Rey said. “And get to have some fun in between all the work.”

  “Do you think I’m a cool person?”

  “Yeah. A really cool person.”

  Christy smiled. She turned to him still smiling. “Who do you hang out with?”

  “Huron Anderson and James Owens, and a lot of people at my apartment complex and I play soccer a lot. Who do you hang out with?”

  “Annette Oslow, and Jenine Godfrey. Most people in our class are like Huxley and Der and Joe. All they care about is people thinking they’re so cool.”

  “I know,” Rey said.

  “Huron and James care about it a lot.”

  “No, they’re not snobbish or anything. They just dress like they care about it.”

  “I don’t really know them, I guess.” There was a short silence. “You should meet Annette. Annette is so nice. She doesn’t care about how anyone dresses. Annette had a boyfriend at camp this summer and he was twenty years old. His name was Jim and he drove a Saab. Annette told me that every night he would bring her mixed drinks and they would walk on the beach together. Annette drinks but she’s not an alcoholic or anything.”

  “I’ve only been drunk once. And that was at a New Years Eve party a few years ago when no one paid attention to the punch bowl.” Rey laughed.

  “It was fun right?” Christy looked at Rey curiously.

  “Yeah, it was. You don’t know?”

  Christy shook her head. “I’ve never been drunk.”

  Rey could see a yellow house ahead blocked by many trees. They couldn’t already have made it all the way to Pleasant Street, Rey thought. He turned to Christy confused, and she furrowed her eyebrows feeling the same way.

  “Come on,” Rey said, running towards the yellow home with Christy on his heels. They were facing the back of the home. It appeared to only be one story unless it contained an attic and it had square stained glass windows around the entire perimeter, underneath the edge of the roof. The windows were too muddled for Rey to notice what they were pictures of without a closer look and he didn’t investigate them further. The house also possessed a turret which was two stories; it had windows in the second story facing the home, and a large upside down ice cream cone-like roof. There appeared to be skylights on the roof of
the home, four on each side.

  Christy was baffled. “Do you think anyone lives here?”

  “I don’t know. We can knock.”

  The front of the home had a red painted door, which was a strange contrast with the yellow exterior, and two windows at the top which Rey tried to look through but wasn’t tall enough for. There were no windows on the left or right sides of the door.

  Christy jerked her head to the right. They gave each other a fearful look. Voices approaching. Christy ran along the side of the home towards the turret. Rey followed her hearing a sound of someone hitting metal. Christy was hitting a metal door in front of the turret that was on the same level as the ground and was hidden by a layer of wet fall leaves. The leaves appeared to be stuck to the door. Christy pulled the right side of the two doors open and Rey remembered seeing a door like this at the apartment owned by the manager of Lighthouse Point. It led to his basement. Christy saw concrete steps underneath the door.

  “Come on,” Christy whispered. The two of them climbed down the steps and Rey closed the door. They walked towards a staircase illuminated by the light coming in the upstairs windows of the turret. Rey and Christy climbed the steps carefully, with their shoes sideways because the steps were thin. When they got to the second floor of the turret they found a short landing where they could sit and look out the window. They put their backpacks against the wall and Christy put her finger to her mouth indicating “quiet.”

  The voices neared. They sat side by side underneath the window their hearts doubling in productivity. Christy turned to him thinking he was uncomfortable because he hadn’t been this close to many girls. Then, they both froze when they heard Huxley call out, “Private property.” For a moment they both worried he was talking to them, but quickly decided he thought someone had built a home on property that wasn’t their own.

  “Knock on the door,” Joe said. “Find out who lives here.”

  Rey began feeling claustrophobic and phobic period. They heard the sound of Huxley rapping on the red door. “See if it’s locked,” they heard Der say. Both Rey and Christy turned looking out the turret’s window through the skylights on the roof to see Huxley, Der, and Joe walking into the home. They’re voices were inaudible. Rey found himself thinking that the home seemed to only contain one room, which Huxley probably realized too. There was something about this place that just didn’t add up. Who builds a home with one room, a turret, and stained glass windows all around the upper perimeter?

  Sitting this close to Christy was torturous. He knew he couldn’t kiss her now, but he felt his attraction being broadcast from every cell in his body. The two of them saw Huxley, Der, and Joe leaving the home and heard them walking along the perimeter. They spoke in hushed mesmerized voices.

  “Like my own personal bachelor pad,” Der said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Huxley said. “Get some beers, some girls, some sleeping bags.”

  “We need like a couch for this place,” Joe said.

  Rey looked at Christy and rolled his eyes, both of them thinking someone could show up and claim this place at any time like in Goldilocks and the Three Bears. In this case, Goldilocks had two sidekicks. As their voices receded they heard Der say quietly, “This is the new crib for Nadine’s Puppies.”

  “They might just be waiting for us,” Christy said.

  “Nah,” Rey said, “There gone.”

  “Wait a little while longer.”

  Rey nodded. They sat in silence, Rey thinking about Aba, and her knowing smile, the way she had invited him in, said, “I’ve been expecting you,” only to deny she ever knew his name in the first place. His mind traversed over his private conversation with himself looking up at the stars a few weeks ago. He thought of book number 98, and Ryan O’toole’s bizarre effect on radios. He felt filled with confidence, because Aba’s smile must have meant he was destined to succeed in whatever trials these circumstances offered.

  “To town or to your house?” Rey asked Christy quietly.

  “I’ve got to go home,” Christy said. “I mean we could go to Melanie’s, if you want.”

  Rey felt like he didn’t want to ruin an encounter by adding too much to it. “I need to get home too,” he said. “I liked talking with you today.”

  “Yeah,” Christy said, “It was scary, but also kinda fun.” Then she gave a big sigh. “I’ve got to go have dinner with my sister now.”

  “Don’t sweat it. We could always live here with Huxley.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure which would be worse.”

  “I should probably walk with you,” Rey said.

  “No. I don’t think Huxley’s going to do anything. They’re over it.”

  Rey thought for a moment. “Yeah. You won’t see them.”

  Christy picked up her backpack and headed down the stairs cautiously. Rey followed. They got out of the basement, through the metal door. Christy smiled at him. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

  Rey smiled back and waved saying, “Later.” He walked towards Pleasant Street where he would meet up with Isabel and get a ride home. Isabel would want to know why he’d missed the bus and was covered with pine needles. But all Rey could think about as he walked was if he had a chance with Christy. Finally, as The Pemota Gazette neared he decided to lie to Isabel. Rey rarely lied to Isabel but this time an appointment with a guidance counselor and Huxley’s parents seemed a foreboding possibility. Rey wasn’t going to risk that. And besides, he was beginning to think he could handle things on his own.